#we still chew up the carpet and piss in the sink

[sleepydrabbles]

“A Rush of Blood To The Head” by Coldplay is just the current state of the American Youth and you probably won’t change my mind for a few years because every time Chris Martin sings “So I’m gonna buy a gun and start a war/ if you can tell me something worth fighting for” I feel like my soul sings along

[bruhstories]

Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

[danjo-ao3]

When Ashes Fall p.2

Pairing: Reaper/female Reader

Summary: You are a combat medic working for Overwatch, when a mission goes south and you cross paths with Talon mercenary Reaper. But will he kill you on the spot or is there more to this encounter?

Rating: 18+

Tags/Warnings: rape/non-con, violence, blood, emotional manipulation, blackmail, kidnapping

Word count: 52,215 (in 5 parts)

A/N: the warnings are clear on this one. Yes, there is going to be rape/non-con, and it’s going to get explicit. I strongly advise anyone who is not into that kind of story to turn back around, because this is going to get pretty heavy and will finally be the non-con story with Reaper that I had always wanted to write.

Part 2 / 5 ( part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5)

***

 “Ay, Akande. What is it now?” A woman of a rather small stature entered the room, her right hand busily tapping at purple holograms before her, while she popped her bubblegum noisily. Everything about her was purple, in fact. Her clothes, the tips of her dark hair, as well as her makeup. When she finally noticed you, a mixture between surprise and amusement crossed her face. “Hola, chica,” She greeted you, her demeanor cheeky and aloof as she waved her long nailed hand at you. “This your newest conquest?” The sarcasm rang heavy in her tone of voice as she addressed Ogundimu again and tsked, then proceeded to chew the gum obnoxiously loud. “Fresh out the asylum now, is it?” And she chuckled to herself at her remark.

 You could only sit and stare at her, all too aware of how you very much looked like she described you. Not that it mattered anyway, the only thing not sitting right with you was how she assumed you somehow were this man’s mistress.

 Ogundimu’s face betrayed nothing of what he might have thought about her careless comment.

 “Sombra,” He said curtly, making it clear that he wasn’t in the mood for her shenanigans. “This is our newest agent,” His hand gestured toward you and Sombra’s bubblegum popped again as she looked at you once more, the surprise outshining the amusement on her face.

 But after another good look she grinned. “Ah, but you’re messing with me,” She said with a dismissive handshake, wiping the hologram before her out of existence.

 Ogundimu smiled to himself. “You will look after her, show her around. Basically, you’ll be her shadow for now.”

 Sombra’s eyes narrowed, they flicked over to you, then back to Ogundimu.

 “Is this for the Volskaya mission?”

 “Maybe.”

 “Ugh, fine. But then we’re even, you hear me?” She sounded annoyed, but already went back to the door she had entered through, then she looked over her shoulder at you. “You coming or what, chica?”

 With one last look at Ogundimu, you rose from the chair and walked over to the woman, hyper aware of both of their eyes on you.

 “First visit will be a closet. What is that?” She opened the door while pointing at your hospital garb.

 “They’re—”

 “Nevermind. We will get some decent clothes for you. Can’t be seen with you running around like that.” With that she once again projected a holographic display in front of her, while she navigated through various interfaces with her hand. You bristled faintly at her jab, it wasn’t like it was your choice of clothing either. But you got the impression that this Sombra woman wasn’t particularly interested in what you had to say anyway, so you just kept your mouth shut and tagged along.

 You didn’t walk far, only a few corridors further and one staircase down and your surroundings resembled more of a hotel than a terrorist base of operations. The whole time Sombra managed to use her holographic projection, she didn’t even have to look away once, not even when you both descended the stairs.

 The furnishings down here were no less impressive than they had been upstairs though, the floor was carpeted, the walls a light cream and the doors looked like solid wood.

 “Come along now, your room should be right—” She walked two more steps and stopped in front of a door with a sign saying “3E”. “—here.”

 You just stood there, unsure of what you were supposed to do now. After a few seconds, Sombra looked away from her hologram and frowned at you impatiently.

 “Open it?”

 Then you hurried forward to turn the handle, but the door didn’t open, it was locked.

 Next to you, Sombra sighed dramatically. “Mierda…” She said and began to fiddle with the interface of her holographic projection again, this time she went even quicker than before. “Stupid Akande didn’t even give me a damn key,” She mumbled to herself, but then you could hear the distinct clicking of a lock, then Sombra swiped her interface away again and brushed a strand of her hair behind one ear. “Go on, it’s open now.”

 This time the door yielded inwards and you were greeted by a small sparsely furnished room with a bed and a chair in one corner and a door in the other.

 You stood in the room as Sombra brushed past you, on her way to the built in wall closet. She stopped in front of it, addressing you again. “Get dressed and we can continue our grand tour,” She said with mock enthusiasm, like a tour guide with too many years on their back.

 The closet held a surprisingly large amount of varying clothes in it, the only thing they all had in common was the Talon logo embroidered on them. You couldn’t help but frown at that, you were still pissed that you were basically Talon’s bitch now.

 “How come you don’t have the Talon logo on your outfit?” You asked Sombra after removing a pair of pants and a hoodie from the closet, ready to change into comfortable, concealing clothes.

 Sombra barked a laugh. “Oh, chica. I may be working for Talon, but I’m not one of Akande’s and Max’s little minions.” She scowled, then regarded her manicured nails. “I am more of a...freelancer.” Then she winked at you, before her eyes fell onto the clothes in your hand, which immediately made her scowl again. “So that is your choice?” One eyebrow rose, but then she apparently remembered that she didn’t actually care about you and waved any comeback of yours off. “Alright, you change and I’ll be waiting for you outside.” Then she went to the door, but before she left, she spoke up again “Don’t keep me waiting.”

 Finally left alone again, you took a deep breath to center yourself. You undressed slowly, as if in a trance. Really, you couldn’t think about all this right now, it was too much, too fast. And you were sure you would break down on the floor into a heap of sobs and cries about how life specifically hated you. So instead, you stripped the hospital gown off of you, slipped on underwear and pants and finally the hoodie.

 “That’s better,” You said to yourself, then looked around you again. The door on the other side of the room led into a small bathroom, with fluffy towels next to a shower and fragrant soap lying on the sink. Well, Overwatch had about the same amount of luxury, but there you were allowed to leave…

 Pulling yourself together again, you slammed the bathroom door shut and went to join Sombra outside of your new room.

 “What’s been taking you so long?” She sounded annoyed from where she stood against the opposite wall, not even looking at you as she worked on her holo interface.

 You only rolled your eyes at her for being so damn impatient. Already her demeanor was getting on your nerves, how you were supposed to get along with her at all was a mystery to you. But then again, who cared about your comfort here anyway? You were nothing but a prisoner, only that the metaphorical bars were shaped like Caleb.

***

 Your grand tour, it turned out, was a trip to the gym, the practice range, and lastly the café (which kind of surprised you—which evil organization had a freaking café?). The feeling that you were actually in a grand hotel was starting to manifest.

 Sombra granted you access to all these places with her weird interface thingy.

 “If you want to go somewhere else, I will escort you and if you behave, maybe I’ll give you clearance for those as well,” She had said.

 But now you both sat in the café on a table close to a window, your gaze flitted over that unfamiliar cityscape.

 “Where are we anyway,” you asked and Sombra looked up from sipping her coffee.

 “Talon headquarters.”

 Headquarters? Well, that explained the whole very important and grand vibe of the place. You were about to mention that that hadn’t been your actual question, but somehow you knew you weren’t going to get a straightforward answer after all.

 You sighed and nibbled on your cucumber sandwich. Sombra hadn’t even asked what you wanted to eat and had ordered for the both of you with a few gestures onto her holographic interface.

 “Oh, our time’s up,” Sombra looked at you with those glittering eyes, then took one bite out of her own sandwich. “Akande wants you to go to the doc next,” She informed you and was already on her way out of her seat without even sparing another glance at you. “See you tomorrow, I guess.”

 And with that she left the café, leaving you behind with a half eaten sandwich lying on your plate. You regarded it thoughtfully, the meager appetite you’d had long gone. So you pushed the plate away from you and finished your coffee in silence.

 What now? You let your heavy head fall into your hand and stared wistfully at the sky outside, it was cloudy but still bright, a really nice day actually. And you were trapped here.

 After you downed the last sip of your coffee, you rose to get to Dr. O’Deorain’s lab once more, even though you felt apprehension at the very thought of going back there.

 As you left the café, you tried to backtrack the way you had come from, unsure of where the lab was situated. You groaned when you realized you were lost, you absolutely didn’t recognize your surroundings. You took the nearest elevator and commanded it to take you to the lower levels of the building, which it did. At least you were now one step closer to your destination.

 The doors opened to a darkened hallway not unlike the one that had led to the lab and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of your sense of direction. Cautiously, you moved along the halls and—lo and behold—there were the doors to the laboratory. All the joy you had felt at finding the way on your own vanished with a pang of anxiety in your gut. The doctor hadn’t seemed like a very pleasant person to you, having to work for her didn’t sound appealing at all. But you didn’t have a choice either way, so you went forward to find a way inside.

 There was a card reader next to the doors with blinking LEDs and a holographic display asking for authorization.

 Of course you didn’t have anything on you to gain access; bloody typical. You realized you’d have to do this the old fashioned way and simply knocked with a slightly shaking hand.

 After a few seconds, the door opened and another unfamiliar face greeted you as it peered through the crack. It was a young woman, maybe a little older than you, with spectacles and a messy brown bun on her head.

 “Yes?” She asked you with an accusatory glare.

 “Um, I’m supposed to meet Dr. O’Deorain,” You explained and immediately, the girl’s face lit up.

 “Oh, you must be the new intern!” She sounded excited and opened the doors wide to let you in. Well, this was the nicest welcome you had received so far and the knowledge of having someone benign at your side was at least a little comforting.

 You stepped into the lab with trepidation, it looked the same as when you had left it in a hurry. The only exception was that the examination table was once again occupied. The black mass of a person created a stark contrast to the white surroundings and it made them stick out like a sore thumb. You instantly knew who it was, too.

 It was the man, slash demon, who had kidnapped you after the explosion. Unbidden, your breath hitched and you stopped in your tracks, eyes wide as you took in the entirety of his massive form currently lying on that table. There were several machines attached to him in various places, displaying his vitals. Flashbacks of a cold shotgun barrel pressed against your forehead made you shiver.

 So far you hadn’t been able to find an explanation for this hallucination you’d had, even though Ogundimu had not been subtle with his remarks about it. But now, fully awake and aware, you couldn’t deny that what had happened to you was as real as the man currently lying in front of you. Not a hallucination then.

Holy shit.

 “Is everything alright?” It sounded from your right, and only now did you remember that you weren’t alone in the lab. Turning your suddenly stiff body away from the man, you again addressed the nice woman who had let you in.

 “Yeah,” You answered as your eyes darted back to the table once more. In the same breath and a slightly higher pitched voice you asked, “Who’s that?”

 “Oh, you’re really new, aren’t you?” She smiled reassuringly, set down a holopad she had been working on and motioned for you to sit next to her on a stool facing a long table currently holding a few test tubes. “First things first, I am Casey,” She held out her hand to you, which you immediately shook, and then you gave her your name as well.

 “This there on the table is a man who calls himself Reaper, he’s in here quite often. I don’t know his real name, but Dr. O’Deorain is working with him,” Casey began, then she leaned a little closer to you and went on a little quieter. “Personally, I think she’s using him for an experiment of hers, though. Don’t know if he’s aware of it, but he certainly doesn’t seem to mind.”

 You squinted at Casey, then the man.

 “—Reaper? He...calls himself that?”

 Casey nodded with a shrug and a half smile. Like it wasn’t concerning at all that somebody named themselves after death’s persona. The fine hairs on the back of your neck rose at the memory of the man removing his mask to reveal inky nothingness and two red orbs that had stared into your soul. Already you were making a mental note to request not having to work in the lab when he was present.

 “Don’t you find him creepy?” The incredulousness in your voice was hard to suppress.

 “Of course,” Casey pushed her glasses back onto her nose. “But I usually don’t have to deal with him, he’s Dr. O’Deorain’s project and she doesn’t like lab assistants messing up her work.” You could see a small frown beginning to form on her forehead as she finished her sentence. She sounded resentful.

 “So what do you do around here?” You changed the subject and looked around for emphasis.

 Already, she was perking up again. “Oh, I assist the doc with her work and do tests while she is doing her research and experiments.”

 As you watched her you could clearly see that she was enthusiastic about her work. A question popped into your head.

 “Can I...can I ask you something personal?”

 “What is it?”

 “Why are you here?”

 Casey blinked at you once, then she smiled again. “I want to become a geneticist, and working under Dr. O’Deorain sounded like an opportunity of a lifetime.”

 “But, you are also working for Talon.” Why would a sweet girl like her work here? It didn’t seem like she was being forced to be here either. That, or she was a great actor.

 Casey deflated a little, the line of her mouth went grim. “Trust me, I know. And I don’t particularly like the fact that I am. But, like I said this was an opportunity I couldn’t have let fly by me.” She even looked a tad guilty.

 A long silence followed. The fact that she didn’t ask why you were here spoke volumes. She definitely knew about you, no need to ask.

 That was depressing.

 Your gaze had landed on the man again, he was lying there like a storm cloud would hang above you forebodingly, a menacing presence that could strike any second.

 “Is he unconscious?” You asked Casey who had started working on her holopad again.

 “Yeah, he is in a regeneration phase.” She answered while tapping holographic buttons. “Has been blown up pretty badly in the last mission.”

 “Blown up?”

 “Yes, you should have seen him when he came in. He was barely in human shape at all.”

 You gulped. What the hell was she talking about? But before you could ask her, Dr. O’Deorain entered the lab.

 “There you are,” She said to you in lieu of a greeting, and held out her hand to Casey who hurried to pass her the holopad she had been working on. “I need you to do something for me.”

 “Yes, doctor,” Casey responded immediately and as you looked at her you could see the admiration in her eyes.

 The doctor didn’t wait for your reply and went on to explain. “Subject R-24 has almost completed regeneration, he only needs his weekly dosage of serum 3442.” She sighed. “But I have to leave because some      cretin     thought it would be a good idea to ship my chemicals with highly explosive substances.”

 Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she finally addressed you. “You two will have to administer the serum. One will inject, the other has to monitor the vitals.” That was all you were told before she left the lab again.

 Casey jumped from her stool and went to get the serum while you rose as well and awkwardly walked over to the displays on a big screen. Ok, you could do this, just checking and alarming Casey if something was wrong. There was the line indicating his heart beat, but something about it was off. The peaks weren’t high enough to be considered healthy, it was as if he took his very last breaths. With concern you turned to Casey, who was drawing the serum into a syringe.

 “What’s with this heartbeat?” You asked and while Casey removed any air bubbles from the syringe, she answered you.

 “Well, that happens when you’re kind of a wraith.”

 A what?

 You just stared at her, then at patient R-24, or rather Reaper, and decided that you were definitely staying as far away from him as possible. What was Dr. O’Deorain doing here?

 After disinfecting the spot she was going to use for injection, Casey inserted the needle in between the pieces of the man’s bulky armor, into the greyish dark skin of his left arm. It was surreal to watch how he lay there on the examination table in full gear, even his white skeletal mask was in place and his head covered by his black hood. Why had he chosen this specific getup? To be intimidating, probably.

 When Casey was finished with the injection, she put away the syringe and removed the medical gloves she had been wearing. With a satisfied smile she turned to you, took a last look at the vitals display and moved back to her holopad. “I’ll just finish these reports and then we can wrap it up.”

 “Okay,” You answered from where you were still standing, between the screen and the man on the table. While you didn’t want to look at him for longer than you had to, there was a strange fascination about him. Now that you were fully aware of your surroundings and your brain wasn’t lacking oxygen, you could finally take an actual look. You’d never seen someone like that before, and you were hesitant to believe what you’d been told. A wraith...what the hell was that even supposed to mean? Aside from the weird armor and extremely unhealthy looking skin on his arms, you thought he looked like a regular man. If said man was a shotgun wielding maniac.

 Your gaze wandered over his form, metal and leather created a thick second skin that clung to his muscular physique. The metal claws at the end of his fingers looked pointy and dangerous and you were certain he could disembowel a person with them if he so desired.

 As if on their own accord, your slightly shaking fingers reached out and touched the cold metal tentatively. You brushed them upwards over the back of his gloved hand and between two protruding spikes until you reached the gap between gauntlet and shoulder armor, your fingers hovered above his bare skin. Then you pressed the pad of your index and middle finger to it, sending out just a little bit of healing in morbid curiosity. His skin was not exactly warm, but not too cold either. It was really weird and you immediately wanted to remove your hand again as his skin began to warm from your touch.

 Just then his body tensed, as if he’d been electrocuted, and the hand that had previously been lying motionless shot up to grab your wrist. Gasping in panic, you tried to wrench your arm free, but his claws were already digging into your flesh painfully.

 “Casey!” You called out to the other lab assistant, who turned around to you with a look of shock.

 “Hold on,” She said as she rushed over to you and tried to pry off the man’s claws from your arm. Not even with her help you were able to remove them, and you felt the panic inside you rising. It hurt like hell and you were sure he was going to draw blood any second.

 But suddenly his grip did loosen and his hand fell off back to his side as if nothing had happened, leaving you to stumble backwards with the force of your pulling. You hit the wall with your back, still staring at the man on the table, who was once again motionless. Heart racing from your recent shock, you looked around to see Casey cautiously advancing towards you with her hands reaching out in a soothing motion.

 “Are you okay?” She asked as she finally reached you.

