#then me killing my hands and eyes trying to get the coloring halfway decent

[the2amrevolution]

SKZ Mini World Season's Greetings - Seungmin

[loki-laufeyson223]

Comebacks

Warnings: Cursing, PTSD talk, kissing, Loki being like a sour patch kid lol (Sorry if I missed anything, this is my first time doing warnings and posting anything halfway decent. I swear it'll get better later on.)

Word Count: 1,092

I was sitting outside of my favorite cafe, just trying to unwind from the day when a man with raven colored hair and icy blue eyes walked up to my table. He just kinda stared at me for a minute before saying anything. I looked up at him with a clueless/ smart-ass look, he looked appalled at the action. “Don’t you know who I am?”, he asked. “Um no. Unless you’re some douche-bag recruiter trying to pull me back into the military. If that’s the case you can get the hell away from me.”  “Uh no, I’m not trying to do whatever you just went on a whole ass rant about. You just seemed confused. Like everyone else on this damned planet.”, he said with a snark. 

“Oh well sorry I wasn’t competent enough for your liking. I’ll definitely go home and cry about that later.”  “Whoa, hey. Calm down. I didn’t mean to offend you.”  “Well you sure as hell did. I’ve gotta go. Bye asshole!”,and with a smirk and a wave I started towards my car. That is until I stopped halfway through the parking lot by a large and slender hand on my shoulder. “Aren’t you curious to know who I am?”  “No. Not really.”  “Well then in that case, maybe I’ll just go right ahead and tell you. I’m Loki. Loki Laufeyson.”  “Oh! I know who you are now!”, Loki smiled triumphantly at my words. “You’re that son of a bitch who tried to take over Earth and failed. Miserably.”  “Excuse me! I am a god! Your words mean nothing to me, you fucking bastard!”  “Judging by your reaction, I’d say my words meant quite a lot to you. Oh, no! Did I hurt the whittle god’s feelings?”  

“How dare you insult me in such a way!?”  “Because I don’t give a shit who you are. I’ve been through too much to say I cared even a little to be telling the truth. Hell, I’ve been hit with an IED and had my legs shattered and I have far more PTSD than the average person can handle without committing suicide. It wouldn’t be too much of a burden if you killed me out of rage, I don’t even want to be here. I’m just holding on because there isn’t anyone who cares enough to put my body in the ground.” I said laughing sarcastically. 

For the first time, Loki’s eyes had softened at my words and as I continued on my rant, tears began spilling from my eyes and I couldn’t hold them back. “Hey, I’m sorry I got you so riled up and upset. That wasn’t my intention, not at all. If anything I know how it feels, not wanting to be here, I mean.”  “Thanks and it’s fine.”  “Would you like to continue this conversation elsewhere?”  

“Oh well my place is a complete mess and I’d be ashamed if anyone ever walked in. Hell, I’m ashamed of myself just seeing it the way it is.”  “How about this, we go to your place and before I walk in I will surprise you with something to make up for me insisting on going there in the first place?”  “That sounds good, I guess.”  We get in my car and head to my apartment. When we arrive we walk up the stairs and I go to open the door before I’m stopped. “Not just yet darling.”, and with a carefully calculated flick of his wrists he opened the door to a completely clean and organized home. “Oh my God! Thank you so much!”, I beam up at him. “No problem darling. It’s never a burden to help out the one I’m most interested in.

After a few weeks of having Loki over so we can talk to each other about what has happened to ourselves and just unpack all the emotional and mental baggage I can, we have our first “night together” and soon after I’m in an official relationship with the God of Mischief. 

3 Years Later

Loki tells me to put on my favorite dress because we were going out and I happily agreed, excited for this time out with my boyfriend because he hasn't been home a lot here recently. He has been sneaking around and I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to confront him. I was searching for my gold heels when Loki walked in, “Darling, are you ready yet?”  

“Um not just yet. I can’t see, to find those gold heels Frigga gave me.”  “Oh well in that case let me just…”, he flicks his wrist and the shoes appear on the bed. “Thanks babe.”, I say sitting down to put on the shoes. After I grab my bag we head out the door and get in the car. We drove for about ten minutes and pulled up at the restaurant where we had our first date. It’s our favorite because there is a garden to walk through and at the end of the walk there is a bench under an arch made of roses with fairy lights strung throughout. 

After we finish our dinner Loki suggests we go on a walk through the garden. When we make it to the end we sit down on the bench. I got to confront him about all the sneaking around when he cuts me off with a kiss. When he pulls away he drops to one knee with me still on the bench. 

Tears immediately come to my eyes as he begins his speech. “Persephone I have loved you since the day I first saw you. Your smile and laugh are infectious and beautiful. I only wish to make you smile and laugh for the rest of time. Which brings me to the million dollar question. Persephone, will you marry me?”, tears were running down both of our faces, Loki looked at me, hope filling his eyes awaiting my answer. “Yes” I choke out. 

“A million times yes.”, he stands up, pulling me with him then pulling me into a tight hug. I look up at him and he grabs my thighs and lifts me up, wrapping my arms around his neck he pulls me into a loving and tender yet rough kiss. He pulls away resting his forehead on mine, our noses brushing against each other. “I love you so much Persephone. I can’t wait for you to become my wife and take my name.”  “I love you too Mischief. I absolutely cannot wait for us to be Mr. and Mrs. Laufeyson.”

[marisandini-chu-blog]

How Shadow and Bones Differentiate Villain and Anti-Hero

Alright, first I need to claim the fact that I love dark, edgy, but misunderstood bad boy in stories with the potential of epic redemption. Loki from Marvel. Jason Todd from DC. Captain Hook from Once Upon a Time. Zuko from AtLA. You name them, I simp them.

So when I watched this new show on Netflix and shown a tall, handsome man in dark clothing, both respected and feared for his power. I feel... nothing. 

WHICH IS WEIRD! Like... he’s obviously my type. Complete with the sad backstory and vicious streak. So I kept wondering why I wasn’t enamored by the Darkling, Alexander Kirigan. I wasn’t surprised he was the main villain, I even expected it. But I usually at least have a bit of sympathy for them. This OOC behavior of mine made me introspect myself and the show, trying to find out which part gave me the red flags before Mother Darkling decides to pop the chosen one out halfway in the season. 

That’s when it hit me; there were red flags! The show had been subtly trying to tell us Kirigan is a manipulative boyfriend not just by great acting and good directing, but by comparing him with the actual anti-hero of the story who I actually love; Kaz Brekker. 

Here’s the list of signs you might not notice of why Kirigan is meant to be a Villain instead of an Anti-Hero. 

1. The Eyes

"The eyes are the window to the soul" is a common saying and and the key to good acting for any good show. Eyes tell us a lot about what a person’s character is like and SaB showed us the difference of a sincere man and a man with a hidden agenda.

Look at him! Look at that little smirk. Look at the gaze. That's the look you find when someone's evil little plan is finally coming together. Not one awed by the power or by Alina. A blatant sus move is what I'm saying. Congrat, first flag planted.

Sure he could still fall in love with Alina, but that doesn't stop his agenda either. All it does is potentially create conflict for him to pick either his plan for revenge or life with Alina.

In comparison, look at Kaz when he said this to Inej; "She isn't like you, no one is." Straightforward eyes. Serious grim. No nonsense tone. Inej is one of the most talented and terrifying rogue-assassin and Kaz just blatantly said that he kept her from 'slavery' because of who she is, not what she's capable of. Like... the man has no shame being known to love her while still trying to be professional (or as professional a thief can be). I can respect that.

This is the eye of a man who would abandon everything to make sure she comes out alright in the end. Do not argue with me on this!

2. Leverage and Status

The moment Alina steps into the Little Palace she was treated like a princess. A palace, by the way, that’s managed by the Darkling. She gets favorable treatment; from the food, Zoya displaced when she fought Alina, a horseback ride just the two of them, asking her to call by his name to make them familiar, a black uniform that might as well be claiming???

Dude is desperate is what I’m saying. 

Sure, this could all be romantic gestures. There’s the problem that Kirigan is superior in status and name, powerful Grisha, and has a vested interest in her power. Pursuing romance while Kirigan has the ability to make her life heaven or hell with a snap of his finger made every single decision be seen with wariness. 

"Beware of powerful men," Genya couldn't put it any better.

Had they pursued romance after they destroy the fold, cementing Alina’s position as a saint more. Then I might have let go of that wariness. 

I’m only proven correct when the moment Alina turned away from him, Kirigan made another leverage by (spoiler!) putting an antler to her collarbone... eeeewwww much?! 

That’s how desperate the Darkling is to be in control of a person and a situation. 

And when no letter came for Alina? That a big red flag because who else in this castle can control the coming of going of letter with the Savior. HMMMMMMMMMMM.....

Then there’s Kaz. My man. There’s no competition. This guy held no leverage on my dear Inej. When she almost decided to leave, Kaz didn't force or convince her to stay but he ask her. Doesn't remind her of her debt whether monetary or life debt to him. In fact, this guy needs money for revenge but instead mortgage his main source of income for her freedom.

HE POSTPONED HIS LIFE GOAL TO FREE HER FROM DEBT ASJHAKFSDJGLDFJ!!!  

What more do I need to say? 

3. Sympathy Card

This is the type of point you want to watch out from your partners, ladies, gents, and others. The sympathy card is the way to go when anyone wants to reach out to you so you can take care of them before they abuse or gaslight you. 

While it’s good to share trauma and eased the burden, sometimes it's healthy to ask yourself whether the person can take advantage of you and to verify whether they lie to you or not.

When Kirigan shared about his past as a sympathetic boy with his secluded fountain and coin. Everything about that scene rang warning bells for me... the part he had requested her to use his color... requesting to horse ride with just them two... sharing sob story that may encourage Alina to help him...

Kudos to Alina to see through the fact she's seen as a means to an end.

It was only when Kirigan showed righteous anger and frustration of a war that's killing his people did Alina finally opened her heart to him.

Kaz however doesn't use the sympathy card. Heck, the man likes to believe he shed away any weakness and threw it in the harbor where it belongs. Kaz hates weaknesses. And garnering sympathy is an admission of weakness for him.

We still know there's a tragic backstory as any decent anti-hero would have... but by not sharing that, this implies that Inej and Jesper stayed because of who he is, and not because of who he was or how he came to be. They don't need a sob story to stay together and that showed a stronger bond between them.

4. Friends

To be frank, I find this the most hilarious because this point is the one that convinced me that Kirigan was secretly an evil bastard.

He doesn’t have any friends!!!

Like... dude had a literal witch army, a wife once, a fuck buddy, and a girlfriend but there wasn’t a single moment in the show where someone, outside of Alina and superior, to speak casually to him. 

You’re telling me this person... the most powerful and influential Grisha in the East Ravka, charming as hell, handsome as fuck, and yet he doesn’t have friends?! 

“I’ve buried good soldiers... friends...” Get the fuck out of here! WHAT FRIENDS?!?! Maybe if you get off your little power trip from your self-made pedestal, you can actually be less of an asshole and make one. 

Sure he excused himself by blaming his ‘ancestor’ for being a shadow summoner. I can see how the fear makes it hard for him to get close to anybody. But all the other characters who are part of his army only ever shown to speak with him respectfully, and the royalty even commend him. No one disrespected him even openly and you’re telling me he doesn’t have one friend amidst all these people?!

In comparison, look at Kaz. He’s brash, crude, and unapologetic. He held true to his moniker ‘Bastard of the Barrel’ and yet this ass has friends. They show Jesper joking with Kaz, and Kaz has shown to banter with him back as well as tolerating his gambling addiction when it could have jeopardized the Job. Inej was shown to actually argue and have disagreement with Kaz when he’s technically her boss. Can you imagine the Darkling doing that? CAN YOU?!

No. Because he's a pretentious ass. That's why.

This is a great example of the use “show not tell” of how Kaz despite his obvious edges has a soft spot shown through his relationship with Inej and Jesper, who have a friendly dynamic. I can attest that while Kaz didn’t create a good first impression, I love Jesper and Inej (they are precious!) so much that I project it to Kaz in extension.

On the other hand, Kirigan’s goodwill had only ever been told by outsiders or himself. None from his inner circle (which he doesn’t have!) other than his mother, who ended up outing him instead. 

So I applaud the writers and showrunners of SaB to actually have subtext signs of a manipulative bastard. The Duckling is a good villain character that's complex but unredeemable. Sometimes, you just have a good ol' charming villain you can't redeem and that's okay.

[bouncingkadachi]

Blessed Rain

Summary: A Hunter’s weapon of choice says a lot about them. OR: Kyle upgrades his weaponry and gets caught red-handed in the act. Luckily (?) for him, only Tsukino seems to know exactly why he's having an emotional crisis over this.

Word count: 3,260

Note(s): set post-game

Also available on AO3!

Kyle’s had his new bow for a good couple of weeks before the feel of the limbs and the weight of the draw became comfortable enough for him to consider upgrading it. If he’s going to be injured, he reasons, he’d rather it be purely by way of monster and not because he pulls a muscle wrestling with a bow that hasn’t been properly broken in. His wallet despairs as he forks over the zenny, but this’ll hopefully let him take on some of the bigger hunts like the ones that Reverto goes on. It’ll all be worth the investment up front once he has his completely finished bow and restocked his coatings and finally drops the last of his coin on a couple new talismans.

He refuses to think about the implications of his reasoning with a literal coin, rolling it around and around his fingers as he pushes through the market throngs towards the smithy’s. Perhaps he ought to have a change of scenery—the fog-shrouded summits of Terga were said to be particularly beautiful at this time of year, and the heat in Lamure was becoming just shy of unbearable.

The final product that the blacksmith puts into his hands when he finally makes it to collect is nothing short of gorgeous. Blessed Rain is sleek where his old Rex bow was bulky, far lighter and certainly not as clunky. The upgrades on the riser gives the entire weapon a pleasant solidness in his hand, yet the delicately reinforced plating on the limbs doesn’t retract at all from its flexibility. The decorative grip protector gleams. Just looking at it makes Kyle excited to shoot.

“Bring her back if you’re finding that you need anything adjusted,” the smith tells him after Kyle’s diligently inspected every inch of the bow. “Kept the poundage the same for you, but added another inch to the draw length like you asked.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says. Eventually, he’d like to work up to the point where he can up the poundage again. Even just another five pounds would be good. He can do most of the hunts in his skill range alone now, but extra firepower would make him just that much more efficient, or that much of a better support for team hunts. 

The smith laughs when Kyle sheepishly admits this. “Well, I always like to help a Hunter improve, and you know where to find me,” he says cheerily, clapping Kyle enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Come by again anytime if you need a tune up or want to test out something new.” 

And with that, he waves Kyle away so that another Hunter can step up, holding a tired-looking sword and shield and looking equally exhausted. “Aye, rookie Hunter?” Kyle hears as he wanders off to find a more relaxed corner of the market in which to admire his new bow some more. “If you’ve got the materials I can repair and upgrade that for you.” The conversation peters out and melts into the general din of the marketplace as Kyle slips into the crowd, taking care to step out of the way of a Felyne carrying an absolutely massive basket groaning with produce. He watches the precarious load totter away, trying and failing to locate Tsukino in the brief respite the parted crowd affords him. They’d split earlier that morning and he hasn’t seen her since.

He still hasn’t managed to find even a whisker of Tsukino’s whereabouts by the time he settles into a decently quiet nook next to a stall selling all manner of spices. Pity, because the dappled light spilling through the colorful drapes of the marketplace catches so beautifully on the milky-white sheen of the bow, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to her. As a Hunter, Kyle will always care more about weapon practicality than aesthetics, but as a normal human being he certainly won’t turn down the opportunity to have both an aesthetically pleasing and perfectly functional weapon. He’s still grinning a little when he goes to strap the bow to his back, and it’s in the process of looking up that his gaze catches onto wide eyes staring plainly at him from across the street. 

He freezes, arm suspended awkwardly halfway to sheathing. His beautiful bow glints damningly in the bright Lamure sunlight as his unexpected friend wades through the throngs of people towards him, gesturing for him to stay put with a wave of her hand that really can’t be mistaken for anything other than a greeting.

“Hey,” he says cautiously and lamely when she finally reaches him. Belatedly, he remembers to lower his arm. He is momentarily thankful that she doesn’t try to reach up for his face in the Mahanan greeting, although his goodwill evaporates when she leans in to inspect his bow, body thrumming with unexplainable anticipation.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” she says finally. Kyle can’t help himself from preening just a little, shifting his grip so that she can get a better look. After all, what was the point of spending all that money and materials if there was no one to excitedly show the end product off to? Besides, it’s been a while since they last saw each other. Last he heard, she had been traveling, keen to finally see the world on her own terms and at her own pace.

“It’s fresh off an upgrade,” he answers smugly. “Easier to handle than the Rex.”

“Slightly less intimidating though,” she chimes in, and Kyle bristles, not liking where this conversation is going. And true to form, she goes in for the kill: “Mizutsune? I recognize the plating.”

Kyle can feel the flush crawling up to his ears. Logically, he knows that there’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about. It’s a mark of good smithing that one can tell at a glance which monster a weapon was inspired by, and a Mizutsune was both powerful and extremely iconic. This bow in particular had good stats and the ability to fire rapidly, which admittedly took him some time to get used to after focusing mostly on piercing shots. The paralysis coating that works so well on this bow has also already saved his skin on more than one occasion. There is little more a career Hunter can ask for out of his weapon. It’s not like he’d been heading out to Pomore Garden at any given opportunity and holding onto an increasing multitude of Mizutsune materials just because he wanted some physical reminder of what was probably the most pivotal moment of his life, something that never failed to put a very complicated and jumbled mess of emotions deep within his chest whenever he thought back to it.

He’s starting to feel very, very hot under his collar. The sun is terrible. He resolves that his next big hunt really needs to be somewhere outside of Lamure.

His friend, however, just looks more and more baffled as he launches into an unprompted defense of his newest purchase. Every time she opens her mouth, Kyle talks a little faster. Eventually, she doesn’t even bother trying to interject, which is arguably worse, because instead she just looks progressively more and more thoughtful. Kyle wished desperately for Tsukino to peel away from whatever hidey hole she was tucked in. Then, his train of thought screeches into a rude and abrupt halt.

“What,” he croaks. “What are you doing.”

One of her brows quirks up. “I sure hope your eyes are still working because that’d be a detriment to your job,” she says plainly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I promise it’s not a trick question.”

What she’s doing is holding Kyle’s hand—the one not clutching his new bow—the one that had apparently been waving about with increasing agitation as he jabbered on and on. What Kyle doesn’t understand is why. It’s not like he just did some impressive shot to give them the edge in a battle or anything else that was cool and hand-holding worthy. He’d just been yammering about bow mechanics, and maybe embarrassingly dipping into his talisman hopes and dreams. He stares a little helplessly at his trapped hand. Her kinship stone winks up at him.

“Look,” she says patiently, when it becomes very clear that Kyle is going to need a moment before he can get his brain back online. “There’s nothing wrong with a bow made from Mizutsune parts and I am the last person who will ever turn down pretty things. What I was going to say was that this is an interesting departure from your whole—” She pauses, as though looking for a specific word. “Well, your whole image as a very grown-up and serious and intimidating Hunter or whatever it was you were trying to convey with that scowl you used to like so much. And you weren’t letting me get a single word in.”

“You’re getting plenty of words in now,” Kyle scowls, just to be contrary. “And I’ve grown since then.”

“Someone’s in a mood today.” She smiles, crinkle-eyed, up at him. Kyle very seriously debates wrenching his hand out of her hold like he did the last time this happened and then pointedly doesn’t act on the impulse.

“Why’re you in Lulucion?” he asks instead with a truly remarkable level of self-restraint. “Thought you’d never want to come back again after what happened.”

She shrugs, the greatsword on her back heaving with the movement. “Guess I’ve grown too,” she says loftily, though she sobers quickly. “I was actually visiting my grandfather. He used to go back to Mahana around this time of year… he can’t do it anymore of course but I’ve got Ratha now, so I figured I could do it instead. And then I figured I’d stop by Rutoh before going home, to see Ena and Alwin and wheedle a few more stories out of them.”

She lets go of Kyle’s hand. He tries not to miss it. “Even Ratha can’t make the trip in one go, and Lulucion was closest, so we’re stopping to rest. I dropped by the Scrivener’s Lodge earlier because I was hoping Reverto could give me a few weapon pointers as I’ve saved up just about enough for an upgrade, but they told me that he was out on an urgent mission and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, a little stung that she hadn’t come specifically to see him first, out of all the Hunters in the city. He’s slightly mollified when she grins at him, though.

“And then I met Tsukino by the cannons. She said I could find you here, so here I am.”

“I don’t know anything about greatswords,” Kyle blurts out, and immediately wants to kick himself. She blinks at him, and then bursts into laughter.

“I was just going to ask the smith,” she wheezes when she’s got herself somewhat back under control. “Can’t I see a friend just to say hi to him anymore?” Kyle stares very intently down at some of the finer detailing on his bow.

“Where is my Palico anyway?” he finally settles on, falling into a tried and true grumble. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

She waves her hand vaguely in the air. “Navirou said something about getting donuts. I wasn’t really listening.”

But there was a donut stand right here in the marketplace, Kyle wanted to cry out. He should have seen Tsukino by now if they’d really been going to buy snacks! And how was it possible that he had missed Navirou in his entirety, between the Felyne’s penchant for wearing ridiculous little outfits and his inability to shut up?

“Why? You have a hunt you need to run off to?” 

“Yes,” Kyle says hotly. It’s a lie. He’d accepted a subquest that wouldn’t depart until later that evening for the sole purpose of testing out his new weapon in a relatively stress-free environment. Before that, he’d just planned on hitting up the shooting range in the training arena to break in the new string. His schedule was very, very free. Tsukino was perfectly aware of that.

His eyes widened. Tsukino had been with him on every excursion into the Gardens. She went where he did (usually), and it’s not like Kyle would ever begrudge her a visit home. But she’d been with him every step of every single Mizutsune job he’d ever taken—had watched him craft traps when he needed to capture and had kept watch for opportunists hoping to sneak up as he’d carved. She’d been the one who’d recommended the spinner for all the excess purplefur he was ending up with. At first, he’d simply thought that she’d wanted the thread to mend some of her own items, or to send back home to her brethren, but instead she’d tucked each skein of vibrant, silk-soft thread into the bottom of his pouch with gentle paws, cryptically talking about how strong a material it was, and how nice it looked when woven. Kyle has never touched a loom in his life, but now he’s looking at someone who he definitely knows has.

His stomach drops. Hadn’t Tsukino looked particularly smug ever since he’d lingered on the blueprints for Blessed Rain after getting a look at its stats and required materials?

“She got me,” he groans. His friend just looks at him bemusedly, though perhaps with a touch of wariness at his ferocious frown. Hastily, he tacks on: “It’s nothing. I, uh—I just remembered that I needed to tell Tsukino something. Important. Later, when I find her again.”

“Alright,” she says, though she doesn’t quite look like she believes him. “A quest’s a quest, though, so I won’t keep you here. The bow really is pretty though. I know I just said it doesn’t match your image and all but I really don’t think you can go wrong with something you like. You’ve got the skills for it, anyway.”

“Thanks,” he croaks, feeling a little overwhelmed. He manages two whole steps out of the nook before he pauses, worrying at his lower lip. “Actually,” he says sharply, spinning around on his heel and nearly causing his friend to startle right into a spice display. “How long are you staying for?”

“However long it’ll take to upgrade my sword, I guess,” she says after she collects herself, the words lilting into a question. “Three days or so, I guess?” She skirts nervously away from the glaring vendor, careful not to overbalance on her greatsword.

