#then woke up agitated & i feel like i could run a mile even though i am exhausted

[flower-waltz]

Still cannot fucking sleep

[scapegrace74-blog]

Lucky

A/N  I’m enjoying going back and filling in some of the missing Metric Universe details.  This one is set during the time of Jamie’s injury, so just after The Beginning, and it introduces some important secondary characters.

Inspired by the Radiohead song “Lucky”, and particularly by Thom Yorke wailing “it’s going to be a glorious day” as though he is trying to will it to be true from the depths of his agonized soul.

The entire Metric Universe is available on my Ao3 page.

January 6, 2015, The Royal London Hospital

Sterile hallways.  The noxious funk of London smog blending with the antiseptic sting of the Intensive Care Unit.  The endless thrum of traffic, bleep of life-saving equipment, squeak of rubber soles on linoleum.  It was only when she left the Highlands that she realized how much she took their clean air and miles of quiet for granted.

A few feet away from where she kept vigil in a stiff avocado chair, her brother lay in a medically-induced coma.  An orchestra of machinery beat out the tempo to his survival.  The zigs and zags of his heartbeat against the ivory background of an electrocardiograph called forth memories of their youth, racing like wee fiends down the snow-laden slopes behind Lallybroch.

Younger by four years, Jamie had long been larger-than-life, even before he surpassed her own diminutive stature at age eleven.  Lying now under hospital sheets carefully draped to avoid his flayed back, she remembered the tiny babe in arms their mother had carefully lowered into her lap all those years ago.  Fragile, as though life clung to him with only a provisional grip.

“Dinna ye dare think of leaving me, Jamie Fraser,” she softly threatened for what must be the hundredth time since arriving at her brother’s bedside five days before.  “I ken ye miss them, but Mam and Da have each other now.  I only have you.”

January 11, 2015, The Royal London Hospital

“Fer the love of Christ and all the saints, jus’ drink the damn water ye clotheid!” an all-too-familiar female voice rang out.

“Leave me in peace, Janet.  I dinna want any water,” a masculine growl replied.

Ian Murray was still some distance from Room 418A, but he could hear the siblings bickering just fine.  Doubtless a good handful of staff and other patients were within earshot as well.  He rounded the corner and observed a scene that was equal parts poignant, comic and exasperating.

Immobile by necessity while the surface of his back slowly reinvented itself, his best friend lay facing the door.  Ian’s fiancée stood beside the bedrail, five feet of visible agitation.  She held a cup of ice water so tightly in her right hand, the straw quivered.

Jamie was no longer the pallid husk who awaited them at the end of a frantic race from Lallybroch to the Royal London that first morning of the new year.  Normally hale and over-flowing with vitality, it was distressing to witness him so motionless, eyes sunken and muscles slack.  Unfortunately for both Jamie and Ian, Jenny’s sharp tongue increased in direct proportion to how much emotional turmoil she was forced to cope with.

“Och, ye’re finally here,” the woman in question exclaimed.  “Will ye explain tae this bampot tha’ he willna improve if he doesna listen tae what his doctors tell him?”

“And what of no’ getting me riled up, hmm?  Ye dinna seem tae care what the doctors say when ye stick yer neb in my face every twa minutes.”

“Mebbe the doctors dinna realize that ye’re a muckle-sized bairn with the sense God gave an...”

“ALRIGHT, THE BOTH OF YE!” Ian yelled over the melee.  “I am tired of hearing ye bicker an’ so is the entire fourth floor.  Jenny, ye’re tired.  I’ll take o’er for the night while ye get some rest.  An’ Jamie, drink yer water before I pour it over yer bloody hot head.”

Both Frasers froze with their mouths open in retort, surprised by Ian’s uncharacteristic outburst.  A deafening minute of silence elapsed before Jenny silently gathered her coat, cap and purse, wished the two men a curt goodnight, then left in a swish of gabardine and discontent.

“Ye’re gonna pay for that later,” Jamie remarked, bending a rueful smirk around the extended straw.

“It’ll be worth it no’ tae hear ye two scold each other fer eight hours,” Ian retorted, taking Jenny’s place in the uncomfortable avocado armchair but sliding it back a foot so that it no longer blocked Jamie’s view of the hallway.  

“Jen could harry Auld Nick inta church, and ye ken it well, a charaid.”

“Grant her some mercy.  She’s scared witless, Jamie.  After yer Da...” Ian left the rest unsaid.

His childhood friend nodded against the bleach white pillow, weariness and something more insidious weighting his eyes closed.  Minutes passed, but Ian could tell from his irregular breath than Jamie was still awake.

“How is it today?”

A shoulder twitched in a minute shrug which still caused its owner’s brows to furrow with pain, though his eyes remained closed.

“Hurts like hell, if ye must know.  But I’m told I should feel lucky tae be alive by a team o’ London’s finest medical minds.”

“And do ye?” Ian persisted, trying to excavate the kernel of anguish that lay almost hidden beneath all the layers of physical pain.  It had been nagging at him since Jamie first woke three days earlier.  It wasn’t only the extensive physical damage to his body and daunting road to recovery that was afflicting his friend.  The blast had shifted something nearer his foundation, destabilizing the very structure of the man he’d known since childhood.

A long, hissing breath told him Jamie understood what Ian meant by his question, and was giving it due consideration.

“Mebbe feeling lucky is wha’ led me tae this hospital bed.”  He spoke quietly but urgently, with the tone of a penitent in the confessional booth awaiting divine judgement.

“Ye dinna mean ye think ye deserved tae be burnt near tae death?  Christ, Jamie, twas an industrial accident and ye’re a firefighter.  Awful luck, aye, but twasn’t something ye did or didna do that brought it upon ye.”

Another long pause, and this time Ian thought his friend may have fallen asleep.  Finally, almost drowned out by the whir and whisper of life-giving machinery,

“I dinna ken what I think anymore, a charaid.  I got lost, an’ this is where my mindless feet brought me.”

Long after Jamie drifted to sleep, Ian sat in the awkward chair, listening to his breathing and trying to make sense of what he’d just been told.

February 13, 2015, The Royal London Hospital

Beads of sweat furled down his neck and his back burned anew.   Aegrescit medendo, he thought wryly as he readjusted his grip on the wheeled walker and continued his unsteady progress.

“Very good, lad.  We’ll have you running again in no time!”  Dauntlessly cheerful and deceptively matronly, Jamie soon learned that Maureen Graham was an exacting physical therapist as well.  It was exactly what he wanted, when he wasn’t cursing her for it.

“Can we no’ take the elevator to another floor?  Mebbe down tae the A&E?”  Jamie tried to pass it off as an offhand request, but silver-grey eyes narrowed shrewdly.

“That’s the third time you’ve asked to go downstairs this week, Jamie Fraser.  I’m beginning to think you don’t like my ward.”

Thwarted, he carefully pivoted in a half circle and began the arduous trek back down the hallway to his room.  Six weeks spent nearly immobile while the surface of his back was slowly reborn had sapped all his strength.  Even if permission had been granted, he wasn’t certain he could navigate his weakened frame all the way to the emergency ward he’d last visited the night of his accident.  The last place he’d seen her.

“What’s her name?” Mrs. Graham asked as he shuffled the final few feet and sank gratefully against his bed.  He thought about deflecting her conjecture, but it posed an opportunity too good to pass up.

“I dinna ken”, he confessed.  “Twas the nurse who saw tae me when I was first admitted.  Curly brown hair.  Eyes the colour o’ ripened barley.  I think she served overseas fer a time.  Afghanistan, mebbe?”

He was doing his best to appear nonchalant, aided in part by the fact that his muscles twitched violently after every therapy session, but he still didn’t think he was fooling Mrs. Graham.

“Oh, I know just the one.  You were lucky to be in her hands.  No wonder you pulled through.”  She poured a large amount of fresh water into his re-useable bottle.  He drank it down in rapid gulps that leaked over his chin.  He realized his was beyond pride at this point.

“Her name?” he begged.

“Nurse Beecham.  Spelled the French way, but she’s as English as they come.”

Nurse Beauchamp.  She finally had a name.  He vowed he would recover his strength so that one day he could walk up to her and properly express his gratitude.

[thesculptedflower]

A Firecracker

May I request a Riddler x reader, where they meet during a heist, and after taking hostages and what not, the Riddler nabs the reader as a prize too.

@craftyjellyfishcat​

Note: I have to push the S1 Ed fic to tomorrow, I’m so sorry! Things came up at home, but it’ll be posted asap! Love you guys!

A Firecracker

’’Number 357!’’ The banker shouted, the queue moving painstakingly slowly. You glanced down at the number on your paper. 401. You sighed, prepping yourself for the next few hours you’d have to spend at the Gotham City Bank. You had fought your way up the cruel path of being a small business owner in Gotham, where basically anyone was a rival to you. People only look after their own gain, rarely wanting to see the neighboring business succeeding. You had faced many threats from businesses that were run by big and important families, but you didn’t lower your head. You fought back, even when they tried to burn down your place. It was a sloppy job, and they were quickly caught and brought to justice. Which was exactly why you were now queueing at the bank, the court had granted you a small fund to help you re-build. It felt good to be aided, but it also painted a huge target to your back. 

It didn’t make you scared or paranoid, but it sure made you even more courageous to push back those who tried to bring you down. You knew you had it in you.

You had lost the track of time, when a small explosion pulled you from your thoughts. People were screaming and running all over the place, but nobody saw anything or anyone. The heavy safety doors sealed all the exits and people were starting to panic more and more. Suddenly all the lights went out, except for one. The light shined above the staircase to the second floor, and under it was a tall man in a green suit. The Riddler.

You tried to find a way out of the room, but the darkness around you made it impossible.

’’Fear not, dear citizens of Gotham!’’ Riddler announced extravagantly. ’’I’d like to play a game.’’ 

Some of the people screamed, causing even more fear in the others. ’’SILENCE!’’ Riddler shouted, clearly agitated that his speech was disturbed. His deep voice quickly filled the whole space. ’’If any of you try to run, I’ll press this trigger, that will let out a toxic smoke. If you get all three questions right, I’ll let you live.’’He explained, showcasing the trigger inside his jacket. You stayed as low as you could, trying to slowly make your way closer to him. You weren’t the strongest, but you thought you could distract him long enough for the police to arrive. 

’’None of you shall be harmed, but only if you answer correctly to these three simple questions.’’ He was smiling like a maniac, walking down the stairs step by step, holding a gun in his hand. If you only could get that gun. ’’Let’s begin!’’ He shouted, the people below him shaking from the pressure. ’’I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?’’ 

There was a short silence, before people started whispering to each other, trying to come up with the correct answer. You were quick with your thinking, but you didn’t want him to notice you were getting closer to him. ’’An echo.’’ You whispered to a person next to you and kept walking.

’’An echo!’’ The person shouted, lowering his head afterwards to avoid being seen properly.

’’Excellent!’’ Riddler exclaimed joyously. ’’You see a boat filled with people. It has not sunk, but when you look again, you don’t see a single person on the boat. Why?’’

Whispering began once again, accompanied with a few desperate cries. This one was harder, but you came up with the answer in time, once again whispering it to the person nearest to you. ’’They’re all married!’’ They answered.

’’Correct once again. Maybe I chose the wrong bank.’’ His smile wasn’t faltering, he was so sure of himself, so confident. 

You were almost at the base of the stairs, ready to jump for his gun any point now. You knew he had the higher ground, but you had to take the chance. 

’’I have keys, but no locks and space, and no rooms. You can enter, but you-.’’ He started, but was interrupted by your sudden attack. You jumped out of the crowd aiming for his gun, but unfortunately for you, he had seen it coming miles away. He was surprisingly quick with his moves, ceasing you by the arm before you could even lay your hands on him. Now that you were forced to face him, you noticed how dark and dangerous his features were. The black bowler hat casted a sinister shadow on his face, making the already dark brown eyes seem even darker. The strong glasses framed his face perfectly, highlighting the strong jaw and high cheekbones. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were taken aback by how good he looked. And he was so intelligent, he saw right through you. 

’’Like what you see?’’ He teased, a cocky grin playing on his lips. You could feel a blush rising to your cheeks, but thanks to the poor lightning, it wasn’t too obvious. 

’’A little firecracker I see, daring to interrupt me in the middle of the last riddle, tsk tsk.’’

He was menacing, but you weren’t scared yet. You knew he loved his riddles, and he wanted to know if this poor audience could get away from him. 

’’Now if you please, let’s rise our bets a little, shall we.’’ 

He made you stand perfectly still on one of the steps and aimed the gun at your head. It made few people shriek, but you tried to motion them to be calm with your hands. The Riddler watched you silently communicating with them and let out a quick laughter. ’’Now would you look at that, what a heroine we have in our midst.’’ He said moving to stand behind you, and you swore you could feel his eyes on you. 

’’I’ll ask this one final riddle, and if you get it right, you’ll all get to go home.’’ He continued. ’’But, if you get it wrong.. Bang.’’ He pretended to shoot you in the back of the head. ’’She goes first.’’

People were crying and getting more panicked, but you remained calm. 

’’Only one color, but not one size. Stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies. Present in sun, but not in rain, doing no harm and feeling no pain. What am I?’’ He almost whispered, him being so close to your ear send goosebumps down your arms. You concentrated, forcing yourself to think of an answer. 

’’Is this too hard for our savior?’’ The Riddler teased, moving to speak to the other side of your head. ’’Time’s running out, and I’m right here, shadowing you.’’

That’s it.

’’A shadow.’’ You said almost too quickly.

You could feel the grin he had on his lips. ’’Well done, but unfortunately I can’t leave with empty hands.’’ 

You didn’t have time to comprehend his words before you were muffled with a cloth that smelled like, chloroform. 

* * * * * * *

When you woke up, you felt like you were hit by a truck. The room was small and dimly lit, and you sure as hell didn’t recognize it. You panicked a little and tried to sprung up from the bed, only to realize that you were tied down, only one hand free. 

’’Easy there, we don’t want you breaking anything.’’ A familiar, though more soft, voice said from somewhere in the room. Your eyes darted around, trying to find the source. A tall figure stood next to a kitchen counter, pouring two cups of coffee. He was wearing an ordinary flannel, and didn’t seem threatening at all. You had your guesses, which were proven right as he turned around. For some reason, you didn’t feel scared anymore.

’’Coffee?’’ He asked, setting the cup on the night stand next to the bed. You followed his every move with your eyes as he sat down to the end of the bed, carefully sipping his own coffee. Neither of you said a word for a while. 

’’You told me the answer.’’ You said first. Riddler lifted his brown eyes to yours, smiling genuinely this time. ’’That I did.’’

’’Why?’’ 

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head a little.

’’You were telling the right answers to the others, trying to distract me from following you in the crowd. I wanted you to survive. You’re, different.’’ He explained, stirring his coffee with a spoon. The smell was delicious, and it was harder to protest the growing need for the coffee. 

’’It’s my own blend, a little chocolatey and not too dark.’’ He said suddenly, reading you like an open book. You could feel yourself blushing again as you carefully reached for the cup. The aroma was heavenly, and so was the taste. In a different situation, you would have loved to spend time with a guy like him. ’’It tastes amazing.’’ You whispered, hesitant to compliment him. He smiled in return before standing up slowly, careful not to frighten you. He pulled out a key from his pocket and freed your other hand. Your eyes were looking for an answer, even if your mouth didn’t ask.

’’You trusted me enough to drink the coffee, I’ll trust you enough to let you go.’’ 

Almost immediately you jumped out of the bed, but the effects of the chloroform were still pretty heavy on you, causing you to almost fall to the floor. You weren’t sure if you were lucky or not, but you were caught by the arms of your capturer. He held you so gently, it really felt like he didn’t want to harm you at all. You stared up at his brown eyes, trying to find a reason why you felt this way. Why were you so okay with being in his arms, this close to him. You could smell his cologne, and you liked it. You knew it was wrong, so why did it feel so right. 

He helped you back to the bed, where you took the coffee cup to your hands again. It was still warm. ’’Why are you being like this?’’ You asked carefully. He sat down next to you, now closer than before, but you didn’t move away.

’’I don’t really know, having you here brings out parts in me that I thought I had lost.’’ He answered quietly, showing a more vulnerable side of him. You turned to look at him and for a moment you could see a totally different person looking back at you. 

’’But I do understand if you want to leave.’’ He continued, turning to look down at his cup.

’’I think I’ll stay, for a while at least.’’

You were totally out of your comfort zone, but you weren’t afraid of it. Maybe all those fights and struggles were preparing you for this moment. This moment you shared with one of the most dangerous man in Gotham. And you were okay with it. He wasn’t dangerous, not to you anymore.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Not Alone - Peter Rumancek (Hemlock Grove) Part 1 of 2

*shrug* I was bored

~~~~~~~~~~

"Y/n! Y/N! Get the fuck back here!"

You ignored your father's shouting and kept running, as far away as you could not knowing where you were going. And until you didn't recognize where you were.

You eventually stopped running, leaning your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath.

After you caught your breath, you looked around and only saw trees. Miles and miles of trees. 

You sighed heavily, frustrated that you didn't pay attention to your surroundings. But you couldn't help it, you just kinda blacked out once you got hyped up on fear that your father instilled in you.

After being called useless one too many times, you finally got the courage to defend yourself, but all that did was get you a smack in the face.

So you ran, and now…you were fucking lost.

You just walked through the dense forest, hoping that you'd reach a clearing eventually. But after walking for what felt like an hour, you started to lose hope.

You hated the woods, and of course out of any direction, you had to run towards the woods. Hearing all the breaking of branches and animal noises really didn't help. The only real light you had was the light from the full moon.

You've always been easily spooked, so it was no surprise to you when you almost screamed when you heard the muffled thumps of what sounded like footsteps.

You turned to look every which way, but it was so dark that all you could see were shadows.

The footsteps kept getting closer and closer, and you felt more and more helpless.

"Hello?" You shouted out, a stupid idea really but you didn't know what else to do.

Suddenly, you heard growling. You quickly turned around only to be thrown to the ground, pinned down by an unknown creature.

You quickly came back to reality to see who or what your attacker was.

You were face to face with a large black wolf. You tried you push it off, but the creature was so heavy. It's breath was heavy on your face, looking down on you, almost seeming angry.

You started to cry. You weren't ready to die, you had so much to experience in the world. You didn't wanna be mauled to death by this dumb animal who didn't know any better, yet here you were.

Another stupid idea you had was to beg for your life, although you knew the animal wouldn't understand. And yet, "please don't. I don't wanna die." You muttered out, already trying to accept death.

The wolf suddenly stopped growling and got off you, almost like it actually understood you. But you were grateful anyway.

You sat up and scooted away, wide eyed at the creature that could kill you. A sudden pain in your upper arm made you hiss. You looked to see claw marks, bleeding. "At least I'm not dead…yet." You chuckled breathlessly.

You looked back at the wolf who was watching you intensely, you noticed he kept looking back at your arm, like he was regretful. "It'll heal." You voiced, then laughed. "Ugh, why I am talking to you like you can understand. I must be going crazy."

The wolf whimpered.

"If I stand up, you're not gonna kill me right?"

The wolf backed away a few steps, bowing his head slightly.

You carefully stood up, still aware that this was a wild animal that you did not want to spook. You looked around once more, unable to get your bearings. "If only wolves could navigate, then I'd be all set." You joked.

The wolf only tilted in head in confusion.

"I ran into the woods, without really paying attention to where I was going. Of course, now I'm lost. Fuck me." You groaned and sighed. "I'm probably gonna die here. Great. Maybe it would've been better if you had killed me, wolf friend."

The wolf suddenly walked towards you, making you step back cautiously. The wolf stopped, it then lowered itself to the ground and slowly crawled to you.

It was like it was trying to gain your trust, it made you feel weird. Why would an animal do this?

The wolf slowly stood up, lifting up his head and started to lick your hand. "Well, I'm not sure if you're apologizing or just tasting before you dine. Either way, it's cute."

The wolf bit onto your long sleeve gently, pulling you in a direction. "God, this is weird. I'm actually letting a dog drag me to who the fuck knows."

Eventually, the wolf let go of your sleeve and kept walking, assuming that you'd follow him. You did. You had no idea where to go anyways, so why not follow a wolf?

After a few minutes of following after the wolf, you legs started to ache. The wolf would occasionally look back to see if you were still following.

It was kind of like a leap of faith, following after an animal that seemed like it had some sort of intelligence. "If I wasn't as smart as I am, I would actually believe you could understand everything that's happened tonight." You chuckled softly.

The wolf suddenly stopped, and you were afraid that your luck had finally run out.

The wolf upturned it's head. You followed it's gaze, it was looking at the moon that was going down. You didn't bring your phone with you, but you figured it was almost sunrise.

The wolf turned to you and started to whimper. You furrowed your brows when it didn't pounce on you like thought it would, but instead, it kept whimpering.

"What's wrong, bud?" You asked softly.

The wolf started to lower itself to the forest floor. You had no idea what was happening. The wolf then laid on its side.

"Oh, no, no. You're not dying, are you?" You asked nervously. "I need you to get me out of this damn forest!" You kneeled beside the animal, seeing that it was closing it's eyes. "Damn it, bud. I was starting to get emotionally attached."

You didn't know what to do now that your buddy as taken the forever nap. You just decided to sit there, your back to the wolf. You thought that it would just be easier to find your way out of the woods when the sun came up.

You didn't expect to fall asleep, but you did. The one thing that woke you up was suddenly hearing fleshy noises from behind you, that scared you enough to wake up.

You stood up and backed away from the wolf, who you realized was the culprit of those noises.

You mouth was agape as you watched piece after piece of the wolf come apart. "What the fuck?" You almost screamed when you saw a human come out of the wolf. "I must be tripping balls…" You muttered, slowly walking towards the human.

The closer you got, the closer you recognized who the naked human was. "Peter?"

The boy suddenly opened his eyes and bolted upright, looking around frantically before landing his eyes on you. "…what…the…fuck…"

Peter smiled nervously. "I, uh…I can explain."

"Uh, yeah. Please explain why you were just a fuckin wolf and now you're not! What the fuck?!" You rambled, starting to hyperventilate.

Peter stood up and walked over to you when he saw you were starting to freak out. He out his hands in your shoulders, trying to steady you. "Hey, hey, hey, Y/N. Chill out, okay. Deep breaths, come on." He spoke softly.

You took many deep breaths, hoping you that you were just dreaming somehow. But after a couple minutes, you finally calmed down. You definitely weren't dreaming.

You started to blush furiously when you briefly glanced down. "Oh my god, you're naked."

Peter chuckled. "You just noticed this?"

"Sorry, I guess I was too busy noticing you coming out of a fucking wolf."

"Well, come on. My house isn't that far away." Peter said, taking your hand and pulling you along with him.

"Uh, wait." You said, taking off your jacket and handing it over to the Rumancek boy. "Don't want your dick to get hypothermia." You joked, chuckling.

Peter chuckled and nodded gratefully. "Right. Thanks." He grabbed the jacket and wrapped it around himself.

"So, do you like remember everything when you were a wolf?" You asked.

Peter sighed. "Here come the questions." He mumbled under his breath. "Yup. Everything."

"Oh." You whispered.

"What were you doing out here anyway, huh?" Peter asked.

"Oh, uh. I told you…just ran into the woods." You tried to deflect.

"Nobody runs into the woods without a reason."

You sighed. "I…I was running away from my dad. He's not a nice man. That's all I'll say."

Peter turned to look at you briefly, but turned back. "Oh." Is all Peter said.

"Have you always been a wolf?"

"Enough with the questions." Peter snapped.

It only took a few more minutes to get to Peter's rundown single wide trailer. He took a table cloth off and wrapped it around himself, handing you back your jacket.

"Well, thanks for getting me out of the woods." You said, getting Peter's attention. "I can find my way home from here. Or…to an urgent care." You chuckled.

Peter sighed. "You can't."

You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Please, just stay here for today. There's...a lot to talk about now."

"If you're worried about me telling someone, I won't. I promise. I'm no snitch."

Peter sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "It's not that!" He snapped, making you flinch. "Just come in. Lynda will patch you up."

You sighed. "Fine."

Upon entering his home, you saw Peter’s mother sitting on the couch. "Peter, who's this?" Lynda asked nervously.

"This is Y/N. She was in the woods. I thought she could be…you know. I…scratched her." Peter told her.

Lynda suddenly was wearing a face of deep concern. "It was just a scratch, Ms. Rumancek! It's not too bad." You voiced.

"You scratched her?" Lynda asked, a bit too loud.

You started to get nervous. "Jesus, guys, it's just a flesh wound."

Everyone in the room seemed to sigh in unison.

"Okay, can someone explain what the hell is going on?!" You yelled.

Lynda walked up to you. "Why don't you sit down, dear." She suggested. Her tone was sweet enough to persuade you. "Peter, get dressed please." She ordered.

After a minute later, Peter came back in some sweats and sat next to you, making you even more agitated. "Okay, now that everyone's here…please fuckin explain." You huffed.

"When I was out there," Peter started, “I caught the scent of something bad. I followed it, and it lead me to you. The scent was so close. I thought it must’ve been you. But when I...attacked you...the scent started to go away.”

"So, you attacked me for no reason...okay. That's fucked up."

"So, the reason I asked you to stay was…" Peter sighed.

"Tell her, Peter." Lynda said.

"I don't know how well you know about werewolves, but usually, it's said that if a wolf scratched you…you'd turn into one."

You gasped, unable to speak. There's no way. There's just no way. So you laughed, making everyone confused. "Nice prank. You almost got me there."

"This isn't some joke, Y/N. You saw me out in those woods." Peter said angrily, Lynda putting her hand on his arm to try and calm him.

"We just wanna help you now, Y/N." Peter sighed.

After giving it some thought, you decided. "You guys are fucking crazy. No way I'm stuck turning into an animal my whole life." You stood up and walked to the door. "You're secret is safe with me, Peter, but that is it. Sorry…"

You made sure to slam the door on your way out.

~~~~~~~~~~

[steverogersnotebook]

Neighbors - Sofa Date

NEIGHBORS

Recovering TJ Hammond and Steve Rogers (between TWS/CW) who try to find comfort on sleepless nights through baking, music, and friendship. An offer to share company and their mutual talents when being alone is just too much leads to friendship.

(my inbox is open for ideas, prompts and headcanons)

NEIGHBORS fluff | gen [platonic friendships] / Steve & TJ Hammond | minor romance TJ & OMC Julian [SERIES of oneshots]

[read on ao3]

A/N: I started this for Valentine’s Day 2017 or 2018. I don’t know what the holdup was, It’s been almost complete ever since. Well, better late than never!! TYSM every one!