 With a last long breath, you finally relaxed enough to reply.

 “Yeah...I think.”

 Casey stopped in her tracks, a frown on her face, then she turned around to regard the man again. “That’s really weird. This never happened before,” She explained, her finger tapping against her chin in thought. “Did you do something?”

 Somehow, you felt embarrassed to confess that you’d touched him, your gaze fell to your wrist which was showing angry red spots where it had been nearly crushed, indentations showed where his claws had been.

 “Uh, I kinda...touched him.”

 “Oh.” The way she said it sounded like this was explanation enough for her. “Yeah, don’t do that. We’re not supposed to anyway.”

 “Got it,” You said meekly, although you vowed to never be in the same room as him again in the first place. Any questions you had about this weird rule were interrupted by a loud noise coming from one of the monitoring devices. Casey went over and tapped the touch panel beside it, then addressed you once more with a smile.

 “Alright, we’re done here for today,” She announced cheerfully and shut off a few machines with practiced ease.

 “So, we’re just leaving him here?” You asked uncertainly, even though you hated how interested you sounded in that weird masked man.

 “Yes, he will rest here for a few more hours,” She said offhandedly and already began turning off the lights. Hurriedly, you walked towards the exit, because you really weren’t keen on staying in this room with him while it was darkened as well. Hell no.

 You waited for Casey outside the double doors of the lab, feeling a little shaky from that whole ordeal just now and only wished to go to bed. She joined you quickly, a key card around her neck. She smiled again when she saw you, then proceeded to close the doors behind her. You couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t lock them.

 “Aren’t you going to lock the lab up?”

 “And trap Reaper inside?” She laughed. “I usually do, but not when he’s still in. I did it once and he wasn’t exactly happy about it.”

 The way her face scrunched up spoke volumes.

 “What happened?”

 “Well, let’s just say Dr. O’Deorain was even more pissed at me than he was. He simply broke the door down you see.” She shook her head. “What a mess.”

 Your eyebrows shot up. “That sounds...terrifying, to be honest.”

 “Doesn’t it?” But her laugh made her statement sound pretty ominous, and you started to wonder if Casey was alright. She almost seemed too cheerful.

 The first few days at Talon HQ went by for you in kind of a haze. You got up at six in the morning to get ready for your work in the lab. Thankfully, Reaper wasn’t present at all during that time, and you were a little relieved.

 Dr. O’Deorain apparently wasn’t much of a talker, the most she spoke to you were instructions or orders for your daily tasks. Today, though, she approached you with a gleam in her eye. You got a bad feeling immediately.

 “Come over to the examination table, please,” She addressed you as she turned away, then you saw Casey looking at you with a mix between concern, intrigue, and just a little bit of envy.

 As you neared the shiny stainless steel table, you saw something lying on it. It was a glove; dark purple with wires running over its surface from the back to the tips. You knew right away that this was a new amplifying glove for your healing abilities. Curiously, you reached for it, then hesitated. Before you touched it, you made sure it was okay for you to do so. With a small nod, Dr. O’Deorain confirmed it for you and you picked it up.

 The glove was obviously still a prototype, the material wasn’t properly sewn shut and most of the wires weren’t even insulated. So you put it on very carefully. It fit you snugly. You made a fist to test the stretch of it and it felt like a second skin, expanding and retracting in time with your movements.

 You studied it some more before the doctor gave you a small sharp smile. “Go ahead. Try it.”

 Tentatively, you rubbed the tips of your fingers together, a warm yellow light began to glow where they touched. Then you extended your arm away from you, concentrated and consciously began collecting your healing in the palm of your hand. The small glow at your fingertips began to expand and started sending light away from you in a concentrated, but gentle spray. Before it could touch the ground though, it dissolved into nothingness.

 After a few seconds, you started to feel your arm going numb, it grew heavy and you had to lower it back to your side, clutching it with your left hand to your chest.

 That was weird. You never had experienced pain or discomfort before when you had used your healing ability. But this glove, it seemed to work differently than the one you had been given by Dr. Ziegler.

 Dr. O’Deorain was at your side in a heartbeat, unwound your limbs and removed the glove from your hand with a satisfied expression on her face.

 You winced.

 “What was that?” You asked as you tried to rub some life back into your arm.

 The doctor chuckled quietly to herself as she laid the glove down on her work table, then she turned back to you.

 “This is my invention,” She began. “It is derived of the nanite technology your former mentor and I had been working on.” She reached over the desk to grab a small device, which she connected to one of the open wires. “Only that it is ten times more powerful than what she has come up with.”

 You had a feeling that the smug smile she flashed at you was definitely meant for Dr. Ziegler.

 Great, apparently you were one of her new experiments, and her goal was to one up her old colleague.

 “It is still in its test phase, but it should be ready for the upcoming mission,” The doctor informed you.

 “Mission?”

 “Yes, the council wants you on the next one, and I have been working day and night on this amplifier.”

 Your heart sank at these news. So you were supposed to actively accompany these terrorists on their terrorist attacks, too? It was bad enough that you had to help them in the science department, but you never agreed to be out in the field as well.

 Of course, what you wanted or didn’t agree to didn’t matter in the slightest and you doubted the doc even cared, so you chose to keep your mouth shut about it.

 “What kind of mission is this going to be?” You asked, but the doctor simply shrugged.

 “I didn’t ask,” Was all she said, apparently already moving on to much more important things. You wondered if the doctor tried to stay as ignorant as possible to Talon’s doings because, maybe she had something like a conscience, or if she was simply too focused on her research to trouble herself with anything else.

 Experimenting on people definitely sounded more like option two to you, though.

 When you didn’t move away from behind her, she turned around with an irritated frown. With a sigh, she put down the device.

 “All I do know is that I have two more days to finish this,” She said and pointed to the project behind her on the desk with a tilt of her head. “And I need all the time I have for it to be ready by then. So,” She narrowed her eyes. “Let me work, unless you want to run around and hug everyone you’re supposed to heal.” With that she turned around once more, the conversation over.

 That sounded reasonable.

 You left her alone for the remainder of the two days you were working in the lab, instead talking and socializing with Casey who, you learned, would not be a part of the mission you’d been assigned to.

 That didn’t surprise you though, Casey hadn’t struck you as the kind of person who walks around shooting people.

 But neither were you. Well, of course you’d had gun training, but so far you’d never had to actually shoot somebody. And you’d prefer if it stayed that way, especially now that you were on the wrong team, too. Ugh, what a mess.

***

 It was the day of the mission and you were seated in the briefing room. A dark place, the carpet, seats and table, even the walls were a dull grey, only accentuated by metallic details here and there gleaming in the dull indirect lighting. The only bright spot was the large Talon logo on the opposite wall, mocking you obnoxiously in its bright red colours.

 There were people sitting around you, none of whom you recognized, and they were quietly listening to Ogundimu, who stood at the head of the long oval table, explaining your course of action.

 Apparently, there were going to be four small teams of two working together at different places located around a big hotel where the person you were supposed to take out was currently residing at.

 Assassination...well, this went off to a good start. You sighed inwardly, sinking into your seat a little more, not exactly trying to hide, but not wanting to be there either.

 The way Ogundimu spoke really made him sound convinced of his own plan, you could see now how he had been able to rise in Talon’s ranks up so quickly. He was leader material with his educated choice of words, the way he spoke and carried himself. It instilled awe and inspired confidence, not in you of course. But as you looked around you saw some of the others nod and even grin amongst themselves. They were sure his plan wouldn’t fail.

 Everybody seemed to know about the person you were going to kill, there were no details given about him other than his name. This killing seemed to have been a long time coming. You weren’t going to raise your hand and ask about him though, nope.

 What’s the saying again? Ignorance is bliss.    

 Ogundimu was coming to an end, some people around you sat up straighter, suddenly antsy with anticipation. They were looking forward to this, you realized with poorly concealed disgust, as you side eyed them.

 “Ah,” Ogundimu called out your name. “Are you ready for your first mission?” He gave you a lazy smile and crossed his arms in front of his massive chest.

 Everybody turned to look at you and you could feel your cheeks burn with self-consciousness. That was Ogundimu’s intention, no doubt.

 “Yes,” You answered, after clearing your throat tentatively.

 “Good,” He kept smiling, then addressed the others in the room again. “You will all work in the usual teams. We’re leaving in ten minutes. Dismissed.”

 Suddenly everyone got up and left, already partnering up, leaving you to hurry up and follow them. Whom were you supposed to team up with? You had counted nine people, excluding Ogundimu who would be working alone. And that left you short one person to make a team.

 As you exited the room and stood forlorn in the hallway, a heavy hand fell onto your shoulder. You spun around in surprise and found Ogundimu towering above you.

 “I have a special teammate for you,” He said ominously and started leading you towards the meeting point, his hand falling away after a few meters.

 A question burned on your mind, but you were hesitant to ask.

 “How is Caleb?” You just had to know.

 Ogundimu kept walking stoically, then shifted his gaze towards you.

 “Do your job and he’ll be just fine,” He said quietly, a hint of threat behind his words though, and you nodded minutely in understanding.

 The two of you neared your destination, an underground hangar with numerous vehicles and aircrafts suddenly opened up before you. The teams were already paired up and ready to leave, while you were still in the dark about your partner. The way Ogundimu had made it sound wasn’t very reassuring either. Who was this special teammate; Sombra? You hadn’t seen her in a few days, not after you spent the majority of the day at the lab. Apparently, she was satisfied with her observation of you. That, or she was finally bored enough to simply ignore you again.

 The man gave you a gentle push when you had stopped to take in the impressive surroundings, and he was now walking behind you towards a small helicopter. Its pilot was already inside, their features hidden from view by a helmet and visor, but you were certain that this wasn’t going to be that mystery teammate. Just as you walked past the cockpit on the outside, your head coming around to look in front of you, you saw him.

 It was Reaper. He stood in the shadow of the helicopter, dark robes and white skeletal mask in their usual place.

 You made a full stop and, with your heart in your throat, took a step back, bumping into Ogundimu behind you.

 No, no, no, no, no, no!  

He was going to be your partner? Shit. You should have known, Ogundimu was way too amused by your whole dealings with the black robed man to not do this to you.

 “Your new partner,” the man behind you said, to Reaper or you, you weren’t too sure. But his smile was evident in his voice. You moved away from Ogundimu, trying in vain not to look as spooked as you felt. Reaper crossed his arms in front of him, regarding you through the mask on his face.

 “You can’t be serious,” Reaper answered in his gravelly voice, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the darkness creating dramatic shadows on his mask.

 “You have a flight to catch,” Ogundimu ignored him, then he produced your new amplifying glove from his pocket and tossed it to you, fully expecting you to catch it. Thankfully, you managed to grab it before it fell to the ground, regarding it for a second. It looked way better now than it did two days ago for sure, the stitching was impeccable, all the wires were secured inside the stretchy, dark purple material but still visible. You put it on your right hand, again testing its flexibility.

 “I work alone,” Reaper tried again to catch the other man’s attention. Ogundimu leveled him with a stare.

 “You’re becoming more reckless.” The other said in a low voice, only meant for Reaper. “Last time it cost us the mission,” He went on after taking a step forward. “I cannot take that risk this time, Gabriel.”

 Gabriel, huh? Not as menacing as Reaper, that was for sure.

 They were doing some kind of face off, both staring each other down and you stood there forgotten. You hated awkward situations like these, especially if it involved you.

 Suddenly Ogundimu leaned away again, his stance became more casual and a small smile played on his lips.

 “I’m surprised. It was you who brought her here, why don’t you want to take her with you now?”

 At that, Reaper’s head turned around to you like that of an owl, and your heart stuttered for a second there. Was he deliberately trying to be scary?

 “So you want your new healer to die?” Reaper said to the other man, while still facing you. “Something will happen, and I will simply keep on living while she will be blown to pieces,” He went on, now fully addressing Ogundimu again.

 Cold shivers ran down your spine, his words sounded like a dark prophecy. All this seemed to be a terrible idea and you were keen on joining Reaper’s side on this matter. They should leave you behind to keep on working in the lab.

 But Ogundimu didn’t seem convinced of Reaper’s doom-mongering, his smile didn’t falter.

 “Well, she already encountered death once,” He looked over to you. “And emerged very much alive. I’d also advise you to not let it happen again.”

 “I’m not playing babysitter.” Reaper ground out in a low growl, it was an unnatural sound you never wanted to hear again. You also hated how those two simply talked as if you weren’t there, like you were some kind of burden, or the annoying little cousin.

 You didn’t want to be here either, but nobody asked you now, did they?

 “I can take care of myself,” You just had to chime in, you were slowly getting annoyed with those two. You were an agent of Overwatch, for fuck’s sake. You could handle any mission. Reaper let his arms fall back to his side, tilted up his head to look down at you from even farther above. Then he made a non-committal sound and whirled away to enter the helicopter. You swore you could see dark mist following in his wake, but as you were distracted by it, Ogundimu’s heavy hand landed on your shoulder once more. Everytime it felt like a ton of bricks came down on you, making your knees buckle with the force of it.

 “Do good work,” He reminded you again quietly, “And your friend will be fine.”

 You stared at him while you were dying on the inside. Great, he just had to add insult to injury with mentioning Caleb again, reminding you that you had to do whatever you were told.

 “Sure,” Was all you said, then brushed off his hand and followed Reaper inside the helicopter. The pilot had already started the engine and it was growing louder by the second.

 The helicopter was moderately sized for a small team such as yours. Two people fit comfortably in the back with a little bit of space between, thankfully. You tried to stay as far on your side as possible, leaning heavily against the door. From here you could see people scurrying away hunched over from the fast turning rotor blades. All except Ogundimu, who was walking at a leisurely pace, his hands in his pockets, back straight and looking right at you.

 Was everyone in Talon so...intense?

 With a small sigh, you shifted your gaze away from the man and instead focused on how the helicopter began flying upwards through a gigantic chute and into the beautiful late afternoon sky. Only a few clouds were hanging on the bright blue horizon and you had to shield your eyes from the sun.

 Suddenly something landed in your lap. Startled, you looked down and found a helmet lying there. The pilot had thrown it at you when he’d noticed your presence, he gave you a thumbs-up, and somehow this small gesture made you feel a little better.

 But as you put on the helmet you already felt foolish again, because this man was working for Talon as well. He was one of the bad guys.

 Just like you were now.

Ugh. You could feel a headache forming behind your eyes.

 It was almost dark by the time you arrived at your destination. It was a recently built apartment tower just across from the hotel. It was so recent in fact, that nobody had moved in yet. But furniture had been set up in various places, you noticed as you and Reaper entered one of the apartments with huge floor length windows. They let in the moonlight that was shining brightly tonight, which was a blessing really because you couldn’t turn on the lights without giving away your presence.

 This position allowed you to observe without being seen in turn. Really, you were just backup in case things went south.

 Although you hated Talon and definitely didn’t want them to succeed, you also wondered what would happen to you or Caleb should the mission fail.

 Reaper hadn’t spoken to you at all since you had taken off in the helicopter, and you were glad you didn’t have to talk to him. Now you were certain that the black mist you had seen before definitely hadn’t been your imagination. Whenever he was moving about, the sheer black mass rose up from the soles of his booted feet and outside of his mask.

Well, that happens when you’re kind of a wraith, Casey’s words rang through your head and you unconsciously hugged yourself. The apartment was chilly, with no one living here the heating wasn’t on either. Somewhere in the small backpack you had brought was a fleece jacket you now took out and put on. It didn’t help all that much, though but it would do for now.

 Reaper was standing off to the side, looking out the window and absentmindedly checking one of his shotguns.

 There were so many questions when it came to him, you realized. He was a big puzzle you kind of wanted to understand, but also wanted to stay as far away from as possible. Some of the things Ogundimu had said to you were flitting through your mind. Like how he was able to tell you about how Overwatch was a terrorist organization as well.

 You scoffed at the thought, really that was just ridiculous.

 At your small sound of incredulousness, Reaper turned around and laid down his shotgun on an unfinished kitchen counter nearby.

 “Just to make this clear,” He began, “Should something come up I’m going alone. Got it?”

 You were about to protest, but thought better of it. If he wanted to do it on his own so badly, why would you fight him on this? You could tell Ogundimu how he didn’t let you come with him and really, it wasn’t like you could force him to take you along.

 “Fine,” You said nonchalantly, then moved over to sit down on a couch standing in the middle of the room. At least you were going to be comfortable while you had to wait for everything to pass.

 And boy, was it boring.

 While you were sitting there, already getting tired from the boredom and only the moon for lighting, Reaper was still in his spot by the window, an ever present shadow giving you occasional sparks of anxiety. It was best to ignore him, you thought, and instead looked around some more to judge these people’s taste in home decor.

 Everything was so...bland. The furniture, the walls and carpets, even the pictures on the walls screamed pretentious and generic at the same time. Maybe these apartments were going to be rented for short periods of time instead of people buying them.

 You were interrupted in your musings by a small beeping sound.

 “Yes,” Reaper answered a comm device in his ear, then said “Acknowledged.” And picked up his shotguns to walk towards the door.

 “Should I—,” You began but were stopped by Reaper whirling around and just staring at you blankly. Alright, you got it: stay here. You sat back and watched him leave the apartment.

 What an egomaniac, you thought and snuggled into your fleece jacket to keep warm. The quiet was nice, you found, and soon enough you felt your eyes begin to drift shut.

***

Bang!  

 Your eyes snapped open, the serenity of the empty apartment greeted you but it was disrupted by the loud sound that had just woken you up. Across from you, there was the figure of a man inside a big black swirling mist curling in on itself and it was moving towards you.