“Cool,” Kyle says with a nod, steeling himself. “Great, even. Look, how about this. Your last visit to Lulucion was terrible—” an understatement, “—so when I get back from my hunt I’ll show you some of the better sights Lulucion has to offer. There’s a hole in the wall that I think you’ll like. Dad used to take me after hunts—they grill really nice queen shrimp. And the parapets—you can climb them, and they’ve got all these little carvings in the stone that you can search for like a scavenger hunt.” He’s keenly aware that he’s rambling again, but she looks interested, so he barrels on. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow just as soon as I can get a nap in. We can stay in the city or take Ratha out to the Barrens, down by the water. Just make a day of it.” He’s pretty certain that he looks at her with something akin to hope as she considers. It feels like a lifetime before she finally comes to a decision. 

“I want to take Ratha out in the evening,” she says finally. “I don’t want him to be cooped up too long here ever again.”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathes out, the word rushing out of him in a flood of relief. “Yeah, I can work around that.” She beams at him.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says, sincere and looking more than a little surprised despite herself at the prospect of looking forward to doing anything in Lulucion. “I’m staying at the inn closest to the stables. Pretty sure I’m the only Rider there currently so they’ll know who I am.” Kyle nods, and lets himself get his hand squeezed again, though not without her hands first hovering in an instinctual bid for his cheeks before she remembers herself.

“Good luck on your hunt. If I see Tsukino I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“She’ll show up in due time,” he mutters darkly. “I’ll let you know if Reverto gets back early or if he’s just been loafing around this entire time. For your next upgrade or whatever.” She laughs, bright, and then slips off into the crowd to wrestle her way into the smithy’s queue. Kyle is left staring in her wake before his gaze is drawn back down to his bow.

“This is all your fault,” he tells it. Predictably, it doesn’t answer. Also predictably, Tsukino takes that exact moment to drop down from seemingly nowhere. 

“I didn’t know we had another job lined up,” the Felyne says delicately, carefully brushing crumbs off of her coat. Kyle groans, sheathing his weapon.

“Don’t tease me,” he huffs. “I’m going to the shooting range. Are you coming?”

“Hmm,” says Tsukino. “I suppose I can spare the time.”

“Of course you can spare the time!” Kyle hisses, indignant. “You just spent the day eating donuts and eavesdropping!” He pointedly doesn’t look towards the smithy, where his friend was patiently browsing the display while another Hunter was getting their hammer looked at.

“One must always be prepared with the latest intel,” Tsukino says mildly. “I’m glad the upgrade went well.” 

“It’s got good stats,” Kyle protests weakly in what is quickly becoming a tired argument. “The rapid shots have been going very well. And I had a surplus of Mizutsune parts.”

 “Yes,” his hunting partner agrees readily enough. “Have you thought of what you’re going to do with the thread?”

“This conversation is finished,” Kyle says abruptly, making a very determined push towards the market’s exit. “Either come or don’t, so long as we meet at the gate for tonight’s hunt.”

Tsukino looks at him with exasperated fondness, which is frankly a little insulting, but readily falls into step next to him. Kyle wonders how many rounds he’s going to have to shoot in order to clear his head again and rid it of thoughts of Hazepetal Garden or Mizutsune or high-grade thread that he’ll never use himself. He’ll examine them again someday—because he’s not a coward—but that day is most certainly not today.

He does his rounds in the training arena and marvels at the way the string slides off his fingers with a satisfying twang, even though it’ll still be a good few days before it’s fully broken in to his liking. Tsukino’s saved him a donut, the cakey sweet sticky with honey and practically melting in his mouth. He’s got some free time even after stocking up for the evening hunt, so he takes a few minutes to browse the quest board, taking careful note of the jobs that were situated near the Harzgai Rocky Hill, or the ones from further afield in Alcala that’ll take him closer to Rutoh. And when he leaves the city, he pointedly doesn’t look up at the familiar shape circling in the dusky sky, even as he knows that they’ll surely see the last rays of the setting sun winking off of the plates of his bow like a beacon.

[jackrrabbit]

it will come back [pt. 1] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 2] [Part 3]

A/N: Low budget yandere for my greasy king. This concept has definitely been done before, but I couldn’t resist. This is my first non-smut on this acct and I’ll be so sad if it bombs 😭

Title from the Hozier song: “don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: light yandere, minor injury, angst, Shiggy likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep. [In later parts but not in this one: violence, sex, more yandere, 18+]

You’ve always had a soft spot for strays. Maybe that’s why you became an ER nurse—from the first abandoned puppy you brought home as a kid to the patients you refuse to give up on even when it looks hopeless, you’ve never been able to turn a blind eye when something needs your help. Sometimes (times like this) you wish you knew better. It’s hard enough to take care of yourself these days.

Today’s shift was…what, 16 hours? 17? The 20-minute walk from the bus stop to your apartment building feels like it takes twice that long in the rain. God, you need a shower. And a decent night’s sleep, preferably for at least 12 hours. Tomorrow’s your day off, and you’re ready to take advantage of it the best way you know how: Netflix, soju, and your favorite vibrator. But tonight? As soon as you’re clean, you’re going to pig out on leftovers and collapse into the bed that’s the only halfway nice piece of furniture in your shithole apartment. You really do deserve a break; you’ve earned it.

Unfortunately, as usual, the universe has other plans.

You hear him before you see him: wheezing, choked breaths, like someone’s trying to breathe with an anvil on their chest. You’re not quite out of nurse mode so your mind starts trying to diagnose the issue before you even register what you’re hearing. Fluid in the lungs, possibly blood. That hacking isn’t good. Broken ribs? Definitely bruised. But probably not a puncture…

The breathing is coming from down an alley next to your building. It’s dark enough that you can’t see from the street what’s making the noise. And you’re not a fool, you know it’s a bad idea to walk down pitch-black alleys late at night, especially in this area—a neighborhood you’re living in by necessity, because it’s the only place cheap enough for you to get by. But the coughing…it just sounds so awful. It sounds like it hurts.

Your phone’s already in your hand with 119 dialed and ready to call (standard practice when you’re walking home by yourself), but you turn the flashlight on and shine it down the alleyway. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Nothing responds, but you can still hear the breathing. You step in a little deeper, swinging your light from side to side and looking over the heaps of trash bags overflowing from the dumpster. The raindrops make clicking sounds as they hit the plastic, and you can hear gurgling from a rain spout down the side of the building, but the wheezing doesn’t stop.

One more step. And then one more. You wish there was something you could do to make the splash of your rain boots in the puddles a little less loud. Something about this situation—the rain, the dark, the flat grey light from your cellphone, and that horrible hacking breath—it makes you feel like you’re walking into a horror movie. But you don’t stop walking.

The hacking is coming from a man propped up on the wall between a few XL bags of trash. The black outfit he’s wearing almost blends into the bags, but a mop of grey-blue hair gives him away. His head is slumped onto his chest, and if he’s conscious he doesn’t show it. “Hello?” you ask again, even less confident that you’re going to get a response.

No answer.

The smell of garbage is…ugh…hard to ignore, but on top of it is an oppressive stench of copper coming from the man passed out in the trash. You kneel down to get a better look and yep, he’s covered in blood. It’s hard to make out in the low light, but there’s a trio of long gashes in the man’s abdomen, cutting apart the skin and flesh so deep you can see traces of a slim layer of yellow fat between all the inky clotted blood. It looks like he was attacked by an animal. Or someone with an animal quirk. There are a lot of villains in this neighborhood.

And the coughing...definitely internal injuries. Whoever this guy is, he needs treatment. You hold up your phone to hit the call button on your pre-dialed 119—

“Don’t.” The voice is a growl, low and surprisingly firm despite the scratchiness. You jerk back and clutch your phone to your chest, caught off guard not just by the interruption but by the intensity of the face glaring up at yours.

His eyes are red. “You need an ambulance,” you tell him in your calmest nurse voice.

“If you try to call the police, I’ll—kill you,” the man says, but the threat is a little less threatening when he has to stop in the middle to retch blood onto his own chin.

You glare back at him but don’t call the emergency number. There are a lot of of reasons why he wouldn’t want to go to the hospital, but the most obvious one is probably true. “You’re a criminal. A villain?”

He doesn’t respond, choosing instead to keep glaring at you like you’ve committed some mortal sin against his ancestors by having the nerve to check on him and try to help him. Somehow it pisses you off. When you were getting your ADN, you once took a temp job doing health screenings at a local middle school and you would always get so annoyed at the kids. Didn’t they see you were just doing your job? Why is it so hard to understand that what you’re doing is for their own good?

Stupid kids. Stupid villain. “You’d rather bleed out and die?”

The man bares his teeth at you, and it’s a pretty disturbing scene considering how they’re covered in scarlet. “You think they’re going to save me? Think I’ll go to the hospital and get all my HP restored?”

He’s mocking you now. You only have a second to move out of the way before he spits off to the side. “I mean…that’s how a hospital works.”

“If you think I would—make it out of that ambulance alive, you’re—dumber than you look.” His voice is interspersed with coughs.

“Well, you’re not going to live if I leave you here.” You hold up your phone, ready to call the ambulance, but in a shocking display of agility the man lunges forward and grabs it out of your hand. “Hey, wait! Give that…back…”

Your voice trails off as your phone crumbles—literally crumbles to dust in the man’s fingers. Once he’s satisfied that there’s no way for you to call the cops, he slumps back onto the trash bags and closes his eyes, apparently exhausted from the effort.

Goddamnit…! For a second, you can only stare blankly at the pile of dust that used to be your $300 smartphone. And then you’re seized by something, maybe not hatred but an annoyance so strong you can feel it in your throat, and you decide right then and there that this villain is not going to die. You’re going to save him. Out of spite.

You’re not sure how you manage to half-carry him from the alley to your apartment, but you do. You’re lucky it’s ass-o-clock at night and no one’s in the lobby or the elevator, or you’d definitely be getting some looks trying to lug a maimed body around. What would you say if someone did call the cops? Don’t worry, don’t worry about it officer, it’s just my friend drank a little too much, oh those wounds? We were at a costume party, haha…

But no one sees you, and no one calls the cops. The man is unconscious the whole time you’re carrying him, and by the time you have him laid out on a shower curtain on your living room floor his breathing is a little bit shallower than it was before. You’ve got your tools—nothing fancy, just some gauze and closures and antiseptic from your personal first aid kit. It’s not much, but it’ll have to be enough.

��Let’s get to work, asshole,” you tell the unconscious body in front of you, and you crack your knuckles.

///

The day after you pick the villain out of the garbage, your body decides that it’s not going to let you sleep in no matter how much you need it. You can tell because the huge windows in your bedroom—the only saving grace of this apartment, honestly—are depositing golden-pink sunrise light over everything you see when you open your eyes, including the villain’s face. Which is about six inches away from yours.

“You smell like death,” you tell him sleepily. He doesn’t move.

He’s…probably in his early twenties, you think, but it’s hard to tell because of all the wrinkles. His hair is on the longer side, and it’s striped with rusty brown smears from his blood. Again, you notice how red his irises are. Have you ever seen someone with eyes that color before? You’re pretty sure you haven’t.

“You slept for a long time,” the villain says, finally moving back so he’s not breathing into your mouth.

“Yeah, I was tired. From saving your life.” You sit up and rub your temples. “I’m thirsty…”

Before you can finish your complaint, the villain is holding a glass of water out to you in an awkward 4-fingered grip.

“Um, thanks, I guess.” You suck down the water and immediately feel better, enough that you realize how wrong it is that he’s up and moving around and probably undoing all your hard work. “You should be lying down.”

“The floor hurt, and I was bored.”

“Lie on the couch then. You can watch TV. But first—“ He’s sitting on the edge of your bed next to you, and you make him lie down flat so you can look at the injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as they looked last night—no walk in the park, but at least you won’t have a corpse in your apartment in a few hours.

When you’re done inspecting him, he sits up and asks you for a shirt. You had to cut his off, not that it was any great loss. The thing was shredded. Him pointing it out is the only thing that makes you really realize he’s shirtless, so you give him an oversized pajama shirt of yours. It has the name and motto of your old high school on it, and the villain reads it out in a half-mocking tone when you hand it to him.

“Beggars shouldn’t be choosers,” you snap. “You should be grateful.”

“I am grateful,” he says, putting the shirt on. “But I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you need a shirt, right? It’s cold—“

“No. Not that.” He’s staring at you again, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact. “Why you didn’t leave me where you found me last night.”

There’s a lot you could tell him, all of it a little bit true. You were curious. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t make it out of the hospital alive. You couldn’t leave him alone the same way you can’t leave abandoned puppies alone. You wanted to prove to him that you were right, and that being stubborn wouldn’t get him what he wanted. But you don’t say that. “You killed my phone, so you owe me a new one. And I can’t get that back if you bleed out.”

He’s looking at you like he doesn’t believe you, and you fidget under his gaze until he sighs and says, “Whatever.”

You have to let him lean on your shoulder when he walks back to the living room to lie down on your couch. How the hell did he even get to your bedroom by himself? You really didn’t think this through—what are you supposed to do with an infirm possible villain who can barely walk unsupported without opening his injuries back up?

But that’s a problem for tomorrow you to deal with. Today, you’re content to set your laptop up on the coffee table so the two of you can watch TV in…oddly companionable (if you’re not imagining it) silence. It’s almost the lazy day off you were daydreaming about before you got yourself into this mess, and the atmosphere is so relaxed that before you can really decide whether to force the man to go to the hospital or turn him out on the street (or…?) you’re dozing off on your couch like there isn’t a potentially dangerous stranger lying beside you with his head just a few inches from your lap.

When you wake up, your problem is solved for you. He’s gone, and it’s like he was never there—except you’re down a cellphone and a pajama shirt, and your shower curtain is drenched with blood. You wrap it up with the rest of the soiled medical supplies and toss all of it in a dumpster a mile away from your building without knowing exactly why.

///

It’s not the last you see of him, but somehow you had a feeling that was going to be the case.

He scares the shit out of you the first time he visits (over time, that’s how you’ll start to think of his little unannounced drop-ins: visits. Like you’re being visited by a ghost or something). You’re coming back from another grueling shift in the ER, so tired you think you might be sleepwalking, and what do you find when you come in your apartment but a strange white-haired man sitting on your couch eating dry cereal out of the box and flipping through one of your books?

You nearly piss yourself.

He doesn’t seem surprised, which makes sense, considering he’s a villain and he’s probably used to pulling this dramatic entrance thing on people. He certainly doesn’t seem the least bit threatened when you brandish the mini canister of pepper spray on your keychain and demand that he tell you how he got in if he wants to retain the power of eyesight.

“It was unlocked,” he says.

“It was not unlocked,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You may be sleep deprived, but you’re not careless. Never careless.

“Whatever. Calm down. You’re not going to use that on me.”

He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. If he wanted to do something to hurt you, he could’ve done it that first night. And you’re too tired to really put up a fight, so you just put the cap back on the pepper spray and flop down next to him on the couch. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He looks at you curiously from between his shaggy bangs, like you’re the one intruding in his home and not the other way around, then reaches out to hand something to you. “Here, payback.”

It’s a cell phone—not a smartphone like the one he destroyed, but a flip phone circa the 2000s, the kind that forces you to press “9” four times to get the letter “F”. You stare at it for a second, then look back at the villain. “Are you kidding? Did you get this from a museum?”

“Take it or leave it.” His feet are propped up on your coffee table, but you can’t make yourself care. Actually, it looks nice…him stretched out with an odd look of comfort on his lanky form.

You lean back on the couch and kick up your feet next to his. “Fine. Thanks, I guess.”

He shrugs.

“How are your wounds healing?” Why are you trying to make conversation with this guy? He’s…a villain, right? Not that you’ve ever received affirmative confirmation of that fact, but the hesitance to call the police and the breaking and entering are pretty good tells. But…it might be weird, but since you picked him up that day, you’ve felt a kind of kinship with him.

Alone. Abandoned. No place to go. No one to save him. It’s not a pretty comparison, but you can’t deny it rings true.

Maybe that’s why you pick up strays.

“They’re fine,” he tells you after so long a pause that you’ve almost forgotten your question. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

You take a long look at him, at his posture—he’s relaxed, but his abdomen is crunched a little bit, curled in on himself so subtly that even you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t looking. It’s not your problem. He’s an adult, and you’re sure he could be seeking real medical attention if he really needed it. You’re in no way obligated to perform some kind of checkup on this arrogant dick who literally broke into your apartment to give you a shitty phone and eat your cereal. The sensible thing to do is to tell him to forget that you live here and hopefully never see him again.

His head tips back to rest on the top of the couch, and he holds your book up to read. At this angle his long hair is out of the way of his face, and you notice among the deep-set creases in his skin a pair of wide scars across his right eye and on the corner of his lips. They’re pale and faded—old, then—but they look off to you, and after a while of snatching glances at his face you realize it’s because they’re healed badly, extraordinarily badly, the kind of healing that you don’t see very often because it only occurs when a stubborn patient tries to let a particularly nasty injury heal on its own. The part of you that isn’t sensible wonders how old he was when he got those scars.

Has he learned his lesson?

You doubt it.

“Lie down,” you sigh. “Let me see the cuts.”

Which is how you find yourself examining this annoying villain again, checking on his injuries and giving him recommendations for care like you’re his personal nurse or something. It’s not a role you enjoy playing, but at least he takes it without complaint, and you start to wonder if maybe this is why he broke into your apartment in the first place. If anything, he looks calmer when you’ve flipped up his shirt and prodded at his wounds, his eyes closing slowly and freeing you of that scarlet-red gaze.

He’s like a cat, you think, and then you shake your head and remind yourself that it’s a terrible idea to think of this man—this grown man who is probably a great danger to you and others—as a wild animal you’re trying to domesticate.

When he finally leaves (only after you drop a couple dozen unsubtle hints about how long you’ve been at work and how exhausted you are), you take a moment before you sink into bed to look at the flip phone. It’s no nicer than your original impression, but as you scroll through the screens you notice that it’s factory-new, except for one thing: there’s a contact programmed in, a phone number with an area code you don’t recognize listed under “T”. And you don’t want to be curious…

…but you are. Shocking.

Down the rabbit hole it is, you decide. So you text him.

///

[You: 12:03 AM] > Hey it’s (Y/N) > (the girl whose apartment you broke into) > What does T stand for? [T: 12:07 AM] > What do u think [You: 12:09 AM] > ?? [T: 12:09 AM] > My name > Dont you know who i am [You: 12:10 AM] > Are you famous? [T: 12:10 AM] > You dont watch the news do u [You: 12:11 AM] > Not really > What’s your name then [T: 12:12 AM] > … > Didnt u say u had to sleep [You: 12:15 AM] > Oh yeah > Whatever I guess > Good night

[T: 2:34 AM] > Its Tomura > Dont look it up

[You: 8:02 AM] > Ok > I won’t > Tomura

➠ [Part 2]

[avengers-age-of-fanfics]

just for you, honeybee (3/?)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, steve rogers x reader (platonic)

word count: 3,986

authors note: part three!!!! I'm honestly so happy with how this is turning out so please leave feedback and lmk how I'm doing! thank you all so much :)

warnings: swearing, super soldier serum injection, needles, drinking

summary: dating back to 1943, you, james barnes, and steve rogers were best friends, including bucky being your boyfriend. when you get a notice that bucky died in the war, you make it your mission to find closure for yourself and protect steve as he is the only remaining piece of bucky you have left. once you are offered the super soldier serum, you and steve must make your way through world war 2 - and the unknown future hardships to come.

recap: You picked at your nails, anxiety swallowing you whole, “and what if you don’t make it back, either?”

“I will.”

-

It had only taken you 5 days to make up your mind: either go with Steve as he finishes out his mission with the army or wait in Brooklyn upon his return. “Well,” you always bit back, “if you return.”

You did not want to stay in Brooklyn and wait for Steve to come back. You had done that with Bucky and after learning his tragic death, you needed to go with Steve. You didn’t care who you had to fight – you were protecting Steve Rogers and looking after him, just like James would have wanted.

Peggy Carter immediately welcomed you and seemed somewhat relieved when you had met with them outside your apartment complex, bags packed and ready to go. She had given you a soft smile and a nod, making you feel more at calm with your decision. However, before you left, you needed to say goodbye – just in case.

Dressed in a tie-neck floral dress, you headed across the street to where Grover was, selling newspapers once again in the early morning. However, when he wasn’t on the sidewalk, he was in your apartment, holding you as you cried for Bucky. Grover had helped you open Bucky’s files and put on his dog tags; he was there while Steve was sorting out your arrangements with Peggy. He had your snot stains on his nicest shirts that you always apologized for, and he had carefully placed the dog tags over your head; Grover was certainly one of your rocks when Steve needed to grieve on his own, which you understood.

Noticing your approaching figure, Grover stood up and shooed people away from his stand, meeting you halfway. He noticed your solemn look, “you goin’ with Mr. America?”

With a nod, you wrapped your arms around the older man’s neck, his chubby arms meeting your waist in a split second, “I have to, Grove. I needta’ keep my promise to James, and watch after Stevie.”

Grover tightened his grip around you and squeezed, much like a father would, “sure that super soldier can’t do it himself? Looks more than capable.”

You shook your head against his neck, “I promised – I promised James; you know that.”

Grover pulled away, resting his hands on your shoulders, “I know you did, kid…but that don’t mean it still pains me to see ya go…Come back here, the both of you, in one piece – ya hear me?”

With a nod, you squeezed Grover’s hand on your shoulder and went back to where Steve and Peggy were standing by an army truck, your bags already in the trunk. As the two looked back at you, you gave a curt nod, “I’m ready.”

Steve helped you into the backseat as Peggy headed up front, starting the truck up once you were all piled in. As you rode off, away from Brooklyn, you looked back to your home, and gave a sad wave to Grover who was already back to selling newspapers – but you saw him wiping his cheeks. Tears flooded your eyes as you imagined you and Bucky finding a nice white picket house in Brooklyn once he came back like he promised. Turning back around, you wiped your eyes, looking forward to the road, a hand wrapped around Bucky’s dog tags.

Only a little while into the car ride, you leaned forward, asking the two soldiers a question, “where exactly are we headed?”

Steve turned around towards you, “first, Camp Lehigh where we’ll get you some ID so they know you’re with Peggy and me. Then, London, where Colonel Phillips got a lead on Schmidt’s new hideout.”

You looked down at your nails, picking at the skin surrounding them, “can I be of help in any way? And, uh… who is Schmidt?”

Peggy glanced back at you for a quick moment, “how are your fighting skills, y/n?”

Steve gave her a glare, “no, absolutely not.”

The driver looked back once more, expecting an answer. You glanced at Steve, “I’ve got experience with guns and hand-on-hand combat.”

Steve shook his head, “that’s nice but I’m not letting you do what I think Peggy is insinuating.”

Peggy elbowed him before she answered you, “there’s a chance your skills may come in handy, Miss y/n, but it won’t be an easy feat.”

You nodded to her, “I’d like to be of any service I can, Agent Carter.”

Steve grumbled, “am I just invisible to you two?” That finally got a giggle out of you and Steve glanced back, squeezing your hand, before turning towards the front.

You waited a few moments before you tapped Steve’s shoulder, getting his attention, “hmm?”

With a head tilt, you asked again, “who is this Schmidt guy? Never got an answer earlier.”

Steve seemed a bit tense when you asked before answering you, “he’s a confidant to Hitler and closely affiliated with Hydra. Once we take down Schmidt, we get closer to taking down Hitler.”

Your eyes had widened during his short summary, “so you really been killin’ Nazis, Stevie?”

He huffed, “been trying too – mostly taking over Hydra bases. Buck was more the killing Nazi type.”

With a slight smile, you squeezed Steve’s hand, “sounds like our James.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, save for some mindless chatter over Peggy’s radio.

By the time you three got to Camp Lehigh, getting your identification was nothing out of the ordinary; however, being looked at with either such sorrow or surprise was a shock. You had assumed people knew about Bucky, but you never thought Bucky had told everyone about the girl from home, nor that they knew what she looked like. Tears flooded your eyes very quickly at the image of Bucky boasting about his Brooklyn girl and everything about her, and apparently, his words got all the way back to New Jersey.