The heavy bag landed atop the previous three, in no better shape, all losing their fill through the ruined covers, causing Steve to wonder if he’d ever find something that could stand up to his strength and frustration instead of prematurely exploding.

Though these troubled nights were on the decline with the catharsis of baking and having friends like Sam and TJ, sometimes, baking just didn’t cut it and he was loathe to push himself into his friends’ space - again - and Steve would resort to a little controlled destruction.

Tonight wasn’t going down without a fight. He’d tried to get some rest after the call came telling him that in a few hours they were ‘wheels up’. It had been fruitless and resulted in a run. He’d amped up his speed and set a course for himself that should have done the trick, but after running fast and far, Steve’s run and subsequent shower didn’t put him any closer to a settled state.

Next try, the kitchen, resulting in cookies and fudge. Ordinarily he wouldn’t bother with something like that in the hours before a mission, knowing he’d be gone for an unknown number of days, but tomorrow was Valentine’s day, and he’d yet to figure out what to do for TJ.

Even though TJ wasn’t alone this year for the holiday, it felt like a tradition. He didn’t have many of those left, so it just felt like something he had to do.

Making fudge from his Ma’s recipe had brought both her and Bucky’s sister to mind. The memory of their childlike joys - from sampling the finished product to trying to cut the fudge into shapes with a knife, not just simple boring squares, to entertain Becca - and the rich aroma had provided all the comfort he’d expected.

Clearly, Steve thought as he unwound tape from his wrist, It just wasn’t enough to quell the agitation over the continuing uneventful search for Bucky and the stress of the impending mission.

So that was how he wound up tearing up heavy bags in a dimly lit gym. He really did need to find a new schtick. And he definitely needed a second shower.

Lying across his bed after his shower, unable to relax - still - Steve laughed at his naive expectations. He reached toward the end of his bed to drag his t-shirt to him as he sat up. Steve tugged the thin fabric over his half-dried hair. He stretched the soft, worn fabric hem over the waist of his pajama pants.

“Might as well finish the thing,” Steve’s voice echoed through the quiet space. He shuffled his stockinged feet across the smooth, clean floor. The glow from the light over the stove led him to the frosted confection. Fingers that had sported bruises when he came home, but were now perfectly pink gently tapped at the icing to see if it had set up.

Satisfied with the firm, smooth texture, Steve inspected the box made from cookies for any weak points before filling it with heart-shaped fudge pieces. Overkill? Maybe, but he could laugh it off with TJ. The thought propelled him out the door and down the stairs until he stood in front of TJ’s door, in his pajamas.

Oops.

He wondered if this was the best idea - if it was even ‘proper’. Shoving doubts aside in favor of not spending the next few hours sweating over yet another physical distraction or tossing and turning fitfully, Steve knocked on the door.

---.---

TJ was just putting the finishing touches on the last of the heart shaped cake pops that he’d decided to bravely tackle on his own, when the knock on the door startled him. Well, maybe he could salvage it, he thought as he wiped his fingers on the flour sack towel and headed for the door.

He wasn’t expecting the sight of Steve standing in the doorway wearing brightly colored socks, brown plaid pajama pants, and a stretched out, yet still too small purple t-shirt threw him. He looked -- anxious.

“Steve, you okay? Come in.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d bring this by.” Steve looked around the apartment as he handed TJ a heart-shaped box, made from layers of cookies. “I’m not interrupting?”

“Of course not. Thanks, wow. This is -” TJ lifted the top cookie that doubled as a lid, to see heart-shaped fudge inside the hollowed out cookie box. “Beautiful.”

“Ma’s old recipe.” Steve’s smile was a weak attempt.

“I can’t wait to try it. Come, sit down.”

“It’s Valentine’s day, you must be expecting Julian, I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Valentine’s Day Eve, and nope, not expecting him until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Steve sighed. His relief was almost as palpable as whatever was troubling him. “TJ, would you mind playing something - I don’t know - mellow?”

TJ didn’t bother asking, again, what might be bothering Steve. He simply made yummy sounds as he set the box on the piano.

They both sat, Steve heavily on the sofa and TJ eased onto the piano bench. His fingers touched the keys and the first thing to come to mind was the tune Steve had requested the night they’d met. The wan smile from moments ago softened and Steve closed his eyes. Two and a half tunes later, Steve sighed before sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. “So, you do have plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“Me? Other than some iffy cake pops, no, but Julian says he has something planned for me. Miles is with his mom this week.”

“How glad are you that Miles and I broke the ice for you two?”

“Are you still trying to take credit? You know it was my legs and ass,” TJ chuckled.

Steve’s smile eased some more. “I’m glad it’s working out, TJ.” He rubbed his palms up and down the length of his thighs before sitting back against the cushions again. “I’ve got to head out in a few hours.”

“More top secret stuff?” TJ turned away from the piano keys.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “You know, just once I wish I could confide in someone outside of it all.”

“Yeah. Hey, have you considered talking to a therapist?”

“I did think about it. I can’t figure out how it all works now. With everything - I mean with S.H.I.E.L.D. - it had to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. approved doctor. You know, definitely not outside. Then after - who’s qualified? Who’s not a security risk? I’d rather talk to you. You, I trust.”

“That really means a lot, Steve.” TJ couldn’t begin to express how much it meant without losing all dignity. Not that Steve probably thought he had any. “If it gets to be too much, you still could. I know a thing or two about security.

Steve pulled his feet up onto the cushion, the limber bastard looked deceptively small just now.

“Hey, you wanna see what I’ve been trying to do?” TJ knew it was a lame attempt at a topic change, but it was less awkward than a pained awkward silence would be.

“Yeah, sure.” Steve looked over his knees at TJ.

“Steve, are you frightened?”

“No more than usual. Just - when will it stop? I thought it was over when I woke up in this new world. It wasn’t. I thought we were doing something by bringing S.H.I.E.L.D. down. We didn’t.”

“You did, rousting so many corrupt agents and supporters,” TJ lunged forward in his urgent attempt to mollify Steve, nearly toppling the piano bench. “I mean -”

“Thanks, TJ. I know what you mean. There are still cells out there - and it doesn’t feel like we’re ever going to find the end. So -” Steve uncurled from the compact shape and surged to his feet - feigned energy mingling with whatever the serum did to make him quick and agile. He followed TJ to the kitchen. “- What’s your project?”

“Valentine’s gifts for my best friend and my boyfriend.” TJ knew that he still flushed when he said the word, but Steve wouldn’t harass him for it.

“I’d rather be watching Miles for you two to go on your date tomorrow.”

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“Possibly a week. Hopefully just a week.”

TJ plucked away the blob of now hardened icing that had plopped over the edge of the heart “I was doing well, the knock on the door startled me. You think I can salvage it?”

“Yeah. Hey, these look great. If you can get most of that off so that it’s flush, you should be able to give it a little touch-up with the red. Then you can go back to decorating.”

“I was going to do roses, but gave up early on. Hearts are my speed right now. Maybe I can practice roses before Julian’s birthday.”

“Of course you can. Maybe we can figure it out together.” Steve spread his hands across the flat plane of the countertop, “If you’d like.”

“Of course. It’s your fault I even considered this. You should have to do the time.”

“Where are the rejects?”

“Nonexistent,” TJ said, fighting a grin. “Not as in ‘TJ didn’t make any mistakes but this one’ - but as in, ‘I ate them’.”

Steve smiled, shaking his head “I should have known.”

TJ painted red candy coating over the white spot on the damaged cake pop with a surprisingly steady hand, considering how close he was to laughing at them both. “How’s this?” He held the confection towards Steve for inspection.

“You’d have to know about the mistake to find it, but if you’re nervous about it, you could give that one to your best friend and pick out the pristine ones for Julian.”

“Says my best friend.”

“Me?” Steve’s feigned surprise was terrible.

“You don’t go undercover do you?”

“Occasionally.”

“Well, don’t get yourself caught and killed, okay? Cos that was terrible acting. How do you feel about a Valentine’s Eve pizza and movie until you have to take off? Or you’re welcome to crash on the sofa if you just want to unwind.”

“There will be no crashing for many hours,” Steve confided. “I’ve had this nervous energy for several hours, went to the gym. It helped a little. Got home and tried to unwind and now I’m here. Pizza does sound great.”

“So, did you snag yourself a Valentine this year? Anybody going to be disappointed you’re ditching them on the big day?”

“No, I haven’t been looking. If you’d like, I can have Nat give you a call and you two can plot against me?”

“No, hey, if you’re happy - that’s what matters.”

“I sent flowers to Peggy. They’ve moved her back to England. I think I’ll stop by before I come back.”

“Might be just the thing.” TJ picked up his phone to order pizza. “The usual?”

“Hm. Yeah, sounds good. Am I overthinking the dating thing?”

“Probably. It seems like you’re trying to avoid a long-term thing, and in the process you’re missing out on good company and fun things like shows, dinner, and weird but enjoyable adventure dates. I’m not the only person who likes those things, Steve.”

“You’re saying I’ve been using you as a surrogate?”

“People have asked if we’re dating. Even after I started seeing Julian. I don’t mind it, it’s good for my reputation. You’re probably suffering in that department though.”

“I’m willing to take a hit for your burgeoning reputation,” Steve teased.

“That’s why you’re my best friend. Here - bestie - Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Steve took the offered arrangement of cake pops with a warm smile. “Thank you, TJ. You’re not getting any flak from Julian about our friendship, are you?”

“Hell no. He loves that you sized him up both in and out of the Iron Man costume. He was intimidated enough to ask if there was something between us. But I let him know the only competition he has is if he messes up your pastry apprentice.”

“Damn straight,” Steve laughed.

--.--

Music filled the Audi but it might as well have been silent for as much attention Julian paid the noise. His mind was chock full of loneliness. The same thing that he experienced every time he had to drop Miles off at the ex’s.

He tried to think ahead to his Valentine’s plans for TJ. A late brunch, followed by an afternoon and evening on the town. It should be enough to sustain him through the night, but the glaring silence that he’d pretended to look forward to - the lack of childish glee and minor tantrums - made him restless.

Long fingers stroked a strong, smooth jaw before clicking the car stereo off and turning the car toward TJ’s apartment.

He recognized the pizza delivery guy as their regular from TJ’s favorite pizza joint. As they both got out of their cars at the same time, he nodded toward the guy, “223?”

At the nod of recognition, Julian smiled. “Let me take that off your hands.”

“It’s already paid for,” the kid spoke up when Julian reached for his wallet.

“Right. Then this is for you.” Julian smiled. “Thanks. Be careful out there.”

The kid took the cash and grinned. “Thank you, you too - uh - I mean - have a good evening.”

Julian saluted him as he passed, balancing the two jumbo pizza boxes on one hand. He carried them inside wondering if Steve had stopped by, TJ wasn’t expecting him and that was a lot of pizza. Julian let himself in, as he was accustomed to doing, and stopped short when it looked like Captain America might take him out without hesitation.

--.--

They both turned toward the door when it opened. TJ wasn’t surprised, but Steve - unaccustomed to this type of visit - was nearly to his feet, prepared to fight. TJ had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. “Jules, you startled us.”

“I come bearing pizza, is that enough to cover the price of admission? And buy forgiveness?”

Steve backed down instantly, knowing Julian wasn’t a threat. Still, he appeared ready to bolt without notice.

TJ met Julian with a kiss, which went a long way toward alleviating his loneliness.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. You think there’s enough for one more?”

“I see you accosted our delivery person.” TJ followed Julian around the sofa, trying to take the boxes, before giving up and letting Julian set them on the coffee table. “Did you tip well?”

“Of course.” Julian passed a large hand through his wavy hair before putting his palm on the side of TJ’s neck, “Do I look like a barbarian?”

“Jury’s out.”

“Hi Steve. I really hope you don’t mind me crashing. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Julian,” Steve nodded, the momentary shock had melted away and he smiled at the friendly greeting. “I know the feeling. The more the merrier.”

“What kept you up?” TJ asked as he opened the pizza boxes and lined them up in front of Steve and Julian.

“Too quiet.”

“Miles is with his mom,” TJ laid a hand on Julian’s wrist. “You really should be having celebratory naps when he’s with her, that little one is always going.”

“That he is.”

“Must be hard,” Steve said. Loading his plate with slices of pizza, he again considered leaving. He just couldn’t get behind facing the loneliness. He definitely understood too quiet. It might be more permanent for him than for Julian, but the feeling wasn’t easy no matter how long it prevailed.

“Just the first few days. It’s so much easier to adjust to his coming back than his being gone. He loves it there, she’s really a great mom. I just - I’m learning how to behave in both worlds.”

“Let’s eat and watch a movie, maybe that will distract both of you for a bit.” TJ moved past them both to turn the television on. “None of that I hope I’m not in the way nonsense from either of you.”

Steve sat back against the cushions, his plate piled with slices of pizza balanced on the sofa arm next to him. “You’re the boss.”

“Yeah, for now,” Julian teased, tossing napkins on top of the pizza boxes.

“I’m offended,” TJ pouted as he sat heavily on the cushion next to Julian, and sprawled half across Julian’s leg.

Steve snickered before taking a bite of one of his slices of pizza. The trio settled into the comfy sofa in hopes that the movie could distract them.

<<<>>>>

The vibrating phone in his pocket woke Steve. At some point in the movie, the sleep that had eluded him all evening had taken over. He didn’t bother looking at the phone, just slipped out of TJ’s apartment, leaving TJ and Julian snoozing on the opposite end of the sofa.

He tapped a quick reply to Sam, and took the stairs by twos and threes, silent except for one stair that creaked if you breathed on it. In his apartment, he sent TJ a thank you and another Valentine’s day wish before grabbing his gear from beside the door, deciding that he could change clothes on the way. Off to Lagos, for what he hoped would be a quick recon mission.

[anonymous0writer]

Saving You III JJ Maybank

Part Two: Toeing the Line

Author: @anonymous0writer

Summary: You and JJ had been best friends for as long as you lived. But the feelings that would change your status haven’t been said. Will the words ever be said?

Warnings: Parental abuse/abuse, (more in detail..) swearing.. Going into detail about emotions? I don’t know...

A/N: This one is really long bc I went back to edit and added a shit tom of detail and angst ig. Also, I tried to edit it the best I could.. Anyway, I really like this series, and I’m gonna be so sad when its done even though I’m on the second part, lol.

My Masterlist

Add yourself to my taglist!

Tags: @jayjaymaebank @rudys-pankow @maaybanks @everydayimfangirling @outrbank @thelocalpogue @teamnick @bxbyyyjocelyn @sguymon21 @outrbank @decap-quadrant @ahhireallydontknow @never-ever-too-many-fandoms @thesurfingsnail @kylosleftbuttcheek @justcallmesams @treestarrrrrrrr @lulubutton34 @obxsummer @sspidermanss @lordsagittarius @katiaw2​ @yeehaw87​ @poguecollins​ @ponyboys-sunsets @jolomez​ @danicarosaline​ @insanitysparkles​ @notaninstagrammodel​ @divcrdown​ @youfookendonut​

Unbolded usernames means I can’t tag you :(

There was something in the air. Maybe it was the tang of rain just before it hit. Or maybe it was the way the clouds looked a little darker than the hour before. Whatever it was, it was there. Twisting and churning feeling that sat in his gut, making his face twist in sickness. It was like stepping off a plane, the indescribable feeling of you not begin right. Like you were meant to be in the air, pressure against your ears and flying in the sky, not dropped to the ground, heavy and lost. But no matter it was, the foreboding was there. Settled into his stomach like a lithe creature, ready to strike when the moment came.

He didn’t know what it was, but it was like the calm before the storm. The crispness of the air, the sharp tang of rain about to fall, and then it hits. The consuming, hoard of dark clouds, rolling over the sky in a furious march. Clouds that left the bone quivering, earth shaking booms of thunder and the wicked crack of lightening that light up the world for a second, before plummeting it into darkness.

The storm that brought destruction and havoc and sorrow. But so elegant in the way it destroyed you didn’t even think about it until you were left with the pieces of its aftermath. 

It was like a hurricane. Blowing and whipping furiously, making it way to you, eating up the miles in its path, determined to destroy everything. It was hurtling toward you, and you were powerless to stop it, only able to hunker down and let it happen. 

Whatever it was it was going to bad, and it made him sick. It was a knot in his stomach that tightened and made him sicker. He leaned forward, eyebrows pressed together in worry. What the hell was going to happen today?

---------

Y/N batted her friends grabby hands away, laughing at the same time. JJ smirked, able to get a loose fry with his agile fingers. Y/N squawked, her lips tugging into a frown as she watched the boy munch on the food happily. 

“JJ!” She called, her agitation masking the way she melted and loved that he felt so comfortable to do the simple act of stealing a fry. 

The boy smirked. “I’ll let you beat me to a wave today,” The boy winked, trying to make it up to her. 

Y/N hide her smile as she moved her head so her long hair slid off her shoulder, dropping in front of her face. However JJ feared that he had actually made the girl mad at him, and leaned forward, fingers subconsciously brushing her hair back, tucking the loose stands back in place.

“Are you mad at me?” 

Y/N gasped softly at the feeling of the edges of JJ’s fingertips ghosting her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear. Her throat bobbed, and her eyes flickered to meet JJ’s. But Y/N was good at recovering fast, and she giggled, pushing the boy away again, 

“JJ, stop!” Her lips split, revealing a full smile that lit up her face and made the edges of her eyes wrinkle. JJ loved that smile with everything he got, and always hated the way it disappeared. So, trying to get the smile back, his fingers reached out to attack her sides in tickles.

Soon enough, Y/N was laughing madly, head thrown back and hair in her face, as she tried to take a much needed breath, her hands pushing away the relentless ones of her best friend. JJ grinned, blue eyes shining as he continued his playful assault, coaxing gasps and squeals from his best friend. 

“Alright, alright! J!” Y/N gasped, and the blonde let up, allowing her to catch a breath. 

Across from the best friends sat the rest of their group. Pope was staring with eyebrows raised, and John B. was smirking at the pair, while Kie was cleaning up their mess so her father wouldn’t get mad.

“You two are on crack, I swear.” John B. muttered, popping a fry in his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, tipping it slightly. 

“Shut up, John B!” Y/N yelled, a mischievous smirk plastered on her sunlit face. She reached into her basket of quickly diminishing fries and hurtled one at the tall boy across from her. 

A thud sounded as John B.’s chair dropped and he retaliated with a fry in Y/N’s face. The revenge blew into a full on fry fight, and the friends were laughing and ducking from the onslaught of fries headed their way.

As JJ chucked a ketchup soaked fry toward Pope, he felt so happy. His eyes wandered to see Kie and Y/N huddled together, battling away the fries raining down on them with loud rounds of laughter. He took a split second break to admire his best friend since he was eight. She was beautiful, with her laugh that made everyone join in, with her kind words and big heart and her smile that had every person that met her falling in love. 

But the fun was ended by Mr. Carrera and his sharp yell through the empty restaurant. 

“Hey, knock it off.” He frowned, eyes landing on his daughter. “I thought I told you not to waste my food.” He grumbled, soon focusing on cleaning a spot on the counter. 

“Sorry dad.” Kie winced, and smacked Pope’s hand with a glare as he tried to pick up a fry. “It’s getting late,” She comments, looking out the window of the Wreck, watching the sun sink lower into the horizon. “If we want to catch some waves,”

“We gotta go now.” Y/N finishes for her, hands scrambling to clean up the table now littered with grease soaked fries and splotches of ketchup and mustard. “John B, come on!” She chided as the boy waited a second too long to join in the collective work to clean up. 

He jumped in, but JJ held back, struck frozen by the sinking feeling in his gut. His stomach knotted, giving him the feeling he woke up with this morning. 

The calm before the storm.

“JJ?” Y/N prodded, eyes finding his as her eyebrows pushed together. She stood, brushing off her cutoffs with harsh wipes of her hands. Her eyes fixated on her friend, confusing pulling her eyebrows together.  “Hey, J?” Her voice cooed, calling out to the blonde.

“Shit,” The surfer muttered, taking his hat off to run a hand through his messy hair. His blue eye seemed distant, but they were wide, like a child who forgot to do a chore and their parent was soon to catch them. “Fuck, you guys I gotta dip.”

“What? Where are you-” Kie started, but the boy was already off, spiriting through the Wreck’s door. His figure jumped on his bike, and soon he sped away, gravel spewing and the blue shirt he wore fading into a small speck until it was gone from sight.

Kie sputtered, eyebrows pulling down as her lips curved into a soft frown. “What the hell was that?”

Y/N takes a second before pulling her eyes away from where JJ ran off. Worry churned in her gut, as she finally lets her eyes tear away from the scene.

“I don’t know.” She breaths, trying to quell the bad feeling. 

But she knows it hopeless. She’s always had a sixth sense when JJ was in trouble. Yet this time, that horrid feeling is coupled with another. It feels like her fear of something bad happening, but you have no control of it. 

To Y/N, it felt exactly like the calm before a storm.

--------

“You worthless piece of shit!” The screams curl into JJ’s face, stale beer and bad breath hitting him in a wave. The boy presses himself back farther, the untamed wood digging into his back. His face scrunches up, and he tries desperately to block out the words.

The words crest and break in the blonde’s ear, settling deep into his brain, and joining the other nasty words thrown at him by his father. The words shook him to the core, bone quaking, eyes swimming and blood sizzling. His anger built higher and higher, growing rapidly, morphing into a beast. Anger at his father, for the shitty life handed to him and the only thing in the refrigerator was a week old beer his father downed every day. Anger at the world, for turning its back on him, shutting him out and letting him suffer. Suffer at the hands of his father. Who couldn’t stay sober for his life. And couldn’t ease the anger towards his son either. It all came to a 360, didn’t it?

But another feeling roared in him, unable to be put out like a simple fire. This feeling was almost as powerful at his anger, close, but not quite. This feeling wasn’t powerful in the ascend. Only in the descend. The emotion, the feeling that ran through his veins, running with the anger and doubling its strength was helpless pain. It was like being too close to the edge, where you looked down, breath catching, eyes watering at the wind, heart speeding. Where even though you tried to calm yourself with ragged breaths, your heart sped up into a gallop, beating wildly in your chest cavity, palms slick with sweat and ragged breaths pulling your chest in and out. It was when your hands shook, and your eyes burned and you were so angry that it took over every sense. When the anger was the only thing. Anger at nothing and everything. Anger burning in your chest as your hands lost control, and your mind reeled. Anger that clouded your brain like a disease, so fast and quick you didn’t even realize. The feeling that brought you to your knees when it rose to its height. Where your thoughts streamed so fast you could process everything and nothing. Where your bones stopped, and you sagged, the fight escaping you like a soul to a body. The fight, the survival instinct, the anger, it all faded, leaving you to break down, mind still reeling, hands still shaking, breaths still ragged. It was that feeling. The feeling of everything in you giving up to a break down. Where your thoughts broke on you, turning against you and watching you fall apart.

“Shut up!” JJ screams back, face contorting as he tries to handle the emotions raging in his chest. They were too much. He didn’t handle emotions well, not when they were like this. Not when they exploded and raged and screamed like this. He couldn’t handle the wailing symphony of his fathers words and the feelings of pain and anger rose to a crescendo in his ears. “Just shut up!”

He was yelling. Trying to block out the orchestra in his ears. To stop the emotions beating in his chest like they were alive. To stop his fathers lying, withering words from taking root in his mind and growing like a weed. He was trying to shut everything out. Because he couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle the way his fathers hands never failed to hurt, and his father words never failed to sting, and the way eyes never failed to pity as they landed on the bruises that seemed like permanent markings on his skin.

Luke’s fist slams into his son’s cheek, filed by rage and the abundance of alcohol. The hit sent JJ sideways, knees slamming into the floor with a hard thud as pain split across his face like a rapid spiderweb. It worked it’s way into every fiber of his face, searing and never ending. His jaw clenches, sending another wave of pain through his body, making his brain go fuzzy as his vision danced. His mind was slipping, trying to process the amount of pain, but failing to do so.

But magically, it cleared. The fog dispersed and gave way to sharp images, sending the boy back into reality, where his fathers fists were too real and the pain was too clear. But the haze only cleared to let another emotion peek through as he heard it. Heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires and brakes squeaking as the engine rumbled, dying. Pain slithered away into the corners of his brain to give way to a more powerful emotion. Fear. Fear because he knew exactly whose there’s that care belonged to. Knew exactly the way the gravel surrendered under the weight of a certain tire. Of a certain car. The car belonged to her. Y/N.

She was here, knowing something was terribly wrong the second the boy stopped reveling in the childish food fight. Because she always did. Her gut always twisted a certain way, giving her a bad feeling that never faded until she investigated. She always seemed to know when he was in trouble and came running, eager to ease the feeling and help. She’d gotten that sense the moment the boys eyes landed on her all those years back. It was a gift. A gift, a connection between two people who’s love ran deeper than blood and deeper than words itself. But in most cases, the gift was a curse. Because every time her gut twisted that way, or she’d frown because she felt undeniably wrong, JJ was hurt, beaten bloody by his own father. Most of the time she showed up when Luke was passed out drunk on the couch, chest rising in falling in a drunken slumber, JJ visiting a world of pain on the floor or gripping his head like it was going to burst as he sat, door locked in his bedroom. But now she’d shown up when Luke was towering over the blonde, words bellowing out of his heaving chest. 

“No,” JJ whispers, fear spiking in his chest, hitting a certain place in his heart. Everything- the anger, the helplessness, the crescendo of wails and words screamed by his father- died. Faded into the background to bow to the new comer. Fear. Not fear of his father. Not fear that his father would go too far and actually kill him. Not it wasn’t fear for him. This fear was for his best friend. His bright eyed, smiling friend who he’d fallen in love with,

His fear was for Y/N. Fear that she’d get hurt. And if she got hurt- JJ wouldn’t even allow the thought to fully develop or form into a real sentence. He couldn’t- wouldn’t go there. The thought brought too many already present emotions and more to the front.

As the surfer tried to scramble away, the pads of his fingers digging into the fought grain of the wooden floor, he was grabbed. Luke flipped JJ over, hands rough, and words hitting JJ’s ear, making the boy flinch. Fists started raining down on his face, head smashed into the worn floorboards of the house. The blondes eyes fluttered shut, his brain threatening to stop. JJ was in too much pain, his mind clouded and vision swimming to hear the porch door and the main door smack open. It was too late. Too late to get up, shove his dad off and beg Y/N to leave, let his father run his course. But pain was a powerful thing, leaving JJ prone on the floor as the door to the house of pain opened to reveal Y/N.