 With a shriek and your heart in your throat, you jumped up from the couch, only to knock over the coffee table next to it. You ended up on your ass on the floor and finally, your sluggish brain was able to catch up.

 Before your eyes, the deathly white mask of Reaper was staring at you, and you consciously tried to calm down. Although that was quite the task, seeing how disfigured he looked. Besides his mask, nothing was in its original shape. His robes were torn, the left side of his torso didn’t seem to be able to decide on whether it was corporeal or not, the black mist coalescing into a part of a lung or skin tissue, then blowing apart violently again.

 Horrified, you watched him approach you, a low pained groan erupted from him and somehow sounding from all around you as well.

 He came ever closer, and although you knew he hadn’t come to kill you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of trepidation. It was almost funny how you could have ever mistaken him for an angel.

 He hadn’t moved towards you though, but rather the couch, and now sank into it. With a small breath of relief, you struggled back up again and over to your backpack to retrieve the amplifying glove.

 “Leave it,” He ground out, his voice wavering as he leaned his head onto the back of the couch.

 With a frown you stopped what you were doing and looked at him questioningly.

 “I don’t—” He had trouble breathing. “—need your help.”

 Incredulously, you propped your hands on your hips.

 “What?” You asked him with an air of annoyance. “Look at you. You’re only half human...or whatever you are, right now.”

 “I’ll manage,” He retorted stubbornly, and then you decided that he could die for all you cared.

 “Fucking hell,” You muttered under your breath and stuffed the glove back inside your backpack, zipping it unnecessarily harsh. How irritating could someone be?

 Still shaken and angry, you opted to sit down in a corner of the living room where you were able to still see what Reaper was doing. If he didn’t manage to heal on his own, you were going to have to help him out eventually. Ogundimu would not take kindly to you letting one if his agents die on your watch. The one having to suffer would be Caleb.

 Minutes ticked by, the sounds coming from the wounded man were slowly turning from agony to lesser pain, and you were relieved that your help apparently wasn’t needed after all.

 What a waste of time that has been, you thought as you sucked on your teeth absentmindedly.

 Then suddenly, Reaper spoke to you again.

 “Come here.”

 Instead of the command spurring you into action though, it made you freeze in your spot. You stared at him, and he at you while he was clutching the left side of his body.

 He growled when you didn’t do as you were told.

 “Don’t make me repeat myself,” He warned, and finally you were able to get up, put on the glove and walked over to him on slightly shaking legs.

 When you stopped before him, he carefully removed his clawed hand from his side to reveal the damage.

 You winced sympathetically at the sight. Flesh and bone were visible amidst black mist that was trying in vain to knit them back together.

 “Don’t just stand there, do something.”

 Bristling, you concentrated on your healing ability, had it collect inside your palm and sent it out through the tips of the glove. Golden white light illuminated the black robed man before you and lit up the skeletal mask. You could see how flesh and bone were mending back together where the light spray touched his wound. Amazed at how fast he was healing, you wondered how Dr. O’Deorain had managed it, how she had altered the technology.

 The bones were completely regenerated after a few moments, but you also felt your arm going numb again. Oh damn, the doc hadn’t changed anything about the glove’s abilities. The numbness soon began to fade and instead a dull pain began to throb, and you had to stop what you were doing. With a hiss you tried to rub life back into your appendage.

 “Finish it,” Reaper growled at you, apparently very much in pain.

 “I am trying!” You snapped back at him, fed up with his attitude and irritated by the pain. But there was no way for you to go on like this. “I can’t use this,” You finished as you pulled off the glove.

 “What?” Reaper sounded annoyed, looked down himself and cursed. “Can’t you do it without that thing?”

 You stopped and thought for a second. Touching him had not been a very good idea before, you remembered. Last time it had ended with his fist almost crushing your wrist. So you were reluctant to do it. Reaper must have seen your hesitance, because suddenly his bloodied and smoking hand shot forward to grab you by the back of your neck, pulling you towards him.

 With a small yelp you landed on the couch beside him, propping yourself on your knees in order to not land directly in his lap.

 “Listen,” He growled and you could feel the points of his sharp claws dig into your neck while his mask was mere centimeters away from your face. “You will heal me now or I can simply take your life force from you.”

 You swallowed.

 “Either way, I will be whole again,” He ended his threat, but kept holding onto you.

 “Okay. Okay, fine!” You answered with your throat closing down in fear. There was no reason not to believe him. “Just—let go.”

 Slowly, Reaper’s claws unhooked from your skin, leaving papercut fine wounds in their wake.

 Finally free again you pulled away from him a little, wanting more space between you two.

 “You need to move your arm,” You told him with a false calmness, and watched as he raised his arm to let it rest on the back of the couch, creating a space for you to get a bit closer to where you needed to be.

 You raised shaking hands to his still open wound, fighting the urge to flee, and concentrated on your healing once more. Your palms became warm, the inner flow of the nanites inside your blood were a pleasant prickling on your hand and you closed your eyes in concentration.

 With a final breath out, you closed the distance and touched him, his small grunt of pain made you jump a little although you had expected it, but you were able to keep up the healing process.

 Beneath your fingers muscles began to form and take shape again, as well as vessels and fat tissue. Reaper sighed and seemed to relax beside you, that was a little reassuring at least.

 Everything would have been fine, the healing was working, you had no time pressure and in this darkness you didn’t even have to close your eyes to not see how you were healing a Talon terrorist, slash mercenary, slash murderer.

 But suddenly he groaned. No, actually moaned, and it broke your concentration. “There’s another spot,” He went on quietly and pulled your arm until you were half leaning over him. He guided your hand to his shoulder, where you felt was another wound quite deep as well. Your chest touched his, the coolness of his metallic armor seeped through your fleece jacket in no time and you shivered. The way you were lying across him now was uncomfortable, and very awkward.

 Apparently, he thought the same because soon his hands started to rearrange you so you were actually straddling his legs, the metal again cold and unyielding beneath you, or were those his thighs? Either way, while he was visibly relaxing, you were a tense ball of apprehension, your concentration fleeting as your heart was hammering in your chest. You were still healing his wounds though, determined to finish it up as quickly as possible.

 So when he stopped moving again, you felt confident enough to close your eyes and flee from reality for a moment, and that dreadful mask, instead focusing on the healing; one hand at his side, the other on his shoulder.

 The only sounds you heard were Reaper’s ragged breaths and the blood rushing in your ears. Please let this be over soon, you prayed.

 Again Reaper moaned quietly and you felt your stomach twist, you were so unbelievably uncomfortable with this whole situation. Why was this turning so weirdly...sexual all of a sudden? Your healing had never had such an effect on someone like this before, why with him?

 While you were crying on the inside at the unfairness of it all, Reaper’s hands crept up your legs and came to rest on your waist, causing your breath to hitch and the healing to stop with how you wanted to pull away.

 “No,” The man purred, “Keep going.” Then he leaned his head away again to let it rest on the couch’s back.

 Oh god. This sounded so wrong.

 You shook your head to clear it. Well, you would definitely have a word with someone about this later, but now you had to finally bring this to an end and be done with it.

 So, with shaking hands, you resumed the mending of his wounds, trying in vain to ignore his big hands on your sides, and how they seemed to squeeze you from time to time.

 It was a long process without you being able to use concentrated healing through an amplifier, but it would get the job done eventually. Of course such work was tiring. Already you felt the fatigue in your joints, creeping up from your hands to every part in your body. That was natural and bound to happen, but it seemed tenfold after using Dr. O’Deorain’s glove, and you weren’t exactly happy about it. Especially now in this particular situation.

 Your breathing became heavy, you felt light-headed and had a hard time focusing on what you were doing. The only thing that kept you going was Reaper’s menacing presence, your instincts screaming at you to flee from him.

 The more you felt your conscious slipping away from you, the more energetic the man seemed to become. You could feel him shifting and sighing as if he was greatly enjoying this, only adding fuel to your discomfort. Although all of this was starting to fade into the background, the only thought inside your head was heal, heal, heal.

 And so you pushed yourself further, harder, to finish what you had started and get the hell out of this weird position. Somewhere in your mind you even yearned for the little room they had given you at Talon headquarters. Anywhere but here was fine, really.

 Unbidden, thoughts of Caleb came to you, his pallid face staring into nothing in a greenish camera feed, how you had imagined him blown to bits in the warehouse explosion and how this man here had come to take you away from your previous life.

Mariquita, he had called you. You remembered that detail, even though you had no idea what it even meant.

 Soon the fatigue was starting to become painful again, you desperately tried to keep your eyes open, but they just wouldn’t do what you told them to. Nothing was working anymore, all the control over your body and life had been lost and all that remained was a puppet. A puppet with your eyes and a broken smile.

 A sob escaped you, you noticed somewhere far away. Blackness was crashing over you like waves. Waves of fog, or mist as dark as night while a blood red moon hung over you.

 Distantly, you felt those clawed hands slide up your back, pulling you into an embrace and your cheek came to rest on a broad, fully intact shoulder. Cool air was blowing past your ear with the rumbling of a voice. What was it saying?

 “—not done yet.” You were able to pick up the last part of the sentence, then your hands were positioned onto the almost completely healed wounds again, and held in place so they wouldn’t slip away. The healing you sent out were the very last remains of your ability, but it was still working. And with it, your heart squeezed painfully in your chest.

Heal or die.    

 You whimpered pathetically while your muscles spasmed and you lost all the feeling inside your fingers. Soon you were silently begging to fall unconscious, anything to get out of this feeling of actually dying.

 Then, finally, Reaper hummed and released you, only to grab you again as you were slumping to the side.

 One of his hands found their way around your throat, holding you in place before him. You could barely open your eyes, but what good would it do you anyway. All you were going to see would be his stupid mask.

 “Nice work, mariquita,” He said with his head cocked slightly to the side. There he went with that word again. “Maybe I’ll keep you around after all.” He sounded thoughtful from what you could gather through the haze.

 “Yay,” You whispered sarcastically, and that seemed to amuse him. The rough sound rippled through him and right into you as well, considering you were practically laying on top of him. As if his sinister laugh wasn’t creepy enough.

 “You can—,” You tried swallowing around his grip on your throat. “—let go now.” But his fingers didn’t loosen their hold at all, instead he used them to turn your face a bit this way and that, as if he was trying to memorize your features.

 Creep.

 You wanted to raise your hands and push him away, but even that was too much of a task right now.

 “You did such a good job at patching me up. I feel...great.”

 A second of silence.

 “Maybe I should return the favor,” Reaper mused. His demeanor had changed somewhat from the distant and cold killer to a calmer version. Even his voice had changed in timbre. But your thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly shifted beneath you, and his thighs began to spread causing you to move forwards and directly onto his crotch.

 Your breath caught.

Oh god, let this bump between your legs be a shotgun shell or just another belt buckle.

 There must have been something affecting the man because you could feel soft, warm lips pressing gently against your ear where there should have been a cold, hard mask.

 “Oh,” You gasped and honestly, it was a miracle that you were still able to talk at all.

 But those lips kept exploring the shell of your ear, making you shiver with the exhale of his next words.

 “I’ll take care of you,” He murmured and rolled his hips into yours for emphasis.

 All you managed was a weak whimper, you felt so powerless in his grasp, sapped of all your strength. And really, that’s exactly what had happened. You’d drained all your power into healing him and now he was feeling great, excited, while you were a limp sack of potatoes trying to stay awake.

 “Stop,” You tried, but it only came out a breathy whisper. A whisper he should have heard, though. So he was ignoring you, the way he was beginning to feel you up was an indicator. Or his wandering lips, brushing your jaw and then your neck at the spot where his claws were not currently digging in to keep you in place.

 This couldn’t be happening. Through the fog in your brain you could feel a panic rising. You were alone at this killer’s mercy.

 “Get off,” you croaked, cursing your weak voice and how it made it all sound so ambiguous. But you weren’t playing or teasing here. You managed to raise one arm and limply held it against his leather clad chest. If only you could at least push away, put some distance between yourself and him.

 Reaper’s lips brushed over your jugular, then he used his teeth and you swallowed drily at the sensation. It felt like he was about to deal the final killing blow. You had been today’s prey and now his meal.

 A violent tremor ran through your body.

 Slowly, he moved his face towards yours and through blurry eyes you could see his face—a dark smudge with burning red eyes, just like you remembered. It was difficult to discern with only the moonlight illuminating him. But then you blinked and it all became a little clearer. Underneath the smoke there were human features, a face marred by multiple scars criss-crossing over his nose and cheeks. As you looked on you saw peppered black facial hair, surprisingly well trimmed, and plush looking lips underneath.

 In another life you might have called him handsome, but as it was you were too terrified by those burning demonic eyes to keep that thought for long. The smoke rising steadily from him seemed to clear a little as you watched one corner of his mouth curl.

 The claws around your throat started pulling you into him further, fuelling the panic burning in your chest and with a breathless whimper your lips met his.

 Everything he was doing was deceptively gentle, yet there was nowhere for you to go and he let you feel it in the way he held you and how his mouth brushed against yours sensually, followed by a wicked tongue licking over your bottom lip. Oh shit, this was spiralling out of control so fast it made your head spin.

 In your dizziness and pain, even this unwanted attention suddenly started to feel...nice.

 And wrong, so so wrong.

 All you could do was to try and cling to the last bit of strength and defiance in you that screamed how all this was      wrong     and how there was      no way    you were enjoying any of it. Even though those soft caresses had you weak and pliant within moments. Somehow being sapped of all your strength and free will, to then being shown the smallest bit of comfort had your body convinced that it was enjoying this fucked up scenario.

 You were practically lost in the sensation of his kiss, your mouth had gone lax sometime between his licks and nips and how he had deepened it considerably. You hadn’t even noticed how his grip on your throat had transferred to the back of your skull. The pointy ends of his claws dragging against your scalp had you shivering in his grasp.

 Through the fog in your brain you felt how he ground against you, his evident excitement pressing into your most intimate parts.

 The rage that had turned down to a simmer inside you flared up anew and with it a wave of newfound energy. You finally managed to push at his chest. The force you used dislodged his grip and as you fell down to the floor, you could see the surprise on his face. A small victory. Even if you’d hurt your butt in the process.

 With shaky hands and legs you crawled away backwards, until you hit the upended coffee table behind you.

 Surely, he wouldn’t let you off so easily, but Reaper remained in his spot on the sofa, his legs still spread and a smug expression on his face.

 Then he simply got up to move to the corner where he had previously dumped his weapons. He appeared like a different person now, you noticed how he carried himself with ease and that his shoulders were less hunched.

 You, on the other hand, were still shaking like a leaf where you lay in a heap on the floor, still catching your breath in your state of shock. Wary eyes casting anxious glances in his direction.

***

 Neither of you had spoken another word after that incident and were now sitting in the helicopter again. Weariness and exhaustion were weighing down your limbs and phantom touches still ghosted over your skin in places that caused goosebumps to spread in discomfort. The thin fleece jacket around you didn’t help much with keeping you warm anymore, but not because it was especially cold around you, it was also an empty feeling inside that had you shivering.

 Apparently you were still in shock, because even though your body was tired, your mind kept racing. Lips on yours, demanding, taking. More and more, your denial ignored, cast aside like it was nothing. An emptiness in your stomach made you sick, the feeling of control slipping through your fingers had you on edge and strangely lethargic as well. To say you were a mess right now would be an understatement.

 All the while he was there, right next to you, sitting on the other side as if nothing had happened. No word of apology, or promise of it never happening again fueling the unease inside you.

 You tried to calm down, this had just been an accident.

 Yes, an accident. And it would never happen again, you would make sure of it.

 When you touched down at Talon HQ again, you fled from the helicopter as fast as you could, glad that you managed not to stumble or trip as you walked towards your room in a haze.

 Rounding a corner, you bumped into someone. You didn’t even have to look up to see that it was Ogundimu.

 “Where do you think you’re going?” He sounded amused.

 “I need to sleep,” you answered meekly, clutching the small backpack to your chest, eyes downcast. All you wanted right now was to curl up in bed.

 Ogundimu made a pensive sound, then his hand landed on the familiar spot on your shoulder, albeit much gentler than all the times before. The contact made you look up again, and you found him fixing you with an almost inquisitive stare.

 “How was your first mission with Talon?”

 The question caught you off guard, what were you supposed to say? “Oh, it was alright. Just got up and real personal with the Reaper. Is there a way so I never have to see him again, by the way?”

 Another million retorts went through your head, varying in their degree of sassiness. So you bit your tongue, took a breath and instead shrugged. “I did my job, as you asked.”

 As Ogundimu regarded you, you wondered what he would think of what had happened between you and your teammate. Considering that the man was a criminal, he probably wouldn’t even care about some underling medic.

 “So you did,” Ogundimu said slowly, then he lifted his hand as if to pull it away, only to brush a lock of your hair to the side, his eyes narrowing as they focused on your now exposed neck.

 You stood there, immobile and mute in the face of his scrutiny and what he must have seen, and before you could find your voice again he finally removed his hand.

 “You can tell me the details during the debrief.”

 Your heart sank. Oh no, not a debrief. That meant you’d have to be around all the Talon goons and their stupid smug faces again when everyone would clap each other on the shoulder for a job well done.

 Sighing inwardly, you turned around again at Ogundimu’s casual gesture for you to lead the way.

 His looming presence behind you did nothing to ease the tension in your body. Inside the debriefing room, you opted to stay in the shadows again, tucked in a corner, as Ogundimu moved to the head of the large table. A brilliant smile stretched across the Talon leader’s face as he addressed his agents and congratulated them on their success.

 But as you looked around, you noticed that a few people were missing. There had been at least half a dozen more seats occupied at the briefing that morning. Apparently, Reaper hadn’t been the only one to get shot up.