Even when you got to the London Bunker, more dejected looks were given your way. Some sick part of you wished he hadn’t made you such a big deal, but if he were still alive, you’d be flustered. With subtle hands, you quietly put Bucky’s dog talks within your new army greens officer uniform. While you definitely were not an officer, Peggy had no problem lending you one of hers, telling you that if someone had a problem with it, take it up with her.

You clearly remembered her conversation as she dragged you into her tent, quickly shoveling through a trunk of hers, “are you alright wearing one of these? I have a few different sizes – whatever fits you.”

You accepted a green skirt of hers with a nod, along with a tan-colored blouse and a green jacket. Thankfully, it had no medals on it so you didn’t exactly feel as if you were impersonating a soldier.

You looked towards Peggy as she made her leave, “thank you, Agent Carter…You truly did not have to do this but – but I appreciate it.”

Peggy gave a soft smile as she opened the tent, “anything for Barnes’ girl.”

Right when she left, you sobbed for a good 20 minutes. You remember mumbling to yourself, “I hope I still am your best girl, Jamie.”

Over the next few days, you had quickly grown accustomed to the troops' fast pace and overall serious atmosphere, along with their Colonel. You would never admit it to the man, but Colonel Phillips scared you when you two had first met; you wondered if he had ever laughed in his entire life. And you definitely wouldn’t tell him this either, but you knew he was a big softie underneath that whole ‘I’m Colonel Phillips and you have to be intimidated by me’ attitude. Once you had arrived in London, you made it your mission to make the Colonel laugh, whether it be at your expense or someone else’s – but it took your mind off James; well, as much as it could.

One man who admired your mission and seemed to play along with it was Mr. Howard Stark; when the two of you weren’t messing around, history was being made, and changing the world for the better was your first priority.

Besides his cocky attitude, Howard had truly become one of your favorite people – besides Captain America himself, of course. When Steve had introduced you to the team focused on finding Schmidt and the rest of Hydra, Howard had taken to you liking a father hen, showing you his new tech and his favorite, the new vibranium shield he made for Cap. He was so ecstatic about showing a new face his greatest creation and how indestructible it was; as he told you, everyone else did not seem as impressed and he needed someone with a brain like yours to comprehend what he made.

While nobody else knew, he had also shown you the last remaining vial of the super-soldier serum Dr. Erskine had made and thus, what Howard had been trying to recreate. He had almost been successful but told you he did not want to use Erskine’s last vial on someone, in case it ever came to that. Instead, he wanted to try his own, one that would not affect one’s looks physically but included all the enhancements. Now that got you intrigued; you loved Steve, truly, but if you ever got the chance to take Stark’s serum and wanted a husband in the future, you did not want to look so…bulky.

The two of you worked closely together, using Stark brainpower and L/N design skills and expert eye to create the new symbol for Captain America.

With a pretty decent paint job on your part, both you and Howard took a step back from the upheld shield, looking over the new red, white and blue design, fit with a silver star. Tears filled your eyes but you refused to let them fall as Howard rested a hand on your back – your Stevie would be carrying that shield proudly very shortly.

Howard pulled you into a quick side hug, “Sergeant Barnes would be proud of you, kid. Look at you, designing Captain America’s new shield!”

With a soft laugh, you wiped your eyes, “I hope he would be.”

Before Howard stepped away to give you some space, you grabbed onto his arm, eyes darting towards the suitcase underneath his desk, “can I ask you something, Howard?”

Howard crossed his arms, “what’s goin’ on inside that head of yours, kiddo?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, “listen, I know you’re gonna say no, but I just… I need to get this out.”

Howard noticed your serious tone and pulled you against a corner of the huge bunker that had been your home for the past couple of days, surrounded by books that you had read in record time, “go on, kid.”

You fumbled over your words, nails scratching against your skin, “do you think – do you think I could take the serum? Your recreation, of course – I saw your successful attempts and I want to take it. I’ve thought it over, truly, and it’s what I want. Ever since James – ever since James died, I’ve felt so lost and useless; I want to do something, something that James would be proud of. And I know you’re gonna say no, but Howard, I really need to do this, so please-“

Howard interrupted you, hand held up calmly, “let’s talk to Colonel Phillips, okay?”

Your eyes grew wide, “real-really? No immediate reprimanding?”

He looked at you with soft eyes, “I know what you’re feeling, y/n, and it’s not a good feeling. While I wish there was another solution other than you taking the serum, I – I’m not opposed to it. Maybe we need a sidekick.”

You gave a slight smile as he grinned back, “thank you, Howie.” He pinched your arm in response to his nickname, narrowing his eyes playfully.

The moment you asked Colonel Phillips for a private meeting with you, him, Howard, and Peggy, he already seemed on edge. Woke up on the wrong side of the cot, sour coffee, you weren’t sure – but you were sure that he was not going to be happy with your idea.

As expected, the meeting with Colonel Phillips was not exactly great; he may have thrown a fit and yelled at you for even suggesting such a thing. Okay, ouch, that stung – you genuinely thought it was a good idea.

You had interrupted during such fit, “sir, may I remind you that Steve Rogers had no prior fighting experience yet he got the super-soldier serum? I have the skills – well, some skills - the will to fight, and the…”

You stopped.

“I have a purpose, just like Steve,” you began once more, “Hydra took away the most important person in my life and I’ll be damned to hell if I’m not gonna do anything to stop them. So please, sir, let me do this.”

Peggy Carter stood beside Colonel Phillips, her lips twitching up in a slight smile, “you remind me of him. Of Barnes.” The Colonel grumbled.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, “I guess he rubbed off on me.”

Peggy looked to Colonel Phillips as he was deep in thought, until he spoke, “you talk to Rogers about this?”

You shook your head, “no, sir.”

Colonel Phillips crossed his arms, “I suggest you bring it to his attention before we make a final decision, l/n. Then, if we decide yes, we’re going to need to change the plan just a tad bit.”

With a nod, you stood up and walked out of the meeting room, hoping to find Steve around the corner somewhere; on your way out, you already heard Colonel Phillips grumbling about how it would be nice to have another super-soldier.

One of the Howling Commandos spoke up during your search for Steve, “he’s over at Crocker’s Folly. Bar right across the street from here, kid.” You thanked him and walked out of the site, spotting a very beat-down bar just across the street, surprisingly still standing.

Heading over, you had honestly no idea how to bring up the idea of you taking the serum to Steve; it definitely was no normal conversation. You knew he would say no, but you wanted to take it and be of use during the war and avenge Bucky in any way you could. Once inside, you heard a radio in the distance of the bar, unsure of what song was playing. Following the sound, broken glass and among other things crunched under your footsteps, letting Steve know someone was there.

Sitting at a table with a bottle of liquor and a glass by himself, your best friend turned around and glanced at you, pulling up a chair. You gave a small smile, finding the seat right across from him, “are you okay?”

Steve shrugged, “that Dr. Erskine said the serum wouldn’t just affect my muscles, it would affect my cells. Create a protective system of regeneration and healing… which means uh.. –“

“You can’t get drunk.”

Steve shot you a look, “when you’d get so smart?”

You kicked his foot with a chuckle, “when I started hangin’ out with Howard.”

He gave a sad smile as tears flooded his eyes, “I am so sorry, y/n.”

You choked back a sob, eyes filling with tears, “it wasn’t your fault, Stevie. I know that you did everything you could.”

Steve’s eyes were brimmed red, “how are you – how are you staying so strong?”

Clearing your throat of the sob making its way up, you licked your lips, “I feel like I’ve cried too many tears, Steve. I want to cry more, my god I do, but I know he wouldn’t want that.”

Steve nodded, “’m sorry to bring him up, I just…” he mumbled, “I’m going to kill Schmidt and all of Hydra if it’s the last thing ‘m gonna do, y/n.” His hand had curled into a fist and you felt the anger radiating off of him.

You grasped his hand, softly uncurling it, “I actually wanted to talk to you about something, pertaining Schmidt.”

Steve let out a grumble, taking one last sip of his drink, “everything okay?”

You nodded, “I – I’m okay. But Howard…he has a remaining vial of the serum from Dr. Erskine and has even recreated it himself. I talked to Peggy and Colonel Phillips and I’m going to take it, the recreation.”

Steve’s eyes shot up to yours, “Y/N, I can’t – I can’t let you do that. It’s too dangerous and I promised –“

“Steve,” you stopped him, “I know you promised Bucky that you would look out for me. I promised him that about you, too. But I want to do this. It’s my decision and I’m hoping you’ll let me do this for myself and Buck.”

The man across from you looked down at his glass for a long while before he looked you in the eyes with a grin, “’gonna pretend I can get drunk and forget why I even agreed.”

A small smile formed on your lips as you reached over, squeezing his hand, “thank you, Stevie. Now c’mon, we got a serum to inject and plans to tweak.”

When the two of you reached the bunker once again, you nodded to Howard and he let out a breath. He was not exactly looking forward to this, injecting you with the serum, but it’s what you wanted. Word quickly got to Colonel Phillips who seemed a bit relieved himself, glad there were no tantrums thrown – much like his.

Down the many halls of the bunker, Howard, Peggy, and a few nurses prepared an operation room, a bed centered in the middle of the room as lights displayed it. Once you were injected, you would need a few moments to recollect yourself – both of them knew this.

You, Colonel Phillips, and Steve stood outside the operation room, looking in as Howard laid out the serum and sedation if needed. The Colonel spoke up first, looking down at you, “you certain about this? There’s no guarantee you’ll live.”

You nodded, “I’m aware, Colonel. But I’ve thought it through and it’s what I want.”

Steve looked to you as the Colonel looked on, “you yell for me if you need me, okay? I’m right outside.” You gave him a small smile before you headed inside per Howard’s direction.

Steve stopped you once more, “and y/n?”

You turned around to look at him as he continued, “you’re a good person. Maybe not a perfect soldier yet, but a good person.”

You smiled at Steve, “looks like I’ll need you as my teacher once I become your sidekick, Stevie.” You both let out a chuckle.

Nurses stood behind the two tables surrounding the cot you were instructed to lay on, taking off your shirt and tossing it into Peggy’s arms, letting out a whistle, immediately calming your nerves. You flashed her a smile which she returned.

Bright lights shining onto your body – now only clad in a bra and some army green cargo pants – your gaze shifted to Howard. He looked albeit nervous but once he caught your eye, all nerves disappeared, “how ya feelin’ kid?”

You chuckled, “like I’m about to be turned into a super-soldier.”

Howard’s shoulders shook with a slight laugh, “that’s nuts – it’s almost as if I’m administering said serum. I’m gonna inject you with some penicillin, okay?”

You nodded your head, looking towards the window where you saw Steve looking way too tense. With a smile, you gave him a thumbs up in which he chuckled at, shaking his head. Beside him stood the Colonel who looked nervous himself, but with a blow-kiss, you saw him roll his eyes and turn back into your stern Colonel Phillips.

Howard spoke up, grabbing your attention, “now, y/n, your transformation will be a bit different from Steve’s, but the outcome should be the same – just no outer physical changes, as I mentioned. No need for nerves. You ready?”

You nodded, and with a deep breath, you felt the sharp needle penetrate your skin, injecting you with the serum. As the serum coursed through your veins, your skin felt as if it were on fire, your breaths growing quicker and sweat already forming on your skin. Howard noticed your breaths, “deep breaths, kid, don’t rush the process. You got this. How ya feelin’?”

You grunted, “burning – hot but cold. Freezer burn.”

Howard grew pale, somehow making sense of your words, “okay, y/n, you gotta fight this. Don’t let the serum override your body – you gotta let it combine with your cells. C’mon, kid!” Peggy’s grip tightened on your shirt as she looked on, whispering words of encouragement.

Outside, Steve and Colonel Phillips began pacing, the Colonel glaring through the window, telling himself that he could telepathically communicate with you and force you to live through this. Steve bit his thumb, growing more and more anxious by the second.

Your body had now started to sweat profusely, the shine adding itself to your figure as you breathed heavier, a gasp and a sharp scream leaving your lips. Steve immediately ran in, holding your hand, “y/n, come on, please! Fight this – don’t give up, please. I – I need you, we all do.”

In a split second, your eyes opened, meeting Steve’s for a split second before you let out another yell, eyes squeezing shut once more, “Steve! It hurts – it hurts!”

Your whole body felt as if it were on fire yet hypothermic, your chest feeling so heavy that it was difficult to breathe. Every cell in your body felt as if it were being torn apart and being put back together again; you talked to yourself in your head, “how the hell did Steve do this?”

Steve ran a hand over your now-damp hair, “I know, I know, but you got this, y/n. Once you beat this, we’ll go and kill those sonsabitches at Hydra, you hear me? You gotta beat this.”

Over time, which honestly felt like hours, your body slowly started to welcome the serum and new changes within your body, your breathing returning to normal and sweat disappearing onto the cot below you, body returning to normal temperature. With only a slightly bloody nose, you felt…good. Resting against the cot, you let out a sigh, eyes fluttering.

Howard hooked an IV up to your arm, returning the liquids you had sweat out, pushing your shoulder lightly, “’gotta talk to me, kid.”

You grumbled, “’m tired…but feel like I could run a marathon.”

Steve’s hand squeezed yours as he let out a laugh, looking up to the ceiling, “that’s your girl, Barnes. You did great, y/n – you did great.”

Eyes still shut, you hummed, “mmm…do I have abs of steel now?”

Steve chuckled, “would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

You nodded your head, a dopey smile on your face. Steve continued, “I wouldn’t want to fight you in the ring, bug.”

Slowly but surely, you opened your eyes, adjusting to the way your body felt and sensed everything around you. With a grunt, you rubbed your eyes, glancing at your hands – hmm, they looked the same?

Howard noticed your confusion, “Remember what I said, kid? No outer physical changes, but you got all the upgrades Rogers has. Better looking, obviously,” you let out a soft laugh, “just not as bulky.”

With a hum, you sat up, fighting off Steve and Howard’s mother hen tendencies, “’mentioned that earlier…bulky. ‘m fine, by the way – stop worryin’.”

Slowly getting off the cot, you walked around the room, stretching your legs and your whole body. Everything felt different but good; it’s like your senses and every cell within your body were heightened. “It felt cold,” you mentioned to Howard, “the serum.”

He nodded, “as opposed to the vita-rays, we had to keep it in cold storage. Easier that way.”

You hummed, and while turning around in the small room, your eyes met Steve’s once more, “well Captain, what now?”

-

Honeybee Taglist:

@clownerlyluv @ginger-swag-rapunzel

[dontshootmespence]

Home Again

Summary: Spencer and Luke are happily married when the world goes to shit. In the chaos, they’re separated. After years, each one presumes the other dead. Until one day.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Luke Alvez

Word Count: 3,564

Warning: Zombie apocalypse shit. Character deaths. 

A/N: This fulfills my apocalypse au square for @cmbingo​. 

Inside their mid-size apartment, Luke dances to his favorite music as he moves about the kitchen, getting dinner ready for when Spencer comes home. A medical researcher’s work was never really done, but in the years since they’d gotten married, Spencer made a commitment to be home by every night at 6PM unless they discussed otherwise. 

Turning on the nightly news, Luke saw what looked like a pretty severe car accident on the road that Spencer normally took on the way home. He pulled out his phone and dialed, hoping to give his husband a head’s up about the driving conditions, but it went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Spence, it’s me. I mean, of course it’s me,” he laughed. “But anyway, I’m working on dinner now and I just saw the news. There’s a big accident on I-275 so you might want to take another way home if you can. I’ll see you in a little bit. Love you.”

As Luke slipped the chicken into the pot, he heard what sounded like another car wreck and ran to the window, sticking his head out to see a car on its side and one man running clumsily after another. A knock at the door distracted him from the damage on the street below. 

“Luke, it’s Steven. Open up.”

Steven was their neighbor and a college student. They rarely ever spoke. “Steven, what’s wrong?”

“There’s something wrong, man. People are going crazy out there. They’re attacking each other and...and eating each other. It’s like there are...”

Luke couldn’t help but laugh. “Do not say zombies. There’s no such thing, kid.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Steven insisted. “Something is happening. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll pack up some essentials and get moving. Apparently, it started at the Recovered Exploration Lab downtown and people, zombies, whatever they are, they’re headed this way. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Steven sped down the stairs in a panic, leaving Luke’s focus to drift back to the television. “We’re here just above Recovered Exploration Lab where the breakout of what looks like zombies seems to have started,” the news anchor started. “On the ground, people are ripping and tearing and eating each other in what seems to be a real-life apocalypse, folks. At this time we don’t know what caused it, but we can assume that the staff at Recovered Exploration have been keeping secrets. This is WLVW Channel 2 News. Back to you in the studio.”

Luke couldn’t believe what he was hearing and ran back to the window to see even more people than before ambling down the street. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his phone again and dialed Spencer again. “Spence, have you heard what’s on the news? Are they talking about it on the radio? They’re saying it’s a real life zombie apocalypse out there and I’m, I’m, I’m, uh, looking out the window and people are attacking each other. There’s a swarm of people heading toward the apartment so I’m grabbing some essentials for us. Meet me at our diner okay? Then we can figure out what to do. Be safe, Spence. I love you.”

Running into their bedroom, Luke grabbed the biggest backpack he could find and anything he thought they might need. Spare clothes, toiletries, canned food, a can opener, toilet paper, some sharp knives and his guns from work. “What else?” He spoke into the empty room. On the wall hung their favorite picture from their wedding. He and Spencer wore matching tuxes and walked hand in hand along a lit-up, tree-lined path. Lost in thought, the commotion brought him back. He stuffed the picture into the backpack and ran downstairs, hoping that this was all a dream.

----

Having heard both of Luke’s messages, Spencer took an alternative route home, but unfortunately, he ran into another accident, slamming on the brakes as two cars crashed into stopped cars in front of them. With traffic at a standstill, he pulled his phone out and tried to call Luke. Obviously, there had to be another explanation for what was happening. 

As he was about to try calling for a second time, he saw someone in the wreckage ahead, who he’d previously assumed to be dead, jerk back to life. Slowly, she go up from the ground and shuffled toward an office that had his back turned. When an ear-shattering scream resounded through the air, Spencer dropped his phone. She wasn’t the only one.

A man from a nearby car knocked on Spencer’s window. “Buddy, we need to get out of here. You have anything that might help?” 

“Like what?” Spencer asked, voice quivering as he picked up his phone from the car floor and shoved it back in his pocket. Quickly, he searched the car for anything that might be helpful. His keys.

“Anything in the trunk?” The man asked, grabbing Spencer’s arm and yanking him away from the incoming crowd. “We need to move now.” 

His mind had blanked. After grabbing the emergency preparedness bag from the trunk of the car that Luke insisted he have, he and the unnamed man ran over the highway barrier and away from the traffic. “I need to get to the diner on Jones and Washington,” Spencer said. “Do you know it? My husband said to meet him there.”

Staring back into the growing see of screaming and ambling bodies, the man replied. “I don’t think you’re going that way, kid.”

----

Stumbling down into the street they lived on, Luke looked around in horror. He ran. He ran as hard and as fast as his body would allow, staying clear of any of the infected like his life depended on it. Right now, it did. 

Luke wavered between walking and running in the general direction of the diner he knew so well. For five years, every Friday, he and Spencer would head there for a greasy burger and fries and some of the best milkshakes either of them had ever tasted. 

The farther he traveled from the apartment, the less insanity he seemed to encounter, but still, his heart beat with reckless abandon as he peered around every corner. If whatever this was didn’t get resolved soon, every street, every city, every state would be something to fear. No longer would he and Spencer be able to go to the local park and bask in the sun. No more walks on the beach. No more calm and colorful sunsets. “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he muttered to himself. “Just get to the diner.”

Using landmarks to guide his way (so that he could keep his phone on and pray for a call from Spencer), he crossed what he believed was the halfway point between the apartment and the restaurant. They now lived in a world where people ate each other and rose from the dead, but it was the groups of human beings taking this whole situation as a free for all that he had to avoid most of all. 

As he hurriedly turned the corner, Luke bumped into a group of nervous but determined young adults. The youngest couldn’t have been 16 and the oldest topped 25 at the most. By the looks of the straggling adults, most of them had already lost someone or taken this new world as an excuse to ditch their families and fend for themselves. The most self-assured of the bunch stepped in toward Luke and looked at his bag. “Seems like you’re well stocked.”

“For a couple days,” he replied, carefully taking a small step backward. “For my spouse and I until this whole thing blows over.” He spoke the words, but something told him ‘this whole thing’ wasn’t going to be over anytime soon. 

With each step Luke took back, the young man stepped forward and tried to yank the bag from his grasp. “Sorry, kiddo. That ain’t happening.” Before the other man could swing his gun from his back and into his hand, Luke had his pulled and aimed. “Don’t. I don’t wanna hurt people. You walk away. I’ll walk away and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

The next moments passed by in a blur - kids running, bullets flying. Luke didn’t glance back, running away from the screams and toward the diner with tears in his eyes. He just shot a kid. A kid who was just trying to survive in whatever the hell this new world was. 

----

Days passed before Spencer and his party of misfits arrived at the diner. Jim was the man that shook him to reality. On the way they’d also run into a single mother named Avery and her 3-year-old son, Chase, who were being harassed by a couple of guys who just didn’t want to take no for an answer. Although they tried to resolve things peacefully, Jim killed the one that pulled a gun on him and the other ran away. From there, they all went to Jim’s former precinct and grabbed whatever guns they could find. Unlike Luke, Spencer wasn’t used to holding guns, but he was going to have to get accustomed quickly.

Normally, the diner looked reminiscent of the 50s. Crisp black and white checkered floors, red leather seats, clean white tables and chrome chairs at similarly colored bar-tops. Now there were skid marks on the floors, dinged counters and bits of food all over the floor. The kitchen had already been ransacked so very little decent food was left, but they stocked up on what they could and waited. 

Nearly a week went by before Jim insisted they leave. “I know your husband was going to meet you here, Spencer, but if we stay any longer we’re putting ourselves in danger. We don’t wanna use all our gunpower to defend this place when we can’t stay here.”

Spencer knew he was right, but the thought of leaving hurt his heart. “I’m never going to see my husband again, am I, Jim?”

The older man just looked at him sadly, resting his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Call him. You’ve still got a little power left. Leave a message. And hope for the best. I’ll give you a minute before we head out.” 

Spencer thanked him softly and went into the back room before pulling out the phone. Shakily, he dialed Luke one more time. “Hey, babe. I’ve been at the diner for almost a week. I don’t know what happened to you...or,” his voice broke, “or if you’re even still alive, but if you are, I’m headed toward my mother’s nursing home. I need to see if she’s okay. I have no idea if we’re ever going to see each other again. I hope we are. But if we aren’t, I need you know that the years we’ve been together, the years we’ve been married, they’ve been the best and happiest of my life. Studying what I study, it can suck the life out of you, but seeing you in the mornings, the sun shining on your face, it gave me that little push I needed to go do what I do. You changed my life, Luke. I love you so much. If you’re out there, and you can’t get to me, just know that, I love you with everything I have.”

Quickly, he ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket before breaking down sobbing. He allowed himself a few minutes and then met Jim, Avery and Chase outside. They’d all agreed to head in the direction of his mother’s nursing home. Spencer prayed that Luke and his mother were still alive. And safe.

----

After shooting the kid, Luke ran into a building a melted down. Sure, he’d had to shoot people before. He’d killed people before. But this was different. This was practically a kid whose only crime was trying to look out for the group he was with. Between dodging zombies and dodging other people, it took Luke almost two full weeks to get to the diner, but by the time he arrived, if Spencer had been there, he was gone. 

Despite the possibility of nearby zombies or walkers or whatever he’d heard people calling them, Luke screamed at the top of his lungs and lost it. Without finding him here, there was no guarantee that they were ever going to see each other again. In his search for any salvageable supplies, he came across random papers, broken glass, ripped bandages - but nothing of use. 

When he glanced down at the floor, he saw Spencer’s signature and hurriedly picked it up, but the other pieces of whatever note he left were too ripped up and dirty and stepped on for him to make out what it said. As his fingers slid over his husband’s name, a tear fell from his eye. If Spencer was still alive, he was likely headed in the direction his mother lived. 