“Stop!” Her screams ran through the air, snapping her best friend out of his haze of misery. “What are you doing?” Her voice wavered, breaking as it gave away to fear and distress. Worry seeped into the words, making her cries desperate.

The boy on the floor groans, heat splitting in pain as he moves, picking himself up. He stumbles, knees threatening to give way, and face bruised and bloody. His lips are cracked and parted, blood leaking from an open wound, thick and dark. His cheek is swollen, red and puffy with purple blooming across it like a wildfire. It was like the purple of the fading sunset, elegant and soft for such an alarming, pain filled color. A cut mars his right eyebrow, breaking up the symmetry of his abuse. His eyes are sad, the azure color dulled and faded, weak without the light of his usual smile or carefree laugh. His lips don’t tug into a flirty smirk, but frown in a soft, giving up manner.

When he opens his mouth, he finds his might too dry and throat too clogged to speak. So he tried again, voice hoarse and broken. “Get out of here!” He begs, fear and desperation thick in his rough voice. His pleas reach his friend, sounding harsher than he intended. Subconsciously, the JJ places himself in front of Y/N and his seething father. His hands are still shaking, weak and bruised as he holds them up, trying to keep his fathers hands of misery away from the perfect light of his best friend.

“What is she doing her?” Luke barks, his voice rapsy with the gruffness of a man with only anger and cheap alcohol in his blood can obtain.

“I’m gonna get her out dad. Alright? We’re gonna leave.” JJ’s hands shake more as he plays mediator, eyes beseeching his unforgiving father. He swallows the lump in his throat, trying to quell the soreness. He’s begging. Begging with his father to let them go- or at least Y/N. And begging with his best friend to leave, leave so his father can keep his reign of terror focused on the blonde and not her.

“You’re not leaving!” Luke thundered, brows glaring down as he surveyed the two kids. His stained tank top lifted at uneven intervals as his chest heaved, ragged breaths pulling in and out of his frowning mouth. His lips were screwed into a disgust filled sneer.

But Y/N wasn’t having it. JJ’s cerulean eyes flickered to meet hers, seeing them spark with fire and sadness. A combination her best friend knew too well. So, with a rare surge of bravery, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins at the best of her thundering heart, she stepped forward. Her feet groaned against the wood as she went forward, short, quiet gasps falling from her dry lips. She was now exposed to Luke’s fury. JJ was no longer in front of her, protecting her. And it was her own doing.

“Stop it! He doesn’t deserve it.” Y/N’s voice was ragged, seeping with desperation as she begged with the inconsolable man in front of her.

JJ’s heart twisted at the words, squeezing painfully as it hammered against his bruised ribs. Breath caught, he stopped, but he was too late. He wasn’t in front of her in time, wasn’t meditating like he was begging for life. He was too late. Luke’s hand was already flying, and the loud sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. The sound was enough to make JJ flinch, a smack and cry sounding. The cry ripping from a familiar throat, provoked by the shock and pain. Y/N fell, the power of the slap sending her to her knees. She hit the floor, ground thundering as her hands flew to her cheek. Her fingers were gentle, exploring the source of pain now stinging across her face.

JJ was positive that he could hear his heart crack. Positive that the sound of it was breaking wasn’t only in his ears, adding to the decrescendo of wails and words in his ears. The boy was sure, if you looked hard enough, you could see the soft, yet strong webbing of his heart break and fall into tiny, sharp pieces, lost in his rib cage.

“Dad!” He screamed, shock forcing the words from his constricted throat. His ocean eyes brimming with tears and clouding his vision as he watched you gasp, red blooming fast on your cheek from where his father hit you. His father. Leaving his own abuse mark. On you. On the one person JJ cared about more than himself. On the one person he wouldn’t think twice about giving his life for. On the one person he promised nothing would happen to. On the one person he loved with every bit of his fucked up self.

He broke his gaze on your to look at his father. Despite his mind still trying to process everything- everything from the downhill spiral of his roaring emotions and the increased climb of his pain- he thought fast. Quicksilver. Turning to his father, he put his hands- now less shaky- up in surrender. His cerulean eyes were back to begging. “Alright.. We’re leaving. I’m getting her out of here, alright?” 

Luke’s lips curled into a sneer, and he spit on the floor, eyes hard and filled with disgust and to JJ’s relief, disinterest. His father turned away, searching for a beer like a lost man at sea for land. Once he was sure, his fathers mind was only on the cheap alcohol littering the house, JJ spun, eyes zoning in on his best friend. His blue eyes locked on your figure.

Breathing her name in a ragged whisper, JJ dropped to his knees next to her, ignoring the pain exploding like rouge fireworks in every part of his body. The wince didn’t hide the pain, but the boy was used to hiding. He ignored his pain, lips pressed together in a thin, determined line. Because the bruised ribs and face that were throbbing and screaming were nothing compared to the way his heart broke and seized at seeing you fall victim to his fathers vicious hands. 

“Hey,” He whispered, voice barely audible as he called out to his friend. His fingers reached, touching the soft underside of her jaw as his hands cupped Y/N’s cheeks like they were glass. 

Y/N’s heart ached at the way JJ cupped her face. Like she was so fragile and could break with the slightest pressure. Like he didn’t want to hurt her, and only craved to protect her. Alike he was sorry, and he couldn’t convey it in words, so he tried in touch. Like he was heartbroken over seeing her like this.

JJ’s eyes swam with unshed tears as they pooled. His attentive eyes saw the familiar welt form on your cheek bloom like a flower in spring. The welt was big and angry, making the boy clench his jaw tightly. His nostrils flared as his ears registered the gasp falling from your parted lips and the hurt look in your eyes. 

And he realized. The bad feeling this morning. The creature settling in his gut, waiting to strike. The feeling that reminded JJ of the times a hurricane would be broadcasted on the TV screen, the brightness of the pictures blaring and the detached voices of newscasters loud. This, this right here- his best friend sitting on the floor, bruising cheek cradled in his rough hands, both of them victims of his father- was the foreboding in his gut in the early morning. 

Before- that was the calm before the storm. 

And this- this was worse. This was the crashing of the waves after cresting to a scary height. This was the raging wind, coupled with the stabbing rain. This was the crescendo of the deafening music where you covered your ears with your hands, eyes squeezed shut. This was the sharp crack of lighting exploding across the night cry. This was the moment where all the fight left your body, leaving you empty and hollow, a husk of your emotions. This was the silent scream of mind tearing pain. This was the rising panic in your chest. This was the feeling of seeing Y/N and her abuse. This was the feeling of helplessness as you looked up, neck craning back as your eyes tracked the rising wave, fear heavy in your chest as your realized your fate and there was nothing you could do about it.

This was the storm.

[exowolf-reactions]

EXO Wolf!AU Reaction when they meet a recently turned wolf

This was requested by the lovely @youngdreamermk Xoxo, Arabella~

/I don’t own any of the gifs used unless stated otherwise/

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chanyeol:

*Has been watching over you the whole time* “Oh, you’re awake... how are you feeling? Broken huh? It’s normal... you get used to it. Now, let’s get out of here. I better explain it to you somewhere safer” *You might not know him but some instinct is telling you to trust him* 

Kris:

*You had a very violent transformation. He had to use some of his strength to keep you from hurting yourself* “You gotta calm down! Listen to your heart, it’s still human! Come on! Fight it, you can do it! Don’t let it control you!”

Sehun:

*He’ll be very chill about it. Kinda arrived at the right place in the right time. Like he knew someone was going to turn you* “Here, have a drink. This might be hard to process... but we have enough time... until the next full moon to be precise”

Tao:

*He’ll become your protector the moment he finds you* “Wait... someone turned and left? That can’t be... it’s against the rules. You could have died... Don’t worry, I’m here now. You will think I’m crazy but you need to hear it before you see it again... you are now a werewolf”

Kai:

*He knows you won’t believe him until you see it with your own eyes* “I guess I’ll better show you... but promise me you will listen to me after I do. It’s important for you to learn how to master it, even if you decide to not stay in the pack”

Xiumin:

“You don’t remember anything? Why were you here in the first place? You got caught in the fight between clans... This shouldn’t have happened, I know saying sorry won’t be enough... it’s better if I take you with me, you’ll be safe with us”. *He’ll try to clam you down even though he’s a little agitated too.*

Baekhyun:

*You’ll wake up to see him standing in front of your bed, his eyes never leaving yours* “I remember when I woke up after the first time I turned... There was no one to help me, to explain what was happening to me. I promised myself that I would not let another wolf go through the same... that is why I am here today...”

Luhan:

“You’re telling me you don’t know what you are? So you have no idea of what happened to you? No, this can’t be. I can’t leave you alone! You can die if you don’t come with me... Please try to listen to my heartbeat, I’m not lying. Strange isn’t it? I know...” *He smelled your ‘new born’ scent from miles away. But something about it told him it was not right, which is why he went running to your rescue*

Chen:

*He’ll stay by your side until you decide to trust him. He knows he can’t leave you alone as it might be too dangerous for you and the others. It might not be his responsibility as he wasn’t the one who bit you, but as a wolf he feels the need to help his own kind* “I’ll be here waiting for you to listen”

Kyungsoo:

*He’ll befriend you, trying to earn your trust so he can show you how to live as a werewolf and maybe join his pack* “You are telling me you don’t believe in werewolves? Even after seeing yourself throw that car? And hearing someone from miles away? What proof do you need then?”

Lay:

*He’s the first thing you see when you open your eyes after a very wild transformation* “I think it’s better you come with me. You’re vulnerable right now... they will get you if you stay... you know, the hunters.”

Suho:

*He’ll try to be a good mentor.* “I know it’s hard to accept... to adapt. But if we did it without help, you can do it with us by your side. Welcome to our pack Y/N...”

[Masterlist] [Guideline] [Instagram] [Wattpad]

[breanime]

Helpess (Part Eight)

This part’s a wee bit shorter (maybe 800-1000 words shorter) than the others have been, but I hope you like it!

*banner by @starkrobb​*

Billy was never the romantic type. He didn’t pine, didn’t lose himself in a pretty girl’s eyes, didn’t beg, but damn…

…You were making him want to.

He was watching you sleep—something he never imagined himself doing—and all he could think about was the last thing you’d said before you’d fallen asleep. Disappear. You were going to disappear on him—again.

“Don’t,” he had said back, his heart—of all things—speaking up before his brain could even get a grasp on what you just said, “Don’t.”

Shit had moved fast when he first met you; Billy went to picking up a pretty girl at a bar to burying himself inside of her for days on end. He never did that—he wasn’t a repeat offender, not unless there was something in it for him (intel, prestige—shit, even bragging rights were enough of a motivation for him). But with you… Man, Billy had just liked being around you from the get, had liked the ease of your relationship. It was just so… natural between the two of you, and he had never experienced that before. He liked it, as much as he tried to downplay it and pretend he didn’t; he did. He liked having you in his life.

But when he left, and came back to find you gone, things had slowed down to a crawl in his life.

He had still been busy—Anvil was just getting on its feet, he had paid his debt to Rawlins, he was his own man—but his life had just seemed so… slow without you in it. Which was ridiculous, given how little he’d known about you, and how little you knew about him. But it was true. And now that you were back in his life, shit was moving fast again. Except this time, he was determined to keep up with you.

He woke up before you, and Billy spent a good fifteen minutes arguing with himself over whether or not to wake you up. He wanted to be inside you, wanted to kiss you and caress you and hold you. He wanted—needed­—to make you stay with him, and the only way he knew how to do that was to convince you with his body, because he wasn’t at all confident that his words could do the trick. But he also wanted you to rest. You’d gone through so much so quickly—and he knew, from the moment you’d propositioned him for sex in the safe house, that you still hadn’t had the chance to properly mourn your brother. He could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, and feel it in your touch; you were hurting, and it killed him that there was nothing he could do to fix it for you. All the money and power and success he’d accumulated, and yet he still didn’t have the power to take your pain away.

Newly agitated, Billy decided to let you rest. He got up, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead—another thing he usually didn’t do that he easily did with you—and got dressed.

Frank was already up—not that Billy was surprised. He was drinking a cup of coffee (black, Billy knew), and staring at the monitors. He was watching a woman and two kids, and it took Billy a second to recognize them.

“That Micro’s family?” Billy asked, coming to stand beside his best friend.

Frank nodded. “They have no idea he’s alive,” he said, eyes still on the monitors, “They have no idea who I really am…”

“Ah…” Billy put his hands in his pockets. “They know you as Pete,” he guessed.

“Yeah.”

Billy moved, made himself a cup of coffee, and then came back to stand next to Frank again. The mom was fixing the kids breakfast while they sat at the table, and Billy wondered if that was how things were supposed to be. Frank’s childhood had been like that; Frank’s family had been like that. But Billy never had that. You did, though, for a little while. That was probably worse, Billy thought; having a family, parents who loved and cared for you, and then not having them. He’d never had that, and he was never let down by his foster parents because he had no expectations of them. But you did. And you’d gotten Joe Yakavetta, a man who used you as a tool, putting you in danger and painting a target on your back so he could get rich.

Billy was itching to kill him.

“You never told me about her,” Frank said, breaking Billy out of his thoughts.

Billy took a sip of his coffee. “There was nothing to tell. We were… a thing,” he explained, “and then we weren’t. I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see her again, but then…”

“Then this happened.” Frank nodded. “Small world.” He turned to Billy. “It’s almost like it’s—”

“—don’t say it,” Billy groaned.

“—Fate,” Frank finished, grinning.

“You know I don’t believe in that shit,” Billy said back, turning back to the screens, “You see me being helpless to something like fate? Nah,” he shook his head, “fuck that.”

“I dunno, man,” Frank went on, “only you would pick a girl who was raised by a crimelord and drives like Ghost Rider. And only you would be involved with a girl who happens to be on the shit list of the guy who’s pals with the guy on our shit list.” He swallowed a gulp of coffee. “Seems like fate to me.”

“Kiss my ass, Frankie,” Billy turned to Frank, “You get Madani to see sense?”

“About putting Rawlins and Yakavetta and whoever else gets in the way in the dirt?” He shook his head. “Nah.”

“Eh,” Billy shrugged, “she’s in for a rude awakening.”

“Yeah,” Frank agreed, “This gonna be a problem for you? Workin’ with her? I know things didn’t exactly end well between you two.”

Billy grimaced. Madani had been a fun distraction for a short while for him, but she was predictable. He’d seen her coming a mile away; he knew her type. Self-righteous and born with a silver spoon, a bleeding heart with a strict moral code and lack of life experience. He’d known she wanted something more than sex when she first approached him, but it took him a few days to figure out what. But he did. He always did, eventually. He didn’t mind her using him to get to Frank, he was using her right back, after all. She hadn’t been happy when she put two and two together, and she was really unhappy when she inevitably realized that Billy walked away with much more intel than she had by the end of it. “That ain’t the problem,” he said, “the problem is with Y/N.”

“Fuck Bill, I thought you aged out of love triangles.”

“I did,” he said, smirking despite himself, “but this isn’t that.” He took another sip of his coffee, frowning now as he thought about the way you’d asked Madani about your brother, the hurt and disappointment he’d heard in your monotone voice… “Madani treats Y/N like a pawn,” he explained, “Like she’s just a case, not a person. And if she keeps pulling this ‘pillar of justice, I’m here to protect you’ shit,” he shook his head, “I dunno if I can keep it together, Frankie.”

Frank laughed, and Billy looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “No, that’s… It’s cute,” Frank said, “It’s nice—seeing you like this over a girl. I never thought the Beaut…” He shook his head, lips on the rim of his mug. “Didn’t really know if you had it in you, but Maria did.” His eyes shimmered the way they always did when he was thinking of his wife—not the corpse, but his actual wife, when she was alive and vibrant and his perfect mate. “She said there’d be a girl who could get you like this. She knew.”

“Like what?”

“Like… this.” Frank gestured to all of Billy. “Man, we’re maybe hours away from killing Rawlins or dying trying, and you’re thinkin’ about Y/N. Not yourself, not what happens to Anvil if you die, not what kind of power you inherit if we kill Rawlins—you’re thinking of Y/N and how she’s been treated. I just…” He smiled, the look soft on his face. It made Billy think back on their days in the Marines, that look. When Frank smiled like that, he looked younger, lighter… “I want that for you. I really do.”

“Thanks,” Billy said, looking down into his coffee, “I… Fuck, man. I want that, too.” He looked up at Frank. “I want that with her, and I’m not even sure what the hell ‘that’ even is.”

Frank laughed. “Oh, man, I can help you out with that—it’s love, man. It’s fate,” he patted Billy on the shoulder as he walked past, “It’s letting yourself be helpless.”

It took you a minute to figure out where you were when you first woke up. But when you did, the first thing you did was reach out for Billy, but he was gone.

What else was new?

Sighing, you got up and got dressed, your muscles burning from last night’s activities. You and Billy had… You shook your head—there was no you and Billy. There was Billy, and there was you. And if things took a turn here, if Joe saw you coming and gave you the same treatment he’d given Ronnie… there wouldn’t even be a you anymore. But, in all honesty—you were fine with that. As long as you took Joe down with you, you’d be happy. You opened the door—

—and jumped. Billy was standing on the other side, one of his perfect eyebrows raised as he looked down at you.

“You hungry?” Was all he asked.

You followed him into the main room of the warehouse, and you sat down to breakfast—toast, eggs, and the strongest coffee you’d ever had—with Billy freaking Russo and the Punisher. It was weirdly nice, though, and you enjoyed watching the easy back and forth between the two men. Micro woke up next, and he plopped himself down next to you, much to Billy’s chagrin. For a few minutes, as you sat and talked with the guys, you forgot that you were on the run, you even forgot how hollow you were, and instead, you could pretend you were just having breakfast with your friends and… someone who was more than a friend to you.

Then Madani walked in, bringing the crushing weight of reality with her.

“I can deputize you,” she said as a greeting.

“The fuck does that mean?” Frank grumbled around a mouth full of eggs.

“It means give us temporary badges,” Billy answered for her, frowning, “It would make us temporary Homeland Security agents and her our boss.” He took a sip of his coffee. “It’s a joke, and she’s not authorized to do that anyway.”

Madani’s face scrunched up the way it did whenever Billy called her on her shit. “It would be retroactive,” she explained, “but it would allow you to bring Rawlins and Yakavetta in without—”

“Are you still on that?” Frank shook his head. “There’s no bringing them in, Madani—none of ‘em. At best, Rawlins is getting a bullet in his head, at worst, he goes slow—but either way, he goes.”

“That’s against the law, Castle—”

“You think I give a shit about the law?!” Frank boomed, standing up so quickly that his chair toppled to the floor. “My family’s dead, Madani! Micro’s a fucking ghost, Billy sold his soul—that’s all on Rawlins’ orders! He doesn’t get to walk away! He doesn’t get to rot in a jail cell. He rots in the grave,” his eyes were wide and wild, “and if you want to stop me, Madani, you better make sure your aim is good.”

“You’re gonna have to kill me, too,” Micro declared, standing up. When his chair didn’t fall, he kicked it to the floor.

She turned to Billy, who just continued drinking his coffee. Defeated, Madani turned her attention to you. “I can’t protect you from this,” she warned you, “If you join up with them and kill Rawlins—”

“To be honest,” you interrupted, “My chances of killing this Rawlins guy are pretty low. But Joe?” You shook your head. “If anyone but me kills him, I’m gonna be disappointed.”

She sighed, taking a step closer to you. “Y/N,” she tried again, “if you do this, I can’t grant you immunity. The robberies and heists and everything else—those I can get you immunity for, but murder?” She shook her head. “They’ll put you away for life. Can you imagine that? Four walls and a cement bench being your only privilege? No drag races, no chases,” she took another step, “No more roar of an engine or smell of gasoline. Is that what you want?” She was right in front of you now. “Is that what your brother would have wanted for you?”

Your response was immediate. “Ronnie’s dead. He doesn’t want anything anymore.”

“You can either get on board,” Frank said to Madani, “or get the hell out. We don’t have time for this.”

“I can’t let you—” she started.

“For fuck’s sake,” Billy groaned, whipping a gun out and pointing it at Madani as he stood up, “Let’s just make this easier, huh, Frankie?”

“Bill…” Frank said, frowning.

Madani pulled her gun out, too, and pointed it at Billy. “Put. Your. Weapon. Down, Russo.”

“Madani—” Frank tried.

“C’mon, Frankie,” Billy said, his eyes still on Madani, “We ain’t got time for this. Every second we waste on this same argument is time Rawlins and Yakavetta have to get away. I’m not lettin’ him disappear on us again.”

“She’s a cop, man!” Micro said, eyes wide. “We can’t—she’s—we—”

“Give the word, Frank,” Billy said, his tone even.

You looked at Frank. He seemed to be considering it, but he shook his head. “She’s just tryin’ to do her job, Bill.”

Billy clicked his tongue, clearly unhappy with the decision, but lowered his weapon.

Madani did the same. “I could have you arrested for that, Russo,” she hissed, “How are you gonna run your business from prison?”

“Can we get to the part where the cop leaves and we get on with this,” you drawled, still in your seat, “Because Billy’s right—we’re wasting time here. So, Agent Madani, you’re either with us, or against us. You can come with and try that divine justice thing out for the .5 seconds before we kill them, or you can fuck off and let us do what has to be done. Which is it?”

She tucked her gun away, sighing. “I’m coming with you,” she said, “because I… I owe you, Y/N. I’m want… I’m going to protect you.”

Billy was in front of her in a second, his dark eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared down at her. “I’m telling you right now,” he growled, “you do anything to get in the way here…”

“…She’s dead,” Frank said, stepping over to them and putting his hand on Billy’s shoulder, “she knows, Bill. Don’t you, Madani?”

She nodded, eyes on Billy. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was serious. Billy made an aggravated noise and moved away, sitting back at the table with you.

“Let’s get started, then,” he said, voice low.

For the next three and a half hours, the five of you sat at the table and planned out what was going to happen. By the time that it was over, you were ready to go.

“We got one hour before T-time,” Frank said, standing up, “Gear up.”

Madani turned to you, opening her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Billy stood up, taking your wrist in his hand. “Come on,” was all he said as he dragged you back to your room.

Billy kicked the door shut behind him and turned to you. “I want you to stay here,” he started, “but,” he went on, his eyebrows raised, “I know you won’t. So I need you to at least make me a promise.”

“Okay…?”

“Promise me that you’ll listen to me when we’re out there,” he said, “Just… There’s gonna be a lot going on, and I need you to stay safe.”

“Aw, c’mon man,” you waved your hand in the air, “You’re gonna get paid either way; Homeland’s good for it.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. I need you to be safe, I can’t—” He stopped, taking a step back. “I just need you to be safe.”

Normally, you would have let Billy deflect. Hell, you were a grade-A deflector yourself, but considering the fact that you were only 59 minutes away from a possibly violent death, you figured you’d push. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you need me to be safe?” You asked. “You told me you took this job because it was personal to you, and I get that, I do, but… The job’s done, man. Homeland is compromised, and even if it wasn’t, Madani is gonna wash her hands of me after this, I know it. So why does it matter to you if I stay safe or not?”

“Because,” Billy answered, glaring, “it does.”

“Yeah, but why? You have your own fight with Rawlins, why are you worried about me?”

“Because.”

“Because what, Billy?” You glared up at him. “Because what? Tell me. Say it.”

“Because I fucking care about you,” he growled, grabbing you by the shoulders, “Jesus, Y/N, I was hypnotized by you from the moment I first saw you, and when we hooked up, I thought that would cure me, but it didn’t. Fuck,” he sighed, “You think I wanted this? To care about you like I do? Cause I didn’t—but I do, so here we are.”

“Billy…”

“And I know,” he went on, dropping his hands, “I know you want to disappear, and I… I get that, but…” He sighed. “Fuck… I don’t want you to.” His eyes were staring into yours, and you felt your chest tighten as you looked at him. “I’m not—I need you to be safe, regardless of what happens, but… If we survive this, I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”

“So…” You licked your lips, unsure of what you were feeling, but knowing that it was distinctively related to Billy. “What… What do you want then?” You knew it was hard for Billy to be open like this with you, and you weren’t trying to push him (anymore), but you had to know. So much of your back and forth with Billy was unsaid, and you just… you needed things to be said. Just in case. You didn’t want to die not knowing what you meant to him—especially if you meant something to him.

He shrugged one shoulder. “You,” he answered, “I just want you.”

Once he said that, it was impossible for you to do anything but kiss him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let yourself melt against him. Kissing Billy, being in his arms, made everything else fall to the wayside. “You want me?” You whispered against his lips. “You want me?”

“I want you,” he repeated, his tongue slipping into your mouth, “and I need you to stay glued to my side this whole time, alright?”

You wanted to argue, but how could you when he was kissing you like that, and his hands were on you? You couldn’t. So instead, you just kissed him back, trying to bring him closer.

He was smiling when you pulled back. “I need to hear it,” he said, his lips ghosting over you chin, “I need to hear that you’ll stay safe and listen to me out there…”

“I’m starting to think this whole ‘listen to me’ thing is some kind of secret kink…” You grinned.

He bit your neck, and you squealed. “Say it.”

“Okay, okay,” you giggled, “I’ll listen to you and stay as safe as I can.”

“As you can?” Billy titled his head to the side. “That the best you can do?”

“I dunno,” you purred, “Can you make me cum in less than an hour?”

Billy grinned.

Five minutes later, you were on your back with your pants around your ankles and your chest heaving. Billy was next to you, propping himself up on his elbow as he grinned down at you. “Any other requests?” He asked.

You shook your head, your body tingling from the force of the orgasm he’d given you—using only his fingers.

Chuckling, Billy leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Let’s get you dressed,” he said.

You let Billy dress you—again—and you smiled when he lifted you up and sat you up, propping your back on the pillow. You closed your eyes, still smiling, as he helped you into your shoes, feeling pampered, but frowned when you felt something heavy on your lap. You opened your eyes to see a bullet-proof vest. “Oh.”

“You need to wear that at all times,” he said, all-business.

You pouted.

Billy flicked his tongue out and licked his two fingers, chasing the taste of you.

You put the damn vest on.

Later, you, Billy, Frank, Micro, and Madani stood in the garage of the warehouse. Billy and Frank were armed to the teeth, you’d been given a gun, Micro had his… computers and stuff, and Madani had her guns. Your skin felt too tight; you were excited and anxious and scared and ready; you still had the taste of Billy’s lips on yours—you were ready to get this done.

“Micro’ll take the van,” Frank said, clarifying the plan for the benefit of no one, “Y/N, you’re driving the rest of us. We follow the plan,” he said, glancing over at Madani with a scowl, “and if we die…”

“…We die,” Billy finished for him. He looked down at you. “But we’re not gonna die.”