 The very small smile tugging at the corner of your lips went unnoticed.

 Ogundimu kept rattling on about each person’s role in the operation, acknowledging even the smallest wheel of his intricate machinery of agents. Lastly, his gaze fell on you.

 “Of course we can’t forget our field medics.” He smiled at you. “It seems your work with Dr. O’Deorain is paying off. I rarely have the time to see her, so please send her my regards.” His eyes were sharp in the semi darkness of the meeting room, the illuminated backdrop of the mission details glowed like a halo around him.

 You swallowed around a lump in your throat, but found that you couldn’t get any sound out. A small nod had to suffice.

 Apparently happy with your non-verbal affirmation, Ogundimu went on to conclude his retelling of the mission and dismissed everyone shortly thereafter. This couldn’t have been over any faster for you; what an ordeal.

 Finally, all of your team was dismissed. You sighed in relief and went to get out of there as fast as your tired feet could carry you.

 The next morning, you didn’t even remember much of the walk to your room, or how you washed your face and disrobed to get in bed. What you did remember though was the vivid nightmare that had plagued you during the night.

 Of being wrapped in a heavy, silky robe of darkness that had seemed to caress you slightly and had hugged you so completely you hadn’t been sure if breathing had still been possible. It had been both terrifying and strangely soothing.

 Until you’d felt something sharp and pointy dragging along your skin everywhere, even though you had started to beg and plead for it to stop. It hadn’t, and you’d started to panic, frantically trying to breathe through the mist that had started to seep straight into your lungs, filling them completely with its presence and just lingering, heavy and dark. It had kept going on and on until, with one final desperate breath, you had awakened. Soaked in sweat and tangled in your sheets, the pale morning light creeping through your only window.

 One hand clutched your chest, trying to will away the feeling of trepidation that still had a grip on your lungs. You kicked off the sheets the rest of the way and immediately went for the bathroom, where you splashed cold water in your face. A look in the mirror revealed dark circles under your eyes, a gaunt in your cheeks and paler skin. You really had given it your all yesterday. It was scary. Never before had you healed someone like that, until you’d almost fainted. It had taken quite a toll on you, better to not repeat it.

 A wry laugh escaped you from that thought. Surely, Reaper would understand if you told him how it made you want to fucking die. He seemed like a reasonable guy…

 One hand wiped over your tired face, the other clutched the bathroom sink. What were you going to do about this? Probably nothing. This was just how things were going to be from now on. Hysteria was battling with tiredness inside you at the prospect of having to go through this again and again. Of having to face Reaper once more, to see the skeletal white of his mask staring back with those dead eyes.

 With a heavy sigh you pushed away and out of the bathroom to get dressed. This was just another day at Talon headquarters and nobody gave a shit if you felt bad for any reason.

[ohblackdiamond]

the end of the world tour (kiss/endgame crossover, r) (part 4/5)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

In this chapter: Final preparations for visiting Tony Stark, including, in order of importance, paying up to find his location, deciding how to state their case, and determining what outfits to wear.

Or, four washed-up former rockstar superheroes don the spandex of old in a last-ditch effort to save an already half-gone world. They just need a little support from a billionaire who’s not too keen on KISS interrupting his private life. Somewhat Endgame compliant.

“Do you think we’re ready now?”

Paul said it out of nowhere, while they were all lounging in front of the T.V. Well, Gene had his ipad out, if only to fact-check the cast list for the horror movie onscreen. None of them were watching it. Ace had been shuffling in and out of the living room, bringing in popcorn and soda refills, looking a little antsy, but now he was sitting next to Peter, arm draped nonchalantly around his shoulders, feet propped up on a leather ottoman. On the couch opposite theirs, Paul was laying on his back, one ankle resting on his raised knee, occasionally reaching for the popcorn bowl on the floor, with Gene occupying what little room remained. It was comfortable, quiet. It reminded Peter of the rare times on tour that they’d have more than two days off in a row. No, better than that. Serene.

But with that single question, the serenity crumbled. Three pairs of bleary brown eyes were on Paul in an instant. Naturally, Paul started to hesitate, pulling both his knees up.

“I mean, really. We got all our powers back. What do we have left to work on?”

“Besides finding Stark’s location?” Gene set the ipad on the floor. “That’s it.”

“And that shouldn’t take more than a day or two.”

“And about a million dollars,” Gene said dryly. “The man’s wiped himself off the map.”

“So we pay it, that’s fine.” That mild anxiousness was beginning to sink into Paul’s expression. Any minute and he’d be shifting around in his seat like a twitchy grammar school kid. Peter watched, too used to it to feel more than mildly vindicated, as Paul moved to lay on his side, knees still bent. Gene hadn’t yet taken advantage of the extra legroom. “But other than that, we’re done. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not counting on us, I dunno, waking up faster than a speeding bullet if we do a few more pushups.”

 Ace stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth before responding.

“We’ve got to chart it out.”

“Chart it out?” Peter echoed. “What, are we sailing?”

“Astrology charts.” Ace took a large gulp of Pepsi. “Figure out what day’s best—I looked into it a little bit, I think the 27th would be good…”

“Are you serious, Ace? Just because that’s your lucky number doesn’t mean there’ll be any difference—” Gene started.

“It’s not just that! I checked all our horoscopes and that’s the only day that’s gonna be positive for all of us at once!” Ace looked aggrieved, stuffing another handful of popcorn in his mouth, chewing as he spoke. “I couldn’t get it positive with Stark, too, so that was the best I could—”

“What sign is he?” Paul asked, distractedly.

“Gemini. Totally incompatible.”

Paul exhaled, brow furrowed. Gene just rolled his eyes. Peter looked over at Ace, for once unsure on whether or not to back him, or if it mattered.

“That’d give us two weeks,” Peter said finally, shrugging. It was probably the most neutral statement he’d made in awhile. Gene shot him a mildly aggrieved look. “It’s fine as long as nobody chickens out and keeps trying to put it off.”

“Nobody’s gonna chicken out, Pete, don’t you worry.” Ace was nodding as he spoke. “I’m gonna check with my tarot reader tomorrow, too, just to make sure.”

“You still go see her?”

“Well, yeah. Though sometimes I’m starting to wonder.”

“What, if she’s stealing your money?”

“No, no, I just think her clairvoyance is getting cataracts or some shit.” Ace shrugged. “She said we were gonna tour again.”

Gene started to laugh. An utterly disgusted look crossed Paul’s face before he pressed half of it against the armrest.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding! Not in so many words, but she said something about change and great spectacles and crowds, so—”

“The only way I’m going back on tour is if we get sued,” Paul said flatly.

Ace hesitated.

“About that, Paulie…”

God. Peter knew exactly what was next. A whole half-hour round of rambling and shooting the shit, and by the time they all realized how far off-course they’d gotten, no one would even be in the mood to discuss their meeting with Stark. Ace’s ability to delay and distract had gotten way too much practice over the last five years. Luckily, Gene was immune.

“We’ve got other logistics to deal with here,” he said, a little curtly.

“Like what? This ain’t a gig—”

“Are you kidding? Ace, this might be the biggest gig of our lives.” Gene’s voice was as quiet and intense as usual. To Peter, it was a relief. “If Stark knows what really happened—”

“There’s no way that bastard doesn’t. You don’t make that kind of money without your fingers in everybody’s pie,” Peter interrupted. “We’ve been over this.”

“It’s not all about the money. It’s the type of superhero work he did.” Paul had raised his face from the armrest, finally. “I mean, the Avengers were dealing with threats from alien planets. That’s more than we ever did.”

“You think what happened five years ago is on account of aliens, Paul?”

Paul shrugged as much as he could while lying on the couch.

“You piss off a lot of people crimefighting.”

“Like Devereaux.” Peter snorted at the memory, but he kept going. “The guy gets fired and then he decides to make fucking robots of us to destroy the whole amusement park. And we didn’t have anything to do with it!”

“We did a concert at the park,” Paul said dryly.

“But it wasn’t our fault he got canned!”

“Well, no, but…” Gene said, before clearing his throat. He grabbed the remote, turning off the television. “We’re not getting anything done talking about Devereaux. We need to be talking about how to approach Stark.”

“Easy. With an ultimatum,” Ace tried to deadpan, only to ruin it with a laugh.

“With a plan.”

“Okay, okay. First off, what outfits? We’ve gotta coordinate.” Paul, unsurprisingly. Peter could’ve practically done a timeline of Paul’s recovery over the last five years by how much interest he showed in what he looked like. The first morning Paul had come downstairs for breakfast both shaved and dressed in something that wasn’t pajama bottoms or jeans was the morning Peter knew he wouldn’t be stuck living with a corpse that vaguely resembled KISS’ frontman.

“I dunno. Whatever we go with, I’ll still be sweating,” Ace said. “None of them are comfortable.”

“Mine are comfortable—”

“That’s ’cause yours don’t usually have a top, Paul.”

“We could do suits,” Gene offered halfheartedly. Despite his earlier complaint, Ace looked mildly appalled at the suggestion.

“No suits. I dunno if Stark’s old enough to remember the Dressed to Kill album cover,” Ace said. “He’ll think we’re trying to negotiate a business deal.”

“We are.”

“Y’know what I mean, Gene. No go.”

“Then what tour?”

“Anything but Dynasty. I’m not dragging around that green fucking shag carpet again,” Peter said.

“I loved Dynasty. We were wearing actual colors.”

“Black and silver are actual colors, Paul.”

“What about Love Gun? Fairly easy outfits to move around in, cohesive… lots of nostalgia for a Generation Xer like Stark…” Gene trailed. Ace nodded.

“I like it. Yeah.”

--

The next day, Gene made about a dozen calls and moved half a million dollars out of a Swiss bank, while Paul got out his checkbook, looking markedly less blasé about shelling out the money than he had when it was only a point of discussion. Peter was determined not to let the hangdog expressions on both their faces compel him to donate (“the man’s location ain’t worth forty bucks, and you know it”), but Ace, yanking out his own wallet with the affability of an old gambler, shamed him into it with a single sentence.

“It’s only paper, Cat.”

So half an hour later, once Ace had wandered off for his tarot reading appointment, Peter wrote out a check for thirty grand. Every step towards Gene’s office—really just a rolltop desk and a rolly chair conveniently parked outside the kitchen—felt like slogging around in mud. The last time he’d given Gene any money, he—no, wait, he’d never given Gene any money. Unless he counted licensing. He was trying not to count licensing.

As soon as Peter walked in, Gene spun around in his chair to face him. Peter held up the check, feeling like he was fleecing himself out of part of his own retirement. That old glint in Gene’s eye was there almost immediately, and he didn’t hesitate, taking the check as soon as Peter offered it.

“Is that a reimbursement?”

“It’s a payment, asshole. Don’t make me change my mind.”

“You didn’t make it out to anyone.”

Peter snatched the check back and wrote “Gene Simmons” in capital letters across the for line.

“There. Just put it towards finding that bastard, that’s all I care about.” He paused. “How much did Ace give you?”

“More than you did.”

Peter groaned.

“And you let him? Gene, you know he blew all his Reunion money as soon as he made it—and he never did earn that much off his solo albums. Don’t let him bullshit you, he ain’t got more than a million, I’d be surprised if he’s got half that—”

“He wanted to help out.”

“Don’t bankrupt him over this shit, Gene.”

“I’m putting half of it back in his account.” A pause. “But—now correct me if I’m wrong, Pete, but you’re a little more, ah, fiscally responsible, on average—”

“If you put half mine back, I’m moving out. I’m serious. I’m not having you and Paul hang who paid what over my head if this works.”

“All right, fine, fine.” Gene folded the check and stuck it in his pocket.

“I mean it, Gene, I watch my bank account.”

“Spoken like a true divorcé,” Paul called out from the kitchen. The usual tinny crack to his voice when he spoke much above normal volume wasn’t there yet. Peter scowled.

“I didn’t spend half as much on either of mine as you did—"

“I told you both to do prenups,” Gene interrupted. Peter shot him a put-out look, while Paul kept yelling out from the kitchen.

“I tried! Pam started crying when I suggested it!”

“Yeah, that should’ve been your first indication.” Gene was biting back a laugh. Peter elbowed him. “Anyway, I’ll go get everybody’s checks deposited and—”

“You can do that online,” Paul said, only half-audible over the sound of the egg beaters. Whatever he was in the process of baking, Peter didn’t hold too much hope for.

“What?”

“Just take a couple pictures of the checks and you can do it online.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You don’t gotta go over there anymore.”

Gene looked at Peter. Peter shrugged.

“First I’ve heard of it. I dunno.”

“Huh.” Gene’s forehead furrowed, and he called back out to Paul. “Front and back of the check?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t really trust that,” Peter mumbled, watching as Gene took the checks out of his pocket, spreading them on the desk (Peter noted, almost wryly, that Paul had failed to add the obligatory star to his signature. Ace, though, had doodled his usual card, strange as it looked next to “Paul Frehley”) before pulling his phone out. “I bet nobody’s looking at the damn pictures.”

“Hang on.” Gene’s lips were pursed in concentration. “Shit, I forgot my password.”

The din of the eggbeaters ceased, a put-out sigh coming from the kitchen. A few seconds later and Paul was in the office with them, leaning over Gene’s phone.

“Which account is it again?”

“The, uh, local one.”

Another sigh. Paul typed something in and handed the phone back.

“There. You’re in now.”

“Thanks.” Gene fidgeted, smoothing out the checks again before starting to take the pictures. Peter stared at both of them.

“You’ve got the passwords to his bank accounts.”

“Well, yeah, he never remembers.”

“Are you sure you’re not married?”

Gene’s head shot up immediately, caught expression written all over his face. Paul gave Peter that wide-eyed, innocently baffled stare that had stopped being attractive somewhere around the second term of the Clinton administration. Only it quit being baffled and sunk right over to embarrassed within half a second, Paul’s gaze drooping to the desk. Peter ignored the hint and kept staring.

“Well?”

“I’ve got to check on that meringue,” Paul said suddenly, and slunk out of the room.

--

Two hours and three-quarters of a million dollars later, Gene had Tony Stark’s location pinpointed, coordinate by exhausting coordinate. Ace confirmed, once they’d punched those coordinates into google maps, that he could teleport them there, no problem. Pretty disgusting, really. It turned out that the guy hadn’t even left New York.

Ace also confirmed that his tarot reader had told him the 27th was a perfectly viable day for any and all world-saving plans. Not a surprise. Even if Ace wasn’t much more than a millionaire, if that, Peter figured she was still probably getting paid way too much to argue him over dates.

And so that was it. That was really it. The last real chink in their plan, resolved. All over but the enacting. Sitting around the kitchen, eating the chocolate pie Paul had whipped up earlier (he’d overbeat the meringue on top), it felt—weird. Back on the precipice of something grand and great and terrifying. Just spinning their wheels. Just waiting.

Gene reached for another piece of chocolate pie. Paul leaned over and cut it for him, neatly setting it on his plate.

“Thirteen days, boys,” Gene said through a mouthful of meringue. “Thirteen days and we’ll save the world.”

“Hopefully,” Paul corrected.

“No hopefully. We’ll save it.” Gene’s self-assurance was usually more frustrating than bolstering. But right now, Peter appreciated it. “We’re in the best shape we’ve ever been in—”

Beside Peter, Ace burst into laughter.

“Well, I mean, in costume—in costume we’re untouchable,” Gene corrected. “Stark’s an intelligent man. He’ll recognize what an asset we are.”

“Gene, saying Stark’s an intelligent man is like saying Genghis Khan was a pretty good warlord.” Paul shifted, and Peter watched, mildly surprised, as he got another piece of pie for himself. Usually, the guy ate less the more stressed he was. “But I don’t think it’s gonna be a problem getting him on our side.”

Peter felt himself nod.

“We got a lot going for us.”

“We need to talk approach, though.” Gene looked pensive. Peter tilted his head. Across from him, Paul mumbled “oh, boy” under his breath. “No, I’m serious. Coming to his house in costume is ballsy, but the message is what’ll really get us in.”

“What do you wanna do, Geno? Ask him whose dick you have to suck to get in on the world-saving gig?” Ace asked blithely.

“I can’t believe you remember me saying that,” Gene said.

“I don’t. But I had to do research for my memoir.” The corners of Ace’s mouth tilted up. “I get that it’s serious, but—”

“It is serious. That’s why I need to do the talking.”

“Oh, come the hell on, Gene—”

“Paul, I’ve met him. I’ve had dinner with him. I think that’ll give us some extra leverage—”

“What, you think the rest of us are just gonna make asses of ourselves?”

“Absolutely.”

“Gene!”

“Paul, c’mon. You’ll be snotty, Pete’ll get pissed, and Ace’ll tell him about Jendell. You all need to leave the talking to me.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Peter said it before Paul could. He could feel Paul’s glance on him, approving for the first time in years. Ace’s, too. “We’re not going to be sitting on our asses while you try to schmooze up Stark.”

“Then—”

“I think we’ve got to just be honest with him,” Ace said. “We don’t need to bust out the resume. ’S not big enough to be all that impressive anyway. Just tell him we wanna help.”

“You think it’s that simple?”

“Yeah, I think it’s that simple.” Ace was tugging his fork along his plate, scraping up the tiniest remnants of his piece of chocolate pie. Peter, sighing, cut another piece for him, dropping it on his plate. “The Avengers don’t get a lot of volunteers.”

“Do you think we ought to…” Paul trailed, wiping off his mouth as he spoke. “Try an emotional appeal. Would that work on him?”

“Would it work on you?” Gene asked.

“If Tony had tits, it would.”

“Then that’s a no.”