“Hello?” A small voice broke Luke from his train of thought. He spun around, his hand on the gun in his holster. “Please don’t hurt me,” the girl said. Dirt and dried blood covered her face and her eyes conveyed a lifetime of hurt. “Please.”

Luke lowered his gun. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

Luisa had been right in the eye of the storm at the start of this whole thing weeks earlier. “My papa died trying to save my mama. And then she was bitten trying to save my sister and I. She saved me, but it was too late for Josephine. My mother lost too much blood. She fell asleep and never woke up and I had to- I had to put her out of her misery. I’m all alone.”

“Not anymore, kiddo. “You’ll stay with me.”

“Thank you - “

“Luke.”

“Thank you, Luke.”

----

The weeks that followed put Spencer’s band of misfits went through the ringer. After detouring around a group of people that would’ve outnumbered them three to one had they decided they wanted trouble, they had to fight their way through a hoard of walkers. Though they had few weapons, they managed, but not without Jim being bitten. 

“Kid, you know without a medic around this tourniquet is just stopping the inevitable. The bastard nicked my brachial artery,” Jim said, heavily drawing in each breath as it came to him. “You’ve got to take the weapons and keep those two safe for as long as you can. Maybe find your husband again.”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat. “I could go find-”

“No way. There’s a hoard at our backs and only Lord knows what up ahead. I won’t have you risking that for me.”

Over and over again, Spencer tried to reason with him, but in a way Jim was right. He had no idea what was up ahead and even if he found a medic there was no guarantee that he’d get back in time to save Jim. “I’m sorry,” Spencer said, placing a handgun in his palm. “I really am.”

“I know, kid. I have you find your husband again. Now get going.”

Once Spencer grabbed the weapons Jim had, he gathered up Avery and Chase and headed out into the unknown. A gunshot rang out and the crows fled into the sky. Hope was waning fast.

----

On their way to Diana’s nursing home, Spencer, Avery and Chase faced no further challenges. As soon as they detected voices, they headed away from them, preferring to stay in their small group of three than risk bringing other people into their ranks. They crossed the occasional zombie, but they were quickly dispatched.

Finally, they reached Diana’s home, but they were too late. Spencer found her alive, but too bloodied and bruised to move. “Mom, I’ll find someone. I won’t let you die,” Spencer said softly as he cried. “I can find someone to help and we can get you out of here.”

Diana was nothing if not a realist. “I’m going to die, Spencer. Soon probably. I just hope I can keep my wits about me until the sleep sets in. How’s Luke? Where is he? Is he-?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer sobbed. “You really want to talk about my life right now?’

“Yes. When I first saw this on the news, I thought I was having a nightmare, but it’s real and it’s unreal and I just want a sense of normalcy.”

Spencer radioed Avery to tell her where he was before curling in next to his mother. “I was on my way home from work when this all started. Luke was home. I-I haven’t seen him since and I don’t think I’m ever going to see him again. Mom, I’m so scared of being alone.”

“You’ll find him again,” Diana said weakly. 

“How do you know?”

“A mother knows. Remember?”

Spencer grabbed her hand and started reading the nearest book he could find. “Spencer...” she said, whisper soft. “It’s time for me to go to sleep.”

“No, mom, just a little bit longer.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

Diana fought for each breath. “Don’t let me turn into one of those things.”

Spencer choked out a sob. “I won’t.”

“And stay hopeful.” 

He promised he would, though he wasn’t sure it was a promise he could keep. “Mom?”

Nothing.

Before she could come back, he took a small gun out of his pocket, aimed, and fired. “I’ll try, Mom.”

----

Days passed into weeks passed into months passed into years. In a world changed, it changed those within in. Luke, once a confident and self-assured government agent, turned inward, going from one “safe haven” to another and sheltering himself and Luisa until their hideaway was discovered and they needed to move on, never once fighting for a place to call a makeshift home.

Through the years he lost himself, finding that instead of helping others, he did only what he had to do for he and Luisa to survive, never once taking a life, only dispatching zombies when need be. 

On the other hand, Spencer found himself hardening against the world. More than a year after everything began, Avery was overtaken by a hoard they passed, shoving Chase out of the crowd and toward Spencer. With her last breaths, she begged Spencer to take care of her son. Five years later, he and the almost nine-year-old boy headed a group of nearly 50 people, though numbers dwindled and rose from month to month. 

Spencer became a leader, but he confided in no one, killed if it was necessary to defend his “home”, and rarely spoke, shutting down in the face of any emotional connection. To connect was to lose, and he had lost enough. 

“Daniel and Alexa, you’ll accompany me into town for some supplies.” In addition to defending the makeshift community they’d developed, Spencer always sent out scouts to ensure that no one touched the supplies in surrounding towns. Less-looted stores were low in number and eventually he would need to conduct another reconnaissance mission to find supplies, but for now they would survive. “We leave within the hour.”

Smiles were few and far between, for Spencer more than most. However, the little boy he’d ended up raising as his son brought him a sliver of joy, along with his memories of Luke. They coaxed him to sleep at night and in the morning, he used them to make it through the day. “Chase, you know I love you, right?”

“I do, Spencer. Be careful okay? I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll be back.” He never promised, knowing more than most that sometimes the world was cruel. “Be good for Sandra.”

Though he was born before the world went to shit, Chase had essentially grown up in this new world. He was disciplined and trustworthy and more an adult than any almost nine-year-old boy should ever have to be.

On the way to gather supplies, Spencer zoned out, only gathering little bits of the conversation going on behind him. Both Daniel and Alexa had lost spouses at the start of the apocalypse and something told Spencer they were seeking comfort in one another now that they were “safe.” Funny how the meaning of a word could change in such a short amount of time.

While out for supplies, Spencer had insisted that no one go anywhere alone, so the three entered the hardware store in search of anything they could use as a weapon. As he gathered ropes and zip ties and wrenches into his supply bag, he heard Alexa and Daniel call for him. “Boss!”

Spencer approached the two, their guns raised and ready to fire. In the line of sight was a young woman, sheltered by a man. He closed his eyes and begged the universe for this not to be a joke, his mind playing tricks on him. When Spencer opened his eyes, he remained. “Luke?”

He smiled and immediately broke into tears. “Spence? You’re, you’re-”

Pushing past Daniel and Alexa, Spencer ran into Luke’s arms on the verge of tears, pressing his lips to his husband’s for the first time in nearly seven years. “I’m alive. And you’re here. How are you here?”

“Because I’m a different person. You?”

“Me too,” Spencer said sadly. “Everything’s changed. Except what I feel for you. I’m finally home again.”

[everamazingfe]

A Close Shave

Fic Summary: After being picked up by the Urania and brought back to the Hephaestus station, Communications Officer Doug Eiffel tries to come to terms with his new look. It doesn’t go well. Luckily, Jacobi comes along to save the day. 

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Words in this fic: 2082 Pairings: Doug Eiffel/Daniel Jacobi Warnings for this fic: Brief mentions of abuse

Notes: I got into Wolf 359 at the start of this year, and after relistening to it recently I decided to start writing some fics. I was pretty nervous about posting this, but I couldn't keep it in my drafts forever, so here it is! There’s also a link to this fic over on A O 3 as the source of this post! Click it to go read it over there, or you can search up the title or ‘everamazingfe’ on the site.

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There was something about him, Eiffel had decided within the first few seconds of seeing him for the first time. His face was mostly blank unless he had some sly comment to say, some sarcastic remark, and then that stony expression was replaced by something cockier, more smug. Sometimes there was a flash of softness to it, usually when Maxwell was speaking. But even when his face was at its blankest, there was a mischievous gleam in those bright green eyes of his.

Eiffel had never really noticed anyone’s eyes before. He didn’t know Minkowski’s eye color, or Lovelace’s for that matter. Hell, Eiffel didn’t even know if he knew his own eye color at this point, he avoided looking in mirrors at all costs. But for some reason, he’d noticed Jacobi’s. Not only had he noticed it, but he had committed it to memory as well. 

For a moment, he was convinced he could picture them clearly as he stared out the window above his comms panel, making eye contact with them in the reflection of the glass. Somehow, he was able to picture his face with perfect clarity too, despite only seeing it a handful of times while he was in sound mind. 

“Feel good to be home?” The Jacobi that Eiffel thought he was picturing in his mind so clearly spoke, startling him out of his trance and making him jump because it wasn’t his imagination, it was the real deal. It made sense, he’d never had a very visual imagination anyway, but there was always hope for a change of mind. “Wow, I didn’t think I was all that scary, Officer Eiffel.”

“You’re not,” he grumbled with a huff of indignation, grabbing the edge of his station and pulling himself back to it, hooking his knees beneath it to keep himself there. “I just… Got lost in thought.”

“You? Capable of thought? Now that’s something that wasn’t included in your file.” There it was, that stupid sly grin that Jacobi always had when he thought he was being oh-so-clever. Usually, he was. But that joke had become played out within the first month on the station.

Eiffel responded with mock laughter, trying to ignore the way that comment made an invisible knife twist in his chest. After all he’d done, no one thought he was good at anything. What a surprise. But he didn’t have time to unpack all of that right then. “Get some new material, I’ve heard it all before,” he drawled, hoping he looked as bored as he sounded. “I’m a slacker, I’m an idiot, I’m a motormouth. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Your shoe’s untied.” 

Maybe there was some truth to one of those three things, because like the idiot he was, Eiffel had that brief moment of panic everyone had when someone told them that their shoe was untied, or their fly was down, or there was something on their shirt. And because of that panic, he looked down. It had completely slipped his mind that he hadn’t even worn shoes in the two (Three? Did those hundred days hurtling through space count? He didn’t know.) years he had been on the Hephaestus. “Oh, goddammit!” He groaned as he stared down at his socked feet in dismay, trying to tune out the cackling laughter Jacobi let out behind him that sent him halfway across the room. 

“You’re also gullible, apparently!” He let himself continue his path across the room so he could push off the back wall, still in a fit of giggles as he sailed back to the console. “You actually fell for it! I can’t believe it! I’ve never gotten anyone with that before.” Jacobi’s grin was bigger than it had ever been, and he wiped the tears from his eyes before they wreaked havoc on the station’s internal systems. Maxwell was too smart to fall for a simple trick like that, and Kepler… Well, Kepler didn’t like being pranked. 

Eiffel grumbled something incoherently, waiting patiently for Jacobi to get over himself before he spoke again. “Was there a real reason you came down here?”

“No, not really. Kepler’s giving Minkowski an orientation for her new role and then he needed to discuss… something with Hilbert, I don’t even wanna know. And Ala- Maxwell’s busy with Hera. So, I was bored.”

“What about Lovelace?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. Didn’t care.”

“Right… So you came to interrupt my very important work?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.” Jacobi made himself comfortable, lounging in the free-floating bliss that was zero-g as Eiffel pretended to look busy, though his eyes were fixed on the reflection of the man in the glass. The bright light of Wolf 359 backlit him beautifully, and the color in the star seemed to desaturate everything else in the reflection, except for those damn eyes. 

Eiffel let out a sigh, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair, his fingers brushing through the empty space where his long curls used to be. He let out a frustrated growl, moving his hand up to his scalp. The little hair that was left was scraggly and damaged as hell. It was coarse and patchy, and it scratched his hand uncomfortably when he ran his hand over it. “Actually. I have an idea of something we can do.” He turned around to look at the real Jacobi, who arched an eyebrow in silent encouragement for him to go on. “Come with me.”

He’d had his head shaved a handful of times, and it was usually under duress. The first time was as a punishment for getting gum stuck in it, even though he hadn’t been the one to put gum there, and it would’ve been much easier to just cut the chunk out rather than shave his whole head. The second time had been when he’d joined the military. This would make number three, but this time it was necessary, despite the fact that his goal had really been to never cut his hair again. All that length had meant a lot to him, it meant that he had control over something in his life, finally, but the cryofreeze had, apparently, had other plans for it.

Additionally, most of the shaving kits, particularly their razors, had been dismantled for Minkowski’s crusade against Blessie. God only knew where all of those had ended up, or if they were still even on the station, but he knew there was one that was still safely tucked away. 

“Wow, Eiffel. I thought you would’ve liked to wine and dine your dates before bringing them home. You always struck me as more of a gentleman than that.”

“Shut up.” He rooted around in his locker, letting various pieces of uniform and whatever else had been shoved in there float freely around them as he did so. Most of it was contraband that he should’ve been more careful about getting seen, but he was too focused. Once he found the kit, he let out a soft, ‘a ha!’ And underhand tossed it to Jacobi. “You’re shaving my head.”

For once, Jacobi didn’t have some sort of sarcastic remark to make in response. He was just confused. “Sorry?”

“I can’t… I can’t stand it being like this. I can’t. And it’ll never grow back right with the ends this damaged, and I don’t really feel like cutting myself a thousand times in the process. So you’re doing it for me.” He tried to make his voice sound commanding, authoritative, but instead he just sounded desperate, irritated, upset. His hair meant so much to him, but he could stand to be without it for a little bit. He’d done it before, he could do it again. What he couldn’t stand was the sorry excuse for hair that he’d been left with. 

“You don’t think I’d use the razor to kill you? It’d be the perfect opportunity.”

“If you wanted to kill me, you could’ve done it back on the Urania when I was half dead.” 

“You hadn’t annoyed me as much back then.”

“I mean, if you really want to, I guess you can, but… I’d really just like my head shaved, please.”

A dramatic sigh filled the silence, and then: “Ugh, fine. But you owe me.”

That was good enough for Eiffel, and he trailed along behind Jacobi to the Hephaestus’ bathroom. Gravity was a little different in there, as in it was actually present in order to make showering and other general acts of hygiene (that Eiffel didn’t really partake in) a little easier. So he was able to sit on the counter and stare their reflections down as Jacobi stood behind him, setting the kit beside him on the counter. 

Jacobi wasn’t a friend, not by a longshot. In Minkowski’s book, he was part of ‘the enemy.’ But they’d spent a decent amount of time together after he’d been picked up by the Urania, and even a little bit of time before that over the comms. Someone had to keep in touch with him and keep up-to-date on his coordinates so the ship could get a lock on his location, and Kepler had felt like that work was beneath the highly intellectual minds of himself and Maxwell, so it had fallen to Jacobi. And Eiffel hadn’t minded, because beneath all the smart remarks, the guy was alright to talk to. A little stilted, maybe, but that wasn’t anything he couldn’t work with. It was better on the Urania. Easier, at least, because Jacobi’s body language did a lot of the talking for him. Once again, helping Eiffel was deemed grunt work, so Jacobi had been the one stuck tending to his wounds, helping him get around when he was too weak to even keep his eyes open, and adjust to eating again after not doing it for a hundred days (though with all of the substitutes for rations Hilbert dared to call food, one could argue it had been even longer since he’d really eaten). 

Long story short, Eiffel liked Jacobi to some degree. The guy was alright in his book, and he was sure the feeling was mutual, because he could’ve easily said no, or done a hackjob of it, or killed him. But instead, he took his time and made sure that he didn’t miss any spots, his other hand resting gently on Eiffel’s head to keep it steady despite all the fidgeting. 

After the first pass, Eiffel moved to get off the counter, to turn around and thank Jacobi, but a firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back down. 

“I gotta go again, make sure I didn’t miss a spot. It looked awful before, but it’ll look even worse if there’s just a tiny patch with a few hairs left.”

Eiffel furrowed his eyebrows together, but nodded and got comfortable again. As comfortable as he could, at least. His ass was already numb and the feeling was starting to spread down to his legs, but hopefully the second pass would go quicker. 

And it did, kind of. Jacobi didn’t need to clean the hair from the razor as often because there was barely any left, but he still took that same slow and gentle care as he had the first time. When he was done, he wiped off the leftover shaving cream with a nearby towel, smiling genuinely as Eiffel lifted a hand to feel over his scalp. “Well? How does it feel?”

“It feels great,” he answered earnestly, laughing in relief. He didn’t hate the way his reflection looked anymore, and now he could actually believe everyone when they told him to pull it together because it would grow back eventually. Hopefully this made the process easier. His eyes drifted to Jacobi’s in the mirror, mirroring that same smile. “Thank you... I really do owe you.”

“Yeah, you do.” The genuine smile faded to his usual cocky grin, and Eiffel threw the towel at him. It hit him square in the face, but it didn’t wipe away that look. “But… You’re welcome.” He offered him a hand to help him off the counter, steadying him with a chuckle when he nearly lost his balance. “Gravity that hard on you, Doug?”

“No! It’s just… That counter was not very comfortable to sit for that long on. And yeah, I guess gravity’s pretty hard to adjust to too.” 

“Well then we’d better get you back to the lazy embrace of zero-g.”

[thefreakydeaky]

Call Out My Name

Chapter One Title: All I Know

Characters: Negan x Plus Size Reader, The Saviors, The Wives, Eugene

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Gore & Violence.

Word Count: 2,930

Careful to avoid making any noise, you pressed down on the stainless steel lever.As discreetly as you could manage, you peered into the communal living space.Sherri and a few of the other wives sat together on the large sectional speaking in hushed tones. Your prison guard however, was absent. You grinned. Dropping all pretense, you stood up straight and let the door swing shut behind you.

“Good Morning.” You called out cordially.

Her eyes gave you an appraising once over. They paused at the sight of the old flannel you had on over your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Negan’s first wife asked sternly.

“Where ever the wind takes me on this fine day, Miss Sherri.”

The remnants of a southern upbringing scolded you for being rude.You knew well that all of these girls had to put up with the boss man same as you,but you couldn’t risk getting caught just to be polite.

“He’ll be angry.” You heard her call after you, but Negan was always angry. So you didn’t let that stop you.

There was no way of knowing how long you had, but you intended to explore as much of the sanctuary as possible. You had been out of the room before, sure, but you had only seen flashes of the place as you ran past.Then there was the mini-mission you went on two months ago to find out what was making Joey late. Once you figured out what day of the week Pastry day was, it was simple.Third day of every week, Joey headed straight for the bakers and stood in line for a good half hour. You left when they handed him the sweet bread and found you could beat him back to the room.That was the most you had seen of the sanctuary since your arrival and was not the best way, you were convinced, to get to know and appreciate the beauty this place might hold.

The Sunlight felt nice for the first few seconds after you stepped out of your building, but soon enough the humidity ruined the moment.

You stayed on the greenery beside the road to avoid burning your feet, following the gravel path to the market place.Careful to avoid the baker’s side of the warehouse, you walked idly passed stall after stall of goods and services.

Your eyes caught on a table of battered shoes. You recognized the pasty ex-alexandrian running the table.Eugene, he was called.You knew this from the stories Tanya told you at dinner time.He was nothing but a blubbering wuss from the sound of it, so you figured you could handle him.You strode confidently to the front of the line and smiled.

“Excuse me?” You found yourself demanding not two minutes later.You glared at Eugene until he looked away.

“You don’t have credit.”

“The hell I don’t!”

“How many more times do you need me to say it?”Eugene repeated a smirk on his lips.

He leaned back in his chair looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“How fucking dare -” You started to shout, your voice ringing out through the warehouse.

Calling attention to yourself was the last thing you wanted to be doing you reminded yourself anxiously. You scrambled to come up with a different tactic.The corners of your mouth pulled up into a practiced grin that you never thought you would have cause to use again.

“My my,” Injecting sugar into your voice, you leaned across the table until you were nearly close enough to touch him.“Look at you! You’ve been runnin’ with the big dogs long enough to do a halfway decent impression, Eugene.”

Eugene’s shifty eyes widened. “You know my name?”

“Negan only ever talks about one genius with a mullet.”You lowered the volume of your voice conspiratorially, “How fortunate you are that my darling husband hasn’t seen through you yet.” You postured, taking a risk. “Maybe, I ought to help him see you for what you really are?”

“He will never believe you.”

“Why not? It wouldn’t make any sense for me to lie about a man I have never met. All i have to do is call into question your history with the people of Alexandria and make it seem like I feel concerned for his safety.”

Metal chair legs scraped against cement as Eugene pushed his seat back and stood.

“I’m g-going out for a smoke.Them shoes better be the only thing missin’ when I get back.” His trembling lower lip killed any affect his wrathful tone might have had on you.

You snickered at his retreat.

Your white dress fanned out behind you as you hurried away brown leather contraband on your feet, eager to begin your self guided tour.

Building after building of industrial rot, a few rusty tin shacks, and a sad row of herbs and spices later, you found yourself in front of the main building itself.

The Sanctuary’s weather beaten concrete face was made of cruel sharp angles. Her broken windows were yellowing jagged teeth.She stared brutally down at you until you couldn’t bare to meet her eyes anymore and turned, walking brusquely away from her frightening visage.

You turned the next corner only to freeze in your tracks.The wet raspy growling filled your ears before the smell hit you.

Walkers

Your eyes swept from left to right a few times trying to count, to keep track and then you realized, that they weren’t coming for you. There was a chain link fence separating them from you.Your brow knitted.They were tied down.They were, for the most part, stationary.Some chained up, some tied up, some stuck through with pipes. It took a twisted mind to come up with such a gruesome thing.

You wondered if Negan had come up with the idea himself.You shook the thought away. You didn't want to know. You made for the only corner of the god forsaken place you hadn’t yet visited.

The stolen too-big boots kicked up loose bits of gravel behind you as you headed for the backlot. Little did you know that you had an audience.Eyes followed your trek down the road from the loading dock behind you.

The field was inhabitted by broken wood pallets, a rusted up old mercury with bullet holes along the side, some old crates, a busted up head board, ruined tires, and tin sheeting. They lay rotting in the grass.Nearer the chain link fence, lay the final resting place for the few men who managed to stay on good terms with Negan until their last moments. Crude wooden headstones marked with paint stuck out in a bad attempt of making a row.

You slowed down as you reached the end of the pavement and waded into the living green sea of grass hoping not to encounter any snakes.The damp blades were staining the skirt of your dress, but it’d be worth the scolding. A long jagged claw snagged at your dress.You cursed. As you pulled it loose, you realized it was a foot and a half of wood that likely came off of one of the pallets.You tossed it aside and smirked.Now that you’d gone and torn the thing, he would be extra pissed. Hell if you were going to get him good and mad you had better do it well you thought, untieing the bright orange ribbon from around your wrist. Negan's latest gift to you. Each time you saw it, it reminded you of who you belonged to. You frowned as you let it flutter to the ground. It may as well have been a dog collar.

Negan was following you, keeping far enough away not to draw attention.He cursed Fat Joey for letting you out.That idiot was going to pay.He grit his teeth as he watched you wade into the tall grass.Flannel shirt or not you were ruining your dress.Where the fuck was he supposed to find you another dress as nice as the one you had on? The sight of you tugging on your skirt brought his eyes to your wrist. He saw you take off your bracelet and let it fall. Did you have any idea how hard it was to come by anything in bright colors these days?Of fucking course not!You were a spoiled selfish ungrateful untamable thing.He was not going to be taking it easy on you this time.He spotted you staring at the barbed wire topped fence and froze.

He didn’t have to imagine you attempting to clamber over the high fence, face full of determination fueled by spite.He would never forget it.Your last attempt to leave made it clear that you didn’t give a shit about your own well-being anymore.Negan cursed under his breath. God help you if you were stupid enough to pull another stunt like that.Yet he knew way down deep inside, somewhere primal, that you belonged to him.After three years and fifteen failed attempts to leave him, Negan had come to the conclusion that he had to do everything in his power to make you want to stay.

Despite the show and the accusations he had made, alternately burning and bashing some person or another, every time you fucked up Negan went easy on you.The second he’d laid eyes on you, he’d chucked his personal rule book out the window. He was afraid that this made him look soft and that burned his pride like nothing else could.

However, women with your body type had always been his preference and He knew, a figure like yours was a rare find these days. He wanted you. Negan wanted you badly. More than anything, he wanted you to want him to fuck you.It was a frustrating blue balls inducing shit show of a situation.Charming women had always come easy to him. It was his shit luck that you weren’t easily charmed. He followed you into the field. His eye caught the shine of the ribbon easily. As He pocketed the scrap of orange cloth, the memory of your first meeting came to mind.