“Look at Russo, the optimistic!” Micro cheered.

“Alright,” you grinned, running your fingers across the hood, eager to be behind it, “Let’s fucking do this.” You looked over at Billy, a man who you’d met in a bar who was now the only person you had left in the world.

No matter what happened—you refused to be helpless. You wanted a life after this, wanted to work out whatever you were with Billy with Billy, wanted to be a permanent fixture in his life. But more than that—

—you wanted revenge. And if you had to die to get it, well…

…you’d die.

*******************************************************************************************

Ruh roh... things are about to get DARK. And action-packed! Let me know what you think of this chapter, please. Thanks for reading! 

Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast​ @jigsawlover10​ @gollyderek​  @charlylama @realduckvader​ @whovianayesha​  @lexxierave​ @loveintheroyalfamily  @fanfictionrecommendations-com​  @maxslime-blog​ @songforhema​ @lucielandss @themadhatter92​  @christinawxxx​ @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme​ @luminex3​ @ashkuuuu​ @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86​ @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @iaintnofurry​  @ymariejp​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan​ @holamor​ @drinix​ @rhabakoli​ @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens​ @leahnicole1219​ @evanlys19​  @binbons-is-theloml​ @aikeia​ @bitch-imma-head-out​  @witchygagirl​ @geeksareunique​ @sparrows-books  @nyxxnoxx​​ @justvnash​​ @truly-insatiable​

Benny B Taglist: @suchatinyinfinity​ @fandomlifeandeverythingelse​ @starkrobb​  @elanor-of-imladris​ @thesumofmychoices​ @marauderskeeper​  @honeyydippaa​  @thebabblingbookworm​ @khuangpu13 @ladyblablabla​ @woodlandreads  @ms-delos​ @belladonnarey @thesandbeneathmytoes​  @georgiagrl1990 @kahlanmars​  @the-blind-assassin-12​ @sylphene​ @ashdab2611​ @tessxblxckthorn​

Benny B Taglist (minus Sirius): @banditthewriter​ @something-tofightfor​​

Helpless Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @accioromancff​ @funerals-with-cake @700teacups​ @thesumofmychoices​ @wangmangagavroche​ @aikeia​ @im-a-mess-ness​ @fangirlharbor​ @vhgirlforever​ @coraz0ndcristal​ @contanto-que-voce-me-queira​ @editboutique​ @lysawayne​ @benbarnestongue @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @agent-bossypants @hellsregnantqueen​ @ilkaeliseb​ @kimmie113080​ @sweetybuzz25​​

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XLVI

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist   Prev. | Part 46

Word-count: 6k+

A/N: today on ‘oh shit it’s wednesday’ i bring to you an only-a-little-late update (also the gif doesn’t exactly fit but i can’t find a more appropriate one sorry!!)

You’d heard stories about newly turned werewolves. 

Erica had trouble controlling her impulses; she’d do anything that gave her an adrenaline rush. Boyd had trouble controlling his shifts; he’d be out for a run and find himself chasing a deer through the woods. Isaac had trouble controlling his emotions; he would go into fight or flight mode at the slightest noise. It took them months to learn control - Erica died before she could - but eventually, the ones left alive did. 

You turned almost a year ago, but your control came in waves. Emotional control was mastered fairly early on, physical control took a while longer, but you thought you’d gotten a hold on them by now. 

For the last month or so, your control had slipped almost completely. 

At first, it was slow. Your nightmares were worse and you’d started sleepwalking again. Once in a while, you’d wake up in an abandoned room or in the woods. Sometimes, you’d snap at Liam or accidentally hit a little harder than was necessary when you trained. 

But now you were waking up almost daily in a dusty abandoned room that was blocked off from the rest of the house. You could only go to sleep if you were tracing the scoring on a Feliscore Arcade token that you’d found in the pocket of a pair of jeans without knowing how it got there. Those accidental hits were becoming more and more intentional.

You’d heard stories about newly turned werewolves and about wolves evolving, but never stories of wolves devolving. 

Another fun little bonus of your devolution was that you had trouble concentrating on things anymore. You’d zoned out for most of Scott and Liam’s late-night lacrosse practice - that you’d only gone to because you didn’t want to be alone - and only looked up from your latest Feliscore Arcade google search when they froze on the field. 

“What? Are you guys tired of playing catch now or something?” you asked, cringing slightly at the harshness in your voice. 

“No. Something’s happening to Mason,” Liam said. His eyes were set on the school, then he dropped his lacrosse stick and bolted. It only took you a second to uncross your legs, get to your feet, and race after him.

The two of you made it to the school milliseconds before Scott, but every millisecond counted towards your little victory over your brother. You tried to squash the ugly, victorious feelings as the three of you broke into the library, and then you tried to smash Mason’s head in when he tried to attack you as you walked in.

Liam pulled you back as Corey and Mason lowered their chair and fire extinguisher. The two of them were out of breath as they recovered from the shock. 

“They were here. The Ghost Riders,” Mason said between pants of breath. 

You got a funny feeling in your chest at the mention of the Ghost Riders. There was something about them that you should have known; like how you should have known about the Dread Doctors before it was too late.

“Here? Just now?” Scott asked.

You squirmed out of Liam’s grip as he said, “I thought they left when the storm left.” 

“I guess not, because two of them were right up there,” Mason said. He pointed up to the railings on the second floor.

You tore your eyes away from the railing after a second. “What were they doing?” 

“We didn’t see when they came in.” Mason looked over to Corey for confirmation. “We only saw them when we turned invisible.”

Now it was your turn to hold Liam back as he turned to Corey. “You brought him into this?”

“He was trying to protect me,” Mason said as he stepped between Liam and Corey. He looked over his shoulder at Corey to get him to say something that would make Liam not want to kill him. 

“Uh, they didn’t seem to care about us,” Corey said. His heart was beating like crazy. “They- they walked right by us.” 

“So, what happened?” you asked, ignoring the agitation caused by Corey's ever beating heart.

Mason and Corey looked at each other for a long time, like they were trying to piece together what happened. “Uh…” Mason blinked a few times and turned back to you. “Then they just jumped down and left.”

“That’s it?” Liam asked. All his muscles were still tense.

“Yeah,” Corey said. 

Scott looked away from the railing and let out a breath. “They didn’t take someone? There was nobody else in here?”

Again, Mason and Corey looked at one another. “No. It was just us,” Corey said.

As annoyed as you were at the lack of information, you couldn’t stomach being in the library any longer. It felt like something horrible had happened there, but you couldn’t remember what or to whom. You stormed out of there ahead of the others, but then you paused in one of the hallways. 

There was that feeling of deja vu again. 

Slowly, you turned to look at the row of lockers. You took some very hesitant steps, letting your muscle memory override the screaming in your brain, and stopped in front of number 1075. Just as you reached out to touch the blue combination lock, a voice snapped you out of it. 

“Hey, thinking of getting a new locker?” Mason asked with a smile. 

“Uh, yeah. This one’s closer to the parking lot,” you lied. Your fingers reached out for the combination lock but you forced yourself to pull away and turn to Mason. “Did Liam and Scott already leave? I need a ride home.” 

“Oh, no, they’re still here. I’ll walk you to the front,” Mason said. He offered an arm to you and you took it with a smile.

A shiver ran up your spine as you cast one last look over your shoulder at locker 1075.

---

After a very confusing conversation with Deaton about phantom limbs, Scott asked you to watch him sleep. You didn’t mind - you barely slept anyway, at least this gave you an excuse to stay up and research the Wild Hunt - even if he did snore.

Things got interesting after the first hour and a half. At first, he just lay there and complained about not being able to sleep when you watched him. You assured him that you couldn’t care less about how much he drooled, and eventually, he fell asleep. Some occasional twitching and mumbling gave way to sleepwalking. Then, sleep-running through the woods. 

Scott collapsed into a heap on a pile of decaying leaves. When you were sure he wasn’t going to sleep-attack you, you bent down and woke him up. A brief explanation and change of clothes later, and the two of you had texted Malia and Lydia and started searching the woods for something that mattered. 

You stopped when Lydia pulled into the preserve and caught them up on what happened. “Hey, so, I went to bed at home and woke up out in the woods about a mile out,” Scott explained. “I think there’s a reason why this has happened.” He paused, waiting for someone to say something but no one interrupted him. When no one did, he started leading you guys through the woods. “I’ve been out here before. It was the beginning of sophomore year, the night before tryouts for First Line. I remember because it was all that I could think about.” 

“What were you doing?” Malia asked. She looked over at you as she stepped over a rock. “And where were you?” 

“I was at Willow Creek,” you said quietly, trying to remember why you left Beacon Hills to begin with or why you were so nervous to come back.

“And I was looking for a dead body,” Scott said simply.

“Well, that’s morbid,” Lydia mumbled. 

“Yeah, but what was I doing out here all alone?” Scott asked.

“I wish I could help you, but I didn’t know you back then,” Lydia said.

“I was still a coyote so I might’ve tried to eat the body,” Malia offered. 

You shuddered at the thought. Aside from the weird cannibalism-adjacent argument, Derek told you that the body in the woods had been Laura Hale. Malia would have tried to eat her cousin.

“Deaton said that my subconscious is trying to tell me something,” Scott said, clearly not as bothered by the semi-cannibalism as you were. He shook his head. “But I need you guys to help me figure out what it’s saying.”

Lydia let out a breath. “Maybe you were just a curious teenager. You heard there was a body-” 

“But how? I never watched the news. And I didn’t have a police scanner,” Scott said.

“Your mom works at the hospital,” Malia said. “Maybe she got called in and you overheard her?”

“My mom wasn’t home that night,” Scott said. “And I live five miles away from here. How did I get here?” 

“You drove?” Malia suggested. 

“No, we didn’t get another car until I came back,” you said.

“Then he ran,” Malia said. 

“I couldn’t have. I had asthma,” Scott said. He sighed and shook his head. “I was hiding, but they knew that I was here.”

“Maybe you just made a ton of noise with your asthmatic breathing,” Malia said, getting more annoyed that all her suggestions were being rebuffed. 

“How would they know that it was me?” Scott asked. “Why would the Sheriff even think that I would be out here?”

“Because, like most of the deaths in this town, it was related to the supernatural,” Lydia suggested.

“I wasn’t supernatural. I mean, this was the night I was bitten,” Scott said. He looked away, trying to remember something. “I wasn’t a werewolf yet, and I wasn’t out here alone.”

Now was your time to come clean about all the weird things you were doing and feeling. “Scott, I- I agree with you.” 

“You do?" Scott asked. He looked surprised but kept talking when you nodded. “I think I had a best friend. And I think he was out here with me that night, even if you weren't. I know it sounds crazy-”

“It doesn’t sound crazy,” Malia said. “I know that someone chained me up and I think they wanted me to stay human.” 

“I came to school this morning and I was sure I was supposed to meet someone … but I couldn’t remember who it was supposed to be,” Lydia said. 

It got quiet. They all turned to you. 

You took a shaky breath and shrugged. “I feel like I’m missing a part of me,” you said softly, not willing to meet any of their eyes. “Not just a best friend but someone … someone I loved. Someone who loved me.” 

Lydia reached out and interlaced her hand with yours. Even without words, she still tried to comfort you. 

“What if we’re all missing the same person?” Scott asked after a few uncomfortable seconds. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it to show you guys the photo Sydney had taken of you all on the first day of the semester. “I think that he was in this picture.”

Lydia pointed at the spot between her and Scott, just in front of you. You must have been holding him. “He was sitting right there,” she said.

“He was so close,” you whispered, reaching out for the photo despite knowing that it wouldn’t change a thing. 

Scott let you hold onto the photo as the four of you piled into Lydia’s car. It was so frustrating to know that he had been right there and you couldn’t remember a thing - but he was always there, lurking in the back of your mind but always just out of reach. He was the only thing you could think about the whole way to the animal clinic. 

Even as Deaton explained what happened, you couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t like you’d be doing it anyway - the automatic writing - so there wasn’t any harm in you trying to remember instead.

“I have to warn you,” Deaton said quietly as you, Scott, and Malia huddled around him in the corner. “We may not be able to access these memories.”

“We have to,” you said.

Deaton gave you a heavy-looking smile and took a breath. “The legend has always been that the Wild Hunt takes people, but if what you’re telling me is right, the truth is much worse,” he said. “They erase people from reality.” 

Scott looked over at Lydia before asking, “How did we all remember someone who has been completely erased from our minds?” 

Before Deaton had the chance to answer, Lydia stole his attention. She was writing so furiously at her desk, alternating between not breathing and then panting. The desk shook with all her force, sending the blue shard of glass flying around in the dark. The light caught on the edges and something familiar ached in your chest.

“Oh … is she- should we stop her?” Scott asked. 

Deaton held out an arm to stop him. “Lydia? Lydia, slow down,” he said. When he was close enough, he switched off the lamp and Lydia stopped writing instantly. Instead of furious movement, she looked almost catatonic. 

“Is she okay?” you whispered. 

“Lydia?” Deaton asked.

Nothing. 

Malia reached forward and pulled the piece of paper off the desk. You held onto one corner and looked at it over her shoulder. 

The word ‘mischief’ was written all over, but the shapes made out the word ‘Stiles.’ No, it wasn’t a word - it was a name. It was his name.

Stiles. 

---

Geography was remarkable mind-numbing the next day. You barely paid any attention to it at the best of times, and it was decidedly not the best of times considering your lack of sleep and constant agitation. 

The Wikipedia article for stiles was open for the billionth time, as well the etymology of ‘mischief’ and the link for that stupid arcade. Instead of acting like the useless google searches were less important than geography, you put your hand up and asked to be excused. 

You’d just gotten to the parking lot when you heard a coyote howl inside the school. Groaning, you kicked the bike rack and headed back inside. 

Malia was in the basement with Scott, Lydia, Natalie, and Noah when you got there. She was snarling and ready to bite whoever came near her, so Lydia suggested giving her some space. You thought the idea was ridiculous, but you didn’t feel like adding ‘being maimed’ to your list of reasons to find new friends. 

You'd missed most of Lydia, Scott, Noah, and Natalie's conversation, but you were just in time to hear Malia let out another growl. She stepped out from underneath one of the cupboards before you had the chance to intervene and started shifting, making the process look surprisingly elegant considering how painful it must have been.

“It’s alright. I’m okay,” she said. 

Natalie quickly walked over to give Malia some clothes while Noah counted how many tiles were on the floor and Scott counted the tiles on the ceiling.

“Do we have any idea what made her shift?” Noah asked.

“She’s under a lot of pressure,” Scott answered. He took his eyes off the ceiling to look at Lydia for confirmation. “School, her life after graduation-” 

“Her mom trying to kill her,” you mumbled.

“But that shouldn’t make her shift,” Scott said. “Do you guys think it could be connected to Stiles?” 

“Hard to tell since we don’t know what a ‘Stiles’ is,” Lydia said.

“It’s a he,” Noah said. You couldn't tell if he was frowning or if the annoyance was just a permanent feature of his face.

“Who?” 

“Stiles,” Noah said with a nod, trying to cover his frown. “It’s a family nickname. I never used it, but, uh, my father did.”

“Could you tell us some more about him?” you asked, stepping closer and giving him your best smile. You didn’t know why you thought that would sway him. “About Stiles?” 

Noah cast a cautionary look at Lydia’s mom. “If Natalie’s okay with it …” 

“Could it wait until after school?” she asked. 

“No,” you and Lydia said, at the same time Scott and Malia said, “Yes.” 

You glared at them. It was their fault that Natalie personally walked each of you back to your classes to make sure none of you ditched, and it was your fault for not slipping away when she wasn’t paying attention. 

So, you sat through Geography and two other classes before racing to Lydia’s car as soon as the bell went off. Lydia was already there, explaining how Malia couldn’t come because she had to retake her retake but Scott would be there any minute. She didn’t listen to your suggestion of him meeting you there instead. 

But after all your annoyance and agitation, you froze when you saw Noah’s house. It was the house that you were always waking up in, just in the warm glow of the afternoon instead of the dusty haze of midnight. You didn’t mention it to Scott or Lydia - how could you? It wasn’t like you had any reason to know where Noah lived until now - you just took a deep breath and went inside. 

It was strangely lived in. Hard to believe they had a boarded-up room somewhere when you were looking at all the throw pillows and decorative balls of yarn. Claudia broke you out of your haze by pushing a glass of lemonade into your hand. She gave you a warm smile and ushered the three of you into the living room. 

“He was an army engineer,” Noah explained once you were all settled. He handed Scott a photo from a memory box. “Ended the war one bridge at a time.” 

Like a stile, you realized. He helped people move over whatever was blocking their path.

Scott smiled at the photo in his hand. “And he went by ‘Stiles.’” 

You looked over his shoulder at the old photo of Elias in his army gear. It felt like you’d seen the photo before; like someone had already shown it to you, except you knew that back then it was a secret. A shiver went down your spine. You weren’t supposed to see this photo.

“So, what’s this got to do with the Wild Hunt?” Noah asked.

“We think that somebody was taken from us,” Scott explained.

“Any idea who?” 

Scott shook his head. “Uh, the Ghost Riders would have erased our memories.” 

“Well, now, that’s convenient,” Noah said.

“But we found a clue,” Lydia said. “The word ‘stiles.’”

“And that’s why you wanna talk to Elias?” Claudia asked. She didn’t sound very convinced. 

“Yeah, maybe he can help us figure it out,” Scott said. “Maybe he knows who we’re looking for.” 

“Now this is someone your age?” Noah asked. 

“Yes,” you said, sounding more sure than Scott or Lydia had since you’d arrived. “He was our … friend.” There went your certainty. Whatever Stiles had been to the others, he was something else to you. 

“Well-” Noah shut the memory box on his lap and stood up. “I can guarantee you, my father can’t help you.” He took the photo back from Scott. 

“Couldn’t we try?” Scott asked. 

“Scott, he lives in a nursing home three towns over,” Noah said. “Hasn’t had a visitor in years. He couldn’t help even if he w-” 

“Could I use your bathroom?” Lydia asked. She had that look like a supernatural Geiger counter was going off in her head.

“Sure,” Claudia said.

Lydia hurried off and you frowned. You set your lemonade down to go follow her, but Claudia started talking to you. 

“I love your ring,” she said. She smiled as she looked at it. “I had one just like it when I was younger.”

You looked down at your hand to find an old signet ring on your finger. It was out of place with the rest of your jewelry, but there was something about it that made it more important than the rest even though the design had worn over the years. 

“Oh, thanks,” you said, twisting it around your finger so that design was facing inwards. You weren’t sure if you wanted anyone else to look at it. “I got it for my birthday.” 

Claudia gave you another smile before excusing herself to the kitchen. At least with her gone, you could focus on the rapidly escalating conversation between Noah and Scott. What had started as a polite rejection had turned into Scott repeatedly asking why you guys couldn’t just talk to Elias and Noah saying that he didn’t need a reason for not wanting to expose his elderly father to three teenagers he’d never met before.

“You’re not hearing me,” Noah argued. They were both standing now and you stood to not feel so out of place. “Trust me, you don’t want to talk to him.”

“We just need a few minutes,” Scott begged.

“Scott, my father can’t help you,” Noah said. 

“Just a few questions. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking-” 

Something in Noah snapped. His voice was loud and frustrated when he spoke again. “You know what? You don’t just ‘talk’ to this guy, okay?” He took a breath and lowered his voice. “Just find another way.” 

Scott started talking again when you touched his arm lightly. “Okay,” you said with a very fake smile. “We’ll find another way. Come on, Lyd, let’s get out of their hair.” 

“But-” 

“Thank you for your time.” You dragged Scott out before he could start yelling. Once the three of you were in the safety of the car and Scott was whining about you ruining their chances, you sighed and said, “Call Malia. We’re breaking into a nursing home.” 

“But you said-” 

“Scotty, you’ve known me my whole life. Can you seriously not tell when I’m lying?”

“I can tell when you’re lying,” Scott said defensively. 

“I guess you’re right,” you said and scooted forward in your seat. “I love that shirt, by the way. You should wear it more often.” 

“Really? Thanks. I-” Scott frowned at the look Lydia gave him. “Oh.”

--- 

“I can’t believe we’re about to break into a nursing home,” Scott mumbled as you, Lydia, and Malia walked up to the doors of Good Water Assisted Living.

“Scott, you realize we’ve literally broken into the school, a bank vault, a mental facility, and Davenport Prep, right?” you asked.

Malia brought your group to a stop. “Plus, after the orderlies at Eichen House, I’m pretty sure we can handle some nurses.” 

“Right, but-” 

Scott didn’t manage to get out his argument before Malia blew past you, got to the front desk, and slammed the nurse’s head into the desk. You winced as she went behind the desk and looped her arms under his to drag him somewhere. “Are you guys coming?” she asked.

“Right behind you!” You patted Scott’s arm and gave him a mischievous smile before rushing inside. 

The computer was still unlocked so you punched in for Elias’ name and his room number popped up. The four of you found it fairly quickly but he wasn’t there. After a few minutes, you found him alone in one of the common rooms listening to old jazz music.

He looked up from his desk full of papers when you came in. “Yes? Is it time for my medicine?”

“We don’t have your medicine,” Malia said, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Oh,” Elias said softly. He turned back to his desk. 

“Are you Elias Stilinski?” Lydia asked. 

Elias blinked a few times as he looked at Lydia. “I am.”

Lydia’s face broke into a smile and she made her way over to him. “I’m Lydia Martin. Do you know who I am?” 

“Should I?” Elias asked.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stilinski,” Scott said awkwardly as he walked closer to him. “We’re looking for somebody who might be named Stiles. You went by that name in the army, right?”

“Yes,” Elias said with a small nod. He looked away from Scott as he added, “Best years of my life.”

“Do you know any of us?” Malia asked.

“Of course I do,” Elias said. He looked back up at Scott. “How could I forget my own son?”

“Your son?” Scott repeated. He looked over at Lydia for help. 

“Mr. Stilinski, what year is it?” she asked gently. 

“1976,” Elias answered instantly. “It’s my son’s birthday next week.” 

“He has dementia,” Lydia said to the rest of you. 

As if to prove her point, Elias looked back up and asked if it was time for his medicine yet. You took a collective deep breath and started explaining things to him as gently as you could. It made you agitated to be in here with him, especially as the sun went down outside, but you needed to find Stiles. 

But after repeated attempts to get Elias to stop confusing Scott with Noah, you’d become almost as grouchy as Malia. All she did was pace and steal peas from Elias’ food.

“Scott McCall?” Elias asked. Scott nodded hopefully. “No, no, no, no, no. You’re my son.”

“Keep it down, old guy,” Malia whispered harshly. She stole another few peas. “You’ll wake the other old people.”

“I don’t like her,” Elias said to Lydia. 

Lydia slipped into the chair in front of him. “Your son,” she said in an impressively patient voice. “He’s the Sheriff of Beacon Hills.”

“Sheriff?” Elias asked. “No, no, no, no, no, no. No, I- I was in the army.” 

“Just use your claws, Scott,” Malia said.

“It could kill him,” Scott said.

“I get that, but we’re running out of time,” Malia said.

“I can’t.” 

Malia growled and elongated her claws. She’d just started walking over to Elias when you stepped in front of him and Scott grabbed her wrist. You could let her abuse nurses but you refused to let her do anything to one of the Stilinskis.

“No,” Scott told her. “We’re not hurting him.”

“Young lady, you need to clip those nails,” Elias said behind you. It made you laugh. You cleared your throat and mumbled an apology but he didn’t seem to like that. “You shouldn’t be here. If you don’t leave, I’ll have to report you.”

“Uh…” Scott looked over to Lydia. “What’s wrong with him?”

“The sun went down,” she said. 

“So?”

“So, he’s sundowning,” Lydia said. “It’s when dementia patients lose their faculties after the sun goes down.” 

“Well, that would’ve been helpful information to have before the sun went down,” you snapped. 

Elias took a shaky breath. He started waving his hand around as he spoke, “I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” 

“So what do we do?” Malia asked. 

“We wait until the sun comes back up,” Lydia said. 

“We don’t have that kind of time,” you said. “The night shift will be here soon which means someone will be coming for him.” 

“No, no, no!” Elias cried. He started shuffling through his papers.

“There’s gotta be something we could do to keep him quiet,” Scott said.

Elias got more frantic and then Lydia stepped in again. She told him to look at the equations on his papers and asked him to identify different ones to help him concentrate. Miraculously, it worked. He stood and started looking at his handwritten notes. 

“Elias,” Lydia said gently to get him to sit. 

“That’s Mr. Stilinski,” Elias corrected. He frowned at each of you, almost looking like an older Noah in the low light. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

“So you know Scott isn’t your son?” Lydia asked. 

“Of course, I know that,” Elias snapped. “Are brains getting smaller with the skirts?” 

“Excuse me-”

“Hey.” Scott put a hand on your wrist. “It’s okay.”

“You’re that McCall kid,” Elias said as he looked at Scott.

“You know me?” Scott asked. 

“I know your dad,” Elias said. He started walking around the table. “Couldn’t hold his liquor and he certainly couldn’t keep that wedding ring on his finger. Pretty young thing would walk by and poof! That ring just disappeared like magic.” 

Though you were under no impressions of your dad being a saint, you frowned at Elias' words. Malia growled, but Lydia kept her cool. “Do you know all of us?” she asked. 

Elias narrowed his eyes and then pointed a finger at Lydia. “You’re Natalie Martin’s girl, am I right? You look like her. She was pretty once, too.”

“Hey, you can’t talk to her like that-” you started chastising him but he stopped you with a look. He looked at you like he knew you. 

“I know you from the pictures,” Elias said. 

“What pictures?” you asked. 

“He only came once, but that was enough. He wouldn’t stop talking and he kept showing me these damn pictures-” 

“That’s enough.” 

You jumped at the sound of Noa’s voice. He’d walked in with the nurse that Malia assaulted, and, boy, did he look mad.

Scott tried to explain. “Sheriff, we-” 

“I explicitly told you not to come here,” Noah said. “And who attacked a staff member?”

The nurse pointed at Malia. “That’s her.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Noah asked.

“Noah, we were just having a nice conversation,” Elias said, back to sounding frail and broken as he made his way around the table to his son.

“The four of you, out,” Noah said. “Now.”

Elias complained but Scott grabbed your hand and started leading you out. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t still eavesdrop. 

As guilty as you felt about lying to Noah and invading his privacy, you couldn’t help but feel vindicated when Elias told him to crawl back to his dead wife and loser son. You were right. Stiles was a real person. He was Noah’s son, even if he was a loser. He was your loser.

“Son,” you whispered as Malia slammed the door behind her. 