“Hold on. What kind of emotional appeal are you talking, Paul?” Peter asked.

Paul looked a little surprised Peter was pushing for more when Gene had just shut him down.

“Like Ace said, be honest. Tell him we lost out on everything. We could even tell him about our work with FER.”

Peter barely managed not to roll his eyes at Paul qualifying those fifty-three pregnancies as work. Gene had finished his second piece of pie, and Paul was pushing what was left of his own towards him on automatic.

“The only trouble with that is, he’s heard it before,” Gene said. “He’s donated millions to the government to clean up after what happened. There’s probably thousands of charity organizations sending him orphans to sponsor.”

“But he hasn’t heard it from us.” Paul’s lips were slightly pursed. “You’re right, it may not make much of a difference. But Stark does know who we are.”

“Everyone knows who we are,” Gene countered.

“No, Gene, it—it means something to him. He’s just old enough that he remembers when we were superheroes.”

Peter wiped his mouth off with a napkin.

“Remember how they billed us, starting out?” Paul pushed.

“Sure,” Peter said. “The seventies’ answer to Captain America.”

“Then we ended up the Me Generation’s answer to Captain America,” Ace added dryly.

“And Stark’s old man was big buddies with—”

“Captain America.” Gene nodded, expression brightening. “He would’ve had to have been very well aware of us—”

“Exactly. Gene, did Stark ever tell you anything, when you met him? Did he say he’d been to KISS concerts?”

“I don’t remember. He might have.” Gene scooped up more of Paul’s piece of pie, taking a bite as he spoke. Same rotten table manners as ever, but Peter had long since stopped minding. “I’ve only seen him at a few functions. He never struck me as a fanboy.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not one,” Paul countered. “There are a lot of fans out there still that don’t advertise it.”

“If it turns out Stark’s got a KISS cave in one of his mansions, I gotta say I ain’t buying the playboy bit out of him,” Ace said.

“I think he got married. But look, just—we’ve got to use whatever we can to our advantage. Even if we’re still playing on nostalgia.”

Peter nodded in agreement. Ace reached over, snagging the last piece of pie before Gene’s fork could reach it, and smiled.

--

Over the next twelve days, everyone was filled with nervous energy. It seemed to almost ping-pong back and forth between them, the bond getting strong enough that Peter was finally starting to distinguish between the rest of the guys’ feelings, instead of it all being an indiscernible lump of emotions. He’d never been great at it. Paul was easiest to tell apart from the rest, probably because he was so anxious naturally, ribbony swaths of mauve and purple in his mind’s eye. Gene and Ace were always a little less defined. Peter was worried about Ace in particular. The deep blue field of feelings, like an oddly starless sky, seemed—deeper, like there was something beneath the surface. He’d mentioned it a bit, late at night in bed, but Ace always brushed it off. Peter, figuring Ace was just afraid their discussion with Stark would all go wrong, hadn’t pushed him too hard about it. If he wanted to talk about it, he’d say so.

They had just finished one last workout and were lying around on the couches, transformed back to normal but still sweaty. Ace had gotten everyone water bottles from the fridge; Paul had deigned to pass out towels, and they’d all ended up pouring the water on the towels and wiping off their faces with it, too tired to bother with proper showers yet. Gene was self-assured to the point of cockiness, the red tendrils of emotion creeping into Peter’s subconscious like infiltrating vines.

“Almost there. Tomorrow’s the day.”

Paul, who had his legs propped on Gene’s lap on the couch, but still looked strained, nodded in assent.

“You nervous?”

“I’m dosing up on Xanax before we leave.”

“Paul, c’mon,” Gene said, and then he looked over at Peter and Ace. “You’re ready, aren’t you?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Peter said dryly. Ace offered a thumbs-up.

“You’re killing me. Where’s Bill when you need him?” Gene shook his head. “Don’t be so damn worried about how things are gonna go. I can feel it from here.”

It was hard not to be worried. They hadn’t discussed what they’d do if Tony Stark turned them down, if there was no way they could fix their world. It had been easy to say they had nothing to lose when their powers had been in terrible shape and teaming up with the Avengers was just an idea to reach for. But now, powers restored, less than twenty-four hours from being face-to-face with Stark… it was different. It was wracking. And Gene was trying to take over the job of every manager they’d ever had, and pump them up like they were back on tour.

“C’mon, boys. The last thing that stopped KISS was a concept album.”

Ace’s mouth started to twitch up at his words. Noticing it, Gene shot him a broad smile and continued.

“We’ve talked what we’re gonna say and do tomorrow to death. Let’s look past that.”

“Look past that?” Peter repeated.

“Yeah. Let’s go around the room and talk about what we’ll do after.”

“Well, after we’ll either go home or end up in that Avengers tower,” Paul said dryly. Gene poked his leg.

“After we succeed, Paul. After we get him on our side and save the world. What’s next on our agenda?”

“I still gotta take you guys to Jendell,” Ace said.

“Yeah, but besides that. C’mon. True story time. Let’s all come out with it, all around the room.” Gene’s boisterousness was the exact opposite of infectious, each bandmate glancing nervously at the others, but he didn’t seem deterred. “Do I have any volunteers? Paul?”

“I, uh…”

“Go ahead. What’s the first thing you’re going to do after we save the world?”

“Probably have sex with my wife.”

Gene’s expression shifted into a wide grin.

“Me, too. Peter?”

“… Probably just kiss my wife.”

“Aw, Petey, just let Gigi touch your tits some and you’ll be able to get it back up—”

“Oh, shut up, Ace—”

“What’re you going to do, Ace? Rachael?”

“I dunno.” Ace was gnawing at his bottom lip, teeth sliding up and down the skin. “I think… I think I wanna try to patch things up with Jeanette.”

“Really?” Peter blinked. “You haven’t even lived together in at least twenty years.”

“I know. I know that. But we never got divorced. Her health’s been real bad, I didn’t wanna do that to her. And me and Rach… I dunno. Rach helped me get clean. Jeanette could’ve, too, if I’d let her.”

Peter didn’t know how to answer that. Oh, there were all the old sayings he half-remembered from his own rehab stint, how an addict, any addict, could have the best support team in the world behind him and it wouldn’t matter until he wanted to change, but none of that felt right. None of that felt meaningful.

“But you guys helped me stay that way,” Ace finished off. “So I guess on that basis if you wanna go all-in on a four way marriage, then—”

“No,” Gene said flatly. “One partner’s expensive enough.”

“Aww, been breaking my heart for over forty years, Geno,” Ace lilted, licking his lips, smirk spreading across his face. “’N’ I just keep coming back. Glutton for punishment, man. How the fuck do you do it?”

Gene just snorted, but he was starting to smile. Next to him, Paul shifted awkwardly.

“Don’t say it, Paulie. I know you’ve got the rings on backorder at Kay’s—”

“Kay’s? Don’t insult me like that!”

“Okay, okay, so you went to Tiffany’s. Get your lamps and your engagement rings at the same time, good deal.”

“Damn it, Ace, I just wanna—”

“I’m staying out of this,” Peter mumbled, starting to get up, only for Ace to grab him by the arm and tug him back to the couch, cackling.

“You’re way too late for that one, Cat. When was it, ’95…”

“I just wanted to ask if anyone wanted to jam downstairs!” Paul burst out.

“Jam?”

They hadn’t had a jam session since before Paul and Gene had gotten out the talismans for their ridiculous FER liaisons.

Peter remembered the first session they’d done. Maybe three, four months after moving into New Haven properly, after Gene had taken care of—or had someone else take care of—closing deals on all four of their houses. Moving everyone’s personal memorabilia, everything from gold and platinum albums to old costumes to stupid, useless shit like newspaper clippings and black-and-white passport photos, into storage units. Most of the stuff they’d wanted at home got boxed up and put either in the attic or downstairs, instruments included.

Peter had found himself in the basement, looking for something still in storage. An old corduroy coat of Lydia’s. One he’d about begged off her boyfriend a month or two after the blip. He knew he didn’t have a right to it forty years out, but he could smell the faint traces of her perfume on the fabric, could see that old greasepaint smear on the corner of one sleeve, from when she’d cupped his face in her hands for a kiss after a show. He’d been so desperate to grasp at anything of hers, any reminder she’d ever been real and ever been his. Gigi, too, only he had her things, almost twenty years’ worth. Her dress from their wedding, her name tattooed on his shoulder. He’d had nothing of Lydia’s.

He never found that coat again, no matter how much he searched the basement. Instead Peter had found Gene’s old bass, the one Gene had given him after he’d been fired from the band for the first time, that old memento. Even when he’d gotten down to his last few grand, back in the early nineties, he’d held onto that bass. It was out of tune now, badly, but Peter had kept strumming at it until he heard Ace wandering down the stairs, then watched him step into the basement. Ace hadn’t even blinked at the sight of Peter with the bass.

“You wanna play something?”

“No, it’s—”

“C’mon.”

And somehow they’d both lugged Peter’s old drumkit out of storage, and one of Ace’s Les Pauls, and before long they were playing again. Couldn’t do much with a two-piece band. Ace had gone all in on “Parasite;” Peter had started “Strange Ways,” and halfway through the chorus, Paul had come in. Peter had bristled, expecting Paul to tell them to can it, but Paul had just watched quietly, leaning against the door like he thought he still looked cool. Not realizing that he only looked like a little kid hoping he wouldn’t get picked last for baseball.

Ace had waved him over with a jerk of his thumb. Paul had dug around awhile in the storage room before picking out one of probably two or three guitars he had in there, tuning it, anxious look on his face. The three of them finished up on “Strange Ways,” and then Peter’s gaze had gone to Paul, waiting, out of long-ago habit, for the next suggestion. Paul took awhile to make one.

“‘Hard Luck Woman,’” Paul had said finally.

“You don’t wanna sing?” Peter had asked, unthinking. Paul looked away, and Ace just plowed into the intro in attempt to save Paul some face. But Peter didn’t pick up his sticks, deliberately missing his cue to sing.

“Pete, just go ahead, would you?” Paul had said, voice quiet. “Just go ahead. I want to hear you.”

“I wanna hear you.”

By the time Gene came downstairs, Ace and Peter had coaxed Paul into starting on the first verse of “Strutter,” each note weak but true. Gene hadn’t even hesitated, strapping on his bass like a minuteman attaching his bayonet, adding that last piece to their ensemble.

That night, they’d been tight. Tighter than they’d been in so many years, feeding off each other’s playing in—in almost a round. Not weaving in and out seamlessly like Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood—KISS just wasn’t that good, and never had been—but it felt better than comfortable. It felt fulfilling. Looking back, Peter realized that night had been the start of that old connection between the four of them beginning to mend.

That session had been the best by far. The jam sessions after were a mixed bag. Oh, they’d all start out well enough, charging through the old setlist staples like “Black Diamond” and “Detroit Rock City” at an insistent, heady pace, but then, inevitably, things would fall apart. Peter’s arms would go from just throbbing to straight-up murdering him, Ace’s encroaching deafness would get in the way of his ability to follow Peter’s tempo, and Paul’s voice would start cracking to the point he’d just quit singing entirely and glare at the others as if daring them to utter a single word.

Gene was the only one who didn’t really falter much—until they got to any actual jams, at least. Then he was dead in the water. If it hadn’t been on at least the last ten setlists, it wasn’t a song Gene actually remembered. Peter had found that out the hard way when he’d suggested a rendition of “Mainline,” only to garner a blank-faced Gene and an off-kilter but trying Ace and Paul for his troubles. The bassline not being the most important factor in that song didn’t ease Peter’s irritation any. Not given that Peter had done the lead vocals.

“Wait, you really want to jam, Paul?” Gene asked. He looked a little baffled. Paul would go along with jam sessions, but he’d never been the one to suggest them before. Too embarrassed about the state of his vocals. It was like the guy honestly expected to be made fun of. Maybe once, five years ago, Peter would have, seeing it as karma for how Paul had treated him during the Reunion. But not now. Not ever.

“Well, yeah. Get some of the nervous energy out before we go to Stark’s.” Paul shrugged. “Look, if you guys don’t want to, it’s fine, I just thought…”

“Let’s do it.” It was Ace, in all his weirdly lazy affability. But his eyes were bright and focused. “Dress rehearsal before the performance. It’s good luck.”

“It’s good luck to have a bad dress rehearsal, Ace,” Gene corrected, though he was nodding. “Pete, you want to?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m game.”

“Cool.” Paul visibly relaxed. The purple ribbons in the corner of Peter's mind seemed to lighten. Ease. “C’mon.”

[btswishes]

I am not enough.

Werewolf Au (Wonho)

Part1 / Part2 / Part3 / Part4 / Part5 / Part6 / Part7 /

A/N:  Lets speed this up a bit. XD

Word count:  2,880

Warnings: Dirty, flirting, suggestive language, cursing

                            —————————————————

  The night seemed longer than you thought. It was 12pm and you were still sleeping.Not even the sun or the birds could get you to move from your spot. Everything was quiet and you were enjoying it to the fullest. Usually the mornings for you were a mix of random sounds, since the boys enjoyed a nice rumble first this in the morning. Being as tired as you were, not even one suspicious thought passed through your mind.

  Unknown to you, early in the morning at around 5am ,Shownu gathered the boys in the living room. They were tip-toeing passed your and Wonho’s rooms, being extra careful not to wake either one of you up. 

“Shownu, what do you want at THIS time in the morning?!”Hyungwon growled, when the oldest grabbed his mouth and shushed him 

“Are you crazy!” he whispered hyper “I don’t want to wake Y/N and Wonho up!”

“What is all this about?” he removed his hand from Hyungwon’s mouth, giving him none verbal permission to talk

“Let’s be honest, I am not the only one who noticed how much those two bicker and frankly it’s unhealthy for the whole pack. Alpha or not Wonho is supposed to listen to Y/N.” the boy started explaining his view point on the whole matter 

“So, what do you plan to do at 5am?” Kihyun yawned ,as he leaned onto his hyungs shoulder “ Lock them together until they make up or something like that?”

“Ummmm, actually yes.”

“WHAT!?” Chang Kyun yelled out from the top of his lungs, before all the boys jumped on top of him, covering his face with pillows 

“What part of shush don’t you understand!” the young wolf crawled from under the sneak attack, his hair in the same mess as his emotions 

“We are not doing that! Have you idiots gone mad!?”he leaned closer to the boys, looked at each of them as he angrily whispered

“Do you have a better idea?” it was getting pretty bad if even Joohoney started feeling strange “ They can’t even look at each other. You saw how Y/N reacted last night.”

“It’s not because of that.” he looked at the ground, biting his lip trying to keep his thoughts to himself 

“Then what is it Chang Kyun?” the wolves stared at him, but he didn’t spill anything to them

“Look, just trust me on that one. They shouldn’t be left alone together.”

“Who ever is in favor of this idea, raise your hand.” in just a matter of seconds Shownu got everyone except Chang Kyun to vote for the plan. “Look I know you are overprotective and don’t like being far from Y/N, but this is the best thing to do. Who knows what will happen if they continue to act like this.” in the end Shownu swayed the worried boy and he had to agree.

“Maybe you are right. Ok. So where will we go then?” the most obvious question was asked and all of them stared at the carpet ,when Minhyuk suggested something 

“There is gonna be a 1 day, 1 night music festival in town at the beach. We can go, have fun, let these to hopefully deal with their problems and get back.”

  So it was settled, while you and Wonho were sleeping soundly the rest of the pack just packed some backpacks and went to have some fun, hoping you could fix your issues by being alone.

 Still half asleep, you reached out to check the time, but your phone was nowhere in sight. “Aw shit, I forgot it over there.”sighing you got up and went to get ready for the day. Brushing your teeth, taking a shower and getting your hair in check was like a little ritual that always woke you up in the morning. Your stomach rumbled so loud you swore even God could hear. It wasn’t something embarrassing since you were alone in your room.

 You were rubbing your eyes even while making cereal. The chair was comfy and sturdy enough to keep your back straight, so you didn’t choke on the breakfast. While your eyes were focused onto the sink in front of you, in your peripheral vision moved a light pink blob.

“Morning.” you said causally     

“Yeah.” said the figure in a deep raspy morning voice. He sat next to you, clanking his bowl against the marble counter top of the kitchen island. “Shit, I forgot the milk.” you pushed the carton and it slid in front of him “Thanks.”

“You welcome.” your head was leaned onto your hand. You were chewing slowly, still focused on that one spot in the kitchen. It was quite and the birds were singing outside, the perfect morning picture.

“Ah...” you sighed satisfied “I love peaceful mornings.”

“Same same.” the boy instinctively added  

“It’s never like this.” your smile froze as you slowly turned around and found the house empty “Too quiet....” you were looking around but there was no curly or brown hair in sight “Where is everyone?Wait....” you paused “...then who are you...” almost like you saw a ghost, your head moved carefully to your left “WONHO!” a piece of the cereal didn’t sit well in this situation and decided to just lodge itself nice and snugly in your throat.

  You began coughing intensely. Wonho didn’t think much when he jumped, grabbed you and simply helped you take a deep breath again. You were panting in his hands, holding his arms at your chest level.

“Why the fuck do you do dumb shit like this!” he yelled out

  Pushing him away, you gave him a pissed off look “I am fine, thanks for asking.”

“You should be thanking me! If I wasn’t here this pack wouldn’t have an alpha anymore.” he hissed at your remark 

“ Oh so you actually see me as an alpha.Wow this is new!” the angry mom position took over your body and suddenly you unleashed all your hidden thoughts 

“You still going on with that?” he exhaled sharply as the corner of his lips formed a half smirk in disbelieve “ You are still such a child you know, getting offended like that.” 