Your hair pulled back into a braid, a lovely face, enough cleavage showing to catch his eye. Your faded jeans had holes in the thighs and your breathing was heavy from your attempt to out run The Saviors.

You looked so darn pretty kneeling before him.You’d had the audacity to meet his gaze. It pissed him off and turned him on in equal measure.Your eyes captivated him.They were burning with resentment, but no tears.Not his Y/n. You didn’t cry, didn’t beg, and didn’t flinch at the sight of Lucille.Not even after he’d dirtied her up a bit.Near the end of his speech,some traitorous switch inside him had flipped.

“Darlin’, You have got a look in your eyes that says you haven’t been fucked right in years.” He drawled smiling his slick easy smile.”Why don’t you come on home with me, I’ll show you how good it can be with a real man.”

“You expect me to believe that a bean pole like you can handle curves like mine? Honey, I would eat you alive.”

He laughed low and long.The genuine mirth startled everyone, but you.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.I just wanna love you right.”

“Well, I am sorry, Mister Real Man, but your pick up lines are bad jokes at best and that mouth of yours...” You shook your head in disapproval. “So dirty.”

You were meant to be his. No doubt about it.

“Mmm, there are plenty of good things I can do with this dirty mouth and you are curious to find out, I can tell.”

Negan’s big strong hand had fisted into the collar of your flannel pulling you toward him. You stumbled onto your feet to keep from being dragged. Before you could catch your balance, his lips were on yours.

Unbeknownst to Negan, unlike his bat and savior show, the heated kiss he gave you impressed you.

He nipped at your lower lip and turned back to what was left of your group.

“We are gonna do just fine, Dollface. As for the rest of you sorry shits, You are going to bring me my stuff and then go out and get me something nice.”

His hazel eyes gleamed down at you. “We’ll consider it a wedding present.”

Your exclamation was drowned out by the saviors’ hearty laughter as you were forcefully led to his truck.

From the moment Negan made you a wife, you vowed that you would get away from him even if you died trying. After three years and fifteen failed escape attempts, you had come to the conclusion that making him hate you was the only way out of the wives club.

You rummaged through the crates and found quite a few empty glass bottles. They would do. You put them all in the same crate and carried it with you as you counted your steps. You waited until you were at least two yards away to throw the first one.

Thunk

Wading further into the tall weeds and grass he frowned at the unfamiliar sound.

“Well I’ll be damned.” You murmured to yourself as you bent to pick up another bottle.

You glared at the Mercury, closed your fist around the neck of the bottle, and swung. It grazed the roof, but landed on the other side of the car.

“Have you lost your freaking mind?”

Your shoulders tensed at the familiar deep baritone of your husband’s voice. You stood there clenching your teeth, frustrated with the intrusion.You schooled your features before turning to face him.

“Hey there, Sugar. What are you doin’ out here?”

Negan came to stand before you, but he didn’t ask the questions you had expected him to ask.Perhaps, Where in the hell did you get shoes? or How in the hell did you manage to escape a locked room with a savior standing watch?Instead, Negan swallowed his anger and made himself the very picture of patience.

“I could ask you the same question, Darlin’.” He replied.

You stared at him, curiosity battling the wrath within you.

“Well?” Negan prompted after a minute or two of your silence.

Your thoughts raced.

What the fuck?!Why was he being nice?!He should be letting you have it right now! He should be cussing up a storm!

“Just... keepin’ busy.”You said lamely.

“In the junkyard? Playing with glass? That’s a hell of a thing for a Queen to do.” He murmured.”You could have hurt yourself.”

You were disgusted by how genuinely concerned he sounded and cringed at him calling you “Queen”.For weeks now, you had been working on him, from picking fights, to ruining belongings, to giving him the cold shoulder.Until finally you’d been able to break out again.You wanted him good and mad and Negan was not cooperating.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Actually, I haven’t been here long.I walked the whole Sanctuary first then ended up here.”You shrugged and made to pick up another bottle.”It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Who do you think you are?”

You should have known his anger couldn’t stay contained for long.

“Beg your pardon?” You snapped.

“I said,” Negan growled pulling you toward him by your shirt collar, “Just who, in the fuck, do you think you are?” His eyes glowered down at you.

“Y/F/N Fucking Y/L/N.” You declared and kicked him.

The shock on his face turned to fury. Familiar though the expression was, Negan had never turned it on you.Adrenaline spurred you into action.You yanked out of his grasp and tore through the field.

“Y/n!” He bellowed.

You didn’t dare look behind you as you pushed yourself to run.

[devnicolee]

Into the Light (1)

Warnings: none yet! 

Summary: Wesley Parker is a smart, political genius with years of policy experience. After working at the Wakandan Outreach Center in Oakland for over a year, Erik Stevens, Wesley’s longtime friend, offers her the opportunity of a lifetime: move to Wakanda and serve as an international policy advisor to King T’Challa alongside him. For reasons even Erik doesn’t know, she jumps at the chance and immediately leaves her Oakland life behind for a new one in the elusive, secretive nation. Like her friend Erik, she is a recluse and a loner, determined to focus on rebuilding her life and keeping her secrets her own. However, when she meets a certain Mountain king, she realizes that her life in the darkness doesn’t always have to be so. But is stepping into her light that easy? Or will the fear of trusting others keep her stuck? 

Word count: 4,509

Enjoy!

***

Wesley took a tentative step down the ramp of the Royal Talon, the smoldering African heat immediately hitting her in the face. 

“Parker!”

Her face immediately lit up when she saw him, standing separate from the rest of the Royal Family. She hadn’t expected all of them to be waiting to greet her. 

“Stevens.” 

It came out as almost a quiet sigh of relief instead of the upbeat, jovial tone she usually had. After days on edge, the reality of seeing him, stepping her feet on Wakandan soil was like stepping under the warmth of a thousand suns. She couldn’t even hide how relieved she was. It certainly felt better than her impromptu move back to Oakland a year ago. She quickly fixed her face to mask her relief and put on a neutral smile, more of an expression he would expect. 

As soon as she was in arm’s length, his strong arms wrapped around her midsection to pull her into a tight hug. She hesitated for a moment, surprised at his greeting, before her arms rested on his broad shoulders to return it. Even after rekindling their friendship over the past year, she still wasn’t used to this new version of him. He was more inviting… more warm than he used to be. Wakanda had changed him, just not in the ways he originally intended. 

He pulled back, eyeing her up and down as if she had managed to acquire some injury in the last week without his watchful eye. 

“You good?”

“Yea, the flight was great… you know, I just slept through most of it.” 

Her eyes tried to take in everything: the silent planes whizzing above her head, the guards lining the landing pad around them, the grandiose palace towering above them, the sounds of bustling city streets outside the palace gates. Wesley had done a decent bit of traveling in her time and this was truly unlike any city she had ever seen. 

“Aight. Good, good. Come inside, sis… get you situated.” 

After a quick introduction to the Queen Mother and hellos to the rest of the family, all of whom she had met and worked with at the Outreach Center, Erik ushered her inside to show her the room she would be staying in. She knew the accommodations were only temporary, until she got settled and could find her own place. But she certainly was not complaining. 

She tried to listen to Shuri as she rattled off information about the different areas of the Palace, what her new bracelet did. But Wesley knew she would retain none of it. She was too excited, too anxious, too nervous.  

Her professors and old colleagues called her a budding prodigy. Everyone knew Wesley Parker was going places. But she knew what they all also called her now: a waste of talent. After graduating from Harvard, she spent years working her way from government office to government office, trying to work her way up to the upper echelons of the political sphere. She was poised to be a leading voice in foreign policy, one of the few young Black women in the field. And then, over two years ago, Wesley just walked away. From her cushy life in D.C., her high-paying position, a new job offer with the U.N. She abandoned her dream, leaving it stranded in the road for an unexpected detour. And she always looked back, always wished she could get back there. 

And here she was, as she walked down the opulent halls of this palace tucked away in Africa. This was the break in the trees illuminating her path back to her dream. This was her chance, her shot to rebuild what she lost… and this was the only place in the world she could do it. She couldn’t mess it up. She wouldn’t. 

****

“You like it?” 

Wesley laughed, rolling her eyes, “Yea nigga… this is bigger than my whole apartment.” 

Her feet sunk into soft taupe carpet blanketing her bedroom floor. She shuffled her feet, feeling the plushness between her toes. She flopped down on her bed, which felt sinfully good and soft. She propped herself up on her forearms to look at Erik, who looked amused by her childish antics. 

“Good. How you feeling?” 

Wesley sighed, rolling her eyes as she pushed herself back to her feet. The question was vague, as many from Erik were, but she knew exactly what he was referring to. She walked toward him, arms folded in annoyance at his overprotective and overbearing nature. 

“Stevens… you gotta stop asking me that. I am fine. That was, what? A week ago? I’ve been through worse, I’ve seen worse. I am good - I’ve moved on.” Her beautiful face scrunched up in a frown, “I am honestly sorry I even brought you into all that. It’s not a big deal.”

His eyes widened slightly, “The fuck? Wes. That was a big fucking deal. And lying to me about it don’t change that. You need to talk someone… you need to talk about it. And you need to tell me what ha-” 

“Erik. I am begging you… drop this. Leave it alone. Please.” 

She knew he could hear the exasperation in her words, the pleads. She didn’t like thinking about it, one of the many things from her past she flew halfway around the world to escape. The thin fraying ropes holding her up were starting to unravel again, and it took all her power not to collapse, fall right here in front of him. 

He nodded, raising his hands in surrender, knowing that she was serious if she chose to use his first name. 

“Fine. I’ll let you keep your secrets… for now. We all got ‘em. When you’re ready, I’m here. You know, I’d kill for you. I gotchu always, Wes.” 

And that’s the problem. 

“I know… you’ve killed for less.” 

Wesley was one of the few people, outside of his new family, that knew about his past, knew the road littered with blood and bodies he traveled to reach his paradise… his home. 

After her parents died in a tragic accident, 15-year-old Wesley was sent from her home in Charlotte to live with her aging grandmother who had little time or interest in raising a rambunctious teenager. However, she did have time for her friends, Ms. Louise and Mr. Franklin, the old couple in their building who had been fostering a 17-year-old boy, Erik. 

She and Erik became fast friends, developing a close brother/sister bond. Already exhibiting a penchant for violence, Erik was a good friend to have around as a young girl. He was always there to fight for her, protect her. Even when he left for MIT, everyone in the neighborhood knew she was the wrong girl to mess with. 

He looked after her when she joined him in Cambridge during his last two years at MIT. Harvard and MIT were demanding for the pair but they still spent as much time together as they could, studying their respective disciplines. As she kept her nose to the ground and worked on the Hill in D.C. after graduating and Erik started his career in the Navy, they still remained close, talking or seeing each other anytime Erik was available. For every high and every low, Erik was the one constant in her life. 

However, when Erik decided to fall deeper into the life of espionage and violence, the calls came less frequently and, eventually, stopped all together. And there was no one to call, no one to check in with to see if he was ok. And so, Wesley lost the remaining family she had in this world, the only family she thought she would ever have. 

When their paths fatefully crossed 12 months ago outside a black-owned coffee shop near the Center, both thought they had seen a ghost. They hardly recognized each other, mere shadows of the teenagers that ran through the streets together. Part of her wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn’t. One brief conversation reminded her what it was like to have family… someone who cared. And she jumped at the opportunity to have him back in her life - with the promise that he would never leave her again. And it was clear how much his life had changed. He had found home and safety while she was still fumbling in the dark, desperately searching for both. 

It didn’t take long for him to “convince” her to take a position as a consultant at the Outreach Center, lending her policy experience to help them bridge the gap between them and local policymakers in the state. It was better than what she was doing before, preparing to apply to a bookstore to pay her bills.

“Fair enough. See you for dinner? I’ll come by and scoop you… you’ll be lost in this place for days tryin’ find it yourself.” 

“Yea, yea. That’s cool. Thanks. See you then.” 

Wesley chewed her bottom lip as she watched his back retreat out her door. She hated how overprotective he was… how much he actually cared. Most people heard “I am fine,” and accept it as fact. Not Erik… he wanted the truth. 

She flopped back down on the bed, this time out of frustration and guilt, not childlike amusement. Her hand covered her face as tears stung the back of her eyes. 

“You are not fine,” she whispered out loud. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that… or the real reason why. 

****

“Does this look ok?” She smoothed the front of her dress. 

Erik told her dinner was casual and she tried to follow that but she also refused to look like an idiot in front of the Royal Family. This was casual enough but still stylish and cute. And purple, paired with gold jewelry, as Erik told her those were the colors of the Panther Tribe. While her relationships with Erik, Shuri, and Nakia extended beyond professional pleasantries, she could not say the same about King T’Challa, who she had only really spoken to a handful of times. She couldn’t show up to dinner looking any type of way. 

“Yea… I told you it was casual tho?” 

And he looked casual and comfy, sporting a pair of black joggers and a t-shirt. 

“This is as casual as I am gonna get. Some of us aren’t royalty, Stevens… Or should I call you Prince N’Jadaka?” 

He rolled his eyes.

“Nah you shouldn’t if you wanna know where dinner is.” 

“Stevens or Erik, it is,” she vowed quickly, not wanting to smart mouth her way out of a meal. 

“The tribal leader of Jabariland gon’ join us to by the way. Name’s M’Baku.” 

Wesley tilted her head, racking her brain for the bit of knowledge about Wakanda she learned from Shuri, Erik, and Nakia during their long sessions at the outreach center.  

“Jabariland, Jabariland… Jabari… Oh, that’s the group in the mountains right? Gorilla god, snow, just started talking to y’all again like last week?” 

“Tribe,” he corrected. “But yea, that’s the one. He is cool people tho. The only council member I like.” 

Wesley didn’t really understand why she was so nervous. After a year helping them launch the Outreach Center, she was, at least, friendly with everyone at varying degrees. But here? She was a stranger, feeling an intense desire to prove herself and fit in.

“Ms. Parker!” T’Challa stood as she entered the dining hall. It was set for seven, four of the people already seated and waiting. 

“King T’Challa,” she rose her arms in the X she had seen others do around him for a year. He smiled brightly, an encouraging sign on her end. “And you can just call me Wesley or Wes.” 

“Of course, of course. And just T’Challa will do as well. Please sit. We are just waiting on Lord M’Baku.” He gestured toward one of three empty seats available, the one with a mysterious small gift box sitting on the chair. 

“You all did not need to get me anything,” she muttered as she picked up the box. It felt heavy as she fiddled with the edge of the wrapping paper. 

“Nonsense. We are so excited to have you here. N’Jadaka and Nakia believe you will be a great asset as we determine how to situate ourselves on the world stage and I concur. This is just a token of our appreciation for your willingness to join us here and we hope it makes your job a bit easier.” 

“Thank you. And believe me, I am so appreciative of the opportunity.” She prayed no one could see the light tremble in her hands as she started to tear the paper off. However, before she could, the double doors to the hall burst open. 

“Apologies for my tardiness, my king! Issue in the mountains.” 

Wesley looked up to find a giant walking toward her, that was the only way she could think to describe him. She almost wondered if he was an enhanced person, like T’Challa. For she had never seen a “regular” man quite his size. 

You’ve never seen a man as gorgeous as him either. 

If she could have, she would have rolled her eyes at herself. It was true, he was a sight to behold. He entered the room with an aura of power and strength that would have, once upon a time, had her lusting after him. But that was hardly what she was there for. 

“No worries, M’Baku. We were just welcoming our guest, Wesley Parker. This is Lord M’Baku, tribal leader of the Jabari.” 

Wesley smiled brightly, offering him a polite wave. Her smile wilted slightly under his unreadable gaze. She watched as his eyes traveled up and down her frame, lingering on her for a few moments before he seemed to catch himself and the awkward silence filling the room.

“The American… Welcome to Wakanda, Ms. Parker.” 

Wesley bristled slightly at his words as if being called an American was an insult to her, and in many ways - it was. She turned her head to her right where Erik sat, rolling her eyes and mouthing “the American?” sharing her disdain with the only person in the room who would understand. To which he just chuckled lowly and shook his head. She fixed her face to hide her annoyance before turning back toward him as he sat down in the seat left of her. She supposed she should ready herself for that reaction.

“Uh.. thanks? I guess.” Her voice trailed off a bit as she spoke. Turning her attention back to the half opened gift sitting in her lap, she ripped the rest of the wrapping paper off. 

She gasped as she pulled a shiny, state-of-the-art tablet out of a box. 

“Oh… I can’t accept this! Thank you but I can’t.” 

It was sleek and beautiful, she had seen them all with it over the last year. And she knew no amount of money would afford her something as high tech as this. But she didn’t feel right accepting it.  

“Really, it is nothing.” Shuri waved her hand dismissively, completely ignoring the woman’s protests. “And it will work better with our tech here. It syncs to your beads, the easiest file transfers you have ever seen. You will love it.” 

“It’s a losing battle, Parker. Just say thank you,” Erik whispered out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Thank you,” she responded meekly. 

T’Challa motioned for a servant to take it from the dinner table, letting Wesley know it would be brought to her room. 

“Thank you! It’s too much, really. But I appreciate it. I am sure it will work better than mine.” She thought back to the broken and beaten iPad tucked in her bag, the screen partially shattered and many years past its prime. 

Small conversations commenced throughout the group as Wesley sat watching. Shuri and M’Baku were engaging in a lively debate about the merits of vibranium vs. Jabari wood? Whatever that was. Hushed whispers past between T’Challa and Nakia on the other end of the table. And Erik listened, albeit reluctantly given the look on his face, to the Queen Mother chastise him for missing yet another council meeting.  

Wesley sat, eating her second course of only God knew how many, just listening to all of them laugh, bicker, and poke fun at each other. 

This is nice, Wesley thought. She knew they weren’t her family. But even being in their presence lifted her spirits more than she could have known. More than sad for what she didn’t have, she was filled with joy for what Erik found. She was curious how they found a way to accept him, forgive him… love him after all he did. But she was glad they had. He deserved it. He deserved happiness after losing so much for so long.

And you don’t. 

She shook her head lightly, as if she could shake the negative orator out of her mind. But she knew she couldn’t. That voice was always there, always reminding her to never get attached. Everyone leaves, everyone hurts you. Because nobody wanted her. 

“Wes. Wes!” 

At the sound of her name, Wesley pulled herself out of her thoughts, directing her attention at Shuri. It was clear the young girl had tried and failed to get her attention multiple times. 

“S-sorry, princess. I-I got lost in my own thoughts there. What did you say?” 

“No problem. I just asked how the date with Jason went?”

Wesley blinked a few times in confusion before it hit her. Fuck. Jason was a gorgeous and accomplished volunteer at the Outreach Center who taught engineering to the students with Shuri. He had his eye on Wes since the day she literally ran into him in the staff lounge but Wes never really paid him much attention. Shuri had tried incessantly to play matchmaker with the pair. Wesley had almost forgot she lied and told Shuri she had agreed to go on a date with him. She had no intention of doing such a thing; she just didn’t want to be asked about it again. 

“O-oh we ended up not being able to get it scheduled before I moved. Y-you know, it all happened so suddenly.” 

Shuri seemed crestfallen for a moment but immediately perked up. 

“Oh, well good thing there are soooooo many eligible men here. And cute too! Nakia and I will find you someone, don’t worry.” 

She wasn’t worried or interested. But she appreciated Shuri’s enthusiasm and good intentions so she just nodded and smiled. 

“It must have been hard, moving away from home so quickly,” the Queen Mother interjected, thankfully moving the conversation away from Wesley’s nonexistent love life. “We were surprised you wanted to move so soon.” 

“I-I hadn’t been in Oakland long. Just a year so I hadn’t put down too many roots. Wasn’t too difficult to make the move.” 

“Still, your friends and family. It must have been hard to say goodbye so fast?” Shuri asked. 

“Yes, it was.”

She picked up her wine glass, taking a long sip, which confirmed the finality in her clipped and short response. This conversation was over. 

Everyone returned to their separate conversations and their food. Awkwardness slowly seeping into her as she questioned whether she should have just lied to keep the conversation going and be polite. 

“Do not feel awkward. Shuri and the tribal leaders in Jabariland have been trying to play matchmaker with me for the last year. I just ignore them.” 

Wesley laughed, directing her attention to the owner of that deep baritone voice. “And they haven’t caught on yet?”  

M’Baku brought his glass of wine to his lips. “Of course, not.” 

“Well, I could use some of your tips then. The Princess is quite persistent. But I suppose that is what makes her the genius she is,” Wesley mused. 

“Happy to share my insights anytime.” 

“You live in the mountains, right? I didn’t even know it could snow here.” 

M’Baku smirked, “I imagine there is quite a lot you do not know about Wakanda yet.” 

Wesley took the bait, he was not wrong. There was so much she didn’t know about this country she was now meant to help lead. 

“Well, tell me something about Wakanda you think I should know.” 

And his answer to that question carried them through the main course and on to dessert. She mostly listened as he talked about his home, Jabariland, and the people there. It was very surface level, but it made her want to learn more, as much as she could. He explained the differences between the Jabari and the rest of the country. As he spoke, Wesley felt at ease for the first time since she sat down at the table, felt glimmer of her old eager and passionate self peaking through the thick walls she had stacked up. Talking to him felt like talking to an old friend, someone she had known all her life. 

“So you come down here often?” 

“A few times a month. T’Challa and N’Jadaka lean on my counsel often.” 

Wesley nodded, “So we will be seeing quite a lot of each other then, I suppose?” 

“Oh, I am counting on that.” 

The flirtatious tone in his voice was not lost on Wesley, even if no one else at the table was paying them any attention. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, seeing him wink at her before smiling. If her deep, warm brown skin could, her cheeks would have turned a rosy pink. There was a lot about this face that was gorgeous beyond belief. But his smile drew her eye, pulled her in. She could tell he frowned a lot, his resting face throughout dinner had looked generally disgruntled. However, his smile lit his whole face up, made him look even more beautiful - as if that were possible - and more youthful.

“All, I must retire for the evening. Attend to some tribal business. I will see you all in the Council meeting in the morning. My king.”

He saluted T’Challa who returned it and offered him a head nod. He offered Wesley a lingering glance and and a small smile before leaving.

What the fuck was that? She imagined he did that with a lot of women. Harmless flirting that meant nothing at the end of the day. She knew a man like that would never go for someone like her. 

“U-uh I should head to bed as well. I have quite a bit of reading I wanted to do before bed, actually. Thank you for dinner. It was amazing.” Wesley wiped the corners of her mouth before folding her napkin and placing it by her dirty plate. 

“Let me walk you,” Nakia offered. “I am headed in that direction anyway. T’Challa and Erik have some business to discuss.” 

A sense of longing washed over Wesley as she watched the intimate, subtle touches that passed between the pair as T’Challa kissed her hand and squeezed it before letting her go. Once again, she shook her head, internally stamping down the emotions that did not serve her cause. 

She offered them all thanks again and said good night before following Nakia. There was silence for the first minute or two as the events of dinner tumbled through her head. 

Was he actually flirting with me? 

Does it really matter? She debated with herself. Even if he was, which seemed highly unlikely, there were about 1,000 reasons she couldn’t pursue him. Wesley pushed that aside quickly, deciding that he was simply a flirt and she was simply a fool so starved for love that she would fall for his flirtatious nature so easily. 

And then that awkward moment with Shuri and the Queen Mother. Wesley hated questions about her personal life. Not because she found them intrusive, but because she did not have the standard cookie cutter answers people actually expected when they asked those questions. She couldn’t tell the truth and all that left her with was lies and she had enough lies… enough secrets for one person. 

“I can almost hear you overthinking, Wesley.” 

Nakia broke their silence, stopping in front of a large bay window that looked out into the palace gardens. The moonlight illuminated Nakia’s face, which carried a concerned expression on it. 