“What?” Scott whispered back. 

You flicked your eyes over to where Noah was arguing with the nurse. Leaning in, you whispered, “Stiles is Noah’s son. I’ll explain at home, okay?” 

Scott nodded quickly and tightened his grip on your hand before Noah came out and ordered the lot of you into his squad car. He was simmering with rage but he didn’t say a word the entire way to the station. 

All he said when he closed you guys in the cell was, “I’ll call your parents to pick you up.” 

The four of you were quiet as you waited for someone to show up. Melissa was at work and you’d barely seen Malia’s dad since the beginning of their senior year so your hopes weren’t very high for getting out of there. 

When Natalie showed up, she first wanted to yell at you before letting you go. 

“It doesn’t look bad, Scott. It is bad,” she said. “You broke into a nursing home, you harassed a dementia patient, and you beat up a nurse! This could affect the rest of your lives. Especially you, Malia. They’re talking felony assault.” 

“I didn’t beat him up! I could have, but I chose not to,” Malia said.

“That’s an improvement,” Lydia hummed next to you.

The door opened and Noah sighed. “By some miracle, the nurse decided to drop the charges,” he said. “They’re free to go.”

“Just because you’re not going to jail, doesn’t mean you’re not grounded for eternity,” Natalie said. 

“Triple-negative,” you said quietly. “Impressive.”

“Excuse me?” Natalie asked. 

“Nothing,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see you at school tomorrow. Thank you for looking out for us.” 

Natalie frowned at the sudden change in attitude but said she’d always look out for you guys anyway. She offered to drive you all home but you said you and Scott could walk. After some more confused looks and awkward goodbyes, you and Scott were finally alone and walking through the dark. 

“So,” he said with a deep breath. “You gonna tell me what’s been going on with you?” 

“I feel like I’m missing the part of me that makes rational decisions,” you said. “Seriously, I’m turning into Malia. I can’t concentrate on anything, I’m always angry, and I keep doing things for someone who’s not here.” 

Scott frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“I think Stiles was my anchor,” you said. You hadn’t let yourself think about the possibility before, but it made sense. All of your bad habits had started when it felt like you’d lost something. 

Scott frowned as he thought about it, but he must have come to the same conclusion you had. “Okay,” he said. “And who do you think Stiles is?” 

“I think Noah’s son,” you said. “When we were leaving, Elias yelled at Noah for leaving him in the home and choosing his loser son over him, but Noah … doesn’t have a son. At least, not one any of us remember.” 

“Wow,” Scott exhaled. “That’s pretty intense.” 

You laughed. “Yeah, but it makes sense,” you said. Scott waited for you to say something so you told him about how you kept waking up in an abandoned room. “But when we went to talk to Noah earlier, I recognized the house. It’s the same one I’ve been sneaking out of every morning.” 

“Huh, and I thought waking up in the woods was weird,” Scott said. You hit his arm and he laughed. 

The two of you bickered over each other’s bad habits the whole way home, but the lighthearted conversation didn’t erase the feelings of longing buried in your chest. Wherever Stiles was, you missed him, and no amount of teasing Scott could take your mind off it. 

But the mess you walked into as soon as you unlocked the front door almost did. 

“I’m not dealing with this,” you said instantly. You untangled yourself from Scott. “You told Liam to take care of it. He’s your beta. The two of you can clean.” 

“But I-” 

“I’m going to shower.” 

Instead of using his energy to fight a losing battle, Scott waved you off and you left him downstairs with Liam and the mess which, thankfully, hadn’t reached your locked room. You grabbed some clean pajamas and disappeared to wash off the stress of the day. 

When you came back, you reached for the Feliscore Arcade coin on your nightstand. You traced the logo with your thumb as you tried, for the millionth time, to remember. A knock at your door snapped you out of it. 

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Scott said. 

“It’s fine,” you said, closing your hand around the coin. This was one part of the mystery that you wanted to keep for yourself. “What’s up? Did someone throw up on your bed or something?” 

“What? No.” Scott frowned. “At least I don’t think so.” Then he shook his head and looked back up at you. “I wanted to tell you that Noah came by while you were showering … talking about his son.” 

You scrambled to sit up. “He remembered him? He remembered Stiles?” 

“Kind of. He said he could remember a conversation with Claudia when they were young about having kids. He wanted to name their son after father, and she said that it didn’t matter because they’d call him Stiles anyway,” Scott explained. He gave you a smile. “You were right.” 

“I was right,” you said quietly. “Thanks for telling me, Scotty.” 

Scott knocked on your door twice and smiled at the ground. “No problem. Try not to break into anyone’s house tonight.”

“No promises,” you said with a smile. 

For the first time in weeks, it was a real smile. Sure, you still didn’t have much, but you’d done more with less. You’d find Noah’s son. You’d find Stiles.

Part 47

Tagged: @ietss​  @used-avocado​

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 14: For Better Or Worse

(from the Flatmate Trilogy: Two Hearts, One Home)

…in which Harry and Niall have a guys night, Y/N starts showing, and Layla loves her wedding dress.

Word count: 4k

Chapter 13: Prenatal Visit - Y/N and Harry run into her ex at the doctor’s office.

Wattpad link

ANNOUNCEMENT: I have a college project coming up so I will not update next week. The next chapter (the Halloween special) will be posted on Tuesday, October 8. If nothing changes from now until the last chapter, there will be 17 chapters in total. for this last book. Now, enjoy this chapter and leave your comments! - Allie.

.

.

.

Harry hadn't been this excited since the night before his wedding. He was normally the type of person who would just go with the flow, but ever since his wife got pregnant, he had been counting each day and marking his calendar to keep track of her pregnancy. Today was the first day circled in red on the calendar, and the satisfaction of crossing it off first thing in the morning got him feeling elated.

Today, they would get to see their baby for the first time.

Y/N was already twelve weeks pregnant and started showing. Every night, he would rub her tummy and talk to it even after she had reminded him that their baby hadn't even got ears. He knew that. But the thought of Asteria or Jasper growing inside of her filled him with so much joy. He had to let his baby know how much he loved them.

It was the night before the first scan. While his wife was sleeping right next to him, he stayed up to watch ultrasound videos on YouTube. He didn't expect to get so emotional just from watching someone else's child moving for the first time. That was how he knew, when he finally got to see his own child, he surely wouldn't be able to hold back his tears.

Harry ended up falling asleep while watching those videos, and Y/N woke up to find him snoring softly with his phone on his face. She had to wake him up and drag him out of bed so they wouldn't be late for the scan appointment.

Thank God, it wasn't a busy day in the hospital. The atmosphere in the waiting room was different from the last time they'd been there for her pregnancy test. It was soothing, with perfumed scent air and unhurried nurses moving with a serene purposefulness from room to room. Nevertheless, Harry's mind was racing a mile a minute, and Y/N could feel it when he squeezed her hand.

"Relax, honey. I'm not giving birth right away," she joked, making him chuckle.

"I am relaxed though. What are you talking about?" he told her. But even himself was aware that 'relaxed' was an overstatement. Taking a seat by the examining table, he watched his wife lie down on her back and tilt her head to give him another smile. He gave her one in return to pretend that he was fine, but his knee was popping rapidly like he'd consumed a ton of caffeine before he got there.

The sonographer spread a gel over her tummy and then rolled a small scanning device around the area where the gel was. All three of them turned to the computer screen. As soon as the first images were shown, the shakiness in Harry's limbs immediately vanished. His entire body stiffened as he held his breath, peering at the screen. That was his baby. And they were moving. He had seen too many videos last night, so why was he still in shock?

"Although you won't be feeling your baby move just yet, they're dancing around inside you," said the sonographer.

Y/N had already teared up when she turned to Harry, wanting to see his reaction. But he was just sitting there with his mouth and eyes wide open. He couldn't even move a muscle let alone look away from the screen.

His emotions were like slow effects. It was only until they were sitting in the car in the hospital parking lot, and he was looking at the first photos of their baby, did he begin to cry. He turned to her, smiling tearfully and saying, "this is our baby, Y/N. This is Asteria or Jasper."

Even though Y/N's eyes were just beginning to dry, it didn't take more than a few seconds for her to tear up again. She leaned in, kissing him deeply and pulling away to rub his shoulder, eyes on the photos he was holding.

"Would you mind if I replace your photo in my wallet with this one?" He chuckled slightly and wiped the tears on his cheeks as Y/N tossed her head back and laughed.

"Of course not," she said, beaming. "I would do that, too."

.

.

.

"So...Is this Ria or Jas?" Niall questioned as he squinted his eyes at the ultrasound photo in his hand. Harry tried to focus on driving, still he kept glancing back and forth between the road and Niall, just to make sure Niall was being careful with the first photo of his baby.

"Are you stupid?" he said. "The baby hasn't got ears yet."

"Oh, right!" Niall snorted as he carefully put the photo back in his best friend's wallet. They were on their way to Niall's brother bachelor party. His brother's wedding and his were only six months apart.

The last time Harry had gone to a bachelor party had been by far the worst experience in his life, and he'd told himself that Niall's would be the last one he would attend in this lifetime. After that, he'd be retired from bachelor parties for good. But then, Niall had to drag Harry to his brother's bachelor party, saying Harry could use this as an example to throw one for him. Harry felt like it was his responsibility as the best man to make the groom happy, so here he was, driving Niall to the party and already wanting to turn his car around and go home.

"So when will you find out the baby's gender?" Niall asked to fill the silence.

"We'll get another ultrasound done between the eighteenth and twenty-second weeks."

"Are you nervous?"

"Yeah but...I'm happy either way."

"No, I mean...Are you nervous that you're going to be a dad? Because I'm already nervous that I might not be 'cool uncle Niall', you know?"

The way Niall blew out his cheeks and shook his head had Harry cackling. "Niall, you'll be a great uncle," he said. "Just...just don't coax my kid into weird stuff and you'll be fine."

"Hey, 99% of the trouble we got into was because of you!"

"Shit, you're right." Now it was Harry who blew out his cheeks in frustration. "But I'm going to be a good and responsible parent," he reassured himself, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I got this."

"Let's hope so," Niall said as he clasped his hands together. "Aaaaanyway, I think there are strippers there."

"What part of 'a good and responsible parent' didn't you understand?!" Harry exclaimed. "And Layla would kill you."

"I was just saying that—"

"Don't even say that!"

"Okay, okay! Gee!" Niall rubbed his forehead as Harry slowed down and pulled over in front of a club.

"Last chance to change your mind," Harry turned to him, arching an eyebrow and hoping that he'd say no.

It took Niall a few seconds to think before he unbuckled his seatbelt. To Harry's disappointment, he said, "let's do this!"

.

.

.

Meanwhile, Y/N and Layla were together in Layla's bedroom. The bride-to-be had just got her wedding dress earlier that day, and she'd been wearing it and swaying in front of the mirror for over forty minutes. Even though she had repeatedly said she wasn't nervous about her wedding because she was rich, Y/N knew Layla had never been more nervous about anything else in her life. She was probably as just agitated as Y/N and Harry in the waiting room yesterday.

Y/N had grown up with parents who loved each other. Layla, however, hadn't been so lucky. Those who didn't know her well would envy her because she was not only pretty, but also rich, and engaged to her best friend, who was also rich. Little did they knew, Layla had to struggle every day for validation. Her parents hated each other, and they didn't love her either, or so it seemed. When she told them about her engagement, neither of them had showed any interest, so she didn't even bother to send them the invitations.

Poor Layla had poured her heart and soul into planning such a big wedding with such little help, and she hadn't been fully happy for weeks. But today, after putting on her two-thousand-dollar wedding dress, she was on cloud nine. Y/N wished Layla would remain this happy until long after her wedding day.

"If you continue to dance like that, you'll get sweaty and ruin the dress."

The warning got Layla rooted to the spot, her eyes popped out. "Shit, you're right! I have to take it off! Help me!"

Giggling, Y/N rose from the bed to help her best friend unzip and step out of the dress. Layla had to remind Y/N every five seconds to be careful as they brought the dress to her wardrobe, and each time Y/N had to reassure her again that she knew how to handle a wedding dress because she'd been a bride before.

"Oh, really? Remember what happened to your wedding dress?"

"It wasn't even my fault," Y/N said as she flopped down on the bed, waiting for Layla to put her clothes back on.

Once Layla was done, she took a seat next to Y/N and repeated the obvious, "I just really love it."

"I know. You treat it like your own baby."

"Well, because it is my baby. The whole wedding venue could just burn and crash, but as long as I have that dress, everything is fine," Layla said with a straight face to prove that she was serious. Then, she changed the subject, "speaking of a baby, how's yours?"

Y/N brightened at once. "We got to see them for the first time yesterday!"

"Oh, shit, right!" Layla exclaimed as she held her head. "Fuck, you told me last week and I forgot! Do you have a photo?"

"Here." Y/N beamed and showed Layla the one she kept in her wallet.

"Oh my God, hi baby Ria or baby Jas. Whoever you end up being, aunt Layla will love you anyway," Layla said before glancing up to meet Y/N's eyes. "I've never talked to a womb before, how did I do?"

"You did great." Y/N giggled, giving her a thumb up.

Sighing in relief, Layla handed her back the photo so she could put it away. "So..." she trailed off. "You already got your dress right? When will I get to see it?"

"Um...I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I just...I'll be six-month pregnant at the wedding, so it's a bit loose for me now. I'll show it to you when it's close to the wedding day."

Layla scoffed, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter, just let me see it!"

"No," Y/N said she rose from the bed, checking her watch. "I gotta go home to pick up Treasure now."

Layla grabbed her wrist in an instant. "No, bitch, you're showing me the dress!"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because—" Y/N exhaled sharply as she pulled her arm out of Layla's grip. "I don't know...I just...look weird in it."

"Bullshit."

"It's true! I'll probably look so funny standing next to your skinny bridesmaids."

"You're not even fat."

"I will be," she blurted, not knowing why she'd said that aloud.

Y/N would never talk about her weight, even at moments when she was the most insecure. She believed that people wouldn't notice her imperfections if she didn't point them out herself. But ever since she got pregnant, she had changed a lot, physically and mentally, and she was more conscious about how she looked than she had been before.

Her cheeks reddened when Layla chortled. "You're pregnant, Y/N. Of course you'll be gaining a bit of weight. Why's it such a big deal?"

"I just..." She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I-I gotta go home and pick up Treasure."

"I'm coming with you!" Layla shouted and hurried after her to the door. "But...can we stop by the grocery store on the way?"

.

.

.

The music in the club was as loud as thunder and the laughter ringing in Harry's ears wouldn't seem to stop. He liked the song they were playing, but he hated everything else. The group of men in front of him was cheering and drooling over the two strippers dancing around Niall's brother, who was tied to a chair. Harry loved the man but how on earth could he look so happy? What would his future wife think if she saw this scene? Harry honestly couldn't relate. Shaking his head, he took a sip of the champagne in his glass and leaned back against the bar counter.

The funny thing about this whole experience was that it used to be normal to him. Partying used to be his way of escaping from stress and responsibilities and all that shit. He used to depend on parties like this, on touches of women he didn't know to feel fulfilled. Now here he was, judging these people and wishing he'd been home with his wife. He would rather spend the rest of tonight talking to her womb than checking his watch every two seconds.

As he finished the thought, he turned to his best friend, who had the same look of anxiety on his face. Niall turned to him, frowning as he said, "are you scared? Because I kind of am."

Harry chuckled at the comment. "I've been scared since we got in the car."

"I can't believe we used to enjoy this," Niall said, nodding his head toward his brother, who was literally grinding that stripper. "I think we're getting old."

"We are," Harry agreed, emptied his glass with one go, and slammed it down on the counter. "Niall, you can't have a bachelor party like this."

"I can't have a bachelor party like this," Niall repeated the same words, slowly shaking his head, still watching his brother with anxiety.

The horrified look on his face made Harry laugh. "Your wedding would become your funeral."

"That's not the thing though," Niall said as he turned back to Harry, his eyebrows knitted together. "I'm not afraid of Layla. I just don't want to hurt her and I don't want another woman to touch me."

"I can't relate to not being afraid of Layla but—" Harry paused, looking at the other men and sucking a breath. "You're absolutely right."

"Maybe we could...I don't know? Go shopping or something for the bachelor night?"

The suggestion left Harry poker-faced. "Not having strippers at the party does not equal not having a party at all, Niall."

"You don't get to judge me. We were at a spa on your bachelor night!"

"Fuck, you're right," said Harry with a monotone and an empty stare as he puckered up his lips. Niall was about to make a remark when one of the strippers approached them. At first, Harry thought she was just coming over to get some drinks from the bar, but she stopped right in front of him and leaned in so close that he nearly fell off his chair from leaning back, not wanting to touch her.

"Hey, pretty boys, you want a show?" The brunette had a thick German accent, and her voice was annoyingly piercing. Harry hated it. Still, he politely muttered, "no, thank you."

He didn't how to push her away without having to touch her or appearing as being rude. Fortunately, he didn't have to do anything. She pulled back on her own, setting her hands on her hips and raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I get it," she said, pointing to each of them. "Are you two gay?"

"No, I'm a dad," Harry awkward replied, and he was so confused when a smirk appeared on her face.

"Oh, so you have a daddy kink, huh?"

"He does." Niall cracked up, and Harry smacked him on the arm.

"No, I'm an actual dad," he said, raising his hand and pointing to the ring. "I'm married. Sorry."

The woman burst out laughing as she immediately apologized for making him feel uncomfortable. But then she winked at him and said, "I'll be over there if you change your mind."

Harry and Niall both swallowed as they watched her walk away, swaying her broad hips seductively. Then, as if they could read each other's mind, they turned to each other and spoke at the same time, "let's get out of here."

.

.

.

Y/N was deeply concerned.

She'd had a bad feeling when Layla walked out of the grocery store holding two heavy bags of snacks which was more than the amount she'd eaten in twenty-five years of her life.

"Who are these for?" Y/N had asked.

And Layla had told her, "for me. I'm in a good mood."

Y/N didn't know what kind of 'good mood' her best friend was in, but now the girl was lying on the couch with Treasure on her lap, a bowl of popcorn on her right, a giant pack of gummy bears on her left, and her legs on the coffee table. She didn't look like Layla, she looked like Y/N's dad on lazy Sundays or football nights. That was how Y/N knew it was serious.

"I'm going to order a pizza. Want one?"

"Please don't. I'd throw up all over you," said Y/N as she marched toward the couch and took the bowl of gummy bears away from Layla. Layla attempted to reach for it, but Y/N smacked her hand away.

"Hey!"

"What is wrong with you?!" Y/N said. "First, you bought everything in the store that contained sugar and now you're eating pizza?!"

"I've eaten pizza plenty of times!" Layla gasped.

"That was before you turned thirteen!" Y/N cried out, but her best friend was just gawking at her like she was the one talking nonsense.

And then, it hit her.

Y/N sat speechless, her eyes bulging out as she finally realized what was happening here. "Oh no," she mumbled with a blank stare. "You're trying to gain weight with me, aren't you?!"

"No, I am not!"

"Yes, you are! You touch your hair a lot when you lie."

"Bullshit."

"There! You're doing it again!"

Layla suddenly withdrew her hands from her hair and shoved them into her armpits, her forehead puckered up and her voice was low. "So? What if I want to?"

"Then you won't fit the dress, Layla! Stop being crazy!"

"I can still get it altered," the girl argued, giving Y/N a slight shrug. "I want you to feel good about yourself, especially at my wedding."

"And you're doing that by gaining weight and ripping the dress that you love?"

"I love the dress," Layla breathed. "But...I love you more."

Though they'd been friends for that many years, Y/N could barely recalled the last time Layla had said those three words to her without making it sound like a joke. And now, it was definitely not a joke. Because the girl was blushing and nervously rubbing her palms together.

Y/N couldn't hold back a massive grin as she said, "I love you too." And then reached for Layla's hand. "But you don't have to worry about me. I'm just temporarily insecure about my body. I guess all women feel this way at least once during their pregnancy, but I'll get over it."

"What if you won't? I can't be happy at my wedding if you aren't." Layla huffed as she rolled her eyes upward. "And God, it's awful enough that you can't even attend my bachelorette party."

"Layla, we've talked about this. There'll be alcohol and...and a lot of activities that will be too much for me and my baby bump."

"I could just get rid of those."

"No, don't be stupid."

Those words slipped out before Y/N could stop herself. She had never called Layla stupid, not even as a joke. In fact, nobody had ever dared to call her stupid. Y/N expected her to get angry and say something mean, like she would have if it'd been Niall or Harry who'd said it by accident. But, no. She just snorted and playfully hit Y/N's cheek. "If I could only have one guest at my wedding, it'd be you. So...I won't have any fun unless you'll be there and have fun with me. We're in this together, remember? For better or worse."

Y/N couldn't come up with a response. In fact, she was too emotional to even make a sound. The way her chin quivered made Layla chuckle.

"Bitch, you'd better not cry because I'll—"

Without waiting for Layla to finish that sentence, Y/N wrapped both arms around her neck, hugging her so tightly. And Layla hugged her back right away as they both started laughing for no reason. Who knew how long they would've stayed like that if their men hadn't walked in?

"We're back!"

The girls both turned to the door, slightly confused.

"Oh, you're back early." Y/N raised an eyebrow as her husband approached and kissed her on the cheek. "How was the party?"

Exchanging looks, Harry and Niall said at the same time. "Terrifying." "There were strippers."

"Harry!" Niall shouted at his best friend, but it was already too late. Layla stood up so quickly that Harry reflexively took a step back.

"Strippers?" she exclaimed. "There were strippers?!"

"Yeah, but we didn't touch them—"

"I'm gonna kill Greg!" Layla clutched her fists and squinted her eyes. "I'm gonna kill your brother. I mean it this time."

Clearing his throat, Harry nudged Niall so he would say something before Layla stormed out with a murder weapon in her hand.

"Anyway," Niall began with a laugh. "Thanks to Greg, we just came up with a great idea for our bachelor party!"

"We don't care about your—"

"When I said 'our', I meant, 'yours and mine', baby."

Y/N seemed rather puzzled. "Wait, you want to do a double bachelor party?"

"Yup!" Harry said excitedly. "Fuck tradition. Let's do a treasure hunt."

Everyone turned to look at the white cat, who was glaring at Harry, not so happy about what he'd just suggested.

"No, not our Treasure." He rolled his eyes. "I mean the game we used to play on Halloween night each year back in college. You know, since Halloween is the day before your wedding."

"It is?!" Layla gasped.

"Yeah. You didn't know?" Harry chuckled and gave her a shrug. "I thought you picked the day on purpose."

"What was that supposed to mean, asshole?"

Ignoring those two, Niall spoke, "Y/N is pregnant so she doesn't have to play, but she can be the host."

"Nuh-uh." Layla shook her head, crossing her arms. "If she's the host then Harry will automatically win."

"Hey, I'm not a cheater!" Y/N said, and Layla motioned her to shut up.

"I don't believe you. This idiot is your big baby. You'd kill someone for him."

"Yay, I'm the big baby!"

"Shut up, Harry!"

"Guys! Focus!" Niall exhaled. "We'll ask someone else to be the host then. But does that mean you two are in?"

"I don't know...The first time I played, Harry and I fell through the floor and got trapped in the basement," Y/N said, but her husband stroked her hair and gave her a reassuring smile.

"We'll pick a safer location this year. Do you really think I'd put my babies in danger?"

"Okay, then we're in," Layla said before Y/N could even open her mouth, and the men high-fived each other like two little boys.

It was only when Y/N got up and picked up the bowl of gummy bears that Harry and Niall noticed all the snacks on the coffee table. They both pointed to them and said at the same time, "are those for us?"

"No, they're—"

"Yes, they're all for you!" Y/N happily shoved the bowl into Harry's hands so she could pull Layla up. "Come with me. I'll show you my dress."

"Yes! Finally!" Layla jumped right out of her seat.

"Hey, can we see?" Harry asked.

And both of the girls screamed at him, "NO!"

[antiquechampagne]

Antique Champagne - CH 40 - Awakening

John floated, unmoored and drifting through a sea of nothingness, lost. Patches of light came and went. Sound lapped at his senses like gentle waves at the shore, bubbling rhythmically, then growing still. After some time, the space split between the light and the dark. He bobbed below the edge, finding the piercing light uncomfortable. He coasted there until something bade him to try to breach the surface, something comforting, something familiar.

First the song came like distant echo, just a few unarticulated notes stringing together a familiar melody. As he reached into the light, words formed.

Moon river, wider than a mile

I'm crossing you in style some day

Nearly as soon as the words reached him, the darkness yanked him back down. Flashes of his mother’s smile shook him from his complacency. He fought against the black, struggled to keep at least his head in the light, but the dark pulled him ever further down, like heavy weights were tied to his ankles. He soon tired, but the spark of resistance had been lit.

Every time he fought to the surface, he could stay afloat a little bit longer… even if there was nothing in the light but brightness. Somehow John knew if he could just free himself from his shackles, he would break free.

---

“I told you before, there’s nothing I can do about it.” Amari rubbed her temples with one hand. “Brain injury takes time to heal, consciousness… true prolonged alert consciousness… all we can do is wait.”

Payne paced next to Hancock’s bed, agitated. “I know what I saw! He’s waking up!” She could feel her anxiety rise. Amari’s dismissive tone, disproportionately infuriated her. Even the eternally optimistic Curie, who currently puttered around the lab bench, had learned to stay out of these futile conversations.

“And what about yesterday? And Friday? Last week?” Amari sighed, trying to keep her voice calm. “We are all looking for signs of improvement, but I’m not going to scan him for every finger twitch.”

“But…”

Before Payne could pursue another argument, Hancock let out a low groan. Both women took a step back, instantly returned to the Mayor’s sickbed. Amari promptly started to assess his vitals. Payne grabbed his hand.

“John? Can you hear me, John?” Payne felt on the edge of tears.

The ghoul’s eyes flickered open before he quickly squeezed them shut again as Amari shone a light in his face. “Ugh…” he moaned again. “Bright…”

Payne felt her heart skip. Amari had repeated time and time again that healing the brain, if it was to heal at all, could have deleterious and long-lasting effects, to what extent they would only learn if Hancock woke up. To hear him speak, even one word, made Payne want to run a victory lap around the room.

Payne moved closer to speak, but Amari gestured for her to wait.

“What’s your name?” the doctor asked.

Hancock seemed flustered by this. “Wha?” His gaze fluttered around the room before landing on Amari.

“Your name? Do you know your name?”

“John,” he stated flatly. “I’m the mayor. You know that.”

“Good.” She moved to the foot of the bed, removing the sheet as she spoke. “Do you know where you are?”