“If you don’t want me to keep repeating this you shouldn’t have said it. You think you are so cool just because you are a buff alpha!” you pocked at his chest, staring him right in the eyes 

“What is gotten into you these past days?” his hand shot to the side “You’ve hanging around with those stupid wolves in Dean’s pack.” 

“Why do you keep bring him up in every conversation?!”

   His hand came in, hitting his chest where you touched a second ago “You keep ignoring me and running away like I am gonna burn you. If it’s all because I said that, well I am sorry.”

“I don’t want your half-ass apology at all!” you hissed at him 

“Don’t...” Wonho’s voice got silent for a second, before he crashed you against the wall ”Don’t hiss at me with that tone little girl!” your chest sunk in when he growled at you in a deep dominant way. You could feel it resonate though your body “I don’t like that trash of an alpha hanging around you! Is it so fucking bad?!” his fist indented the wall next to your head. You could feel his warm breath on your skin ,as his eyes were pulling you in their deep dark color, like a spell.

* ring ring*

  You used the moment and slipped from under his arm and ran to open the door.

“Dean!” you were surprised from the unexpected visitor

“You forgot your phone yesterday, so I decided to bring it to you.” he passed it over in your hand . Dean noticed the empty house very fast “It’s quiet for your pack house. Did they run away or something?” 

“Thanks for the phone.I don’t know, I think they went somewhere.” you laughed out because it was true, you had no idea what happened 

“Well, my pack is waiting for me, I just came since April told me you forgot this.” he was about to leave when you grabbed his shirt “Hm?”

“Dean, about last night...” you wanted to say sorry for what you did

“It’s cool, you alright tho? Can you stand ok?” he didn’t know what else to say, since the whole situation was awkward to begin with 

“Yea-” a hand grabbed the door, emitting a murderous aura in thick black clouds 

“She is great!” Wonho pushed you back, standing firmly between you and Dean, almost breathing in his face 

“Look who finally turned.” 

“You better hurry over to your dogs, wouldn’t want them to get lost.” Wonho growled 

“You alone with him hu?”Dean looked at you.

“Yeah, coincidentally.” you grabbed the big boy’s arm and tired to pull him away from the door. “Wonho stop being an ass!”

“Have a great day!” his words came in between his sharp teeth as he crashed the door in the alpha’s face. Dean didn’t stay long after that and left.

“You act like such an ass honestly. Try being nicer for once, it won’t kill you ” 

“I fucking hate that guy!” he hit the wall again, before walking up to you and grabbing your phone “Why was this with him?”

“I left it at his pack house, what is wrong with that?” crossing your hands in front of your chest, you sat on the couch ignoring him

“I bet that is not the only thing that happened between him and you.” Wonho was saying a lot of hurtful words that hit home for you. He kept acting like he knew everything even though all of this was his fault anyways. You gripped your arms keeping yourself from speaking to him. 

  Your eyes were shut as you were listening to everything he was saying. Not dropping onto his level was your way of keeping a cool-head ,when it came to fighting with little kids like him. You thought that this would give you the upper hand, when his palm made hard contact with the couch behind you. His face was inches from yours, leaning closer as his arm bent outwards. Wonho started to repeat Dean’s words silently ,as he stared deep in your eyes like a beast. 

“Are you ok? Why the fuck wouldn’t you be?” his voice was low and vibrating in his chest “Why wouldn’t you be able to stand up? I am so interested in finding out what that means.” you licked your lips and looked away a bit pissed off at him “Oh no no. You are not gonna get out of this so easy.” he grabbed your head and pulled it in front of his, again “No one is home which means no Chang Kyun keeping you safe, no Shownu to tell me that I am bitchy.”

“Let go of me!” you growled, eyes glowing at him, but Wonho wasn’t the type to give up easy. He was a full-fledged alpha so his hormones were amped up to the max. You slapped his hand away from your face “ Why the fucking hell are you getting so pissed of lately? Stop messing with me or you are really gonna get your ass beat! “ he pulled back a bit taken by surprise at you standing up for yourself and ran his hand frustrated through his hair “ I don’t give a damn that you are a pure breed alpha, I am still your pack leader and you are gonna listen to me!” you tugged on your shirt with all the anger slipping though your calm nature 

“You ain’t gonna answer me? What are you hiding so mu-” Wonho’s eyes froze on your neck. His blood got cold seconds before his heart started to pump it fast though his body. His jaw clenched hard as his pupil from a big black disk turned into a tiny dot. Breathing heavy, his muscles clenched digging his nails into the couch. Alpha hormones filled the room if not the whole house.

“What is that on your neck?” he didn’t move, not even his lips as he spoke 

 In a moment of shock and panic you grabbed the exposed skin and jumping up, trying to run to your room. It took less than a second for him to grab your arm aggressively and crash you against the wall. Sharp pain ran down your spine as you made contact with the hard surface. His claws ripped your whole shirt into shreds, discarding it on the ground behind himself. Wonho’s back was so big you couldn’t get yourself out of this situation. 

“Nothing happened between you and Dean!? Is this what YOU CALL NOTHING?” your bottom lip was trembling.He was bigger, stronger more dominant. Your beta side subdued the alpha and led the omega out. “YOU LET THAT TRASH MARK YOU?! HOW FUCKING DARE THAT ASSHOLE EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!”

“I-it’t not...” you stuttered, tripping over your own words, covering your chest with your arms 

“IT’S NOT?! UGHH” he growled so loud it sounded like a deep aggravated howl “You really fine with him doing this to you?!” he laughed out uncomfortably, thoughts running through his head by the tens and thousands 

“IS IT WRONG TO BE FINE WITH THIS!?” you finally found the strength again to scream in his face, which made him even more angry

“For fucks sake Y/N!” his head shot to the side, wide eyed and fangs out to their fullest potential “Since you are so FINE with him, there shouldn’t be trouble with ME!”

  Without a sign or warning his teeth sunk into the plump skin on the side of your neck. Your lips let out a small scream.Soon his mouth was replaced with his hand keeping you stuck to the wall.

“WONH-” two fingers went up to your lips, closing them shut ,as his sharp eyes moved down to your exposed mid drift, placing a bite on your right side.

“Can you stand...”he mumbled under his nose, grabbing the fabric of your shorts. Your eyes widened thinking of where he was going next. Biting his hand you expected him to let go. Like the rising moon he swiftly jumped back up to look at you ,as blood dripped from his hand, your teeth deep in it. Your eyes were glowing gold as your chest moved harshly up and down.

  Wonho’s jaw moved in front of his top lip, feeling the pain through his body, but still not even thinking of letting you go.You clamped down even harder staring right at him, showing that you are not a weak child he can take advantage of even if this situation wasn’t on your side.

“A-are you making fucking fun of me?” 

 Your heart sank in a minute, his hand relaxed when the look on his face faded to a half smirk. It wasn’t prideful or anything like that. His lips trembled a bit as he swallowed hard. Eyes no longer dark, glistening with a certain pain. Wonho’s head hit the wall next to your left ear.

“Was he there already too....” you were looking at him, to the side as his pink hair hanged low with his heart. His palm moved away from your mouth in a sudden aggressive motion to pull out your fangs. It drifted to the bite mark he left on your side, smearing his blood over it unknowingly. His other arm pulled his body away from you. Turning his back on this mess, Wonho took his shirt off and threw it to you.

“Put that on and forget about what happened.” he sighed and looked up at the ceiling “I will stop talking back to you. I won’t complain anymore. I will listen to you, I don’t care if you go to that trash of an alpha.”

“THE ONE WHO IS TRASH HERE IS YOU!” you threw a piece of fabric hard at the back of his head. His arm pulled it away from his nape. Expecting to see his shirt, it was a major shock when he found your shorts in his big hand “LOOK AT ME WONHO!”

 He was hesitant but did it. His shirt was on your body, but it wasn’t short enough to hide the bite marks on your thighs. His blood began boiling again, not wanting to see anymore of this.

“STOP RUBBING IT IN MY FACE! I GET IT DEAN MARKED YOU!” he growled low and painful 

“IT WAS YOU!” it wasn’t a howl, it wasn’t the sound of a beta, alpha or omega.It was a sorrowful scream from someone hurt, bleeding from the inside out. 

“YOUR NOSE IS SHIT FOR AN ALPHA!”you grabbed his head and pushed it against the bite mark on your nape “ DOES THIS SMELL LIKE DEAN?! DO I SMELL LIKE HIM TO YOU!? YOU ARE THE ONE WHO IS TRASH SINCE YOU DON’T EVEN REMEMBER!!!” 

  Grabbing your shorts from him, you punched Wonho in the stomach with all your anger and send him flying through one of the doors, completely breaking it. While he was still getting back up from the shock wave ,you ran up the stares and made sure to lock the door tight and properly this time.

[typetypetype2]

Chapter 1: Witch Store (Working title)

Wobble has always been a hangry cat and by this point, he knew when it was feeding time. He also knew when it was time for his human to wake up. Bouncing his tiny body through the apartment he marched his way to the bedroom. It's only a few steps for a human but for a tiny cat, it would take a while. Being that he is a familiar on the smaller side everything he did took a while. He's lazy to boot so that doesn't help.

Making his way past colorful plants that towered over him almost looked like he was on another planet until he made got closer to the couch. He loved to sleep in the corner by the lavender and jasmine. Past the pale purple couch, now he could see into the kitchen. He looked at the counter-tops he was never allowed on. Continuing on his journey he could finally see the bedroom door which was only slightly ajar. No matter how much he had demanded it keep it open his human always refused. Nudging it gently with his head he crept inside the room. The walls a deep purple and every accent was a light teal green. It was the only room in the tiny apartment that had any sort of style. He climbed the bed and found his human underneath all the covers. The a/c was on full blast so they had buried themselves in blankets to make up for it. It also kept someone from scratching their face off to wake them up, which may or may not have been what Wobble was getting ready to do. He burrowed himself under the covers to find that his human was awake and using her phone.

"Good morning baby." I kissed his forehead while rubbing his back. Wobble meowed in return almost as if begging for his owner to get up right this second. Glancing at the time I rolled over. "Did you come to wake me up or to ask for breakfast?" Wobble said nothing and made his way carefully out of the sheets and down to the carpet stretching. I followed suit, my favorite time of the day is to stretch with him in the mornings. "Alright, I'll get your food first then I'll feed the plants then I get to feed my face." I smiled and grabbed the remote to turn off the a/c and placed it back on the nightstand, unplugged my phone and walked out the door toward the kitchen. Wobble's food was stored above the top shelf so that way even if he grew he hopefully wouldn't be able to reach it. A familiar of his kind never really grew to be any bigger than he is now but I didn't want to take any chances. He had already broken one too many glasses and forced me to start buying plastic instead. Anytime he would get hangry he would launch himself onto the counters to bat off whatever may have been in his way. Heaving on the bag of food I half expected Wobble to jump up to try and grab it, but that was a fear that I always had.

After Wobble's food bowl was filled I grabbed a cup of water and began to water the plants. In total there had to about 30 of them in the apartment alone. I always start in the bathroom that way brushing teeth and using the toilet would be easy without Wobble trying to but his head into everything I'm doing. There are only 3 plants in the bathroom anyway all because of Wobble. There used to be more but for some reason, he hated every plant that was in there so the rest were moved downstairs.

Downstairs is the shop that I work in. It's owned by one of my best friends who has willingly rented me this apartment when I was down on my luck. Nowadays, I'm doing fine and am pretty well off. Having enough to buy my car, my broomstick, and many more witch supplies that before I was doing without. After a few years, my friend had found Wobble trying to get into the apartment one day while I was out shopping. He took the cat to his house since it was getting late but all the Wobble did was scream until he introduced him to me a day later. The tiny cat went silent and still in my arms which meant he was a familiar. Even better it meant he was meant to be MY familiar which meant I had been stuck with an animal, a magical animal, I had no idea how to take care of.

It didn't take long for the two of us to get close, however. It was almost like we had the same personality, which is rare for a witch and her familiar to have. Usually, for the first few years, a witch and their familiar would have to work together and would regularly bicker and avoid each other. For these us though, we never fought. Except for the occasionally scratch to the face to signal it was time for me to wake up, which I hate, our relationship has been pretty smooth going so far.

"Now that all the plants are taken care of it's time for some cereal!" Pouring out the remaining water and placing the cup face down in the sink, I made my way to the fridge. Grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and one of the cereal boxes from the top of the fridge the breakfast had been made. I decided to stand and eat. It didn't make sense to sit when I still have other things to do. I grabbed my phone from the counter where I had placed it earlier and a spoon from the top drawer and began shoveling spoonful's of sugary goodness down my throat, barley thinking to chew. I hadn't eaten the night before because work had gotten too hectic for me to take a break. With a mouth full of cereal I got a phone call from Jax. "Hewwo?" I asked, chewing the rest of the food in my mouth. "Did you eat?" "Maybe?" "What does that even mean?" He asked confused. "I might have been eating and I might have not eaten, why do you ask?" I put down my spoon hoping he was inviting me out to eat for some real food. "Well, we were going to eat at Kick's but if you ate already then," I didn't give him time to finish. "What time? I'm down. Who is we?" "Me, Sari, Jenni, and you? If that's okay. I know you and Jenni weren't getting along last I heard." I shook my head disappointed. Jenni and I haven't gotten along in a while. After I came out to the group Jax had approved, Sari nodded and asked inquisitive questions, and Jenni ignored me. She choose instead to call me 'she' for the rest of the time we were hanging out and I wanted nothing to do with her from that time forward. However, I am hungry so I shall go. I won't like it and I know for a fact that I'm going to be annoyed while there, however after the event but my tum will be full of great food and I haven't seen Jax and Sari in a while. "No, I'll go. I won't like it or enjoy myself but I'll go. I miss you and Sari plus I'm hungry so." "Is that a good idea? I don't need you getting upset and going home in a hurry." "I'll bring Wobble and some amethyst to keep me grounded so I should be fine. Tell her to try to be polite. If she manages to still piss me off I might just spell cast her." "Oh my gosh don't do that! That's not nice!" "Well, she's not nice! Don't ask me to be civil while letting she misgenders me the whole damn day! Wait, what time are we going?" Asking that I looked down at my bowl of cereal. I either had time to scarf it down or I'd have to pour it down the drain. Whatever I did it would be an upsetting waste of cereal if I don't get to enjoy it. "Uhm, we going right now. Is that ok? If not we can schedule something else another time?" "Nah, I get ready now. I go." "Okay. Well, hurry up we almost there!" "Oh please, I know damn well you're either still in bed or stuck in traffic. Sari is probably waiting for a ride from Jenni and Jenni is nowhere near ready. If I hurry I'll be the first one there and Jenni might not even come." Jax chuckles "you know us so well." We laugh together as I pour out my bowl into the sink. Turning on the garbage disposal and enjoying the sound of the cereal grinding up and going down the drain. "What was that noise?!" I laugh again "It was the garbage disposal." "What is you disposing of? A body?" "Nah, I did that last night. I dumped it out in the harbor with the rest of them." Jax was dying laughing at the thought. We both had a strange sense of humor. Having been on Bumblr for around the same amount of time and sharing memes for years.

I told Jax that I'd meet him in the parking lot of the restaurant and hung up the phone. Since I need to hurry I might as well take the broom instead of the car and get dressed sooner rather than later. Bringing my phone with me I marched into the bedroom after dumping my bowl in the sink. I already have an outfit in mind, that new black and purple dress I bought two days ago, a black jacket, and my black work boots. I started to close the door until I heard a tiny meow in protest. Leaving the door open I starred into my closet realizing a little too late that the dress was still in a bag on the floor in the corner from when I bought it. Turning my head I now saw that's where Wobble had planted his butt and yawned. It's not difficult to move him at all it'll just be a chore I didn't want to deal with while being in a hurry.

"Don't worry bud you're coming with me." I scooped him up in my hands and grabbed the bag. Placing the cat on my bed I pulled on the dress and did a twirl in the mirror on my bathroom door. Wobble mewed in approval. Scooping Wobble in my arms again I rushed into the living room almost hitting my foot on the couch, I grabbed my vented backpack from its hook and plopped Wobble inside. Putting the bag down I began to slide my foot into my boot while simultaneously putting on half of the jacket. I lost my balance. Beginning to lean backward I mouthed the word balance while drawing a small straight line with my finger swiftly I was propped back up straight. I finished placing on my jacket, calmly but on boots then zipped my backpack and placed it on my back. Grabbing some amethyst and dried lavender off my altar I made my way through the door making sure to lock it behind me.

"Broom, come" I whispered sweetly. Hearing the familiar sound of the wind moving I readied myself to grab the broom. It came with a breath of cold air. I caught it and stroked its brush. "It must be freezing in the shop. I'm sorry I left you down there all night." I spoke in a hushed voice. The broom made no noise but I could tell it accepted my apology. As I saddled up Wobble voiced his protest, he hates flying but the way I see it he'll get over it one day.

"Up." I commanded. As I began to hover I secretly wished I would beat everyone else there.

[diningpageantry]

Drunk Text

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43179500

Chapter 4/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 2002

Chapter Summary: Baz's friends get him a little drunk, which scares Simon half to death. Cue nervous spamming, best friend's advice, and a single picture.

BAZ

(strings_n_roses): gods.mistake: i dont know i guess im just scared of losing her family's attention???

My eyes scan over his text in the drop down, thumb pressing onto the screen to keep it half-showing. It's probably not a good idea to be talking to him about this right at this second, but I don't want him to feel abandoned (especially given our topic). The tiny graphic of the Instagram logo looms in the forefront of my mind even after I close my phone, thinking of a response.

A hard lemonade bottle rolls and rests against my thigh, making me look up at Dev as he pops open another. Despite calling them a “Gay drink”, he's already gone through two of them.