“Dinner went well. Everyone is excited to have you here, truly. Don’t stress over tomorrow. The Council will like you.” 

The tension building in her chest dissipated almost immediately, thankful that this was the path the conversation was taking. 

“Y-yea I’m sure you’re right. I’m good, really. Just need to get some of the nervous energy out I guess.” 

Nakia nodded before turning to resume their trek back to her quarters. More turns and long hallways than Wesley could count later, they were standing outside her bedroom. 

“You and M’Baku seemed to have hit it off.” Nakia’s face was filled with interest and excitement. “And that is saying something… there are few in Wakanda as cold as Lord M’Baku. Pun intended.” 

Wesley chuckled, tucking a stray black hair behind her ear. Her small frame leaned against her closed, deep mahogany doors as they talked. 

“He was nice! Well… everyone here is nice. But I am sure he is like that with all the ladies, just a charmer.” 

“Oh I can assure you, he is not. He likes you.” 

Wesley’s face must have been a lens into her inner skepticism for Nakia immediately started to laugh. 

“I am serious!” 

Wesley’s hand fumbled for the door knob, slowly opening it before saying, “I doubt it but it doesn’t really matter. I am here to work, I don’t have time for much else.” 

Nakia tilted her head, almost examining her. She imagined it was from all the spy training but Nakia was almost impossible to read, which frustrated Wesley to no end. Half of being good at politics was simply being able to read people. Nakia always made her question that skill. 

“I find that people only make drastic moves like you have for two reasons. They want to start over or they are running from something. I don’t know which one brought you here, Wesley. But you won’t find your escape or new start behind a mountain of paperwork. It is out there.” Her hand pointed behind her at the stained window across across from her door. 

“What are you saying?” 

“I am saying is that Wakanda is more than its political agenda. Wakanda is its people, its culture. To succeed here,” she gestured around her, “You have to know what’s out there. You have to experience what is out there. You have to live, Wesley.” 

Silence. 

“Just something to think about. Good night, Wesley.” 

***

Tag list: @muse-of-mbaku​ @allinhishands​ @ms-reader​

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. 

[keanureevesisbae]

Coach Cavill - Chapter 6

Summary: Henry is driving Amelia and Isabella to school, but at what price? 

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

‘That hurts, mom!’

I scoff, as I put in an elastic at the bottom of the braid. ‘You told me you wanted tight Dutch braids, that would sit right the entire day,’ I retort. ‘So now I am making tight Dutch braids that will probably sit right all day and now you are whining about it. You are quite something, miss Isabella Jung.’

Benji pulls his lips in, trying to hold in a laugh, but he fails miserably. ‘Don’t yell at mom,’ he says to his sister. ‘She is just nervous.’

‘How dare you?’ I ask Benji, pointing my index finger at him, ‘insinuating that I’m nervous. I am not nervous. Why on earth do you think I would be nervous?’

‘Because coach Cavill is going to pick you and Isabella up,’ he says, with the biggest duh-face I’ve ever seen, ‘and you chew your cheek as you always do when you’re nervous. Don’t worry, mom, he offered it himself and he likes to do it. I just know that.’

‘Mom is in love,’ Isabella sings.

‘Oh, shut your face,’ I laugh. ‘Benji, you sure you don’t mind that Henry won’t be driving you to school?’

‘I don’t mind. As usual, Lola, Jake and I can drive with Hattie and I don’t mind being here by myself.’

Isabella is giggling and it’s the type of giggle that doesn’t predict anything good. ‘Mom, if Henry and you start dating,’ she starts. See, that’s not anything good and especially not something I want to hear right now.

‘No, no, don’t you dare going there.’

But she will, she always does. Why do I even bother trying to raise this kid? She always goes her own way. ‘Will he become my dad?’

‘No, honey, you already have a dad,’ I say. ‘Can we not discuss this? Please?’

The doorbell rings loudly and I quickly rush to the door, thankful that it interrupted this awkward moment. However, we haven’t finished this conversation properly and I sure hope that Isabella won’t bring it up when Henry joins us.

When I open the door, I can’t help but smile.

Henry looks so handsome. His brown leather jacket hangs open, revealing a black cable knitted sweater, paired with jeans that accentuate every beautiful part of his legs. They are so well shaped, goodness me.

‘Good morning, Amelia.’

‘Good morning, Henry,’ I say, after I recovered from the initial shock of the deepness of his voice. I heard him talk to me yesterday and times we met before, but today it has a bit of a morning rasp to it and it nearly makes me go weak in the knees. ‘Ten minutes early. Fashionably early, I dig it.’

You dig it? Oh my, Amelia, how old are you? I hate myself.

He smiles. ‘I need to make a very good impression on you and the kids and need to make sure that you know you can rely on me,’ he says. ‘Anyway, I brought you a cappuccino, a coffee for Benji and orange juice for Isabella. I hope that’s good.’

‘That’s wonderfully sweet. Please come in.’

Henry steps inside, as he hands me my cappuccino. ‘It is not as great as mine, but the cafe downtown is pretty decent.’ He walks to the kitchen and says: ‘A very good morning to you two.’

‘Coach, my mom is—’

‘This close of grabbing scissors and chopping of your braids,’ I say as I enter the kitchen. ‘And I’ll seriously do it.’

Isabella wants to sulk, but one simple raised eyebrow, is somehow doing wonders, because she keeps quiet. ‘Thank you for the orange juice, coach,’ she says.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Benji says with a smile, taking a sip of his coffee.

‘Aren’t you a bit too young for coffee, Benji?’ Henry asks.

‘No,’ he mumbles.

‘I get where you are coming from,’ I say, sitting next to Benji, ‘but after his first all nighter, he was addicted and that might’ve been partially my fault. I may have poured him some coffee, because I didn’t want him to start drinking energy drinks.’

‘Benji, my man,’ Henry says, ‘your mom is a smart woman. You should always listen to her, she knows best.’

‘And she is also very pretty,’ Isabella adds and even from the corners of my eyes, I can see the smug grin on her face.

‘Okay, young lady: grab your bag, we’re leaving in three minutes.’

Isabella nods with a cheeky grin on her face, before rushing upstairs.

‘Oh, Henry, before I forget…’ I grab a wrapped up sandwich, throwing it to Henry. ‘Okay, Benji, I wish you all the best of luck on your test. You’re a smart boy, you’ll ace it. Remember K is Potassium.’

‘Good luck, kid,’ Henry says, patting Benji on his shoulder.

Once Isabella finally is ready, we all sit in my car and it’s actually nice to finally not be the driver for once, but a passenger again. When Dean and I were still together, he’d always drive and I actually didn’t mind. I remember when we first started dating. We’d drive off to shore, spend hours on end with our feet in the sand and sneak off to places where no one could find us. In all the years after that, I just got in the passengers seat, out of a habit, but then Dean cheated, I had to buy a car because he took ours and of course I could drive, but it was difficult from time to time, to get used to not being the passenger anymore. Being a passenger reminded me of being loved. Reminded me of being taken care for.

I look to the side, staring at Henry’s beautiful profile, as he looks really good driving my car. Never thought someone like him would look this good in a car that screams “family-car”, considering the truck he drives.  

‘Mom, you are staring at Henry and you always tell me that is very rude.’

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Caught by my own daughter at a moment like this. My heart is painfully pounding in my chest, I can nearly feel the vibrations in my throat. ‘I’m not staring.’

‘Liar liar,’ Isabella starts and somehow Henry catches up and adds: ‘Pants on fire.’

‘I’m not a liar and my pants is no— Okay, okay, I was lying. I was totally staring at Henry, I’m  deeply sorry.’ I take a sip of my cappuccino to focus my thoughts on something else, but nearly choke on it when Isabella says: ‘Mom couldn’t stop smiling when she came home with Benji last night.’

‘Isabella Jung, you are really pushing it right now,’ I say, turning around. ‘Henry, stop the car. Isabella is going to walk to school.’

He already is slowing down, as he has a big grin on his face, but Isabella is quick to respond. ‘No, no, I’ll be good. I don’t want to walk to school. It’s still dark outside and mom, you know I don’t like that.’

‘Then zip it.’

‘Okay,’ she mumbles.

I lean back against the seat and have to use all my willpower to not look to the side again.

‘So, Isabella, what are you doing at school right now, as you have to wait for your classmates?’ Henry asks.

‘Well, normally I would go with Yara to school, so we could play in our classroom before school, but she has to go to the dentist now. She is a little afraid of her dentist, so I promised her that I would be extra nice to her when she comes back. I even brought a little snack for her.’

‘That’s very sweet of you,’ Henry says.

‘Well, nice people do sweet things. Like, you brought us something to drink. That is very sweet.’ Isabella chuckles and adds: ‘Can you do that every morning?’

‘Don’t answer that,’ I tell Henry. ‘Because if you say something that remotely looks like a yes, then this little one will hold you onto that.’

‘Sorry, kid, you heard your mom.’ Henry stops in front of the school and gets out of the car, after he firmly told us to stay put. He walks around and opens my door, as well as Isabella’s door. ‘Ladies,’ he says with a smile.

‘Thank you,’ I say with a chuckle and Isabella holds out her arms. Without thinking twice, Henry carries her out of her car seat and she has a bright smile on her face. I can’t help but be a mom and that role never stops, so I say: ‘What do we say?’

‘Thank you, coach,’ she says, as Henry gently puts her down again. ‘Mom barely carries me.’

‘That’s because you are getting too big for me to carry you on a daily basis,’ I tell her. ‘I mean, I wished you stayed two years old too, but unfortunately, you’re growing.’

Isabella sticks out her tongue.

‘Well, I wish you two all best of luck today,’ Henry says, jokingly pulling one of Isabella’s braids. ‘And what time do you want me here, Amelia?’

‘Four,’ I answer. ‘If that is okay with you.’

‘Of course that’s okay with me. I’ll be here at four. Enjoy your day, ladies!’

✰ ✰ ✰

Something is wrong, I think to myself when I walk out of the school at four. Henry sits on the drivers seat, the door wide open and his feet planted on the curb. He smiles when he sees me, before he gets out of the vehicle to meet me halfway. ‘Allow me, please,’ he says, taking my bags from me. Oh, what a gentleman. ‘Why are you frowning?’

‘Did you wash my car?’ I ask him, as we are nearing the vehicle that is shining like it barely does ever since I bought it.

His cheeks color red, as he stammers: ‘Well, I had some time to kill, so I figured I would go to the car wash. There was like an inch thick layer of sand on the back window.’

‘Don’t expose me like that, Henry Cavill,’ I laugh, as I nudge his side. ‘I can’t believe you did that. How can I pay you back? This all must’ve cost quite a bit.’

Henry shakes his head, as he opens the door on the passengers side for me. ‘Don’t you worry about that one single bit.’

‘Henry,’ I say, as I take a seat, ‘I’m a mother and a teacher. It’s my second nature to worry.’

He chuckles, as he closes the door and walks around the car. ‘Well, I’m serious, you don’t need to worry about it,’ he says to me as he gets in.

‘There has to be something that I can do to pay you back, even if I don’t actually give you money. Come on, I can walk your dog, I can make you more sandwiches, I can do your laundry.’

‘There is absolutely no need for you to do that. Besides, you can barely handle your own laundry, let alone mine.’

‘That is just plain mean,’ I laugh. ‘That was one time.’

‘Sure, it was,’ he teases me. ‘You know what, how about I’ll think of something you can do to pay me back and you will drop this issue, until I bring it up again.’

I can’t help but scoff a little. ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘But you do have to think of something.’

‘Will absolutely do, Amelia. Tell me, how was your day?’

Is this for real? Is he doing the whole domestic husband thing, that Dean stopped doing two years ago, where he asks me how my day went?

I lean back in the passengers seat and say: ‘It was okay. As usual, the little ones are absolutely adorable. Oh, and, I got bombarded with questions, because apparently, we’re on Instagram and the moms of Luna Meadows—single or not—are very jealous of me.’

‘What?’ he asks, visibly confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘The pumpkin patch pictures Hattie took of us?’ I try to help him remind and he starts to nod. ‘She posted them on the Instagram account of this town and people saw.’

‘Oh,’ he says, finally catching on. ‘Why are they jealous of you?’

‘No, no, no, no,’ I laugh, ‘don’t play dumb on me now. You know exactly why they are jealous of me.’

Henry shakes his head. ‘I honestly don’t.’

‘Do you not own a mirror? I mean, look at you. You are by far the most handsome man Luna Meadows has ever welcomed and I’m spending time with you.’

‘I highly doubt it,’ Henry says and this is honestly heart warming. Not only is he gorgeous, funny and caring, he is also a very humble man. Besides, he is blushing again and I like seeing a man who has the body of someone who can bend iron, so vulnerable like this.

‘No need for doubt.’ I can’t help but smile.

‘Well, I kinda understand now why every single man was looking at me with a cocked eyebrow and a look of pure jealously. You, Amelia, are the catch here in Luna Meadows.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Oh, so humble.’ Henry starts to laugh and I can’t help but chuckle. ‘Well, despite being the talk of the town, I really like being around you and your family. It all seems so familiar.’

I smile. ‘That means a lot.’

He parks the car next to my place and he tells me to stay put. He walks around the car and helps me out. Without a second thought, he grabs my bags and I say: ‘You know, thanks again for everything you did today for me. It hasn’t really been easy to do some things after the divorce and you just swooping in and doing this, it truly means a lot. It’s nice to not do everything myself for once, you know what I mean?’

‘I know what you mean and it’s not a problem at all,’ he says. ‘Once again, I’m happy to do it. I really have to go, I’m sorry. I have a few things to do.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ I say. ‘I will see you tonight and you have to promise me that you’re going to think about how I can thank you.’ My pointer finger digs into his sweater and he starts to laugh, before promising he will think about it.

‘I’ll see you tonight and say hello to the rest, okay?’

‘Will do.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Benji is in the locker room, changing out of his judogi into his normal clothes. As usual, Henry joins me in the hallway, his shoulder leaning against the wall.

‘So,’ I chuckle, ‘thank you for the lovely cappuccino and I hope you finally figured out what I can do as a thank you.’

‘I thought I told you not to bring it up anymore,’ he says.

‘Oops.’

He laughs. ‘But, I actually thought about it and figured out what you can do.’

‘Enlighten me, mister Cavill.’

‘How about,’ Henry says, ‘you and I go out this Friday? Benji doesn’t have a game, so we both don’t have to get up at an ungodly hour the next day. I can make dinner reservations… If you want  to of course.’

Henry Cavill is asking me out? The most handsome man Luna Meadows has ever is asking me out? I have to stay calm, but my mind is going crazy. Please, whatever you do, just don’t say anything stupid! ‘Of course I want to,’ I say, almost way too eager, but it’s a plus that I said it in a normal order. ‘Oh no, I don’t have anything to wear.’

‘I’m calling bullshit on that one,’ he laughs, ‘but whatever you’d wear, you look beautiful in it.’

‘Stop,’ I chuckle, my cheeks burning up. ‘You know, can you maybe make sure it’s a bit secluded? It’s a small town and people see everything and want to know everything. Also, I don’t want to add anymore fuel to the rumors. Not yet, at least.’

‘Noted,’ he says, ‘something secluded for miss Jung. Any other wishes?’

‘Are you going to wear something formal? If so, should I too?’

‘I was planning on wearing a blouse and some slacks, matching jacket.’

‘You’ve thought about an entire outfit already?’ I smack his arm and add: ‘This is unfair.’

‘I have been thinking about it all day,’ he chuckles.

I can’t hide my surprise. ‘You thought about this all day? Meaning you knew how you wanted me to pay for what you did today when I asked you the first time?’

He rubs his face, before he lets out a nervous laugh. ‘Okay, maybe, but I had to work up the courage to actually ask it.’

‘The tough Henry Cavill was afraid of asking me out? Oh my.’ I use my hand as a fan, before bursting out in laughter. ‘Well, I’ll think about what I wear, but Friday is good.’

‘I’ll pick you up at… Six?’

‘Make that seven,’ I say. ‘Dean is picking up the kids at six and I don’t want to make anything more complicated than it already is.’

‘I totally understand that,’ Henry says. ‘Well, I’ll be there at seven then.’ I see Benji walking up to us and Henry pats him on his shoulder. ‘You did great, bud,’ he says. ‘Can’t wait to see how you’ve improved in the next training.’

‘I’ll watch those clips you told us to watch,’ Benji says, holding out his hand, as an invitation for Henry to participate in their handshake.

After we said our goodbyes to Henry, Benji and I get in the car and when I drove the car off the lot, I ask: ‘Benji, I want your honest opinion about something, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘If Coach Cavill and I were to go on a date, would you mind?’

‘He asked you out?’ Benji asks, way more excited than I expected him to be. ‘You did say yes, did you?’

This wasn’t the reacting I expected at all. ‘I figure you are okay with it, seeing the enormous grin on your face.’

Benji starts to laugh with me. ‘Of course I’m okay with it, mom. You deserve this and if there is anyone out there in the world that I think is even remotely good enough for you, it’s coach Cavill.’

I actually did the parenting thing really well, I think to myself. ‘So, you really don’t mind?’

‘I don’t, mom, I’m really happy for you.’ Benji places his head on my shoulder as we wait for the traffic light to turn green. ‘You deserve this.’

‘Thank you, sweetheart.’

When we’re back home, I usher Benji to come with me, as we barge into Eve’s house. I see that both Isabella and Yara are still awake and they look busted, as they should, because they shouldn’t be up right now.

‘I can explain,’ Eve begins to defend her choice of leaving these two up, but I don’t give her time to actually explain.

‘I’m going on a date Friday night with the one and only Henry Cavill,’ I say.

‘Shut up,’ Eve says. ‘Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you!’

‘Mom, are you for real?’ Isabella says, running up to me to jump in my arms. I nearly tumble back, but Benji places a hand on my back to give me some support. ‘Can we look for an outfit now? Please?’

‘Not now, because you have to go to bed in ten minutes, but you can definitely help me out,’ I laugh. ‘I think you don’t mind that I’m going on a date?’

‘No, mom, I love it,’ Isabella says. ‘It’s only fair. Now dad has a new girlfriend and you have a boyfriend.’

The girl has a point. ‘Let’s just wait for that date, okay?’

[kyber-kisses]

Through A Mothers Eyes (Part 3)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Wanna start from the beginning? Here is the masterlist!

Warnings: crack, cursing, idiots to lovers trope (that good shit)

Summary: When Mary meets Deans closest and best friend, she cant help but see the chemistry between them. . .but she might be the only one as well.

A/n: Its back! It took me awhile to motivate myself to write the next chapter, but I did it! I hope you enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated! (gif made by rainbow-motors)

If Mary thought living in a bunker with her two sons and you was chaotic. . . She was definitely not prepared at all for what game night meant. Not. One. Bit.

It was like a fucking war zone.

Halfway through Jenga she almost expected you and Dean to slap on some war paint, she had never seen such competitive people before in her life.

And then you brought out Uno.

“Fuckin demolish him Cas!” You yelled, hands planted firmly on the table as you watched the angel and hunter slap down colored cards furiously. You, Sam, and Mary had all lost already, resulting in you being Cas’s new hype man.

“Y/N, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“There are no sides in Uno, Dean!”

“Then why the hell are you cheering on Cas?!” Dean slapped down another card. The two were almost running out of cards to play that it hit the point where Sam had to start shuffling the played cards so they could continue. “As your best friend let me just say; I find that insulting.”

“False. Cas is actually my best friend.” You responded bluntly, raising your hand to connect it with the angels in a loud high five.

Dean paused to narrow his eyes in your direction. “. . . Anyways, as your best friend- I’m telling you, you can’t pick sides.”

“Oh and where pray tell did you get that idea from?”

“The best friend rule book.”

You laughed. “Oh yeah, let’s whip that one out and crack it open, I’d love to read it!” You paused, turning to his mother with a soft smile. “I’m so sorry you have to witness this. He’s just a pain in my ass.”

Resting her chin in her hand, Mary returned the smile, still mildly amused at what was playing out in front of her. “I can tell. But I’m pretty sure he’s a pain in everyone’s butt.”

Deans mouth popped open in shock as his lips momentarily failed at trying to form words. “Now you’re taking her side too?!”

“I mean-“ you paused, flicking your hair over your shoulder. “I am fucking amazing. Plus, your mom just knows who the cooler person is out of the two of us-“

“Oh you little-“ dean growled, rolling up his sleeves after slapping his cards down on the table.

“Is this really necessary?” Cas muttered, eyes still on his cards and clearly trying to plan his next move.

“Oh you fuckin know it.”

“Maybe your mom should just adopt me. I could replace you! I am way more fun!” You laughed, backing up as Dean slowly rose from his seat. “Plus, you’re moms way more cool than you.” You joked, eyes lighting up when you looked at Dean and saw him moving towards you. You maneuvered around the table, the two of you moving back and forth as you tried to dodge Dean, trying to keep the table between you.

“You’re such an asshole!”

“You know it baby.” Shooting him a wink you ducked behind Sam's large frame, using him as a shield.

“Oh no- don’t go bringing me into this.” Sam tried, shaking his head as you gripped his shoulders.

“Just hold him off for me will ya?”

“And what do I get in return?”

“. . . the next time its your turn for a supply run, ill do it.”

A pause. “Deal.”

“Sam!”

The younger Winchester shrugged as he held out his arms, stopping Dean from reaching you. “What? Y/Ns more negotiable that you are.”

You let out a cackle before standing on your top toes to press a firm kiss to Sams cheek. “Thanks Samantha!”

You took off down the hallway before Dean could even attempt to move Sam. The younger Winchester continuing to block his brother as he tried to move past him. After a moment Dean gave up, falling back into his seat. “Alright, fine. I admit defeat. . .you can put your arms down..”

“If I do are you gonna go kill her?”

“. . . Maybe.”

“Dean!” Mary hissed, shaking her head at her sons antics.

“What? She’s a pain in the ass!”

Mary only shook her head again. That was until Cas spoke up again. “Am I supposed to say Uno?”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

The rest of the night became much calmer after that, you and Dean were back to your usual shenanigans and held up in the Dean cave watching some old western, Sam had headed off to bed because apparently you and Dean “drain his energy” Or whatever. Cas was for some reason still up cataloging some of the bunkers lore. As for mother Winchester, she found herself seated at the kitchen table, reading a book you had lent her a little over a week ago.

Mary almost didn’t see you walk in at first, with most of the lights still off it was like darkened hallway spit you out. Hands in the pockets of your sweatpants you quietly trudged into the room, pausing at the sight of Mary.

“You liking the book?”

Mary looked up, a small smile gracing her lips at the sight of you. “Yes I am, thank you for lending it to me.”

“No problem. Honestly it was just sitting on my desk collecting dust. I read it and never picked it up again” You admitted with a shrug. Walking past her, you filled your empty glass at the sink before moving back and lowering yourself into the seat across from her. “I’m sorry about earlier. Deans and Is energy can be a little overwhelming at times.”

“You don’t need to apologize. If anything I should be thanking you.” She closed her book, folding her arms over the surface of the table.

“What for?”

Mary let out a sigh. “Even if I haven’t been back for very long, it’s easy to see the effect you have on Dean. He’s happier when you're around, you get him to laugh more than anyone else here.”

“I think you're just seeing his slow decent into insanity.” You chuckled, looking down at your folded hands. “I’m told I have that effect on people.”

“Oh I don’t think that’s true.”

You opened your mouth to answer but stopped when you looked past Mary, eyebrow instantly raising. “What?”

Mary turned in her seat, her eyes finding her oldest son standing in the darkened doorway, your blue blanket wrapped around him. Dean narrowed his eyes at you. “You left me.”

“. . . I’m sorry?”

He stepped down into the kitchen, eyes still glazed over with a slight sleepiness. “It was rude.”

“You were asleep! I didn’t want to wake you up!” You threw your hands in the air, unable to believe the man sinking down into the vacant seat next to you. He yawned, his head falling against your shoulder as he closed his eyes.