“I’m in your laa… AHH!” Hancock leg jumped as Amari dug her fingernail into the sole of his foot. “What the hell?!”

“Pain reflex is good, and he’s following conversation. Excellent.” She returned to the head of the bed. “Now, how do you feel? Are you in any discomfort?”

Struggling to prop himself up on an elbow, Hancock was quick to reply. “My fucking foot hurts.” He took a deep breath in as Payne helped him up. “My head feels like a behemoth sat on it.”

“That is to be expected… but my initial evaluation deems you, neurologically speaking, to be in recovery.”

“You mean…” Payne stood up. “He’s going to be okay?”

“Well, I cannot say for certain without a through scan, but all signs point to… yes!” A rare smile graced Amari’s stern face.

The last thing Payne remembered was the feeling of letting out a breath, one that she hadn’t been aware she was holding, before the world spun away.

---

“Oh shit! Curie! Catch!” Dr. Amari tried to rush around the bed, but Curie zoomed over, catching Payne with her robotic arms just before Payne hit the floor.

“What’s going on?” Hancock’s brain felt like it was full of cobwebs. Painful cobwebs.

“Put her on the sofa,” ordered Amari. “Honestly, this is probably the best thing for her given the state she’s in.” Amari grabbed a fresh set of linens from a pile, folded them into an impromptu pillow and placed it gently under Payne’s head.

Hancock was about to ask more questions but stopped as he took another look around. The lab looked more disheveled than he remembered it with stacks of magazines, papers and used food containers. Focusing on his passed-out bodyguard, he noticed her tank top was a mosaic of ugly stains before Curie covered her gently with a blanket. Even more alarming was the state of Payne’s appearance. Her hair tie barely contained her dark locks, which were a tangled mess. Her eyes were surrounded by deep dark circles, almost giving the impression of two black eyes. Something had really put her through the wringer.

With a bit of a heave, Hancock propped himself into a sitting position, resting his back against the wall for support.

The room swayed for a moment before he asked again, “Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Amari pulled over a stool and looked at him somberly. “What’s the last thing you remember?” she asked.

Hancock filtered back through his memories. “I met with that new dealer… then I went back to my room for some R&R…” then nothing. There was where his memories stopped.

“You’ve been in a coma for a little over two weeks.” Amari waited, allowing him to process the news.

Hancock glanced back at Payne. “That’s why she looks like seven shades of shit warmed over.”

Amari nodded. “Payne’s probably the biggest reason you are here today. She’s been by your side the entire time.”

“Payne’s been watching over you like a mother hen! Fussing and musing over every inch.” Curie chimed in; her metal arms pulled up close to her chassis. It gave her a cute expression, if robots could create such a thing. “She even sang delightful little songs, when she thought no one was listening.”

“Yes… well… she’s barely gotten an hour or two of sleep a night since this whole calamity happened,” Amari sighed, a little dismissively. “and that is probably why she collapsed. She was exhausted.” The doctor pointed her pencil back at Hancock. “But we’re not focusing on Payne right now. We’re talking about you”

Hancock shrugged. “Okay, fine. Start from the beginning.” He sat silently and listened while Amari recounted everything from Payne finding him on the floor to his prolonged convalescent. After digesting it a bit, one question rose in his mind. “But how? How did this happen?”

“I can field that question, Doctor.” Curie’s arms twirled excitedly. “I analyzed the compounds in the suspect Jet canisters and found the only thing that separated them from the standard formulation was a few sites branching of the main carbon chain, which were physiologically inert. On it’s own, it functions in much the same as every other sample of Jet.”

“So what was so different about this one?”

“I was at a loss initially, as well, Mayor,” she continued. “Until I reviewed Dr. Amari’s meticulous notes. One detail stood out.”

Amari nodded. “When Payne found you, she noticed you were covered in purplish fruity smelling emesis.” Noticing the Mayor’s confused look, she expounded. “Um, vomit.”

Something clicked in Hancock’s mind. “Mentats… berry Mentats! I remember now! I popped one right after I got in my room.”

“That is exactly the conclusion we came to as well, Monsieur Mayor!” Curie eagerly replied. “After another battery of tests, I found that, indeed, the additional bonding sites of this mysterious Jet-like compound interacted with the Mentats’ terminal alkenyl group.”

“So there is a fatal flaw if you mix the two chem!” Hancock exclaimed.

“Not quite.” Curies mechanical claw waggled in the air. “The two compounds, even together, are non-reactive in vivo… at least in normal human tissues.” Her three eyes narrowed in excitement. “But I then tested the compound in ghoul tissue. With the addition of the slight background radiation intrinsic to ghoul physiology acting adding enough activation energy to the system, the reaction was nearly instantaneous.”

“Indeed,” Amari interjected. “The activated combination of drugs destroyed the ghoul tissue substrate, burning out the cells within seconds.”

“No one else got their hands on these chems, did they?” Hancock was relieved when Amari assured him that all the chems were collected and destroyed. He brow furrowed. “The dealer… Bryan… what did he have to say about this?”

Amari shook her head. “Fahrenheit found him in an alley. Suicide.”

“Fuck.” He stewed. “This… this was a hit.” he nearly whispered before continuing aloud. “It can’t be a coincidence… someone knew what chems I liked to mix… and tailor made this cocktail to take me out.”

The doctor nearly smiled. “Seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“What?”

Amar poked her thumb in Payne’s direction. “She came to the same conclusion.”

“Who could have…?”

Before could finish, they heard an exclamation at the door.

“Mayor Hancock! You’re awake!” It was Irma, her eyes wide with suprise. “I was just checking to see if Amari needed anything from Daisy… but this is a much better surprise!” Hancock managed a weak smile. She ran over and gave Hancock a small peck on the cheek. “I knew you’d come around, darlin.” She suddenly looked around. “Where’s Payne? That busy body should be jumping for joy about now!”

“She took the news a bit hard,” Hancock joked while motioning to the couch.

“Oh my. Bless her heart… she needs it, though. She’s been worried sick over you.”

“So, I hear.”

“But everything is going to work out now, just you watch. You rest up, now. I’ll pass the news along to Fahr. I’m sure she’ll be down to talk to you soon.”

“Thanks, Irma.”

As Irma left, Amari rose as well.

“I’m going to have to agree with Irma. You need to rest. You can have visitors later.”

Hancock barely put up a fight, falling asleep nearly the instant his head hit the pillow.

Less than a week later, Hancock found himself at the foot of a rancid smelling garbage heap, the mid-day sun beating down on his shoulders. Here, outside the town’s high walls, Goodneighbor threw what little they could not reuse out for the wild dogs and crows to scavenge. With Fahrenheit and Nate standing watch, he kicked over what was left of the chem dealer. He was no closer to figuring out who was behind the assassination attempt, but he wanted to look the bastard in the face. Or, at least, what was left of his face.

Turning the torn and bloated body over, nothing much remained of the man’s features, which has been blown away by his own bullet. Looking down into the remarkably clean crater that was the carcass' brain case, he saw a bullet hole, clean and symmetrical, complete with black clotted cracks spidering across what was left of the soft tissue.

With a grunt, he spat at his would-be assassin ‘face’ before returning home, leaving the corpse to rot in the Commonwealth’s indifferent sun.

Author’s Note: I went back and forth on how to end this chapter, but I ended up using the original version. Sorry if it seems too abrupt.

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Let The Flames Begin (Chapter 18)

I'm feeling generous today, so have another chapter. :')

So much fluff and feels in this chapter guys, my heart may have exploded.

----------------

“Again,” Daryl said roughly, making Charlene look to him and squint. They had walked for hours with no sign of a car to get gas from, so Merle had decided they all needed to go back to the truck. His grand idea was that he would go on the bike himself to find something since it would be quicker. He was too paranoid that someone might take the truck, and he wasn't about to let that happen. Daryl hadn’t agreed with him, he didn't think separating was a good idea. But Merle was fucking Merle and Daryl couldn't talk sense into him, especially not with his moods with his drug usage lessened now. So off Merle fucking went and Daryl was left with Charlene by the truck. Merle had been gone an hour and with each passing minute, Daryl's agitation grew at him not being back yet. It made him feel uncomfortable to be away from him, not knowing if he was okay or if he needed help. To distract himself, he decided to turn all of his attention on the girl, teaching her how to throw her tomahawks. She was doing well, hitting the tree on the little mark Daryl had thought was a good target. But he had been riding her ass now for almost the whole hour.

“My arm aches Daryl!” she huffed, glaring at him. He clenched his jaw as he took a step forward.

“Ya arms gonna ache when we’re fightin’ off the dead, but ya ain’t gonna have time to be a little bitch about it,” he sneered, regretting it the instant it felt his lips. When the fuck had he turned into his brother? She didn't look upset though, she just narrowed her eyes at him, her hand tightening around the handle of her weapon. For a second, he idly wondered if she was going to throw it at him.

“I get you're worried about him, I am too. But the next time you talk to me like that, I’m gonna shove my tomahawk right up your ass. Pointy end first,” she glared, making him lower his head feeling ashamed of himself. He felt like he had been scolded by his mother.

“Shit girl, ya know I ain’t mean it,” he lamented with a frown, his voice almost a whisper. Her face softened slightly and she strapped the weapon to her hip again.

“I know Daryl. But you need to chill. Merle’s tough, you know this. He’ll be fine and back soon,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand. He looked at her, seeing her little smile and hopeful face and he wondered how she still managed to have that hope after everything life had thrown at her. It did make him feel a little better though, the conviction in her words. Merle was a tough son of a bitch and Daryl knew he could take care of himself. He nodded, standing a little straighter as he tried to take strength from the tiny little thing in front of him. He wondered why his arm was tingling until he looked down and noticed she was still holding his hand. What am I? A fuckin’ girl? He had shared a bed with her, actually woke up spooning her and rubbing his dick all over her ass, but holding hands made his legs feel weak. Fuckin’ asshole.

“Let's eat somethin’ whilst we wait,” he said, looking awkward as he took his hand from hers. It was making him feel too weird, he needed to create some distance. He grabbed his pack and they both sat on the bed of the truck, legs dangling off. He rummaged through his bag, seeing a can of peaches he had hid from his brother since Merle and the girl liked to argue about them so much. He had saved them just for her. He passed her the can and her eyes lit up, making his stomach flip around on him.

“Peaches?!” she asked, like he had just given her a unicorn that shit out gold. He couldn’t help the little smile that tugged on his lips at seeing her so happy, knowing he was the one to make her feel that way. It made him feel all kinds of good.

“Yeah. Know ya like ‘em so I saved ‘em. Hid ‘em from Merle,” he snorted, ducking his head shyly like a fucking idiot because apparently, he didn't know how to interact with a woman if he wasn't piss drunk.

She bit her lower lip, practically beaming at him and reached out, slinging her arms around his broad shoulders. He tensed at first, he knew she liked peaches but he hadn't expected her to fucking hug him for it. Her scent overwhelmed him, fucking choking him and making him want to run a damn mile from how it made him feel.

“You're the best human on the planet. I’m glad we’re stuck together,” she grinned as she moved away, trying not to think about the fact that he hadn't hugged her back. She knew she probably made him uncomfortable and she had agreed not to do that. It was just hard when she was around him. She grabbed her knife and he watched as she opened the can, slurping up the juice greedily. It reminded him of that day in the cabin as a small moan left her lips. She looked like she had been to heaven and back and he couldn't help but let his mind wander about that kind of look on her face in other scenarios. Stop bein’ a fuckin’ creep asshole. He forced himself to look away, he shouldn't be thinking that shit about her, especially when she was sat right there. It was bad enough he had these thoughts before the world went to shit. Fucking jerking off in bed or the shower as he thought about the pretty girl with the sweet smile and green eyes. It always made him feel like such a fucking creep whenever he saw her next after he had done that, like she would look at him and somehow know.

“Aren't you gonna eat?” she asked curiously, making him look at her, lips fucking glistening from the juice. He felt ready to crawl out of his skin. He just wanted to grab her and kiss her sweet as sin lips, taste the peach juice right off them. He nodded, clearing his throat and he grabbed a random can out of his bag. Fucking tomato soup. Awesome... Cold soup was a pile of shit and then some, but it was food. So he opened it and started drinking it from the can. He made a point of avoiding looking at her as she fished the peaches out from the can and started to eat them. He was half worried his primal urges would win out and he would just fucking pounce on her.

“You know...I used to be so nervous when you came into the store or diner,” she said after a moment of silence. Daryl had finished his soup and he tossed the tin carelessly. He looked at her, a small frown etched on his face.

“Why?” he asked warily, even though he felt like he knew the answer. Because he was a fucking Dixon and he had a reputation that exceeded him, despite the fact he hadn't ever really done a thing wrong. Well, nothing as bad as Merle anyway.

“You just have that kind of face,” she shrugged, making his frown deepen as he looked at her offended.

“That kinda face? The fuck kinda face I have?” he glared, making her laugh out loud. The sound made his heart feel all weird and beat funny and he wondered why she thought it was funny.

“Daryl Dixon...You have resting bitch face,” she grinned. He tilted his head looking bewildered and it only made her laugh more.

“Restin’ bitch face…?” he asked, clearly having no clue what the fuck she was on about.

“You look angry all of the time. I’d always try to talk to you and you’d look at me like you wanted to punch me in the face,” she snorted. He looked down, the tips of his ears burning as he chewed his thumb.

He knew he looked angry all of the time, mainly because he was. He was angry at life for constantly shitting on him. He also hated people, so he put off a vibe of stay the fuck away so he didn't have to deal with them. But for some reason, the thought of Charlene thinking he didn't like her, that he would hurt her, it made him feel sad.

“Wouldnt fuckin’ hit ya,” he frowned, glaring at the floor as he chewed his thumb so much it started to hurt. Charlene watched him, frowning herself when she realised she had somehow upset him, she hadn't meant it like that at all.

“Hey, I know you wouldn't. I didn't mean literally Daryl. I just meant that you looked angry all of the time, even when I tried to be nice,” she explained, reaching over and taking his hand away from his mouth. She was surprised he still had a thumb left with how he was chewing it.

He looked at her carefully and she gave him a small smile, making him relax a little.

“Didn't mean to come across as an asshole or nothin’...just didn’t know how to act. Ain’t used to people bein’ nice to me,” he admitted with a shrug, trying to ignore the fact she hadn’t let go of his hand.

“All those people that were ever rude to you can go to hell. You’re a good man Daryl, I’ve always seen that,” she said softly. It felt like the air in his lungs was suddenly sucked out of him, his throat closing up.

“Always thought ya were nice to me just ‘cause ya were bein’ paid,” he muttered quietly, his cheeks blushing slightly that he had even said that out loud to her. She furrowed her brow and squeezed his hand, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot through his entire body.

“I was nice to you because you’re a good guy. Because I like you. You weren't like the other assholes that came into the diner. Grabbing at my ass and saying all kinds of shit. You were always polite. Gruff maybe, but you never treated me like I was less than you,” she admitted, toying with his finger without even realising she was doing it. He was glaring at their joined hands, his heart thumping away in his chest at such a simple touch. And her words, her fucking words made his stomach feel like it was falling out of his ass. She actually liked him, maybe not in the way he wanted her to, but she liked him. She wasn't tolerating him or stuck to him. She liked him even before the turn and she wanted to talk to him. He hadn't ever felt the strange feeling in his chest before that he got at those words.

“Ya ain't less than me. Not by a long shot. Ya fuckin’ more than me a million times over,” he murmured, still looking at their joined hands and how she toyed with his fingers. Like holding his hand was a good thing. She tilted her head, seeing how he wouldn’t look up at her and she frowned. She hated how he always thought so little of himself, it made her sad to know he had little to no self-worth.

“I wish you could see what I see when I look at you,” she sighed. Finally, his eyes snapped up to her, curiosity all over his face. He was kind of scared to ask just how she saw him, not knowing if he wanted to know the answer or not.

“What is it ya see?” he asked quietly, his curiosity getting the best to him. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back and all of that shit.

She inhaled a deep breath, looking somewhat nervous and that only served to make him nervous as her eyes flit around. She was the one avoiding his gaze now and it was making him panic internally a little. Shouldn't have asked asshole.

“I see a loyal brother, who would do anything and everything if it made his brother happy. I see a good man that respects women and treats them equally. I see a man that needs to protect those around him, even putting himself in harm's way. I see a man with a deep need to provide for those he cares about. I see...I see a young boy. A boy who's been hurt in ways he never should have been and now he doesn't know how to act. He doesn't know how to accept compliments or affection. He doesn't feel worthy. I see a man that deserves the world because he's fucking amazing,” she admitted, getting a little emotional at her own words. Hormones were a bitch.

Daryl's heart stopped dead in his chest at her words and he felt a lump in his throat forming. Of course she had no doubt heard about this childhood, people liked to fucking talk back in Ellijay and she was friends with Billy’s sister. But what hurt him the most was how fucking right she was. How he didn’t know how to act or receive affection. He was still messed up over the trauma he had been through and he hated that she could see right through him. He felt tears sting his eyes and he looked away. Removing his hand from hers as he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to stop the onslaught of tears that were fighting to get free. Like fuck he was gonna cry in front of her like some little bitch. He felt so overwhelmed. Overwhelmed that she knew him so fucking well even though they had barely spoken before. Overwhelmed that she had given him so many fucking complements in that statement it made his head spin. Overwhelmed that the pretty girl in front of him thought he was fucking worth something.

She scooted closer, her heart aching at seeing him so upset and struggling to control himself. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing the side of her head against his as she hugged him. He tried to push her away at first but she was strong considering how tiny she was and he relented. Giving in to the warm feeling that spread through his chest as she held him. He wrapped his arms around her, a choked sob escaping his lips as he buried his face into her hair. He was a fucking pussy. A weak pathetic asshole, but he couldn't stop himself. His heart was burning in his chest and holding her was soothing.

“I know you have issues, and I know you probably won't ever believe a nice thing I say about you. But for what it's worth, you’re the best man I've ever met, and I hope one day you see it too,” she whispered, her own tears escaping as she held on tightly to him. Anyone that knew Daryl, that really took the time to know him and spend time with him, they could see he was damaged. It made her feel overwhelmingly sad.

Her words made his heart constrict painfully as he sobbed into her hair like a small child. He could hate himself later for it but right now he needed this. He needed someone to comfort him, to make him feel better. To make him feel less like trash. He needed the affection she was so willing to give him to soothe all of his wounds. He soaked her in, just letting out all his pain and anguish for every mark left on his body, every fucking time Merle had sent him off into the woods as a small boy as his mother was beaten mercilessly. The pain of never having anyone there for him, even when he was young, when he just needed someone to give him a fucking hug and tell him things would get better. And she held him, she didn't let go as she stroked his hair, not once berating him for being a pussy or weak. She just fucking let him cling to her like a lost child and cry it all out.

When his sobbing subsided, he let go. She took it as her cue to move away a little, not wanting to crowd him or make him more uncomfortable. She knew he would feel awkward about crying like that in front of her but she was glad he did when he clearly needed it. She meant every word she said to him. He sniffled, wiping his eyes and he shook his head. He felt the shame creep in, taking a vice-like grip of him as his face burned bright. He didn't know what to say. He felt like a fucking idiot now and she had said so much to him. So much shit he found it hard to believe because she was right when she said he wouldn't believe a single nice thing out her mouth about him. The rumble of a bike saved him from the awkwardness and he wiped his eyes furiously and cleared his throat, not wanting his brother to know he had been crying like a little bitch.

“I meant what I said, and you don't have to feel awkward about it. There's nothing wrong with letting it out Daryl. If you don't, it'll just eat you alive,” she said softly, grabbing his hand and bringing it up to her lips. She placed a soft kiss on his knuckles and he just watched dumbly with watery eyes, his brain feeling fuzzy from all the crying. She gave him a little smile before releasing his hand and jumping down from the bed of the truck. He sat there for a moment as he heard the bike approach before his brain came back to reality. It was most likely Merle but there was a chance it wasn't and it was his job to keep her safe. He hopped down and grabbed his bow that had been propped up by the tire, readying it as he walked around to the front of the truck where Charlene stood.

He felt so ashamed of himself but when she glanced at him, she gave him a smile and it made him feel a little better. It was like he was expecting her to laugh or mock him for his breakdown but she didn't. She didn't act like anything had happened and he was grateful. He didn't want a big deal made out of it. He watched as the bike got closer, lowering his bow when he saw his brother riding up to them. When Merle stopped the bike, he had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Daddy's brought home the bacon kids, let's get the fuck outta here,” Merle grinned as he got off the bike, grabbing the jerry can he had strapped to his back with some rope.

“Daryl gave me peaches,” Charlene smirked, making Merle scoff and look at Daryl so fucking offended. Daryl bit his lip trying not to laugh, grateful for the distraction.

“Ya fuckin’ saved ‘em for her and not me? Yer own flesh and blood? Boy, I’m disappointed in ya,” he huffed, shaking his head as he walked over. Daryl could see the amusement in his eyes though and his lips tugged into a small smile.

“Couldn't help it, ya should see how excited she gets. Like a kid at fuckin’ Christmas,” Daryl snorted, making Merle bark out a laugh as Charlene squinted at him playfully.

“Hey! They're really good okay?!” she pouted. Daryl felt the warmth spread through his body as he smiled at her. A fucking genuine smile that he felt like never happened unless he was around her and her adorable fucking face. How could she ease his deep pain so fucking easy? To have him cry one second and the next smile like this?

“Might start callin’ ya Peaches,” Daryl teased as they followed Merle to the side of the truck as he put the gas in the tank.

“Not the worst nickname,” she shrugged, shooting him a toothy grin that made his insides turn into mush. He shook his head a huffed a laugh.

“Alright, well c’mon then Peaches, get yer ass in the truck,” he smirked, shoving her lightly towards the door as she laughed. Sweet and delicate. Fuckin’ peaches indeed.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend @txladyj-blog @walkingdead-dixon

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 79d

The sound of Paul letting out a little sneeze in his sleep broke the romantic moment and caused Duffy to giggle.

Duffy's giggling caused Charlie to laugh.

"We should get some more sleep before they all wake up for the day."

“Sounds perfect to me.”

They slept peacefully for about an hour before the usual morning chaos began. But Peter still didn’t wake up at his usual time. Duffy nervously popped her head around his door to check on him.

He was fast asleep.

She sighed and went back to helping Charlie get the other children ready for school.

It was after the other children had gone to school and Charlie, Duffy and the younger boys arrived home that Peter woke up.

Duffy was curled up on the sofa whilst Charlie settled Paul and attempted to entertain Oliver. Though she'd only walked the short distance to the girls' school around the corner she was rather tired and achy. She couldn't settle though as her mind kept replaying Charlie's words from earlier about Peter having something he needed to tell her.

Peter came downstairs and hovered in the doorway. He didn’t want to tell her, he knew she’d get upset and blame herself and he didn’t want that. He began to play with his hands nervously.

"Peter you're lingering..." Duffy remarked with a sad smile.

“I...” He felt sick, “Need to tell you something.”

"I know." She paused. "I called the college and told them you weren't feeling well so wouldn't be in today."

“Thanks.” Peter smiled sadly.

Charlie was playing with the boys in the garden trying to give him space.

Duffy shuffled up on the sofa and patting the vacated spot beside her.

Peter sat down beside her.

"Your dad said you wanted to tell me something but wouldn't say what it was."

“It’s about Andrew...”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. That was a name she wasn't expecting to hear out of her eldest son's mouth.

“I saw him....”

"Recently?" She asked. "He's not supposed to be near any of us unless it's a prearranged supervised visit with Jake."

“Rape you.” Peter blurted out suddenly over his mother's words. “I saw him.”

Duffy gasped. "W-when?" She tried not to shake. "You were never home when that happened..."

“Once.” Peter swallowed, “You were in the kitchen, He... was on top of you. You didn’t even know... and I didn’t even try and stop him.”

"What do you mean I didn't know?"

“You were... unconscious. I didn’t stop him!” Peter was beginning to get agitated.

"I..." She swallowed. "He did that whilst you were in the room?!"

“He didn’t know I was there.” Peter's hands curled into fists, “I’m a coward.”

"What? No!" She replied firmly.

“Yes!! I should’ve stopped him but I didn’t! I couldn’t. I just froze! I don’t know why I keep thinking about it.”

"You were just a little boy. You should never have had to see that."

“I’m sorry I never told you.”

"I'm sorry you suffered through all of that."

“It wasn’t your fault mum.”

"My poor decisions led us to where we ended up."

“No. Andrew manipulated you. Made you scared and afraid of everything.” Peter reached for this mum’s hand, “You did your best!”

"He revelled in the control and power he had over all of us." She sighed, squeezing Peter's hand.

“But he’s not a man. Just weak and pathetic. A bully.”

"I'm glad you can see that."

“Dad’s a man. I want to be more like him.”

"I know I've told you this before but I really do see so much of your dad in you. Always have."

He smiled, “I love you mum.”

"I love you too." She cupped his cheek with her free hand. "My battles aren't yours to fight Peter."

“No. I know.”

"Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?"

“I think Sarah wants to split up with me.”

"Really? What makes you think that?"

“She’s gone all distant.”

"She seemed OK when I saw her a couple of weeks ago." Duffy mused.

“What if she’s pregnant and she’s keeping it from me?”

"What?! How many times.?!" She ran her hand through her hair in frustration.

“No. Mum, I... we were careful. The scare. What if she lied and said it was negative and it isn’t?”

"Surely she would tell you..?"

“I thought she would too. We tell each other everything.”

"Do you want me to talk to her?" She suggested.

He nodded. “She might be more willing to talk to you, female to female.”

"I'll text her and see if she fancies meeting for a coffee. We'll get to the bottom of this I promise."

“Thank you.” He lent over and kissed her cheek.

"It'll be OK."

He rested his head against his mum’s shoulder.

She stroked her fingers through his hair trying to soothe him.

He was just quiet for a while, “You don’t hate me do you? For not saying anything about what happened? I was trying to protect you.”

"I could never hate you. I love you too much for that."

He nodded. “I didn’t have a nightmare last night after talking to dad.”

"That's good. Maybe you've made progress?"

He nodded. “I think so.”

"So what's your plan now I've gotten you the day off college?" She asked, smiling softly.

“Dunno. I was going to do some studying but...” He shrugged.

"That's a good idea. What you working on at the moment?"

“My chemistry work.”

"You'll have to explain it to me sometime. It's not really my area of expertise but I'd be interested to learn."

“Why didn’t you let me chose biology?” He laughed.

"I think you know more then enough about that already!" She chuckled.

He laughed gently, “I’ve been thinking about uni.”

"Oh?"