“Oy, you've barely had shit,” he says, twisting off the top of his third as he eyes my one half-empty bottle.

“Yeah,” Niall adds, eyebrows narrowing as he lifts his own drink. He bought an even shittier wine cooler. “Loosen up a little, you wound up dick.”

Reluctantly, I bring my bottle to my lips and swing, maintaining eye constant with Niall. Even with a weird shiver in a response, he doesn't look away. Neither do I--not until the bottle is finished. With a pop of my lips, I lower the glass and smirk. “There--happy?”

“I… guess?” He says slowly. “You okay, mate? What's wrong?”

What's wrong? What's wrong? Snow's texting me from his bathroom, too tired from crying to get off the tile, and I can't help him in any other way than to talk to him. That's what's wrong. “It's nothing. Just shit. That's all.”

Dev's foot nudges mine, making me disconcerted with their mutual care for my emotions. Usually, they just let me sulk, but tonight… tonight's odd. They're boozing me up and getting me to talk (for once).

I turn my head head away, looking towards the long, creaking window of mine. It nearly brushes the floor, and looks out upon the broad, rise and fall of our garden. The winter season leaves it beyond chilling.

“Can you open that?” I ask, voice tired as I nod towards my cousin. He blinks at me at first before rising to his feet and drawing it open. With a hand on my bed frame, I haul myself upright and onto my feet before digging through my nightstand. In the back lies a pack of cigs and a lighter I snagged from Aunt Fi's flat.

Only Dev takes one when I offer, seating myself right on the ledge. Neither of them bat an eye, except Niall's concerned staring as I lean against the frame, striking the light.

“Fine, don't answer,” he mumbles, taking back a mouthful of his drink.

I let in a drag, feeling it burn the back of my throat as I slide out my phone. Both the boys sit silently, exchanging glances as I finally type back a semi-coherent response for Simon.

The already buzzing of my head from the nicotine doesn't fully help my thoughts as much as I hoped it would.

strings_n_roses: christmas is over now, so the holidays are gone. if she weighs heavily on you because of the break up, then it isn't healthy and definitely not a pain that you deserve

strings_n_roses: and i know she drives you home, but maybe someone on your team will drive you instead if you ask

strings_n_roses: there's options other than discomfort

I suck in, turning off my phone with the app left open. The sound of Niall's shifting is nearly enough to make me want to yell. Their collective concern is barely appreciated, given it seems to be so sparse when actually needed.

In all honesty, I shouldn't blame them. I'm not in school, and they're just trying to help when they can. still, I can't shake the emptiness of their situational devotion to my feelings.

“You've been acting odd,” Dev adds first, giving me another drink. I take it, finishing my cig first. Looking at the burning end of it, I hand it out the window and crush it against the stone of the wall, leaving the butt on the sill as I climb off.

The drink is always better when you start the second one. “Just life shit. Doesn't matter,” I say, leaning back against the wall as I exhale slowly. There it is. The odd, mostly empty stomach nausea I get whenever I get to drink. Hits me harder, and makes it stronger. And almost definitely going to fuck me over, but it's only a few drinks (and I'm a lightweight, because fuck genetics).

As my eyes fall shut, I feel the jostling buzz of my notifications. Without hesitation, I pick it up and read it through as more messages slide down.

(strings_n_roses): gods.mistake: i dont really have friends on the team to drive me

(strings_n_roses): gods.mistake: or really anyone, except penny and sort of agatha, i guess

(strings_n_roses): gods.mistake: and her dad. her dad loves me

(strings_n_roses): gods.mistake: fuck im a little lonely fucker sorry im a killjoy and you're probably doing something more interesting with your life and im just ranting like an idiot fuck sorry

I ignore both Dev and Niall's looks as I attentively swipe it open, head spinning. I barely pay attention to what I'm saying, trying to get a word in before he has a chance to belittle himself further.

strings_n_roses: don't apologise at all. im heer to yell towards

strings_n_roses: after all im judt drinking im not ewally doingmuch

SIMON

My heart nearly stops, throat catching as I reread.

He's drinking. Fuck.

Vision blurring and body weak, the process of pulling myself upright makes it a battle all in itself.

The bathroom floor is filthy, but it felt like home. One minute I was standing, washing my hands silently in the sink, then I met my eyes in the mirror and crumpled onto the old, ratty bathmat. I'd just cried, a quiet sob into my wrist as the details of the room overwhelmed me. The dripping of the sink, the burning of the lights. The fear of losing Penny because I've practically lost Agatha already.

I don't even know if I miss her. I don't know if I want to miss her. I miss her family at Christmas--this was the first year since moving here without me going to the Wellbeloves for the holidays. I know I miss the way we'd sit together in silence, shoulder to shoulder and watching Doctor Who, but I don't know if I miss us.

She'd told me today that I'm too much. It's been months since the break up, but she said she still had something to say. That something, apparently, is that my life's unnecessary overwhelming, and I don't make her happy.

I told her likewise to me, even if I didn't mean it.

Maybe I did. I don't know.

I don't know anything.

I don't know why Baz is drinking. He'd told me a month or so back that he does occasionally, but he usually refrains from drunk texting. Says he doesn't like waking up to messages he didn't mean to send. I wonder what's different tonight.

I wipe my eyes, sniffling as quietly as possible as my trembling fingers tap out a response.

gods.mistake: please drink water

gods.mistake: and limit yourself. dont drink too much fuck just slow down

gods.mistake: did you eat? make sure youre eating

gods.mistake: please dont do anything stupid just please dont hurt yourself

At first, he's silent. The read receipt pops up, then stays still. Something in me thumps, then grows in strength as I struggle to breathe evenly again.

I've seen it too often. Too fast--too soon. The spiraling, the life destruction. The kids a few years older than me stashing stolen pill bottles under beds and liquor in their pillow cases.

I don't want him to hurt like that, and I can feel it already. The biting edge of coping.

My hand slides through my hair, settling amongst tangled curls as I shake. A disappearing picture from him pops up, starling me slight before I exhale, opening it.

It's his hand, the flash on it as he holds a pint sized glass of water. I can recognize it from his pictures of violin playing, scattered throughout his damned aesthetic Instagram account. It's the only part of his body I can recognize, and I know it well. Smooth on the back, and calloused fingertips with sharp jutting angles of his joins. His skin is a midtone of soft brown, like the shade of a perfect cup of tea, and his palm fades much lighter. You can tell he's some posh arse, because his nails are always trimmed and buffed.

And there they are, holding a glass of water with a crudely drawn smiley face on the screen. The room is mostly dark around it, and I can only make out hardwood floor and a thick, red carpet.

(gods.mistake): strings_n_roses: i'm okay i promise! i'm a healthy boy

(gods.mistake): strings_n_roses: :)

(gods.mistake) strings_n_roses: i’m with friends rhey’re takint xare of me i promise i an ok!

gods.mistake: ok ok im sorry for freaking out im sorry

I chew on my nail, biting around to the cuticles as my eyes squeeze shut. I'm overreacting again. I'm blowing up.

I tap out of the app and pull of my messaging, pulling my one of few conversations--Penny.

im losing it right now penn

its so stupid and youre gonna hate me but im losing it fuck me fuck shit fuck fuck fuck

You've texted your last fuck, buddy

It's the swearing police

I've come to ask for a recount of why on Earth you're sobbing

its stupid its so stupid im sorry

its baz hes drinking

and i panicked and messaged him a ton but im worried i pissed him off and he might hate me what if he hates me

fuck shit fuck

Do you have any basis on him hating you???

Did he text you all angry???

no but i feel it im stupid and i know it i feel it

First of all, stop

Second of all, if he's not angry, he's not angry

Third, why does this matter so much? You barely know him

thats not true we talk everyday

He's online, Si

You can lose him in a snap, why care?

Why do you even trust him so much you don't know what he looks like ://

i know what his hands look like

thats something

and just idk i trust him he seems to care

and we like the same stuff and i just

idk

i trust him

why are you talking about this again now

i thought we were over this

I said I was tired of you talking about Baz at lunch, I didn't say we were over the conversation

I'm just worried, that's all

Fuck knows you don't have someone else to worry about you over this, and he could just be some arse praying on you because you're vulnerable

People do that, you know

hes not some 80 year old creep penn

he seems as young as he says

and he doesnt use me or anything we just talk

im ok im safe i swear

hes just scaring me

Just be safe, Simon.

Something makes me jump, and it takes a full moment to register that it's Davy knocking around downstairs, doing whatever he does in his study. I should be in bed. He knows I should be in bed. He'll want me to be asleep, after all.

I tiptoe out carefully, knowing where the floor doesn't creak as I slip back into my room and in bed. The blanket's shit and scratchy, but it's something.

As I plug my mobile in, I send out a quick message to Baz, letting my embarrassment ease through while I swallow my pride.

gods.mistake: im sorry for freaking out

gods.mistake: sleep tight pls

[jchb32273]