“But by your didn’t have to leave me by myself. I woke up and you were gone.”

You rolled your eyes, hand coming up to pat the side of his head. “You poor baby, whatever shall you do now?”

“Mmm haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Did you really just come in here to fall asleep on me again? Just go to bed Dean.”

“Don’t wanna.” He sighed, wrapping your blanket tighter around him.

“I swear you like a five year old.”

“I am not.”

“You totally are.” You paused. “But seriously Dean, go to bed. I ain’t dragging you down the hallway to your room when you fall asleep on me again.” You gave him another pat before standing up put your now empty glass in the sink, having practically chugged it moments before.

Groaning once more, Dean slowly blinked his eyes open and turned his attention to his mother. “What are you still doing up? I thought you went to bed.”

“Couldn’t sleep, thought I’d stay up and read instead. Y/N lent me a book to read.”

Turning his head to look between you and his mom he shook it in disbelief. “God, I live with a bunch of nerds.”

“Dean you can’t say anything about that. You're like the biggest nerd out of all of us.”

“. . . Shut up. Plus, you're no better. If anything I'm this way because of you.”

“Sure, Jan. You keep telling yourself that.”

Dean paused when he looked back over to his mom, seeing a soft smile on her features. “What?”

“Just the two of you-“

“What about the two of us?” He questioned, sliding the blanket off of his shoulders as he stood up before folding it and handing it back to its rightful owner.

“I just- I think you two would make a cute couple.”

There was a pause as the two of you looked at each other.

“Me? . . .And her?” Dean threw a thumb over his shoulder in your direction.

“Me and Dean?”

Another pause. And then a light laugh was bubbling up from both of your throats- before quickly turning into full bellied laughter. Dean had his hands planted on his knees and your head was thrown back as you grabbed at you gut. The two of you quickly dissolving into fits of hysteria. It went on for a good minute before starting to fizzle out.

Ahaha! Whew-“ Dean chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes as he stood up properly again. “That- that was good.”

“Oh god-“ you bent over, hands still on your sides. “My gut hurts- I haven’t laughed like that in awhile.” You panted.

“Yeah, thank you for that mom.” Dean patted his mother’s shoulder as he passed. “That just made my entire day.”

Once you had mostly regained your composure, you took a deep breath. “Okay, well as much fun as that was- I’m gonna go to bed. Goodnight Mary, Dean.” Giving gone last nod you stepped into the hallway along with Dean, the two of you connecting your palms in a loud high five before walking off in separate directions.

Meanwhile Mary sat silently at the table, the only thing running through her mind being what the fuck just happened?

SPN Taglist (Still open!)

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[mzkora]

SPN TROPE ROUND ROBIN

Round 3- Prompt: Remix/Inspired by @spn-trope-round-robin

Title: tenderized

Rating: G/PG

Author: kestra_troi on AO3 aka me

Inspiration: “Red Meat Well Done”, by catnipster

Tags: Episode Coda for S11e17 Red Meat, Hurt/Comfort, gencest, No Sex, Hurt!Sam, Caring!Dean, Emotions

Summary: After the events of Red Meat, Dean decides to take Sam to a motel for some proper rest.

As they crossed state lines Dean eased off the gas. The distance helped. Sam’s almost death was hundreds of miles and a whole state behind them in the rear view mirror. Along with all his earlier bravado and jokes. That had been much too close. He nearly lost his little brother. Again.

For just a second, Dean glanced over at Sam, watching that broad chest slowly rise and fall. He had lasted all of half an hour before falling asleep, which Dean had taken as proof of how close to that razor’s edge everything had been. A tiny slip here or there and...The End. Luck. It was all pure luck. He studied his little brother, giving him a once-over as he had done for the whole drive so far. Poor kid must have been exhausted. Out like a light with his head resting against the window, his chin propped up by his arm.

Eyes back on the road ahead, Dean turned down the soft rock station so it was more in the background since Sam didn’t seem to really need the help sleeping. He fidgeted in his seat, feeling a bit cramped after so many hours on the road without a single stop. First, he stretched out his legs as best he could within the confines of the car. Then, he rolled the tension out of his shoulders and neck, which popped. He groaned and flexed his fingers only then realizing how tightly he had been holding on to the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax into the seat. He checked Sam out in his periphery, reassuring himself that his little brother was still there. Still breathing. Still just asleep.

Dean blinked, taking stock of their surroundings pretty much for the first time since they had gotten in the car. Not that there wasn’t much out there to speak of other than the road. Eventually though, after a few more miles, he did see a sign for the next town. Dean considered his options for a moment. Keep driving for at least another four or five hours to get to the Bunker or set up camp in town and start home later? Dean leaned forward to peer up at the sky which was still pretty much grey from horizon to horizon, but the east side was clearly getting darker. Then he sat back and looked at the clock. The sun would be setting soon. Maybe another hour of daylight left at the most.

They’d gone far enough for one lousy day. Sam deserved to rest in an actual bed. Coming back from the precipice all on his own and saving his life in the process? His little brother was a goddamn hero. A badass. And badasses deserved a nice, comfy mattress and some halfway decent pillows. They had earned a short break, right? So, when the exit came up, Dean pulled off the highway and rolled into town. He skipped the skeevy looking places on the outskirts of this run of the mill town for a motel that actually looked like it got cleaned once in a while in what seemed to be their downtown.

The Royal Inn was the one he settled on, with a quiet snort. As if royalty would ever be within a thousand miles of this place, but irony notwithstanding he cruised into the parking lot. He pulled up to the office and slowed to a smooth stop, not wanting to jostle Sam too much. He paused a second and checked Sam over one more time. Still breathing steady. Still asleep.

This one had been way too close. Way. Too. Close. The words kept playing on repeat in his head as they had for the entire day’s drive. Dean frowned, his eyes going soft and watery. With a sniff, Dean unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door, grabbing his wallet out of his back pocket while he got out of the car. He closed the door gently, more so than he normally would bother with and made sure he had the right ID and credit card to match before heading inside. At the office door he stole one more look at Sammy before ducking in to rent a room for a few days. They had earned a break. A mini-holiday. Just until Sam got back on his feet. Then they could go home and bunker down for a while. Maybe have a crappy action movie marathon with all the trimmings. Really live it up for a weekend before jumping back into the fray.

Room key cards in hands, Dean got back into the Impala and stared at Sam for a moment, briefly torn. Wake him now or wait until they were parked in front of the room? Did it matter? Not really. Dean closed his door without being too careful this time and took a hold of the wheel with his left hand while with the right he palmed his brother’s knee. Warm and solid just like it ought to be. “Gotta wake up, Sammy,” he said, giving the knee a squeeze. His hand slid up his brother’s thigh of its own accord and Dean let it sit there a second absorbing some of that wonderful body heat. When Sam didn’t stir, he gave him a couple quick taps to the leg to spur him on. “We’re here, Sleeping Beauty.”

Sam jerked awake and groaned, wincing at his own sudden movement. He blinked, rubbing his eyes as he carefully sat upright. “Dean?”

“Got us a room for a couple nights,” Dean explained, slowly driving off to find their spot. “Thought we could take it easy for a bit. Get you well.”

“I’m fine,” Sam mumbled, running his hand down his face.

“I know,” Dean replied, going along with that ridiculous assessment. He barely held in an eye-roll. After all these years he knew better than to try and argue outright with his little brother. That damn stubbornness saved their lives all the time, but it also annoyed the hell out of him sometimes too. Dean threw on the charm and smarm. “But we’ve both had a rough go the past twenty four hours, so a few days relaxing in a motel with some good, old fashioned pay-per-view will do us good.”

Sam huffed a laugh, then grimaced, one hand going to his stomach. Dean’s playful smirk lost a little bit of it’s sparkle, seeing Sam in pain. His eyes went to Sam’s abdomen, then his face, then back to the parking lot. “Yeah, okay,” Sam muttered, his words tattered around the edges. He swallowed, his mouth obviously dry.

Dean’s face went flat. He kicked himself for not stopping along the way to get them some water. Plus, Sam was really in pain if he wasn’t even going to argue at least a little. The pain meds he had gotten at the clinic must be wearing off. Dean pushed on the gas and scanned the numbers on the motel doors. He found their room and pulled into the nearest parking spot. Soon as he got Sam settled in for the night, he’d make a supply run. Stock up for the next three days of rehabilitation. He held out one of their key cards. “You good to get in on your own?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam insisted, some of his natural brattiness coming out. He took the card Dean offered without another word and started to unbuckle his seatbelt.

The corner of Dean’s mouth curled up into a half smile. “Just asking, princess,” he quipped. “I’ll get our bags. Why don’t you head in and see what they got on offer. Classic Skinemax will put some color back in your cheeks.”

“Dean,” Sam whined, half exasperated and half amused. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, a faint blush rising to his cheeks nonetheless. A full smile spread across Dean’s face. Sam smiled at him, his face full of fondness. “Shut up,” he grumbled, pushing open his door.

Dean watched, still concerned but happy too, as Sam took his time in getting his ass out of the car. Dean waited. If he offered to help Sam would complain some more and wave him off, but every nerve in his body was honed in on Sammy, watching his every movement. Once Sam got his long limbs out and shut the door, Dean snapped into action.

He killed the ignition, yanked out the keys, got out, closed his door, opened the trunk, grabbed their overnight bags, slammed it shut and locked up the whole thing in the time it took Sam to amble his way to the room and open their door. Dean was quick on his heels, holding the door open for Sam once the great lummox passed through despite carrying everything. Sam, meanwhile, flicked on the lights. “Nice place,” he pointed out. Dean shrugged. So maybe he had splurged a little. Instead of the most basic two Queen beds, he had opted for two kings. And a microwave, and mini fridge, and coffeemaker. Basically what amounted to the deluxe suite around these parts.

“Only one in town with WiFi,” Dean lied, shutting down any chance of a debate. He really did not want to have to wrestle Sam into a three-day vacation. He needed bed rest and Dean was damn sure his little brother was going to get it. Sam nodded and headed further in, shuffling his way towards the beds. No rebuttal and no agenda other than going straight to bed. Dean walked inside and placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob before closing the door and locking them in for the night. “I knew my nerdy younger brother would demand internet access, so he could read articles about tax law and politics and other boring stuff like that.”

“It’s not boring,” Sam countered, tired but still a younger brother. “It’s important.”

“Of course, of course,” Dean facetiously placated while depositing their bags on the luggage rack. Sam wandered to the left hand bed and gingerly reached down to pull out the bedding. Dean hovered, at the ready. Sam got one corner free and most of that one side then gave up and slowly began to sit. Dean strode over and immediately finished untucking the rest of the sides.

“I got this, De,” Sam complained, hissing as he lowered himself down.

“Just making sure,” Dean replied. He yanked the covers out from under his brother as quick as he could and pushed them aside so they could be in easy reach. Once he got to the other side of the bed, he nabbed both pillows and stuffed them directly behind his brother’s back so he would be propped up. Sam didn’t comment on that, but Dean could feel his ambivalence even without him saying anything. He held out his hands so Sam could use him for balance if need be as he turned to lay down. Sam didn’t wave him off, but he also didn’t take Dean up on his silent offer. He gradually lifted one leg up onto the mattress without having to move too much.

Dean saw Sam’s grimace coming a mile away. “Here, let me.”

“I’m fine,” Sam reiterated, his breath huffy with strain. Despite his protests, he went a little limp and Dean swooped in. He crossed back over to Sam’s side and gently eased Sam’s long legs up onto the mattress and out to their full length. Sam sighed, wriggling to find a comfortable position. Dean sat at the foot of the bed and without any prompting started untying Sam’s boots. “De, you don’t have to—“

“Hey,” Dean interjected, all jokes aside. He looked Sam square in the eye. “Lemme take care of you a little, huh?”

Sam bit his lip, whatever masculine rebuke he had at the ready dying away under Dean’s determined expression. He nodded. Dean did the same then went back to taking off his brother’s boots.

The laces were a bit crusty with blood and mud, but Dean untangled them. Then holding the back of Sam’s shin, Dean gently tugged the boot off. Sam took a steadying breath. Dean paused. On Sam’s signal Dean helped him off with the other boot, then placed them on the floor by the bed.

“There. That wasn’t so bad was it?” Sam shook his head, his long hair pushed back behind his ears. Dean grinned and went for the socks. Sam curled his toes. “My feet are cold,” he said quiet and feeble like a little kid.

“Okay.” Dean grabbed the sheets and blanket instead. He draped them over Sam’s legs and tucked them in. Like he used to do when Sammy was a kid. The you-are-not-getting-out-of-bed-without-my-help obvious. He got the bedding up to Sam’s waist, then helped his brother sit up and get out of his jacket one arm at a time. “They give you a list of antibiotics?”

“Jacket pocket.”

Dean fished for a second and came up with the folded print out from the clinic. He unfolded it and started skimming. “What about painkillers?”

“On there too.”

“I’ll get ‘em in the morning,” Dean proclaimed.

“I need a bath,” Sam said, leaning into his pillows like a storybook princess. His eyes already fighting to stay open.

“Tomorrow, Sammy.” Dean stuffed the care instructions into his back pocket and smirked. “I’ll get a bucket and a sponge.”

“And a sexy nurse outfit?” Sam quipped, a sleepy smile on his lips.

“You bet, Sammy. The whole nine yards. Might even get a sexy chick in here to wear it.” Dean stepped up to Sam’s side and helped bring the sheets up to Sam’s chest. Sam let him, doing nothing but pull his arms free and settle them on top of the blanket cocoon.

Dean’s heart clenched seeing Sam so pale and weak. “You gave me quite a scare there for a minute, Sammy,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along his brother’s forehead like he used to do when they were little.

“Sorry, De,” Sam mumbled, a contented sigh escaping as he drowsily leaned into his brother’s soft, warm touch. He closed his eyes.

“Not your fault, Sammy,” Dean assured him. On a whim he couldn’t deny, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on Sam’s forehead. He froze in place, shocked at his own actions. Sam hummed softly. Dean got up in a flash and stepped back only then realizing he was still holding Sam’s jacket. He looked between his brother and the jacket and murmured, “Night night, Sammy.”

Sam mumbled some sounds but then he was out like a light. Again. Dean watched him sleep for a moment, relief and shame and need all warring in his chest for pride of place. He clutched Sam’s jacket tightly, then brought it up to his face. The jacket was still warm from Sammy’s body heat and Dean took a deep whiff. It smelled of hospital, that sterile antiseptic stink, and faintly of blood, but also of Sam. That pure, working-man’s musk he knew as well as his own hit his brain and his chest relaxed.

His Sammy was alive. That’s all that mattered. That’s all that ever mattered, really. Something clicked in his head. A jigsaw piece sliding into place, a perfect fit and necessary for the whole thing to make sense. Sammy. It was always Sammy. And it always would be, Sammy as long as Dean was alive. He didn’t need anyone else. No other soul than the one he shared with his perfect baby brother.

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already thought or said as much out loud, but that haunting uneasiness regarding that simple truth was gone. As was the shame. Sammy was his world. Point blank. How many times had he proven that to himself, to Sam, and pretty much everyone they had ever met? Sammy was his whole world and his world was alive and needed him. What more could he ask for right at this moment?

[cranetreegang]

OC Witcher Fanfic: Part 3: Let's See What You're Made Of

A/N: First fight scene!! I think fight scenes are probs one of my weaker points in writing, so it took soooo long to write it. I'm very happy with how it turned out though. As always, let me know what you think! I love getting feedback!

Summary: Lanas and Nis track down the cyclops. Lanas worries that Nis will be a hinderance to him. Will Nis prove him wrong, or will she get them both killed?

Word Count: ~3,000

Warnings: Graphic violence, blood, guts... I mean they trying to kill a cyclops.

Read Part 1 and Part 2 Here!

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Lanas wasn’t lying when he said at first light. He had Nis on her horse before the sun even had a chance to rise. She slumped in her saddle, swaying from side to side, and he was doing the same. He didn’t wake her up to take over watch last night, so he barely slept. His tiredness didn't stop him from thinking over how best to handle this cyclops though.

Any wrong move would mean death. Hers more than his. He didn't want her to get in his way. He also knew she was too stubborn and wouldn't stand aside to let him take care of it. His lips pursed as he thought over the upcoming fight. He had three fire bombs and a handful of bolts left from dealing with the spriggan. That wouldn't be enough to take this monstrosity down though. Even with his ogroid oil, cyclopses were known to withstand the most grievous of wounds before dying.

Distance. That was the best strategy for orgoids. It's powerful arms and earth-shattering stomps would make close quarter combat a challenge. One misstep would mean being pulverized into dust. Perhaps Nis wouldn't be useless after all. That was if she was as good with a bow as she claimed to be. If she could keep the cyclops distracted long enough for him to land a few vital hits, then they both might walk out of this unscathed. If she could land her shots, and if the cyclops didn't corner her.

Lanas frowned. There was too much uncertainty and it all surrounded Nis. He hadn't even gotten to the idea of her panicking if the cyclops made any move towards her. A mental image of an arrow landing in his back came to the forefront of his mind.

"Cyclopses aren't like rabbits." Lanas said seemingly out of the blue.

Nis was in the middle of braiding her auburn hair out of her face. She paused for a moment to take in what he just said.

She raised one of her dark brows. "Really?" Her tone was full of mock surprise. "That's not what I've been told. But, I suppose you're the expert on matters such as these."

"This isn't time for jokes, Nis." Lanas growled.

“You’re the one talking about cyclopses and rabbits.” She smirked.

His upper lip curled for a moment before settling. He gripped his reins tighter as he continued, "One hit of a cyclops will kill you."

"Well, that certainly wouldn't be good." Nis chuckled as she finished tying back her hair into a ponytail. "What do you suggest, to avoid such unpleasant things. Like death, or dismemberment. I much like the idea of not being in a cyclops' stomach today."

"Keep your distance. As long as you stay out of its reach you'll be fine." Lanas stopped himself from adding, 'and don't shoot me in the back.'

Nis nodded with a far away gaze. "And, what will you be doing?"

"Killing it."

Nis let out a loud laugh before stifling the abrupt noise due to Lanas' harsh glare. "Oh, Lanny. You say it's not time for jokes, yet here you are. 'Killing it.' Ha! I suppose that's a decent enough plan. I'll keep my distance and you'll kill it. Simple as hunting rabbits."

Lanas sent Horse into a canter to get ahead of Nis. If she wanted to be slaughtered, then so be it. She wasn't his concern or problem anymore. He could get the crowns off her corpse.

Nis caught up to him with an amused grin plastered on her freckled, worry-free face.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to constantly anger you. I'll follow your lead, fret not my dearest Lanny." Nis said, her stormy eyes giving away her seriousness.

Lanas glanced towards her. "You better. Mistakes could cost us both our lives." He huffed.

"And we surely wouldn't want that." She replied.

Lanas turned his attention to their surroundings, while continuing contemplating different strategies that wouldn't get him killed. Nis was too much of a risk for him to rely on. A fact which annoyed him more than anything else. This was why he preferred to work alone.

He looked to Nis idly flicking through her arrows. A smile tugged on her vermillion colored lips as she hummed some out of key tune he wasn’t familiar with. She looked akin to a noble on a fox hunt more so than a monster hunt. Lanas realized she wasn’t worried because she had no idea how dangerous this was. The very idea made him frustrated. She would learn soon enough, he thought.

It wasn’t until they were halfway to Dorian when Lanas held up his hand to stop them. A faint hint of blood hung in the air. The scent was nearly masked by the aroma of the woodlands. His hair stood on end from the utter silence. He scanned around them until his eyes settled on the branches nearby. Horse rocked underneath Lanas with a heavy snort. He patted Horse's neck with a hush.

"It's near." He informed her as he slid off his saddle. Nis scanned around trying to find where the beast was, but all she saw were dense trees. With a confused sigh, she dismounted Pip.

Lanas rummaged in his saddle bags for a few moments while Nis tied their horses to a slender tree trunk. He stuffed various potions into his bandolier and attached the fire bombs on his side. He hooked a handheld crossbow onto his belt and drew the silver sword from his back. He treated the blade with his last vial of ogroid oil. The gentle smell of Ginatia wafted into the air.

"What's that?" Nis asked as she leaned over his shoulder.

He glances at her then stalked into the forest.

Nis followed behind him with her bow drawn and an arrow nocked. "How do you know it's here? I don't see it anywhere?" She asked.

"Branches are broken up high." He pointed above them and she looked up in awe. She finally saw the twisted and snapped branches above them, but also scattered at their feet. "You'd also hear it before you see it."

"Mhm. I mean, of course. Obviously." She hummed.

Lanas tracked the great beast's movements further into the woods. He managed to find a fresh set of tracks to follow. His senses were on high alert and body eager for the fight to come.

They didn't have to go too deep into the forest before a putrid odor assaulted him. The bear medallion vibrated against his chest. He raised his fist and they knelt down behind some brush.

There, in front of them, they could make out the slouched form of the cyclops. Even sitting, Nis estimated the beast to be at least double, maybe triple, the height of Lanas. Its long black hair clung to its rippling back. Nis was intrigued to see the cyclops wearing a tattered loincloth with a leather belt carrying various objects; like an oversized barrel it had fashioned into a mug. They could hear the sounds of flesh being ripped apart and bones snapping in its mouth as it feasted.

Lanas turned to face Nis with a serious expression. "You will do as I say. Keep your distance and don't get in my way." He paused then added, "Don't shoot me in the back. Please."

She nodded. "Got it."

Lanas spared her a final glance, "Stick to the plan. Distance. Distract. Dodge. I'll do the rest."

He didn't wait for her response as he began making his way into the flattened clearing. Trees had been ruthlessly ripped out or snapped clean in half. The giant cyclops huddled in the center of the destruction. The witcher carefully stepped over and between the shattered limbs littering the soft earth. Lanas could sense Nis somewhere behind him, laying in wait. The cyclops was too distracted eating its latest prey to even notice their approach. The medallion hummed stronger with each step. He unsheathed his sword and took a calm, deep breath through his nose.

Lanas plunged straight into the monster's back, aiming for the beast's heart. The sword couldn't pierce far into the creature's back before being stopped by the cyclops' rib. Lanas cursed immediately for missing his mark. The cyclops wailed in surprised anguish, its nearly devoured deer fell from its grip. He ripped his sword from the iron-like flesh then dove away as the cyclops' mighty fist crashed where he had just stood.

The two hurried to their feet. The cyclops cast its shadow over the witcher, forcing him to look up. Lanas prepared to make another roll when an arrow flew straight into the beast's eye. The cyclops stumbled back. Its hands wildly flailing around.

Lanas used the momentary distraction to slice at the monster's legs. He whirled himself in-between the stomping feet to give the monster deep slashes into the back of its knees.

The cyclops whipped itself around to backhand Lanas away like an annoying bug. He had been able to block the brunt of the attack with his forearms, but he was still sent flying away. The witcher managed to flip himself back to his feet and stop himself from tumbling further across the sharp, broken timber. Several more arrows found their mark into the creature's cheek, ear, and neck. The power from the arrow strikes were enough to keep the beast off balance. The cyclops tried in vain to block the arrows coming from the tree line by raising its tree trunk of an arm to cover its face. Nis' arrows lined its exposed forearm instead.

With the cyclops trying to fend off her attacks, Lanas reached for his crossbow. His hand hovered over it as he took in the dead trees around the cyclops. Instead of the crossbow, he grabbed a fire bomb to throw at the creature's feet. The dried out trees immediately caught then set the beast's clothed calves aflame. It roared out in rage. Its bleeding eye landed on Lanas and figured he was the source of its pain.

The cyclops charged towards the witcher, who threw himself out of the way. He hopped to his feet to begin dancing away from the furious cyclops' chaotic blows. Lanas kept ducking below each wild swing with impressive timing. The ground shook with each step the beast took, making Lanas concentrate on his footwork to avoid tripping on the debris. Embers were flying in the air, spreading the flames. He just needed an opening to land another strike against the brute.