“I’m not sure what I want to do but I’ve been interested in going to a few open days.”

"We can look into arranging that. I must admit I'm curious to see what university is like."

He nodded, “Me too.”

"I imagine it's a million miles away from what nursing college was like back when I was your age."

"I've been looking at some courses."

"What are they?"

“Mostly chemical engineering.” He replied, “But I don’t know if that’s where my passion lies.”

Duffy's face lit up. "Wow! I'd love to know where your brains come from."

“You and dad obviously.” He laughed gently, “You and dad are really smart.”

"I barely scraped through my O Levels. Luckily back then nursing didn't require a bunch of GCSEs and A Levels just to get through the door."

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Peter told her, “You’re a nurse and a midwife! Takes someone special to do that.”

"Took me over twenty years to get to this point though."

“How long did it take you to become Sister?” He asked.

"Seven years. But I did have a slight advantage..!"

“Dad?”

She nodded.

“My therapist says I talk about you and dad a lot.”

"In a 'parents - they fuck you up' kinda way?"

He frowned and shook his head.

"Well hopefully that means I'm doing something half right at least!"

“You and dad, you’re both really amazing people.”

Duffy blushed. "Aren't most teenagers supposed to think their parents totally suck?"

“I’m not most teenagers though.”

"So I'm discovering." She smiled.

He smiled, “You and dad, you’re not very good when you’re apart from each other.”

"Your gran once described it as being like we've suddenly lost a limb."

“Gran’s right. Dad gets you, doesn’t he?”

"More than I like to admit at times."

“Is it just because you’ve known each other for a very long time? That’s why you and dad just... connect?”

"I guess in a way. But there was always something special there. We just clicked. I don't know why."

“I had that with Sarah.” He sighed.

"Don't give up just yet. The path of true love doesn't always run smoothly."

Peter sighed again. “She’s been distant for a few weeks. I asked dad what I should do but, I don’t want to annoy her or upset her.”

"What did he suggest?"

“To talk to her but to listen to what she has to say.” He paused, “But if that fails, annoy her and then use her weak spots to my advantage.” He laughed.

"What til I get my hands on your father..!"

“Why what’ve I done now?” Charlie asked from the hallway.

“You’re about to get your arse kicked, dad.” Peter replied, laughing softly.

"Suggesting our son use Sarah's 'weak points' against her ring any bells?"

“Sounds a little familiar.” He replied as Oli dived into the living room, squealing to himself. Paul was asleep in Charlie’s arms.

"Now why would you suggest something like that..? Hmm?"

“I was merely suggesting that it’s an option.” Charlie caught Duffy’s gaze.

"An option that's worked for you in the past?"

“Do I have to answer the question?” A smile tugged at the corner of Charlie’s lips as Oli clambered up to sit in Peter’s lap.

"Depends... Do you fancy seeing how comfy the sofa is this evening?" She smirked.

“Ok.” He shook his head, “Using a woman’s weak spots has worked for me in the past.”

"I see... And what weak spots would those be..?" She was enjoying watching her husband squirm.

He continued to hold Duffy’s gaze. “Well it all depends on the woman. Every woman has different weak spots though some may cross over.”

"Is that so?" Duffy smirked.

[backtothestart02]

Hot to the Touch - 2/?

A/N: I love this fic. lol. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter as much as I do! There will probably be at least two more to go.

For @iriswestallenhuh for our fics-for-icons arrangement. :P

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Synopsis: College!AU - Of all the places Iris expected to meet the love of her life, she never imagined it would be the erotica section at the back of her favorite bookstore. 

...

Chapter 2 -

His heart was still pounding when he rounded the corner and found himself across the street from his dorm. The walk had only been a couple blocks, but it felt like he’d been walking for miles, power-walking, trying to erase the image of a beautiful woman inconspicuously getting herself off in the back aisle of a bookstore he didn’t even know existed.

Truth was, he didn’t really want to get the image out of his head, but it felt like such an invasion of privacy that he’d walked in on her like that. It made him feel guilty for wanting to see more.

And he’d tried – he’d tried – to tell himself that she hadn’t really been doing anything other than innocently reading a book and getting engrossed in it. But he’d seen the sign for Erotica clear as day just two aisles before he got to her and no other sign in that space. And he’d been shocked to see her there – to see anyone really, because the bookstore in and of itself felt like a hidden treasure – but there was no mistaking the hazy look in her eyes, her teeth biting her bottom lip, and her legs rubbing against each other in a provocative motion. And when she’d registered him standing there, he could’ve sworn she was a little flustered herself, even in her shock.

No, he hadn’t imagined it. She’d been getting herself off. And he had interrupted her.

And then ran out of there as fast as his legs could carry him, because…how mortifying.

And really, he needed something to take the edge off that wasn’t masturbating to the memory of her doing the same. Because then he’d never get her out of his head, which would be problematic since he’d never see her again. And if he did, it’d be equally embarrassing for both of them.

He regretted everything and nothing. He needed to confess what he’d witnessed, but only to Cisco. He trusted no one else with this knowledge.

He was so agitated, he crossed the street in a hurry, ignorant of the cars honking at him, since the light had just turned green. Once inside and in front of their door, he found he couldn’t find the right key. Cisco had told him so many times there was no need for so many keys on one ring when he only really used their dorm key a majority of the time, but Barry had insisted it was better to keep them all in one place because, ‘You never know when you might need one! Better to be prepared.’ ‘Okay, boy scout,’ Cisco had rolled his eyes, and that had been the end of that.

In this particular instance, Barry wished he had listened.

His fingers were so slippery with sweat against the metal, and they were shaking, and he was breathing so heavily that finally the door swung open, revealing a stressed-looking Cisco on the other side, and he realized he must have heard him.

Oh, no, Barry thought. We can’t both be stressed.

“What is going on?” Cisco demanded.

Barry swallowed hard, trying to get himself under control.

“I saw a girl.” He pushed past his roommate into the room and started to pace, running his fingers through his hair nervously.

Slowly, Cisco closed the door behind him and turned around.

“What do you mean, you saw a girl?”

“I mean,” he paused dramatically. “I saw a girl.”

Cisco walked in front of Barry, who stopped and narrowed his eyebrows.

“What is that code for?”

“I-” His mouth ran dry. He gulped. “I saw her doing something.”

“Doing something,” Cisco repeated flatly.

“Mhmm.” Barry nodded, eyes wide.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, man. What is the something she was doing?”

“She was doing-” He sucked in a breath of air, seemingly unable to get another word out.

Cisco rolled his eyes, then guided his roommate to the couch in their little living room.

“Okay, how about you sit down. I’ll get you some water, and then you can tell me what happened.”

Barry breathed deeply and sat, sinking back into the couch.

“O-Okay.”

A few moments later, Cisco was back in front of him handing him a glass of water.

“Thanks.”

He waited for him to take a few sips and set it down on the coffee table.

“Feel better?”

“A little.”

“Okay then. Tell me what happened.”

Barry took a deep breath, and then-

A sound that reminded him an awful lot of either a sheep or a goat interrupted them from behind Cisco’s bedroom door.

“Cisco-”

“Don’t-”

But it was no use. Barry pushed the door open, and out walked a baby goat, bleating as it went and stopping right in front of Cisco’s feet. The latter sighed. Barry’s lips twitched.

“What are you doing with a goat, Cisco?”

“No, no, no, don’t make this about me now.” He walked straight up to Barry, pointing his finger accusingly. The baby goat followed after him, making it impossible for Barry to take his roommate seriously. “We were talking about you.”

Barry laughed and took a seat back on the couch.

“No, I think this is much more interesting. How did you come to have a goat in your possession?”

Cisco grumbled, admitting defeat as he ran a hand over his face and sat beside his best friend. The goat attempted to jump onto the couch, but Cisco ordered it to sit, and obediently, it did.

“The guest you assumed I had last night?”

“She turned into a goat?” Barry asked, amused.

“Ha.” Cisco glared. “No. And I didn’t get lucky, either. I thought I was going to, but apparently she just needed a place to crash and fell asleep the second she made it in to the couch. I set some water out and went to bed. When I woke up, she was gone and this goat was sitting at the foot of my bed. I don’t have a number for her, and all I’ve got is a first name to go by. I’m not even sure this animal is hers, but I can’t imagine who else it could belong to.” He sighed.

“Well, we can’t keep it, Cisco.”

“Obviously!” He fell back against the couch. “I’m open to suggestions.” He glanced over at Barry, interrupting him just as he was opening his mouth to potentially give him one. “After you tell me about what happened with the girl. I’m guessing she was pretty.”

Resigned, Barry sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“What’d she look like?” Cisco asked, suddenly sounding as eager as a school girl for some gossip.

Barry ignored that, because really, he needed to confess this.

He shrugged. “Petite. Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes…”

“You saw her eyes?”

A vision of when he’d been caught red-handed flashed before his eyes.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “For a second.”

“Okay. Enough beating around the bush, Allen. What was she doing that’s got you so flustered and blushing like-” He paused, the blinding realization hitting him suddenly. “Oh, God. You caught her in a private moment?” Barry nodded sheepishly. “With herself?” Barry didn’t say anything, but he turned a bright red. To be fair, even Cisco’s cheeks warmed up.

“Well.” Cisco cleared his throat. “No wonder.” His brows furrowed a moment later. “You’ve been with girls before, though, Barry. At least twice. This can’t be the first time you’ve seen-”

“She wasn’t naked, Cisco.” His voice squeaked. “It’s the fact that I don’t know her. She’s a stranger and she was doing something I shouldn’t have been allowed to see. It’s embarrassing, and I feel so…guilty. I invaded her privacy.”

He sounded so scandalized Cisco almost had to laugh, but he held it in.

“It sounds like it was an honest mistake, Barry. And like you didn’t stick around to see what would happen.”

“No.” Barry shook his head rapidly. “I got out of there as fast as I could.”

“Oh, boy.”

Cisco squeezed his shoulder.

“Look, I really think you’re making this a bigger thing than it needs to be, but if you’re having trouble getting the incident out of your head, why don’t we go out tonight? Get drunk at some party?”

Barry glared. “We’re underage, Cisco.”

“I think you need it, Barry.” Barry opened his mouth to protest, but Cisco interrupted him again. “You said Ralph was pestering you before. What was it about?”

Barry sighed but inevitably caved.

“He wants me to go to a party with him, but I know it’s just to be his designated driver because he plans on getting drunk. I said I’d think about picking him up if he called.”

“What if we both go to the party?”

“Cisco-”

“I’ll be the designated driver, so if you decide to break the law and drink your trauma away, I can drive both of you fools home.”

Barry glared.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he said in a sing-song voice.

“What about the goat?”

The animal bleated at the mention of its existence. Cisco looked down into its cute, innocent face.

“I think Caitlin owes me a favor.”

…

Linda walked into the doorway of Iris’ bedroom at the exact moment Iris was tugging her lacy, black push-up bra up and her snug-fitting coral tank down. She was further amused when she yanked the black leather mini-skirt she’d chosen farther up her waist, so the hem would reach mid-thigh at best and just below her ass when she bent down to adjust the straps on her glistening high heels. She was just reaching for the jewelry on the top of her dresser when her eyes locked with Linda’s, a smile tugging at the corner of her best friend’s lips.

“Caught red-handed, West.”

Iris felt heat warm her cheeks, but she cleared her throat and brought the sparkly choker to her neck anyway.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, adjusting her long locks over her shoulders just before leaning towards the mirror to apply her make-up.

Linda laughed and walked past her, plopping herself down on her bed.

“You’re a liar.”

Iris sighed after puckering her lips and setting down the pretty shade she’d chosen to complement her clothes and her complexion.

“So, I’m dressing up a little. It’s a party.”

“That you didn’t want to go to.”

“I still don’t.” She propped a hand on her hip.

Linda raised her eyebrows, silently waiting.

“I just figured…I should look the part of a hostess.”

“Co-hostess,” Linda corrected.

“Yes, of course.” She smiled politely.

Linda swung her leg over her knee and drummed her fingers.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone potentially showing up tonight, would it?”

Iris bristled. “You wouldn’t invite him.”

“I didn’t!��� she insisted, holding her hands in the air in surrender. “But, uh…I didn’t say invites-only either, and I spread the news far and wide. He goes to CCU. Chances are he heard of it.”

Iris pursed her lips, contemplating the possible dilemma.

“Well, who cares?”

Linda raised her eyebrows again, further amused.

“Are you hoping he’ll be there? So he can… see what he’s been missing?”

Iris grinned. “Well, I hadn’t thought of that. But now that you say it, yes.”

“He’ll prob have a skank or two on his arms.” She rolled her eyes. “They prob will only be slightly more revealing than you are, I might add.”

Iris’ eyes narrowed. “The difference is I have style.”

“That’s true,” Linda allowed.

“Besides,” Iris tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not looking for a hook-up.” She met her eyes. “If that’s what you’re implying.”

Linda eyed her, suspicious. “You’re not?”

“No! Of course not!” She scoffed. “The fact that you even have to ask me that is-”

“I didn’t say with Eddie.”

She frowned.

“You’re not dressing up – or down – for him.” She got to her feet and approached her best friend mischievously. “So, who are you dressing for?”

“I – uh – n-no one!” She pushed past her, looking for something to distract herself with.

“You’re blushing!”

She spun around. “You can’t tell that!”

Linda rolled her eyes. “You sound like you’re blushing.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“You’re flustered, then.” Iris opened her mouth to defend herself, but Linda kept going. “You stuttered and ran away from me.” Iris sighed, her shoulders hunching in defeat. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Iris avoided her gaze as she came closer.

“Did you meet someone?” Iris said nothing. “Where? When?” She paused. “At the bookstore? Today?”

Iris’ eyes flashed to hers, her mouth hanging open.

“How do you do that?”

Linda grinned and shrugged. “It’s a gift.” She continued when Iris was apparently rendered speechless. “So…are you gonna tell me about him? Is he hot?” She asked, going to sit back on her bed again. “Will I want him?” She winked when Iris’ head whipped up to look at her. “Kidding.” She laughed. “Finders keepers, he’s all yours.”

She sighed and came to sit next to her.

“He probably won’t be here, and it’s not like I want a relationship. I’m not ready for that.”

“So, you do want a hook-up,” she declared triumphantly.

Iris groaned. “Lindaaa.”

She laughed. “There’s no shame in that. You deserve to get some, and there are lots of bedrooms at the mansion.”

“In the house you grew up in?!” she asked, scandalized.

“It’s not like you have to do it in my bedroom.” She paused. “Or my parents’.” She licked her lips and started to grin. “Though theirs does have the biggest bed, and the view from their balcony is truly romantic.” She glanced over at her friend, who was currently glaring at her. “But I forgot, you don’t want romance.”

“I don’t,” she said stubbornly.

“Well, fine then. You’re certainly not dressed for it.”

“Linda,” she warned.

“Relax, Iris.” She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms soothingly. “It’ll be a good time even if you don’t get your hook-up tonight, or even if you don’t get it with the guy you like. You deserve to get laid. It’s been too long. I’d have died already if I was you.”

Iris snorted. “Does that mean you’re going to end up in one of the bedrooms?”

Linda sighed. “Unfortunately not. As the hostess, I should prob have my wits about me and not some jock’s face between my thighs.”

Iris shook her head. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“I love you, too, darling,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to her best friend’s face. “Now let’s get the hell out of here. We’ve got two hours to set up, and you know people will start showing up in one.”

Iris blew some locks out of her face.

“All right then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Iris grabbed her clutch, a light jacket and the keys for the apartment, then followed her roommate out into the living room and out the door.

She’d been in denial about wanting to see the guy at the bookstore again, especially given the way they’d met, but since she’d been unable to envision any guy in her books as anyone but him the rest of the time she’d been there, she figured maybe a hook-up would get him out of her system and she could go back to envisioning total body-building hunks like the ones on the covers of the books she read.

Maybe.

…

Barry leaned back against the wall and glanced into the red plastic cup Cisco had deposited in his hand an hour ago, still debating whether he could trust the liquid that was inside it.

“It’s punch, dude,” Cisco had said when Barry first looked at with serious skepticism.

“Is it spiked punch?” he accused, glaring.

Cisco laughed. “No!” He took a sip from his own cup of ‘punch’, then licked his lips. “I don’t think so at least.”

“Ugh. Take it.” Barry tried to force his cup back into his best friend’s hand, but it was rejected.

“No. No. Even if it is spiked, it can’t be much if I’m not even sure if I can taste it. And if you don’t start having fun soon, you may want a little innocent extra kick.”

Barry sighed. “Why are you so determined to break the rules? Did Ralph put you up to this?”

Amused, Cisco turned and pointed at a very drunk Ralph in the corner with two blondes sprawled over him and three empty beer cans sitting near him on the floor.

“I really don’t think Ralph cares whether you get drunk or not.”

Barry shook his head, disgusted.

Cisco laughed again. “Okay, look, I’m going to try my hand at introducing myself to the pretty girl sitting all by her lonesome on the edge of the pool.”

Barry looked past him to see the girl in question.

“Kendra Saunders?”

“She’s in my bio class, and I think she might like me.”

“Shouldn’t you be looking for the girl whose goat you still have?”

Irritated, Cisco threw up his hands.

“For all I know, that girl turned into the goat!”

Barry scoffed. “Cisco.”

“You suggested it!”

“I was joking.”

“Either way.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not going to worry about it tonight.”

“You’re gonna owe Caitlin one though after tonight. I mean, pretending to be sick so she’d have a good enough excuse to give Ronnie instead of ‘I need to watch my friend’s goat’?”

“Shush!” Cisco held up his finger. “I’ll make it up to her later.” He straightened his shirt. “Even if I have to explain it to Ronnie myself. But for now…”

“Yeah, yeah, go.” Barry brushed him off.

Cisco hadn’t needed any more encouragement than that, and within fifteen minutes he and Kendra had disappeared into another room. It occurred to Barry that maybe his best friend had more game than he’d originally concluded, more game than himself.

After another five minutes, Barry decided he wasn’t going to take any chances. That suspiciously normal-looking cup of punch was not going to make it to his mouth at any point. He noticed a few garbage bags lying in corners around the room but knew it would probably make somewhat of a mess if he dumped a full cup into one. After a little asking around and getting lost a few times, he managed to make it to the kitchen where the hostess of the party, Linda Park, looked to be stirring together a new batch of punch.

“It’s spiked, isn’t it?” he said flatly.

She smiled brilliantly, and he knew his answer.

He walked over to the large sink and dumped his cupful in, then tossed the cup into the nearest trash bag.

“What are you doing?” she asked, mildly scandalized.

“I don’t want to get drunk,” he said, annoyed.

She snorted, amused. “Then why did you come to a party?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I have no idea.”

She laughed. “Okay, look. If you’re not gonna loosen up, maybe you can help us gather some of the empty cups out there so it’s not as big of a hassle to clean everything up once everyone’s out of here.”

He debated that for a moment. “Yeah, I could do that.”

“My hero.”

He shifted a little awkwardly at that, but she was clearly unaffected and handed him a bag.

“Only empty cups, nothing yanked from people’s hands. If anybody says they’re not finished, don’t take it. And if you spot vomit anywhere, let me know and I’ll give you the supplies to clean it up.”

“Great,” he drawled, sarcastically.

Once again, she was unmoved. So, clutching the bag, he set out of the kitchen, trying not to sigh too loudly.

“Iris should be by the windows in the first room,” Linda said from behind him.

 “Iris?” He asked, not giving it much thought.

“My co-hostess,” she explained. “She’s about my height and is wearing a coral top. You can’t miss her.”

He nodded and headed out, muttering the description to himself, so he’d remember.

“Her height, coral top, her height, coral top, her height, coral to-”

And then he saw her, and the breath was stolen from him.

“Iris?” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” she asked before turning around, oblivious to his voice or the fact that she’d briefly heard it before – earlier that day in fact. “What is it?”

And then she was frozen to the spot, her mouth hanging open and glad a majority of the people in that room had moved to the pool area.

“You.”

“You.” His eyes widened.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, heat flooding her cheeks as she approached him.

“Cleaning,” he squeaked, his face turning pink very quickly.

She blinked, then looked down at the empty trash bag in his hands and connected the dots.

“Did you know I’d be here?”

“What?! No!” He paused, his voice going deeper. “No.”

Her lips twitched. “You came to a party just to clean?” she teased, pulling the bag free from his hands.

“I…uh, don’t want to get drunk,” he explained, his eyes flickering to hers for just a moment before he tried to figure out what to do with his hands now that there was nothing in them.

“I see.” She smirked.

Setting down the two bags along the wall, she took one of his sweaty hands and pulled him with her.

“Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, his heart racing a mile a minute in his chest.

“You’ll see.”

“I’m really sorry, by the way,” he said as they stopped by multiple rooms, stopping for her to see if someone was inside and then continuing down the hall when there was.

“For what?” she said, oblivious again – or sounding that way at least.

“For this afternoon,” he said, as if it were obvious.

He tried very, very hard not to squeak his answer. To his credit, it was less squeaky than the previous time.

“I did not know you were gonna be there,” he said adamantly. “Much less that you would be…”

She paused, knocking on the last door at the end of the hall, smiling brilliantly when she looked inside and found it empty.

“Getting myself off?”

He gasped, his mind going blank as she pulled him into the room, closed and locked it behind them and pulled him down for a kiss.

Time stopped.

Anything outside the room no longer mattered.

All that existed for Barry Allen was Iris’ hands on his face and her lips on his as she urged him to kiss her back.

“W-W-Wait,” he said, pulling away just as his lips had started to respond.

“What? You don’t want to?” she asked, grumpily hurt by the rejection.

“No-no-no, of course, I want to,” he hurried to assure her. “It’s just…” He licked his lips. “You’re not mad?”

She laughed. “About this afternoon?”

He nodded timidly.

“No. Why would I be? It’s not like you were stalking me.” She pulled him down to her again and sealed their lips with a kiss. “Were you?” she teasingly whispered.

“No, ma’am,” he murmured into the kiss, and she smiled.

“If you’re feeling guilty, though, I have a solution,” she said, starting to unbutton his shirt as she kissed his neck.

“What’s that?” he asked, his mind dizzy with sensation.

She kissed him a while longer, driving him mad with the feel of her lips on his and their tongues tangling as she pressed her body to his and brought his hands to all the curves she wanted touched after so long.

“You could fuck me,” she said, her tongue swirling around one of his nipples as she finally peeled his shirt off.

“Huh?”

“Fuck me.” She grinned, unbuckling his belt. “Or have you not been imagining it as much as I have all afternoon?”

He could hardly breathe. He should’ve known she was bold, given what she’d been doing where and with what, and he was feeling just as motivated. When Cisco had gone out to hand off the goat to Caitlin, he’d hightailed it to his bedroom and gotten off twice – first to the vision of Iris masturbating and then to the idea of them fucking against the bookcase that miraculously wasn’t knocked over in the process. Things were perfect like that in fantasies.

But for how badly he wanted this, and he did want it, it just felt a little too…fast. And a little like if he gave in to it, he’d never see her again and she’d pretend it had never happened.

“I have.” He swallowed.

“Thought so.”

She stuck her hand in his boxers and squeezed his already semi-hard cock.

“Iris.” He shuddered.

“Bed’s over there.” She urged him backwards, and unable to think clearly once again, he let her for a few steps.

“W-Wait.” He sucked in a breath. “Stop.”

“What is it?” she whined, then laughed, indulging him. “There are condoms in the bedside table, if that’s what you’re worried about. Linda and I stocked up.”

He snorted. “That’s not what…”

“Then what?”

“Aren’t we moving a little too fast?” he asked, holding his breath that she wouldn’t react negatively to the question.

Of course, he was not so lucky.

“How much slower should we be moving for a one-night stand?” she asked, sounding amused but the thread of impatience and irritation was clear in her voice, as much as she tried to stifle it.

He went cold, a chill ripping down his spine, though in the back of his mind he knew he should’ve expected it. Someone as stunning as Iris would probably never give him a second glance when actually considering a serious relationship.

Sometimes he wished he was capable of wanting one-night stands, but they always made him feel guilty. And he always wanted more. Probably why neither of his two girlfriends had lasted very long. His need for an emotional connection was fast and apparent even in the early stages.

“Is that all this is to you?” he asked softly.

Her arms dropped from around his neck, and he knew the mood was broken. He’d killed it.

“Yeah.” She blew hair out of her eyes. “That’s all it was going to be.”

She took a step back, straightened out her outfit and headed for the door.

“Wait, Iris-”

“Too late, book boy. I’m emotionally unavailable.”

And with that, she scoffed, left the room, and left him half-undressed and already heartbroken.

Which was ridiculous, since he hardly knew her.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[erasethedarkness]

hi it’s 👏🏼 anon again. I wanted to request a scenario where Aizawa and his s/o are reunited after along time being apart for a couple of months. Also you’re so amazing idk how you’re not flooded with asks. Thank you for your hard work!

Thanks for being so patient and giving me so much freedom with this request! I hope you enjoy it! If there’s anything you would like changed, feel free to let me know. Reader: Gender Neutral

Scenario: Three months apart finally came to an end, and you returned from your business travels in Europe. Your patience was pressed to its limits as your flight ran into complications landing in Tokyo, and you rushed to get your baggage so you could finally go home- only to be caught by the very person that you couldn’t wait to see. 

Word count: 1181

“I don’t know how people in long distance relationships do it,” you sighed into the phone as you tucked yourself into bed. Last you checked, it was 21:45 (9:45pm), making it 5:45am the next day in Tokyo. For the last three months, you fell asleep as Aizawa was getting up for his day job of teaching future heroes at U.A. High School, and you absolutely hated it.

But this was part of the life you chose. You were essentially the trailblazing lawyer in international hero relations and law- a very specific and rigorous career. Getting called away was common- but for three months? This was the first time it happened, and it was because you were not only presenting in more conferences, conventions, and expositions, but also meeting with prominent and distinguished leaders in each city and country you visited to talk policies and law. The work you did was important, and you knew it, which is why you agreed to take on the task.

After two months of heavy traveling and presenting, you were more than ready to go home. You pushed through that last month, and in the last week alone, you’d been in 4 different countries and more than 10 cities. You were tired of it. And most of all, you missed Shouta immensely.

“Patience, trust, and hope,” came his steady voice- both an answer and, in this case, a mantra. He sounded more tired than usual, and that worried you. “Get some rest, Sweetness. You’ll be a night’s rest closer to home when you wake.”

Over the phone, he heard a long and soft sigh as you conceded to his logic. Even though you were worried about him, there wasn’t much you could do from thousands of miles away. The most you could do to help was give him some peace of mind regarding you.