Nis' arrows were no longer stunning the creature and seemed to only be making it angrier. She tried to get some sort of command from Lanas on what to do, but he was struggling to maintain distance.

Lanas' foot landed on a limb that snapped. His foot, unexpectedly, slipped more than he could anticipate. He twisted his body enough to avoid most of the swinging uppercut from the cyclops. Its elbow collided into Lanas' back in a glancing hit. His body was swept across the clearing. He landed face first with an audible grunt. The cyclops pounded its chest while letting out a mighty roar of triumph. Nis sprinted from her cover towards Lanas.

"Lanas! You alright?" She kept her attention on the cyclops while she dragged him by the arm to his feet.

"What are you doing?!" He shoved her away with an annoyed hiss. Pain shot from his back at the quick motion. He winced and nearly fell back down.

She rolled her eyes then stood in front of him. "I'll keep it distracted. Find a way to kill it. You know. The plan." She sent an arrow flying right into the beast's throat. The cyclops ripped the arrow from its thick hide then slammed the ground in rage.

With the attention on her, she sprinted away from Lanas. Her nimble fingers nocked three arrows as she led the cyclops away. With the pressure off of him, Lanas downed an entire vial of Swallow and felt immediate relief. When the cyclops began to charge Nis, she stopped where she was and drew her bow back.

Lanas rushed behind the charging cyclops with the unquestionable sense of dread threatening to come over him. Nis needed to move, or she'd die. He cursed his luck that she chose now, of all times, to freeze. He pushed himself even harder to try and stop the cyclops in time. He pushed himself past the pain. He had to. But he wasn't close enough. He wasn't fast enough. The cyclops had beat him to the naïve wannabe.

"Nis!" He shouted.

Nis hadn't even moved an inch. She took a sure deep breath as the cyclops raised both of its arms to smash her into the ground. That's when she released the arrows. The first arrow found its way into the cyclops' forehead. The second arrow lodged itself into the monster's swollen eye, making the cyclops totally blind. The last arrow landed where the bridge of the cyclops' nose should've been. But the sudden attack didn't stop the cyclops from finishing its movement to smash her.

Before it could pulverize her, she jumped backwards far enough for the creature to slam the ground instead. A puff of dirt and rocks shot into the air from where she had just been. She quickly hopped onto the cyclops' forearm while she readied another arrow. The cyclops tried to shake her off, but she already anticipated this. She let the momentum of its flailing take her away from the cyclops while also landing another painful shot into the cyclops' useless eye. The beast moaned and slammed the ground repeatedly in pain.

All of this happened quicker than Lanas could process. He watched Nis, unharmed, getting away from the cyclops. He stopped where he was and took the beast's tantrum as an opportunity to throw another fire bomb. The creature, charred from the previous one, caught even faster. Burnt flesh and wood filled the smoky air. Lanas rushed behind the cyclops to finish slicing through its flaming charred leg. The monster cried out then fell to its knee with a guttural groan.

Lanas climbed up its back and jumped into the air. He aimed his sword directly into the top of the beast's head. His sword impaled through the cyclops' skull and all the way through its throat.

A wet roar briefly spilled from the creature's mouth before blood consumed its cries. Lanas removed his sword and hopped off its back. The cyclops teetered left to right before collapsing on its side. The ground quivered as the cyclops choked out its last breath. Then silence consumed the woods once more, save for the ravenous flames decorating the already destroyed clearing.

Nis approached the beast with an arrow pointed directly into the creature's heart. "Is it dead?" She asked.

Lanas kicked its foot then sheathed his sword. "It's dead."

Nis let out a relieved sigh as she withdrew her bowstring. She came closer to Lanas with a concerned frown. Her eyes scanned over his obviously injured form. "Looks like the beast got one on you," she quipped as she sheathed her bow.

"I'll be fine." He huffed. He circled around the dead creature before deciding there would be plenty for him to harvest.

Nis watched him with one raised brow as she was ripping her arrows out. He brought out a vial to extract the drool billowing out from its gaping jaw. He then reached into its warm, damp mouth and pulled out its tongue. He examined the appendage, and decided it would be good enough. In one quick slice, the tongue was freed and he stuffed it into his pack.

"That's disgusting." Nis commented.

"Help me get its hair." Lanas ordered.

Nis gave a mock salute as she pulled out her dagger.

She helped him gather clumps of hair, several vials of blood, a liver, and a heart from the cyclops. The fire surrounding them had snuffed itself out, leaving them in a cloud of smoke and ash.

Nis looked over the blood covering her armor with her nose scrunched. "This'll take forever to get out, you know." She sighed.

"Better get used to it if you're gonna make a habit of monster hunting." Lanas gruffly replied. He knelt over his pack to organize his fresh loot.

Nis gave a sharp laugh then shrugged. "I suppose. Especially if I stick with you."

Lanas paused then looked up to her. "Once you've given me my coin, we're done here."

Nis bit her lip which turned into a sheepish smile. "Well, what if I had another job for you."

Lanas grunted as he slung on his pack. "No." He turned on his heel to begin the walk back towards their horses.

Nis matched his stride after a short jog. "I don't think you quite understand. I didn't really need your help with the cyclops. I need your help with something else. Something more dire."

"Don't care." Lanas replied, his gaze dead set in front of him.

"Don't care?! You don't even know what it is. Besides, I believe I just proved to be more than capable of helping you." She glared at Lanas. She took a breath then said, "Just hear what I have to say first. Then, if you still want to refuse the job, you can."

Lanas stopped walking and threw his loaded pack on the ground. He looked over Nis with fresh eyes.

Her skill in that fight, no human could've possibly pulled off. He highly doubted even an Scoia'tael archer could've done what she did. No... there was something wrong. He hadn't been able to figure out what it was that made him on edge. Perhaps, deep down, he hadn't wanted to look any further into it. Not with the amount of crowns she was paying him. But as he stared at the woman before him, the gut feeling returned.

Nis hadn't the time to react to him drawing his sword before she felt the tip of the silver blade pressed into her neck.

"What are you?"

[kpoppwriter]

Rose Colored Boy

Genre: angst/fluff

Words: 1k+

Warnings: this is kinda sad tbh, indirect mentions of depression and anxiety

A/N: so this is a song fic based on the song “Rose Colored Boy” by Paramore. I was listening to this song and just needed to write something based off of it so here you go!

Rose colored boy, I hear you making all that noise About the world you want to see, and oh, I’m so annoyed Cause I just killed off what was left of the optimist in me

You watched as Soonyoung “performed” for you and some of the boys in the living room of the dorms. He smiled happily at how he made you and the boys smile along with him. He didn’t have to know that your smile was fake. You just stared at him in awe, wondering how someone could be so carefree and happy. It was a concept that didn’t make sense to you. Not anymore. 

You sighed as you got up from your place on the couch. As soon as you were safe in the kitchen away from everyone else, your happy facade faded. You buried your face in your hands. You tried to even out your breathing, a bunch of emotions bubbling up in you. Anger, jealousy, envy, hurt, sadness...

“Y/N! There you are!”

You quickly looked up, your mask coming back on. Soonyoung stood in the doorway of the kitchen. His smile faltered as he looked at you. 

“Are you alright?”

But hearts are breaking and wars are raging on And I have taken my glasses off You got me nervous, I’m right at the end of my rope A half empty girl. Don’t make me laugh, I’ll choke

“Yeah! I’m fine,” you lied, “Just have another headache.”

“Oh, okay.”

You stood awkwardly in the kitchen together not saying a word. You broke the silence first telling him you weren’t feeling good and thought you should go home. Soonyoung protested and tried his hardest to try and keep you there at the dorms but you insisted on going home.

“At least let me give you a ride since you aren’t feeling well.”

“...Alright, that’s fair,” you sighed

He nodded happily and went back out to the living room to get your coat and his. He told the boys that he was driving you home to which the boys protested much like Soonyoung did. He said you weren’t feeling well and the boys begrudgingly agreed to let you leave. You said a quick goodbye and left, Soonyoung following close behind. 

“You should go see a doctor,” Soonyoung said as he go into the car, “You’ve been getting a lot of headaches.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re nothing,” you said dismissively

“It probably doesn’t help being around us all the time. We’re usually pretty loud,” he chuckled

“Mhmm yeah,” you laughed nervously

You didn’t want to think about the headaches too much. You knew what they were from. And he was right, being around the guys made them worse but not because they were loud. Because they were happy.

Just let me cry a little bit longer, I ain’t gon’ smile if I don’t want to  Hey man, we all can’t be like you. I wish we were all rose colored too My rose colored boy

You stared out the window trying to hold your tears back. You wanted to have the optimism that he did. Maybe if you were like him, you wouldn’t be this way. You wouldn’t be this sad. 

You pulled up to the front of your apartment.Soonyoung parked the car and turned to you before getting out of the car. You didn’t want to face him, knowing your tears would fall if you even looked at him. Apparently, you weren’t that good at hiding your tears. Soonyoung placed his hand on your shoulder softly calling your name. You finally looked at him. And that’s when the waterworks started.

I want you to stop insisting that I’m not a lost cause, Cause I’ve been through a lot, really all I’ve got is just to stay pissed off If it’s all right by you 

“No, I want to be mad,” you gritted your teeth, “It’s better than being sad.”

“No it’s not,” Soonyoung replied softly, “You can be happy. You can feel better.”

“No I can’t!” you snapped

Your sudden outburst surprised both you and Soonyoung, the expressions on your faces identical. You apologized quietly. He said nothing in return. He just stared at you with sympathetic eyes. 

Leave me here a little bit longer, I think I wanna stay in the car I don’t want anybody seeing me cry now You say “we gotta look on the bright side” I say “well maybe if you wanna go blind” You say my eyes are getting too dark now  But boy, you ain’t ever seen my mind

“I need a minute,” you wiped the tears from your cheeks, “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“Who’s going to see you?” Soonyoung laughed to himself

You glared at him, his hands going up in surrender letting you stay in the car with him. You flipped down the sun visor and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks still had a wet shine to them despite how you tried to wipe off your tears. Your face was dusted pink and your eyes were already getting puffy. You groaned, knowing it was going to be a while before you’d look even halfway decent. You huffed as you flipped the visor back up. You could feel Soonyoung’s gaze on you, intently watching your every move. You felt a wave of sadness overtake you as you realized you were about to go back home, alone. Like always. 

“Stop it.”

You looked over at Soonyoung, confused.

“What?”

“Stop thinking about whatever your thinking about.”

He cupped your cheeks with his hands, holding you like you were made of glass. His thumbs ran over the tear stains on your cheeks as his eyes searched yours. You wanted to pull away but the way he was looking at you warmed your heart for some reason.

“Your eyes look so sad sometimes,” he whispered, “I hate it. I hate seeing you so sad.”

You opened your mouth to say something but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. He was being so sweet and loving with you. He wanted to make you happy. Genuinely happy.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked

“Just about how I have to go inside eventually,” you mumbled, “And how I was going to be alone again-”

“You don’t have to be alone,” he interjected, “I’ll stay with you. For as long as you need me.”

Just let me cry a little bit longer, I ain’t gon’ smile if I don’t want to Hey man, we all can’t be like you. I wish we were all rose colored too My rose colored boy

[honeycombme]

Easy as Breathing (PT. 2)

Clyde has never looked so sweet.

Part 2!

(Pt 3 available here!)

Your fingertips shook ever so slightly as they pulled clothes from your dresser. What do you even wear camping. Nothing you dredged up from the depths of your drawers was satisfying the goal you had in mind. Of course, all you wanted to do was feel desirable, but how do you do that when you’ll just be sweaty and gross for the entire weekend? You decided to just text Lauren. You wrote, “EMERGENCY. Wtf am i supposed to wear to keep Clyde’s attention? Surely not the t-shirt from my middle school robotics team?!”

You felt even more frantic. Bathing suits. You didn’t have anything other than a cheap, all black one-piece. You texted Lauren again. “Ok ok and bathing suits...i’m fucked”. You took a shaky breath, piling in essentials you at least knew you’d need. After all the toiletries and whatnot were sorted, you checked your phone. Lauren must’ve been having a ball. 

“Oh sweetpea, honeybear, sugarplum. I’m at the mall right now, what’s your size?” Her text burned into your retinas as you contemplated whether or not to give her this power. You relented, realizing you were already a lost cause and she could only help from here. After she received your text about sizes, she sent a wink emoji. Winking….about what???

You decided to fold up every piece of clothing you ripped out of your dresser while you waited for her to let you know whether or not she had any luck with bathing suits or clothes. You bargained with yourself, realizing t-shirts, shorts, and leggings would just have to do in this case. You folded everything neatly into a duffle bag, cursing under your breath at your nerves. 

Your phone dinged. When you unlocked the screen, Clyde’s name came into view. Your heart fluttered and you felt the butterflies again. You’d been texting on and off since last night you went to the bar, getting to know each other little by little. You learned that  he loves spaghetti and the smell of the Earth fresh after the rain. You learned that he was in the military and that he enjoys the moon more than the sun. You learned that his favorite dessert was peach cobbler. You also learned that you wanted to learn everything about him. 

He texted, “Just finished puttin some booze in a cooler for us, that way everything’ll be nice and chilled when we get there. I’m sure excited to be gettin there and settlin’ down for the night. I hope you’re as excited as I am, darlin.” You leaned against the closest wall you could find, re-reading the text over and over as you sighed. No matter what you wore, you were certain it’d be perfect. 

Lauren proposed that you both drive together to minimize the amount of cars at the campsite. When she showed up, she invited herself in to help you with bags. She looked you up and down as she saw you standing in your living room, closing the door and whipping her head back around. In her hands was a small fabric bag and she began pulling out the contents. 

“Ok so I packed you the swimsuit and a couple other essentials; however, we need to fix this outfit immediately,” she laughed, walking over and placing a hand on your shoulder. “Listen dear, you’re perfect; but if i’m going to live vicariously through you, i’m gonna need you to put these on.” She held out her hand, holding a few items of clothing. 

You unfurled the clothes, revealing a cropped, v-neck tank top, high-waisted jean shorts, a thin, loose cardigan, and a ballcap. You looked from the clothing to her, panic rising in your throat. 

“Y/n, it’s going to be fine. This way you’ll be more comfortable, too. It’s hotter than a rattlesnakes taint out there.” Lauren was perfect. She always had a quip to make you laugh, put you at ease. You ran into the bathroom and changed as fast as you could, trying not to look at yourself in the mirror too hard. When you walked out, she praised you. 

“YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS girl, I AM drooling. I’m quite the life saver. No need to thank me, let’s just get outta here, shall we?” With a spring in her step, she grabbed the bag and walked out of the door. You picked up your own bag and shuffled out, locking the door behind you. And so it begins. 

When you arrived at the campsite, there was a man in a guard shack checking every vehicle in. As Lauren approached, she stated the party’s name (Clyde Logan…*sigh*) and the man let you through. You drove for about 20 minutes around and around seemingly endless trees, camp sites, and then back the place you started. 

“Fuck,” gritted Lauren. She was visibly frustrated, and you were no better to navigate the woods than her. You decided to text Clyde. 

“Classic. Girls lost in the woods. Any way you can give me a play by play on how to get there?” You sent your text in a flash. Only seconds later, Clyde’s name appeared on your screen; he was calling. 

Your stomach dropped but you answered quickly (too quickly? Oh shut up y/n). 

“Hey there darlin’ can ya give me an idea of where you’re at? I can walk up to the main street ta meet ya.” His southern drawl was exceptional, I mean. WHERE did he pick this gorgeous twang from, the heavens?  

You chatted quickly about your surroundings, coming about a gentleman holding a phone, looking in the other direction. It was him. His hair was halfway pulled back into a convenient bun, t-shirt ripped open on the sides revealing his sides and chest. You shuddered slightly. When he turned his head your way, Lauren had slowed down drastically. He smiled and waved his arms for you to follow him. The path became littered with branched and trees, the further you drove in, the thicker the foliage became. Lauren kept a decent distance between him and the car. 

“Sure is looking like a snack for you, hmm?” she teased. She bit her tongue and smiled wildly when you glanced at her, pleading. Your nerves were already shot, and you felt way out of your element in this outfit. The skin that was exposed feeling every draft that passed you. 

When the car stopped, your stomach jolted upwards. You exited the car, tugging at the hem of the crop top to try and regain some modesty. Clyde was talking to Jimmy, but when he looked over and saw you, he jogged over to help. 

“Ya made it in one piece, ladies,” he beamed, giving Lauren the quickest of embraces. He made his way to you, smiling wildly as he placed an arm around you tightly, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. You could’ve sworn he breathed you in. When he pulled away, he eyed you up and down, eyes lingering on the skin between your shorts and your crop top. You were immediately away of your exposed skin again, tugging at the hem of the shirt. 

He led you into the clearing of the campsite, holding you and Lauren’s bags over his shoulder. She reached for hers as he showed you where your tent was, escaping into the tent to set her stuff up. He placed yours down next to his tent. 

“This here’s Jimmy Logan, worst best brother ta ever walk the earth-” Clyde stated as Jimmy walked towards you arms open. 

“And you must be the pretty little thing he’s been ravin’ about, c’mere sweetie,” Jimmy Logan’s arms were around you in the blink of an eye, Your left hand raising to pat his back. As he pulled away, you noticed how bright his eyes were, a stark contrast from Clyde’s molasses colored eyes. His smile was warm and genuine, an honest smile you realized you needed to see. Jimmy’s friend introduced himself and you shook hands, becoming acquainted with everyone. 

When Lauren reappeared, she also received the same introductions, hugs and quips. You were both led through the options for dinner and available snacks, Clyde hanging around in the background sipping a beer. He was tending to a small fire, attempting to build it into one that would last the evening. Lauren and you spent a good fifteen minutes applying sunscreen and bugspray, leaving you both slightly greasy with a bit of sickly perfume hanging on your skin. 

A few hours had gone by and drinks were heavily passed around, sitting by the fire. No one was shy to drink from Jimmy’s friend’s flask after a few drinks, and boy did it burn. You swallowed an accidental mouthful from the flask, trying to regain control of your facial expression as it burned your esophagus. 

“That there is my momma’s best apple pie moonshine,” declared Jimmy’s friend. “She won awards from it….there’s another handle in my trunk.” He laughed, holding his belly as the flask made its way back to him. 

“Sometimes I honestly believe your momma’s been tryna kill you with that stuff,” chuckled Jimmy, slapping his chest as the remnants of the moonshine trickled down. You smiled into the heat of the fire and the heat in your veins. Shit. You were a little drunk. 

You were saved by Clyde pulling out hot dogs and the works. You mowed down probably two...maybe three hot dogs when you felt you had control of your mouth. Jimmy and his friend spent the sunset asking you and Lauren questions about your lives. He kept referring to you as “city girls” and acting in awe of the life you had back in New England. It was interesting to see their reactions to your everyday ventures. 

You asked the same amount of questions in return, learning about Jimmy’s criminal past (he has nothing to hide) and his hopes for the future. Clyde remained quiet and attentive, soaking in all the information. You turned to face him. “What about you, mister tall, dark and mysterious?” You felt brazen, realizing you didn’t mean to put him on the spot. Clyde just smiled at you. 

“I’ll tell ya anything you wanna know, miss.”

You all got to talking about how Clyde came to own Duck Tape, how he and Jimmy got themselves into all sorts of trouble, and how they used to come to this campsite to get away from all the negatives in their lives. 

The sun was beyond set and you began to feel the draft of the air against your skin becoming colder and colder. Without realizing you were, you started shivering; teeth chattering every so often as you attempted to stifle it. It was nerves as well, Lauren and Jimmy’s friend hit it off, deciding to go watch the fireflies by the lake's edge. Now it was you, Clyde, and Jimmy. 

“Welp, since the suns down I’m gonna take this chance to go wash off the day. You guys need anything, you holler.” Jimmy stood promptly, grabbing his bag from beside his tent and walked off into the woods. 

“Shower?” you questioned Clyde. You didn’t realize but he had stood when Jimmy did, perhaps he wanted to go shower as well. 

“Yeah, it’s like a quarter-for-a-few-minutes of hot water deal,” he explained. “It’s in an old log cabin up the road.”

“Aaah,” you teased, “so this isn’t real camping..”

He came to sit by your side, shoving you playfully with his shoulder. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin ta stay pampered,” he let his hair out of the bun and shook it loose. You could smell the spicy shampoo from his hair, the deodorant clinging to his skin, the peppery cologne he must be wearing…He chuckled at his own playfulness

You breathed in deep. “Mmm tell me you brought some of that shampoo to share, mister Logan.” You smiled sweetly at Clyde and then looked back to the crackling fire. Another gust of wind, stronger than the others, attacked your exposed skin, causing you to shiver. Clyde noticed, getting up and walking towards his tent. How could this hot, muggy place have such freezing night time drafts?

Clyde returned with a balled up piece of clothing in his hand. “Arms up,” he demanded. You looked to him confused, raising your arms. He pulled the material out and draped it around your arms, tugging it down until your hands met the holes of a shirt. He grabbed his own shirt for you to wear...to keep you warm. You melted. It smelled just like him. Not exposed to the smell of burning wood, the shirt exuded his scent, each subtle note gracing your senses. You sighed as the shirt enveloped you, coming to your thighs. 

The heat of the fire on your shins matched the heat in your cheeks now. Clyde seemed closer than ever, yet the two of you were silent. 

“Clyde?” Your voice pierced a scared rhythm of crackling in the embers of the fire. 

“Y/n?” he replied.

“I think you’re too cool for me,” you joked, halfway believing it. 

He smiled wide, “Too cool...ain’t never heard that one before. Truth be told, i’m a little shy. And hell, maybe a little nervous.” 

“Nervous?”

“Yeah...i’m not real good at the whole...smooth talkin’ thing.” He looked from the fire to the ground. You turned to face him. 

“Smooth talkin’ thing,” you repeated. “Clyde, you don’t need to play games with people, you’re the real deal. That’s why all the women at the bar hang on your every word, why I come as often-” You stopped yourself. Don’t give too much away, damnit. Even if the moonshine is strong, you needed to at least not make yourself vulnerable. You looked to the ground, then to his prosthetic arm which was glinting in the fire. In your peripheral vision, Clyde was looking down at you with the faintest smirk. 

“Yes, miss y/n? Please continue,” he demanded.

You huffed a breath through your nose, taking a sip of the drink you had been nursing. “All i’m saying is...I can’t seem to get enough of being around you. You make this whole reassignment..I don’t know...brighter? Sweeter? You make everything as easy as breathing when I come to see you at the bar. I’m sure you get a lot of this, but it sure means a lot to me to have you around.” You weren’t sure where you pulled the courage to say all of this, but you realized you’d begun shaking from nerves. 

Clyde’s eyes contained the image of the fire reflected back to you. Of course they did. He’s the only person that’s made you feel hotter than the West Virginia sun. The only face you’ve pictured late at night when your hands dip below your panty line. The only thing giving you a glimmer of hope for happiness in this lonely town. You were only able to hold his gaze for a moment. His hair was curling at the ends from the humidity, a slight breeze sending the scent of his shampoo to your senses. 

“You must not know how much I think of you, y/n,” he began, “ever since you been comin’ to my bar for a laugh, I’ve been hangin off every word you say to me.” He looked down at his shirt wrapped around your body. “You are the highlight of my day, every time I see your pretty face gracin’ my bar. I love makin’ you your favorite drinks, watchin you sip and be happy with your girlfriend...hell, i’d do anything to make you feel happy,” he chuckled. “I honestly never thought I stood a chance with lady as beautiful as you, always comin to see me in those perfect dresses.” 

You shuddered at the thought of him noticing you in your dress, wondering what you were wearing underneath, how the fabric would feel against his skin…

“Y/n!” yelled Lauren. 

You both perked up, not realizing how close your faces had gotten in your conversation. You became acutely aware of the smoke coming your way in contrast to the scent of Clyde’s body coming closer to yours. You turned to face Lauren, walking with Jimmy’s friend. 

“Yes, Lauren?”

~

@callmehopeless​...because I LOVE annoying you with attention