“Yeah… You’re right. 36 more hours.”

“36 more hours,” he repeated softly. “And almost half of that time will be in airports or in the sky.” His reminder was sweet and reassuring.

“I love you, Shouta. Have a good day for me, okay?”

“Only if you sleep sweetly for me.” You couldn’t help but smile at his words. Even if this was how you two said goodnight for the last three months, it was still endearing and comforting. Just like you would never grow tired of his voice, the way he said goodnight would never wear on you. After all, this was something you wanted for the rest of your life.

“I’ll do my best,” you chuckled. “Knowing I’ll be with you the next time I’m in a bed makes it so much easier.”

“Good. I love you, too, (Y/N). Rest well.” He hung up after his sweet sentiments. You grabbed the spare pillow, hugging it to your body as you curled up, the promise of home lulling you to sleep quickly. The next 20 hours flew by. When you woke up, you were busy with final meetings and then booking it to the airport to finally head back home. All that remained was the nonstop 15ish hour flight from Madrid to Tokyo.

As if testing your patience, your flight met some complications when it tried to land in Tokyo. First there was heavy air traffic, then the landing strip wasn’t clear, followed by some other reason that you didn’t care about. It took an extra hour for your plane to land and let everyone off- meaning your patience was tried and thin. With your briefcase in hand and laptop bag slung across your body, you stepped off the plane and left the gates, masterfully making your way through the airport you were no stranger to. You were so irritated that all you could think about was getting your checked baggage, the first taxi you came by, and home.

Out of nowhere, you were caught in a tight bind. You froze, your arms pinned to your body and legs pressed together, unable to even turn around. As your eyes lowered to the fabric that held you, your body relaxed, the gray fabric giving away your captor. Aside from his protégé, he was the only hero you knew that used the material- and you knew more heroes than most, given your line of work. Rather than pull you back to him, Aizawa stepped up to you from behind, the scarf unwinding and letting you go just as his arms came around your waist to replace them. Gently he placed his head on your shoulder, letting you rest your temple against his cheek.

“Shouta…” You sighed his name softly, turning around and placing your briefcase on the ground between you two. Your arms wrapped around his waist as you stepped into the hug, pulling him close for a tight embrace. “I missed you so much.”

“I know.” He kissed your forehead, holding you in the middle of the shopping strip inside the airport. “I missed you just as much, my love.”

“But, I thought… Didn’t you have work?”

“Yagi is covering for me today. I couldn’t wait to see you. Surprise,” he chuckled as he gazed at you, face as serious as ever, but with gentle eyes. Seeing you in person for the first time in a quarter of a year was hitting him harder than he expected and was willing to admit. His sweetness made you bite your lip to keep it from trembling, your brows furrowing as you tried not to cry- and failed miserably but gracefully. Tears welled and quickly overwhelmed your eyes, falling down your cheeks. Just as you began to cry, you turned your face away from him, cheek against his shoulder as you squeezed him tight. Aizawa brought one hand up to the back of your head and stroked it, strumming his fingers through your hair and rubbing your back to comfort you.

“It’s okay,” he whispered into you ear, nuzzling you gently. “You’re home.” His voice just barely trembled as his restraint wavered, but he held back the overjoyed tears that threatened to materialize.

Even when you cried, you were lovely and refined. You didn’t gasp for breaths and your nose didn’t run- this time, all you had were dignified tears. As you stopped crying, Aizawa turned your face to his and kissed you gently.

“Let’s get your bags, Sweetness. The kittens are waiting, and they’ve missed you dearly. ” He smiled down at you, lowering his arms and taking your hand.

“Yeah?” You picked up your briefcase and walked with him to the baggage claim, holding his hand with your fingers between his.

“Mmhm. They slept on your pillow and side of the bed whenever I laid down.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the mental image his words brought up. Moments like this cured everything for you. Your agitation was a thing of the past, your fatigue and exhaustion replaced with a certain joie de vivre that only the man beside you could inspire. Home could have been anywhere- Madrid, Paris, London, Rome, Berlin- as long as Shouta was with you.

[fightingalongsidewinchesters]

The Pilot (Part 3): You Smell Like A Toilet

A/N: SURPRISE!!! Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m FINALLY posting this part after years and years of not posting it. I really can’t wait for you guys to read this part, I had a little trouble getting back into it a few times but I think I managed to do good this time. Hopefully, this really gets me back into the swing of things. I’m very happy with how this turned out. Although idk how I feel about the diner part.. oh well.. I hope you all enjoy this part! :)

-Tori :) <3

Word Count: 5,041 words... Oh man!!

Warnings: Swearing, and mentions of suicide. I think that’s all? If not let me know?? <3

Y/N: Your Name

You stirred in your sleep when the Impala had stopped moving and the front doors opened. “Dean.” You tiredly called.

You sat up upon hearing the back door open by your feet, and began searching through your duffle for money. The leather adorned hunter peeked his head into the car and looked at you with concern. “What’s up, Princess?”

“Can you bring me back a monster or something? I gotta wake up a bit.” You asked, handing him your cash.

He smiled at you, taking your cash and closed the door to the Impala once again. “Thank you!” You called after him. Dean turned around and winked at you, which made you grin and laugh despite what you had heard about your dad not too long ago. Seriously though, what was going on? And what didn’t John want Dean to tell you?

You turned your attention to shotgun where Sammy had been searching through Dean’s cassette tape collection. “Whatcha’ doin there, Sam?” You questioned.

“Looking for something good to listen to.” He mumbled back.

You laughed. “Dean has the best taste in music, what else is there to listen to that’s good?”

“You are just like him, Y/N. I swear to god.” He laughed. You grinned at him and slid over to the middle of the backseat, placing your arms on top of the bench seat in front of you.

“Listen, Y/N. I’m sorry about last night. I’m sorry about your roommate.” You shivered when he said roommate. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we start over? I’ve missed you, Y/N.” He continued, turning slightly in his seat to look at your tired features.

Despite just having woken up, you looked tired and restless. You woke up countless times throughout the night, not being able to dream about something you could actually stand. You really only slept this last hour in the Impala. You kept having this one dream, but you quickly put the thought away when you realized you still hadn’t answered Sam.

“Sammy, don’t worry about it. All is good, I’ve missed you too.” You said smiling, and you reached up to ruffle his long hair.

“Hey!” You heard Dean call. Sam leaned out of the car, and you turned around on your seat to look at Dean, who was currently pumping gas. “You want breakfast?”

“No, thanks.” Sam answered him. “So how’d you pay for that stuff? You guys still running credit card scams?”

“Yeah, well, hunting ain’t exactly a pro ball career.” Dean replied, putting the nozzle back on the pump. “Besides. All we do is apply. It’s not our fault they send us the cards.”

“Yeah?” Sam scoffed. “And what names did you put on the application this time?” He asked, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the car door.

“Wasn’t it Burt Aframian? Or something like that?” You chirped in, as Dean got back into the car.

He put his chips and soda down, turning in his seat to look at you. You were sitting criss-crossed applesauce in the back. The sight made Dean shake his head at you and grin. You almost looked 14 again. “Yeah, and his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal.” Dean smiled, and handed you your monster energy drink and a twix bar. “The Monster you asked for, and I got you a king-sized Twix because I know it’s your favorite.” Dean winked at you, laughing.

You squealed. Twix bars were your absolute favorite. You may be 25, but you’ll always be a little kid at heart when it comes to favorite candies. “Thank you, Dean!” You leaned forward against the bench seat in front of you and wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders, hugging him tightly.

“I swear, man, you’ve got to update your cassette tape collection.” Sam spoke up, still looking through the box of cassette tapes.

“Why?”

“Well, for one, they’re cassette tapes. And two.” Sam held up a tape for every band he named. “Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock.”

“House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music.” Dean grinned at his brother.

You took the moment to lean over the front seat yet again and grab a cassette tape out of Dean’s collection. You turned the cassette tape to Dean’s view and he nodded his head at your selection. “Shotgun shuts his cakehole.” You winked at Sam and popped the cassette tape into cassette player. Dean starts the engine, and instantly AC/DC’s Back In Black starts playing.

“You know guys, Sammy is a chubby 12 year old. It’s Sam, okay?” Sam was getting tired of hearing that nickname.

“Sorry, Sammy! We can’t hear you, the music's too loud!” You scream, laughing with Dean as you all drove off.

The three of you had just drove past a sign that read “JERICHO 7”. Sam had been on the phone for the past three minutes, and you fooled around with Dean. Poking different spots of his head, face, and shoulders every now and then. He’d laugh and then pretend to get serious, but he wasn’t able to keep it up, the two of you were children living in grown bodies.

“Thank you.” Sam ended the call as he closed his phone. “All right. So, there’s no one matching our dads at the hospital or the morgue. So that’s something I guess.” Dean glanced over at Sam. At a bridge in front of you, there were two police cars and several different officers.

“Check it out.” You said, tapping Dean’s shoulder and then leaning your arm over him to point to the scene in front of you. The three of you sat there watching, until Dean turned off the engine, and opened the glove compartment. He pulled out a box full of ID cards with his, John’s, and your dad’s faces. Dean pulls one out and grins at you and Sam, who stare back.

The three of you begin making your way over to the scene when you notice there’s a deputy leaning over the railing of the bridge, yelling down to two men clad in wetsuits who seemed to be poking around the river.

“You guys find anything?” You heard the deputy call down. “No! Nothing!” One of them called back.

The deputy turned back to the car that sat in the middle of the bridge. Another deputy is at the driver’s side looking around inside of the car. “No sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless. It’s almost too clean.” The three of you had just entered the scene as if you had actually belonged there.

“So, this kid Troy. He’s dating your daughter, isn’t he?” The first deputy asked the one in the car.

The second deputy let out a sigh in response. “Yeah.”

“How’s Amy doing?”

“She’s putting up missing posters downtown.” He shook his head. It looked like he didn’t believe the kid was missing.

You craned your neck, and intervened. “You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn’t you?”

The deputies glanced at you, and gave you no mind, their attention drifted to Sam and Dean. “And who are you?”

Dean flashed his badge to the deputies and moved to your side. “Federal Marshals.”

The deputies shared a look and then glanced back at you. Their attention was solely based on you. “Aren’t you a little young to be Marshals? I mean especially you, Miss. You’re in pajamas? You look to be about 19.”

“Hey.” Dean cut in, giving the deputies a small glare. “That’s enough.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at the men. “You did have another one just like this, correct?”

“Yeah.. That’s right. About a mile up the road. There’ve been others before that.” They hesitantly replied.

“So, this victim, you knew him?” Sam asked, nicely. The deputies both nodded their heads yes. You and Dean had been tipped off. Who were these guys to judge you? They didn’t even fucking know you?

“In a town like this, everybody knows everybody.”

Dean wrapped an arm around your waist, and the two of you walked around the car, looking around. You knew Dean had done this because he needed to calm himself down. He was getting agitated with the deputies and their smart ass remarks towards you.

“I’m okay.” You whispered, looking up at him. He glanced down at you and gave you a small smile. You grinned and hip bumped him, causing him to grin back.

He took a deep breath, and put his hard, determined facade back up. “Any connection between the victims?” Dean asked.

“Besides that they’re all men?” You added for him.

“No. Not so far as we can tell.” The deputies had now followed the two of you around the car.

“So then, what’s the theory?” Sam asked, curiously. You grinned, he was so into these things sometimes.

“Honestly, we don’t know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?”

“Well, that’s exactly the kind of crack police work I’d expect out of you guys.” You mumbled.

Sam shot you a look and you immediately looked away. The three of you decided that was enough and as soon as you started walking away Sam was on your ass.

“Really Y/N?” Sam asked, obviously annoyed.

“Sorry. I just really hate being underestimated.” You mumbled back, and walked ahead of the boys.

Dean immediately shot Sam a ’What the fuck dude?’ look, and smacked Sam on the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” Sam hissed.

“Really Sam? Why’d you have to be like that?” Dean argued back at his younger brother.

“Why does she have to talk to police like that?” Sam continued.

Dean moved to stand in front of his brother, who stopped walking to avoid hitting him. “Come on. They don’t really know what’s going on. We’re all alone on this. I mean, if we’re going to find Dad and Rich, we’ve got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves.” Dean was getting annoyed at Sam, why was he being so blunt?

Sam cleared his throat and looked over Dean’s shoulder. Dean turns around to see you frozen, staring up at Sheriff Pierce and two FBI Agents. He walks to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder, and continues to make his way to the impala as quickly as possible.

“Can I help you kids?” The Sheriff asked.

“No, sir, we were just leaving.” Dean nods his head at the two FBI Agents. “Agent Mulder, Agent Scully.”

The three of you continued walking to the impala, Dean’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as the Sheriff watched your retreating figures.

As you and the boys are walking, you see a young woman who happens to be tacking up posters of Troy’s face with the caption “MISSING TROY SQUIRE”.

Once you all start to approach her, Dean speaks up. “I’ll bet you that’s her.”

“Yeah.” Sam replies to him. Giving him a look.

You look at both boys, and walk over to the young woman. “Hi, you must be Amy.” You say, giving her a small smile.

“Yeah.” She replies, confused as to how you know her name.

Dean steps forward, sticking out his hand and motioning to the three of you. “Yeah, well uh, Troy told us about you. We’re his uncles. I’m Dean, this is Sammy, and this is my wife, Y/N.”

You held back a laugh at the thought of you and Dean getting married. Everyone the two of you meet, always assumes that you’re together.

Amy looks at you all, skeptically. “He never mentioned you to me.”

She walks away from the three of you and you look at Dean. “I don’t know Dean, this doesn’t seem like a good idea. She doesn’t want to talk to us.”

“Don’t worry about it Y/N. She’ll talk.” He looks at you and gives you a smile, seeming confident. You look at sam, and he gives you an “I’m sorry” look.

The three of you begin to follow Amy, Dean furthering your lie. “Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto.”

Amy still seems uninterested, so you begin to help Dean. “So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around. You know, to see if anyone knows anything.”

Another young woman comes up to Amy and puts a hand on her arm. “Hey, are you okay?” Amy looks at the young girl, and smiles at her sadly. “Hey Rachel. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Sam took this opportunity to finally speak up. “Hey, Amy.. Do you mind if we ask you some questions?”

Amy looks at Sam, and slowly nods her head yes.

The five of you are sitting in a booth at the dinner, you’re smushed between Dean and Sam. Amy was speaking currently about the last time she had heard from Troy. “So I was on the phone with Troy, he told me that he would call me back, and… well he never did.”

Sam looked at the young woman in front of you, engaging the information. “He didn’t say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?” You had been watching the conversation between the two of them. Something kept bugging you about Amy, she obviously didn’t know anything so you really didn’t want to bother her anymore.

Amy looked at Sam sadly. “No I’m sorry, he didn’t say anything other than that from what I remember.”

You studied her necklace and nudged Dean from under the table. “Wha?” he whispered to you with a mouth full of pie.

You played with the necklace your dad had given to you a long time ago, he said it had been your mother’s. You nudged your head over to Amy’s direction and Dean took your hint. He noticed the necklace she was wearing, and he looked back at you wide eyed.

“I love your necklace!” You blurted out of nowhere. Dean turned his head to you and watched you. “What are you doing?!” He whispered.

Amy holds her necklace in her hand, a pentagram in a circle. She looks down at the pendant. “Yeah, Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents..” She laughs thinking about him. “With all that devil stuff, you know?”

Dean and Sam watch you, as you begin spewing information out about pentagrams. “Actually, it means just the opposite. You see, a pentagram is protection against evil. It’s really powerful. It’s an amazing type of sigil. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.” You started to get red, you loved that type of stuff, and it was really important to you after everything you’ve learned.

You didn’t notice the way Dean was watching you. His eyes watched as the blush crept down your neck and he smiled to himself.

“Okay, thank you. Unsolved mysteries.” Dean took his arm off from the back of where you sat, and he leant forwards. “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything…”

With Dean having said that, Amy and Rachel look at each other. You grew a little worried from their gesture. “What is it?” You asked quickly.

Rachel was the one to speak. “Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.”

You laughed when Sam and Dean immediately spoke together. “What do they talk about? “ They both asked, Dean frustrated when he realized Sam had said it as well.

Rachel looked around, and then back at the three of you. “It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago.”

Dean looks at Sam, who happened to be watching Rachel attentively, nodding. Rachel continues speaking, “Well, supposedly she's still out there.” Sam nods at her to continue. “She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

The three of you looked at eachother, and at that point you knew something was definitely going on here.

Sitting in the local library, you and the boys were trying to find out anything about what could be going on in this town.

Sam snatched the mouse from Dean’s grasp. “Let me try.” He says, impatient with the fact Dean hadn’t come up with anything yet.

Dean, in return smacks Sam's hand. “I got it.” Dean says, irritated at his impatient brother. Sam gets annoyed by this and he shoves Dean's chair out of the way to take over.

“Dude!” Dean hits Sam in the shoulder. ”You're such a control freak.”

You get up from your spot and smack both boys in the back of the head. “Enough, stop acting like 3 year old girls fighting over who gets to play with what Barbie Doll.”

“Ouch, Y/N.. Is someone angry she didn’t get her choice of Barbie Doll?” Dean looks up at you with a pouty lip, rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh quit it Dean, Y/N didn’t play with Barbie Dolls.. She played with toy cars.” Sam looked at you playfully, and laughed.

“I swear, you two will indefinitely be the death of me.” You rolled your eyes while smiling at the boys.

Dean chimed into the fun, poking you as he said his next sentence. “Sam, Y/N didn’t play with just any toy cars.. She played with Hot Wheels!”

“Boys, we’re done with this conversation.” You announced to them, laughing. “But if you must know, Dean is correct. My dad probably has a few of them still laying around in the buick.” You teased back playfully.

Dean smiled widely at the thought of you playing with toy cars as a young girl.

“Anyway, angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” You asked them, scrolling through files on the computer.

Dean looked at you, trying to understand where you were going with this. “Yeah, why?”

Sam looked at you, gears turning in his head at your thoughts. He nodded his head in agreement. “Maybe it's not murder.” He said, looking up at his brother.

Dean realized what you had meant and looked up, putting his hand up for a high five from you. “Okay Y/N, you’re good at this research thing. We should put you on the computer more often!”

You rolled your eyes playfully at Dean’s suggestion. “Yeah alright Dean. Let’s not but say we did.” You told him, ruffling his dirty blonde hair.

Dean sadly put his hand down, pouting. “Thanks for leaving me hanging.”

“Dean stop. Maybe if I change ‘Murder’ to ‘Suicide’ we’ll find more answers.” You spoke, you were trying hard to find out what happened here. You were so hopeful that all of this would lead you to your dad and John.

“Look look, it says here that in 1981 a woman named Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, and drowns in the river.” Sam spoke, reading off the words from the screen.

Dean watched his brother gather the information. “Okay, well does it say how she did it?” He asked.

“Yeah, it does.” Sam replies.

“How?” Dean asks, trying to get to the point.

“An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.” You read, feeling sorry for the woman who lost her two children in one night. You thought back to yourself and the boys. You had all lost your mothers so quickly, you couldn’t imagine the pain Constance would’ve been in.

Dean looks at you, raising his eyebrows. “Hm, wow that really sucks.”

"'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch." Sam continued, you guys needed to get to the bottom of this.

You looked at the attached picture, noticing that the bridge looked familiar. You looked harder, realizing that was the bridge you had been on earlier in the day. “Uh guys? Does that bridge look familiar to you?” You asked, hoping they’d confirm your thoughts.

You all looked at each other before grabbing your coats and heading out, you in the lead.

The three of you returned to the bridge from earlier. You walked close to the rail, watching the water below you. Sam had been walking a few feet in front of you and Dean, who was walking close next to you.

He watched you for a minute, you were closely watching the water in thought. He swung his arm around your shoulder. “How’s your arm?” He asked, noticing that you held it closer to you, considering you were probably still in pain.

“It feels good I guess, I’m still painful but I’m glad to be alive thanks to you.” You smiled at your best friend. It was still weird to you, you were at college just yesterday and now here you were with Sam and Dean. On a hunting trip nonetheless.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He asked, he could tell something was bothering you.

“Nothing, it’s all just weird you know? I was at college just yesterday Dean. Now I’m here with you, hunting, looking for my dad..” You looked up at Dean, tears welling in your eyes. “What did that message mean Dean? What if he’s dead?” You stopped walking and turned to face him.

“Y/N, I’m sure he’s fine. If he wasn’t I’m sure my dad would’ve made it pretty urgent.” Dean reassured you. But truthfully, he didn’t even know what to make of that voice message.

You smiled sadly at him before turning around to walk over to Sam, who stood at the ledge. “So this is where Constance took the swan dive.” You spoke, watching the water flow below you once again.

“So you think that our dad’s would have been here?” Sam looks over at you and Dean, you could tell that he too was worried.

“Well, they’re chasing the same story and we're chasing them.” Dean says and continues walking. Sam follows him, and you walk a few feet behind the boys, listening to their conversation but in your own world as well.

“Okay, so now what?” Sam asked, getting annoyed with his brother.

“Now we keep digging until we find them. Might take a while.” Dean states, the mission is clear in his mind. He’s not going to stop until he finds your dads.

Sam stops walking. “Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday-.”

Dean turns around interrupting his brother, and you stand to the side of them. “Monday. Right. The interview.”

“Yeah.” Sam replies shortly.

“Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some Lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean asks, you can tell that he’s hurt by Sam not wanting to help him.

“Dean..” You warn him, now isn’t the time for this fight.

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam asks, challenging his older brother.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?” Dean asks, you know that he’s doing this to make Sam feel bad for ditching you guys.

Sam steps closer to his brother. “No, and she's not ever going to know.” He says, growing angry with Dean.

“Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean turns around and keeps walking. Sam follows him, obviously not over this.

You walk behind them, having heard enough of their fighting for the night. “Boys, enough we have work to do.” This really is not the time for this fight, yet the boys don’t care about what you think right now.

“And who's that?” Sam fires back, incredulously.

“You're one of us. A hunter, little brother.” Dean moves his hand, referring to you and himself.

Sam hurries to get in front of Dean. “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

“You have a responsibility to-” Dean starts, but Sam interrupts him.

“To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back. The same with Y/N’s mother.” Sam argues, you can’t believe that he just went there again. Bringing your mother into this once again. A woman that he didn’t even have the chance of knowing!

“Hey! Don’t bring my mother into this again Sam!” You warn the younger boy, your mother really was a sore subject for you.

Dean grabs Sam by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. He waits for a while before speaking. “Don't talk about our mom like that. And leave Y/N’s mom out of this Sam. Seriously, stop.” Dean releases Sam and walks away, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you with him.

You walked with Dean before stopping. Before you and the boys, stood Constance. “Guys!” You spoke, you pointed to Constance who stood on the railing of the bridge.

Sam comes to stand next to Dean. Constance looks over at you, then steps forward off the edge. You sprint towards where she had just been, running to the railing and look over. The boys were right behind you.

“Where'd she go?” Dean asked eagerly.

Sam looks around, confused and annoyed. “I don't know.”

Behind you, the Impala's engine starts and its headlights come on. You nudge Dean, who turns with you. Sam, noticing your action turns around as well.

“What the-” Dean begins before Sam asks what everyone was wondering. “Who's driving your car?” Sam questions.

You reach into Dean’s pocket to pull the keys out and you jingle them, all three of you still staring ahead. Sam glances at the keys in your hand before the car jerks into motion, heading straight for the three of you. You all turn and dart, Dean grabbing your hand in the process to keep you close.

“Dean? Y/N? Go! Go!” Sam screams. The car is moving faster than you are; when it gets too close, Sam and Dean dive over the railing. Dean’s grip on your hand gets lost during the jump, causing you to lose each other. The car comes to a halt on the bridge.

Sam has caught himself on the edge of the bridge and is hanging on. He pulls himself up onto the bridge and looks around. “Dean? Dean!” Sam calls out to his brother.

Below, a filthy and annoyed Dean crawls out of the water and onto the mud, panting. “What?” He screams up to his brother.

“Hey! Are you alright?” Sam asks, worried about his big brother. Dean holds up one hand in an A-OK sign. “I'm super, Sammy.” Sam laughs relieved, but notices that you aren’t with his brother. “Dean? Where’s Y/N?” Sam calls down to his muddy brother.

Dean’s eyes widen, and he frantically starts looking for you when he can’t see you anywhere close. “Y/N? Where are you?” He calls in a frenzy. “Sam can you see her anywhere?!” He screams up to his brother.

“No! I can’t see her it’s too dark up here.” Sam yells down to his brother. At that note, Dean starts getting back into the water to look for you, before he notices you sitting in the mud a few yards down.

You sat holding your head, and you seemed in pain. He rushes over to you, worried. “Y/N? Hey, are you okay?” He bends down to assess you.

You look up and there’s a gash on your forehead. “I’m fine, just hit my head but I’m alright.” You reach up for Dean’s hand, and he helps you stand up.

The two of you covered from head to toe in mud. You grip your head with your hand when the quick movement immediately makes you dizzy. “Woah, easy tiger. I gotcha.” Dean says, before picking you up to carry you back to the car. You just lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, your head hurt too much.

“Twice in two days, huh? Guess I’m good at saving you.” Dean teases you, and you wince in return.

“Shhhh, you’re too loud..” You whine and press your finger to Dean’s lips when his voice sounds like it’s booming in your head.

Once Dean gets you back to the car, he places you in the front seat of the Impala. “You okay?” Dean asks. “Mhm.” You mumble back, tiredly.

“Stay here, I need to check her out.” Dean states as he starts to inspect his precious baby.

Dean shuts the hood of his car and leans on it. “Your car all right?” Sam asks, looking at his frustrated brother.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now.” Dean is mad that his car was involved.

“What about Y/N? She okay?” Sam asks, concerned.

“Yeah, she’s just got a nasty head wound and probably a concussion. But she’s been through worse. That Constance chick though, what a bitch!” Dean screams out, hoping Constance could hear him curse at her.

“Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job go from here, genius?” Sam settles on the hood next to Dean.

Dean throws up his arms in frustration, then flicks some of the mud off his hands. Sam sniffs close to his brother, then looks at Dean. “You smell like a toilet.” Sam’s nose scrunches up in disgust.

Dean looks down, shaking his head before getting up and getting in the Impala. Sam climbs into the backseat. You instinctively move closer to Dean, and lay your head on his shoulder.

“My head hurts.” You whine again, Dean looks down at you and chuckles. You always acted like a little kid when you were hurt.

“You probably have a concussion so you should stay up for a little while.” Sam chimes in.

You groan before Dean pats your leg and starts up the Impala. He peels out, driving until he finds the closest motel.