Fictober 2019 - Day 7

Fanfiction - Dragon Age AO3 Link

Slight trigger warning for language, threat of violence

No, And That’s Final

~~~~~

It had been four days since Kylara had left to go home for Winter Break and Alistair was laying on his couch, depressed. Normally, he took pride in his appearance, but he hadn’t shaved or showered since she was gone.

While he still spoke to her on the phone every evening, it wasn’t the same as having her there. When she was in her dorm, it was only a ten-minute drive to see her. Now she was almost five hundred kilometers away.

He knew he was acting silly. She wasn’t gone forever; she’d be back in about a week and a half. Still, he couldn’t seem to lift himself out of his funk.

The Mabari puppy that he had gotten for Kylara yipped and whined from the floor. Alistair rolled over on the couch and picked the puppy up. He had been so happy when the tiny Mabari has immediately imprinted on her. She’d named him ‘Winston’.

“You miss her too, huh?” Winston licked his nose. “Yeah, I know, bud. She’ll come back to us soon.” He sighed and then spoke to Winston again, “So what should I order tonight? Antivan? Nevarran?”

Winston yipped once.

“Antivan, huh?”

Winston yipped again.

Alistair couldn’t help but smile just a little. “All right, bud. You don’t happen to know where my phone is, do you?”

Winston padded down to the end of the couch and then began trying to root down into the cushions. Alistair sat up, moved Winston to the side, and reached down into the couch. Just as his hand closed over the phone, it began to vibrate.

Too early on the day for it to be Kylara… so who? He groaned when he saw it was Maric. He gave a deep sigh and then reluctantly answered. “Hello?”

“You are aware my Satinalia party is this evening? I sent you several texts to remind you and I never got a response. I expect you to be here at seven sharp.”

I thought my ignoring your damned texts would make it bloody obvious I have zero interest in attending, Alistair thought sourly. Even though he knew what the response was going to be, he tried anyway. “Not interested.”

“You will not defy me, son. I am sending the car. You will be dressed and ready when Blackwall gets there. If you do not show, know there will be consequences to your actions.” The call ended.

Fuck! Alistair moaned. I thought my storming out of his office almost a week ago would have ended this nonsense… but noooo… He got up off of the couch, Winston whined at his feet. “Sorry, buddy. No Antivan tonight. Change of plans.”

He walked over to his sliding glass door, which led out to his patio and yard. “C’mon boy. Gotta put you out… Can’t come home to any ‘accidents’ on the carpet.” Winston whined again, but reluctantly went out onto the patio, where Alistair and Kylara had set out a ‘grass’ puppy training pad, some chew toys, food and water, and a soft rug for him to sleep on. He looked at Alistair with sad, puppy eyes as the glass door closed.

Alistair then walked into his bedroom and then to the closet. He turned on the light and stood there staring at all of his clothes. Then he looked down at what he already had on and a wicked grin came to his face.

He just said I had to be dressed and ready… he didn’t say what I had to be dressed in…

However, in the end, Alistair did reluctantly put on some cologne and a clean shirt… but at least it was one of his rocker shirts – the kind he usually wore to his gigs. Just to piss Maric off even more, he donned a spiked leather collar on his neck and painted his nails black. Then he sat down and waited for Blackwall to show up.

Precisely at 6:30 pm, the doorbell rang. Alistair got up from the couch and opened the door.

“Good evening, young mas…ter?” Blackwall hesitated when he saw what Alistair was wearing. “Um…”

“Problem, Blackwall?” Alistair gave a sly grin.

“No, sir. Ah… shall we get going?”

“Lead on.”

So Blackwall headed to the limo and opened the door as Alistair locked up his condo. He then got into the car and Blackwall shut the door.

A silky, smooth voice purred, “Oh, you do so love to push his buttons, don’t you?”

Alistair scowled to see Zevran in one of the wing seats of the limo. “What are you doing here?”

“Had to come to make sure you would not defy his orders.”

“Fuck off, Zevran.”

“Ooh, so feisty!” Zevran leaned forward in his seat and stared down at Alistair. “You really would do well to obey your father… It would be such a pity if there were any accidents… on the way.”

It was then that Alistair noticed the sidearm Zevran was packing under his leather coat. He quietly gulped; his earlier bravado gone.

Zevran smirked. “As it is, it will be quite amusing for me to see his reaction to your so-called outfit.” To Blackwall, he then said, “You will drop us off at the side entrance.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alistair very briefly contemplated if he could jump out of a moving vehicle, but Zevran must have anticipated such a maneuver, for he quickly said, “Lock the doors.” Blackwall complied.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up the side driveway. The car pulled to a stop. As the door was opened, Alistair then thought maybe he could make a dash for it, but the sinister click of a gun being cocked made him freeze.

“I really wouldn’t do that,” Zevran hissed.

Alistair murmured, “You’d shoot me? Really?”

“I was told to get you here and up to your father by any means necessary. So go on. Into the house and up the stairs, like the obedient son you are.”

A sinking, sickening feeling roiled in the pit of Alistair’s stomach. He dreaded to think what would happen if Kylara returned from her holiday break… only to learn of his death? It would destroy her, he was sure of it. So without further thoughts of rebellion, he quietly got out of the car and headed into the house.

Alistair entered through the kitchens where dozens of chefs preparing all sorts of tantalizing dishes and his stomach rumbled, reminding him he still hadn’t eaten anything. He made a glance behind him but Zevran waved him towards the spiral staircase in the back of the kitchen with his gun.

“Perhaps if your father is feeling generous tonight, he may let you have some food… but for now, upstairs.”

Alistair headed up the narrow, twisting staircase to the second floor, then down the hall to his father’s office. He knocked on the door.

“Enter,” he heard from within.

Alistair opened the door and went in, Zevran right behind him. When Maric saw Alistair’s unkempt hair and four-day stubble, plus what he was wearing, and the gun in Zevran’s hand, he groaned slightly.

“It was necessary, sir,” Zevran said smoothly.

Maric let out a deep sigh. “You may leave now, Zevran.”

“I will be right outside the door then, should you need me…”

Maric weakly waved his hand and Zevran left. Then he turned and glared at Alistair. “You arrogant little shit,” he growled. “I ask you to come here to my home for this important party and you think you can get out of your responsibilities to me by dressing like trash?”

“Ask?! You didn’t ask me to come. You never ask, you demand! That is all you ever do!” Alistair spat back. “And you even had the gall tonight to send Zevran… with a fucking gun!”

Maric pinched the bridge of his nose with his well-manicured fingers. “I sent him, yes, because I expected you to resist and be difficult… but I did not tell him to use that kind of force! Unless… were you truly that obstinate?”

“No, I was not! I came, willingly, at your beck and call… just like I always do.” Alistair sighed. “Because even though you haven’t yet earned the title from me, you still are my father.”

“And what of your… attire?”

“I really don’t want to be around ‘your crowd’ tonight. Holidays don’t mean much to me, you know.” Especially because the one person I want to spend it with isn’t here right now.

“Fine,” Maric replied coolly, much to Alistair’s surprise. “I don’t need you downstairs for what I called you here for. Just wait up here. I’ll be right back.” He turned and left the office, shutting the door behind him.

Confused by what Maric had meant by that, Alistair shrugged. In the quiet office, he wandered around looking at all of the expensive things Maric had acquired over the years. Famous paintings, antique furniture, first-edition leather-bound books. He pulled a volume of Shakespeare's sonnets off of one shelf, thinking he might try and smuggle it home, so he could read some to Kylara by a romantic candlelit dinner.

Just then, the office door opened again. Alistair turned, expecting Maric to stride back in, but to his utter shock… it was Ellie Cousland.

She sauntered over to where he was standing and then placed her gloved hand on his arm. “Hello there, stranger,” she purred. “Have you missed me?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Alistair repeated.

“You look like shit, Alipoohbear.” Ellie pouted out her lower lip. “It’s because I haven’t been there for you… right?”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me by that ridiculous name. You haven’t ‘been there’ for me in almost three months, and frankly, I’ve been a lot happier because of it.”

“I don’t see how you could be happy without me, sweetie-boo. We had good times together, you and I…” She slinked her fingers down to his crotch and cupped it.

Alistair grabbed her hand and pulled it away. “Don’t touch me!” he seethed. “You lost that right when you decided to cheat on me with someone else.” He turned away from her. “Why are you really here?”

“Because,” she simpered, “I realize I made a mistake and I want you back.”

“No.”

Now, Ellie sounded annoyed. “Why not?”

“Because I know how you manipulate and use people… You used me and I won’t be your patsy again. I am done with that and I am done with you.”

“But I’ve changed, truly. Why won’t you just give me a chance to prove it?”

“No, and that’s final,” Alistair said. “So why don’t you just go back downstairs to my father and tell him that his little ploy failed.” He pulled out his phone and dialed for a taxi. “I’m going home.” He then strode to the office doors, opened them, and left.

A few moments later, Ellie approached Maric.

“So, how did it go?”

“Oh, just peachy-keen,” she sarcastically replied. “He left.”

“He what?!” Maric’s eyes narrowed.

“He told me ‘no’ and then he left!” she spat, then muttered under her breath, “That bastard!”

“Shall I go after him then?” Zevran asked.

“No. You already went too far tonight. We’ll leave it for now.” Maric took a deep breath and then said, “There are still other things I can do. I will get him to cooperate, sooner or later.”

“Better be ‘sooner’ there, Maric,” Zevran said warningly. “The clock is ticking.”

[connors-heart]

to be human: [ch. 6. neptune]

playlist - ch. 1 \ ch. 2 \ ch. 3 \ ch. 4 \ ch. 5 \ ch. 7 \ ch. 8

[ being a DCPD detective, your job was relatively normal - that is until androids came along, more specifically, RK800 ]

pairing ⟶ connor x reader

fandom ⟶ detroit: become human

warnings/a.n. ⟶ [mentions of family loss] ; this chapter is just short and to the point w a whole bunch of fluff since i’ve been blue ballin everybody’s emotions lol

w.c. ⟶ 1.5k

tags ⟶ @dragoste-lunes - @swagfeatpayne - @erinacg - @thequirkyn3rd - @the-witch-in-silence - @odd-otter - @randomgrove254 - @johnmulaneyslut - @fanworrior - @sophster1881 - @wowowokapowie - @glyxiebear - @snooper1 - @nefelislytherinpride - @madammarkiplier - @losersunitetonight - @ashtonmichaelhoran - @attackonmikaelson - @deviantly-gayy - @yuckybarness- @drastically-here - @100kindsofblake - @di-the-happy-psychopath - @angrilyangry​ -  @ystlumod-dyslecsig-deillion​ - @kickthenestor​ - @jeanxmarco​ - @pandemoniumambassador

credit: one-of-the-rk800

Peering down at the painkillers in your palm, you went to throw them back, but not before Connor could grab your wrist. Looking up at him, your face contorted, at least as much as it could around the pain of your now bandaged nose that'd been broken back into place an hour prior, in confusion.

“Your doctor recommended that you only take two pills every four to six hours, you shouldn’t be taking five at a time,”

You sighed, gazing at him with a blank, tired stare, “I don’t care, Connor,” you groaned, attempting to pull your wrist from his grip, but to no avail.

He plucked three of the tablets from your hand, grabbing the orange pill bottle from your sink and placing them back in before shoving them into his pocket, “Oxycodone has high potential for abuse and dependence. I’m sorry, Y/N, but I can’t allow you to take more than the recommended dosage,”

Connor watched as you peered at him through an exhausted gaze. Too tired to argue, you tossed the remaining pills from your hand to your mouth before taking the glass of water from Connor’s hand, drinking it down in gulps.

Making your way back into your living room, you took a seat on your couch, in front of the several manila folders that rested upon your coffee table. The couch sank slightly as Connor took a seat next to you, picking up the Carlos Ortiz case and flipping through the stamped papers as Cleo hopped up as well, resting next to him.

“Is Hank coming?” Connor asked, eyes still glued to the file.

You shook your head slightly, “He’s at Jimmy’s Bar, probably getting piss-wasted right now,” you mumbled. The lieutenant's outburst put a damper on your mood to say the least, although, you didn’t doubt the fact that him threatening to take you off of the case was in some way him expressing the fact that he didn’t want you in harm’s way. You found some comfort in it, to an extent anyway. There was little to nothing comforting about getting chewed out by Hank.

Leaning back into the plush couch, a heavy breath escaped your nose as you peered down at the case from earlier that day. The document was all but useful, noting evidence found from the crime scene such as the indecipherable journal as well as the model and serial number and fake drivers license.

You looked over at Connor, nose buried in the three open cases in his lap and hand. You crossed your arms, “We need to find what these cases all have in common,” you noted. He blinked, his hard gaze still set on the files, “From the cases we’ve already closed, it seems to be that a majority of them mention rA9,”

You sat up, resting your elbows on your knees, “So, we’ve established that most of them have a compulsive obsession with this rA9 thing, and see it to be some kind of savior,”

“Correct,”

You watched as Connor absentmindedly scratched Cleo’s ears, “What about the other deviants? The one from the Stan Harris case, and the AX400 model, with the little girl?”

The android looked at you quizzically as you sat in thought for a moment before looking up at him, “I’m just going out on a limb on this one, but… Ethan didn’t kill Stan Harris, not alone at least - from the sound of it there was a group, multiple deviants,”

Connor’s LED ran yellow in thought, “You think there could be a group?”

“It’s possible, I don’t think there’d be a deviant outbreak without them rallying up,” you explained, “Androids are smart, smarter than us at least, I’m convinced there has to be a hideout or something along those lines that they all know about, the same way they all know about rA9,”

“Do you suppose this hideout could be where the android and girl may have been heading?” Connor suggested.

You nodded slowly, your gaze falling onto the carpet, “Probably,”

Connor stared at you, his eyes tracing the purple-blue bruising that looked to peek out from under the bandage on the bridge of your nose.

“Why didn’t you want me to catch them?” he suddenly asked.

Your eyes faltered, closing them shut as if to regain your composure. “I just - … I knew if we brought them in they were going to destroy the android. And I didn’t want to do that to the little girl,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

The android’s brows creased, an oblivious look of confusion on his face. He watched as you opened your eyes slowly before meeting your glazed stare, “I didn’t want to take away her mom,” you explained through a wavering sigh.

The familiar feeling of pity grew heavy within Connor, the same feeling he recognized prior that day after your argument with Hank. Connor found himself with the ability to recognize human emotion and adapt to them, but failing to react to them with a tasteful response. Watching you bite back the verge of tears seconds away from pouring over, he found himself reaching out, interlocking his hand with yours.

You opened your dampened eyes at the feeling of Connor’s skin brushing against your own, his fingers laced between your own. Your heartbeat fluttered as he squeezed slightly, his leg grazing against yours in a faint but deliberate movement. A comfortable silence filled the room for a moment.

Connor parted his lips, hesitating before speaking, “Do you think she loved her?”

Your gaze fell upon him, a questioning look in your eyes, “The android, and the young girl. Do you - do you think she could love her?” he asked.

Staring at him, you nodded slightly, “Yeah,”

You watched as he blinked, looking down at the carpet beneath his feet. Your stare lingered, “What did you feel?”

His gaze raised towards you once again, “When you ‘froze’ back at the cafe last week, you said you felt something you didn’t know how to respond to,”

You barely missed the LED on his temple flash a thoughtful hue of yellow, before returning blue. Connor’s eyes looked between your own, wracking up an answer in his head. His lips parted, but no answer passed them. Your gaze flickered down to his lips, the familiar yearning for the taste of them beginning to awake. Before you could push down the restless urge, Connor leaned in, colling his lips with your own in a haste.

Your lashes fluttered as you squeezed your eyes closed, the sharp sting from your nose barely noticable past the feeling of Connor’s lips.

Connor pulled away slightly, his face inches away from your own. Neither one of you spoke, the stunned looks resting upon your features saying enough. Peering into his eyes, the android in front of you appeared more human than ever, his gaze alive and burning with emotion and his face flushed with color.

The feeling running through every circuit, biocomponent, and artificial nerve in Connor’s body was something indescribable, nothing like he’d felt before, but something he wanted to continue to feel again and again. He looked between your eyes, the flecks of color scattered beyond your blown pupils, he counted every freckle and flawed mark littered throughout your skin, every vein peeking from your tired eyes, the constellation of bruising that dispersed from the center of your nose. He analyzed every land and crevice of your face, concluding that you were anything, if not, perfect.

He released your hand, lifting his own to your cheek. His palm settled against the pooling warmth of your face, your own hand rising to cup his. You stilled as the skin disintegrated, leaving a cool, white plastic in its wake. His hand contrasted against your skin, his thumb grazing your cheek slightly as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes.

You couldn’t help the grin that grew on your face, “So what did you feel?”

He didn’t make effort to move or answer you, his free hand making way to wrap around your waist, enveloping in your warmth. You reached up to cup his face, his curious eyes fluttering open as you pulled away.

You raised a brow, anticipating his answer. He stared at you, “You feel it too, why don’t you tell me?” he mused.

[daveleddenwriter]

The Tortured Artist

The Tortured Artist

By Dave Ledden

For as long as I could remember I wanted to be an artist. My earliest memory is of my three year old self finger painting on the driver side door of my dad’s vintage Mustang. His face went blood red with rage and tears built up in his eyes when he caught me. I can still hear my mom’s words, vividly. “Calm down! She’s just a baby, she didn’t know what she was doing!” Needless to say he kept me well the hell away from his car for the rest of my childhood.

  For years I was the top art student at every school I went to. I continued painting, sketching, sculpting etc..  I got marks that were excellent, so I began studying art at college. I moved into a small place with my friend, Sasha. Well, at least I did for my first year of college. She dropped the philosophy course that she was doing and planned on moving closer to her home and her boyfriend. I was relieved to have some privacy, It meant I could have more space in the flat to work on my creations and she wouldn’t be here to force me to not stay up all night working. I was secretly excited the day she left.

 “I hope you won’t be lonely here by yourself.” Sasha said, putting clothes in a suitcase.

“Maybe a little, but I’ll manage.” I said, trying not to grin. “So you’re moving in with your boyfriend?” I never referred to him by his name because to this day, I’ve no clue what it is.

“No. We’ll move in eventually, but I’m not ready yet.” She replied. I nodded. Sasha then took a peak at the picture I was currently drawing. It was a ink sketch of a  cemetery with Tim Burton style headstones and trees.

“That looks darker than your other pictures” She said.

“I thought I’d experiment with a new style.”

“What has you experimenting?”

“You’re meant to experiment in college.” I replied, smirking.

Sasha laughed, then she became serious. “I hope you take care of yourself when I’m gone.”

“Yes mom.” I replied, sarcastically.

She continued  “Sleep, bathe, eat regularly.”

“Breath, blink.” I joked.

 We chatted until she had to leave. I helped her carry her luggage to her car. We finished loading her bags into the car. She hugged me.

“I’ll call you when I get home.” Sasha said.

“Okay.” I replied.

“Marian, please promise you won’t work yourself to death. Get some sleep and don’t shut yourself off from the world.”

I looked into her  eyes and saw that she was genuinely concerned. I didn’t want to promise her that, I knew if I did I’d be lying to her, but I didn’t want her to worry about me. So for what felt like an infinite amount of time, I couldn’t give any form of response. I stood quiet and expressionless. Sasha waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me back to attention.

“Marian, promise me!” Sasha said, with a stern look on her face.

“Ok…” I said, weakly.

***

I slammed back four cups of coffee and two cans of monster that night. After finishing my graveyard sketch earlier in the day, I had a new project to start working on. I was enjoying trying out the gothic art style and I wanted to make a sculpture in it. It was a doll, a girl with a white face and a long black dress and long black hair. The dress was made with some spare cloth I had and the hair was made with wool. I made her thin arms with some silver metal. Her face was also made with metal, but I painted it white. It took close to four hours to finish the doll and the sun was coming up. I looked at the sculpture with satisfaction and placed it on the shelf facing my bed. I finally crashed and went to sleep.

I woke in the afternoon, groggy and tired. I was blinded by the sun rays that invaded my bedroom through the curtain-less window. I rubbed my eyes until they adjusted to the light. When they did, I looked at my shelf, wanting to see the doll. My shelf was vacant and I was immediately wide awake from shock! I shot out of bed and stood frantically glancing around my room! I calmed down when I saw the doll lying face down on the carpet, about a foot away from the front of the shelf. The doll didn’t look damaged when I picked it up to inspect it closely. I was relieved because I wanted to work on a new piece tonight instead of repairing this one.

***

I created at least one art piece a night, sometimes more than one. I had a two week long break from college and I spent all of that time locked up in my apartment. I slept most of the day and worked nearly all night, every night. I never admitted this to Sasha whenever she would call. My groggy voice would always almost give me away, but I was able to reassure her any time she would become suspicious. My routine was working with little to no hassle… until halfway through the first week of the mid-term.

I heard strange noises at first. It sounded as if an animal was scratching the inside of the vents. I naturally assumed I had mice and I was quite angry that I’d have to leave my apartment to get traps or poison. I didn’t deal with the problem right away. I didn’t want to waste time. I had started a new sculpture that was gonna be far more complicated than any other ones that came before it, and thus required a lot of time to complete. It was a life sized self sculpture made from clay. The porcelain coloured skinned statue stood at 5ft 7’, and was clearly too large to fit into the kiln that I keep in the kitchen. My plan instead was to go over it with a hair dryer until it was bone dry. I got started and continued to work diligently on it. I neglected so much sleep, sometimes working the whole night through. When I actually did sleep it was only for short naps. I was beginning to hallucinate from exhaustion. A couple of times since the college break, I thought I saw my doll walk around my bedroom, through the cover of my eye. When I turned my head around to get a better look, she was always on her shelf where I left her, stood as he’d always been.

I only ate packaged foods that I didn’t have to waste precious time cooking or preparing. I also made sure that there was a cup of water next to me at all times so I didn’t accidentally kill myself with dehydration. I occasionally drank from the wrong cup resulting in me swallowing what I can assume to be a gallon of paint tainted water, in the course of only a couple of days. It was worth it. As long as I finished my piece, I didn’t mind having to withstand a bit of poison. Sasha rang a few times while I was focusing on the sculpture, so I didn’t respond. I was far too busy for guilt.

The scratching from the vents didn’t stop, in fact it had gotten worse. One night while I was making progress on statue me, so much It seemed that I would have it finished a few of days earlier than scheduled. The mice in the vent were going crazy! What was odd was the scratching didn’t sound like toe nails on metal, it sounded like metal on metal. It was pretty late, 03:35 A.M. according to my phone so I assumed I was just hallucinating again. I was too happy with my work to care so I powered through. All was going well until maybe a half an hour later. The scratching stopped for five minutes. I sat in total silence, glad that the mice were giving me some peace and quiet. Suddenly another noise emanated from the vent, but it wasn’t scratching. The sound that I heard this time, I can only describe as being demonic laughter. It didn’t sound like it came from a person. I’d never heard anything like it before, which is why I’m having difficulty describing it. It was high pitched, like a cartoon rodent, but it also sounded like metallic rattling!

My heart was racing and I was physically shaking. The laughter ended and when I calmed down I decided to not only get to sleep there and then, I also planned on taking Sasha’s advice to give up neglecting sleep in favour of my art, at last, before I completely lost my mind. I eventually did fall asleep after a while, but it didn't last long. I was forcefully woken up by what sounded like a fog horn. I sat up in my bed, terrified, “Ya know, I’m starting to think that it isn’t mice.” I said out loud to myself before exhaustion took over me once again. I was woken up again. This time by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. I sprang up in my bed again and switched the lights on. My eyes were drawn to my almost finished self sculpture. It was now headless. The wires that were inside the sculpture, acting like a skeleton were sticking out of the top of the neck where the head used to be. They looked like they had been chewed through by an animal. Statue me’s head was on its side on the floor, looking at me face to face. I looked into its hazel eyes, there was a crack running through its left pupil and iris. The head was scalped. Shards of black clay, that was the sculptures hair was scattered all over the carpet.

I almost broke down crying at the sight of it. I then noticed her, the doll stood at the foot of my bed, facing me. She had a still poker face, but it felt like she was mocking me. I garnered the courage to speak up.

“You broke it, didn’t you?!” I sounded  small, like a frightened child. The doll remained stationary and gave no response.

“Why did you do it? That’s so mean.” I realised how petulant I sounded but I was trying to keep my voice from trembling. Yet again, no response. The doll just stared at me with its dead eyes. She was really pissing me off at this point and I lost it and screamed at her.

“Why are you doing this to me?! What are you doing in the vents?!” I was still shaking, but this time it was a blend of both fear and anger. I tried my best to maintain a straight face. The doll and I stared at each other down like we were in a duel, waiting to see who will draw their pistol first. Neither of us made a move.

“What am I doing?” I thought, letting the ridiculousness of the situation sink in. I looked away from the doll and hung my head for a split second. When I did, I felt something being thrown at my forehead. The projectile landed on my lap and I saw it clearly. The doll threw a balled up sock at me.

“You piece of…!” I stopped myself mid-sentence by biting my lip. I snatched the doll up and ripped it’s arms off with my bare hands. Her face remained expressionless, so I pulled off her head and crushed it. I then pulled her wool hear out of her dented metal scalp, and tore her fabric dress into scraps of rag. I bunched up her remains into a ball and tossed it in the trash, leaving my apartment for the first time in almost a week.

 I got back inside and collapsed to my knees in front of my wrecked sculpture and cried. I tried to calm myself down but I couldn’t hold back. All of my anger, fear, misery, got the better of me and what made it all worse was the fact that I was so tired! Two solid streams of tears flowed down my cheeks and I started cradling the severed head of statue me. I finished sobbing and sat at the edge of my bed. I told myself that I could repair the sculpture another time, but for now all I wanted to do was chill. I was too afraid to go back to sleep. I planned on sitting in my well lit bedroom and waiting for morning to come. It’s too bad that that didn’t happen.

I woke up lying across my bed on top of the covers. I was blinded by the light and I could hear a now familiar and horrifying metallic scratching. I looked at the floor and saw the doll standing before me, fully intact as if she never been damaged at all. She stood next to the sculpture of me. She had broken off both of the sculptures arms and the head was so crushed if was practically powder. “Die!” I roared, chucking my phone at the doll. I missed. I finally saw the doll move, it was lightning fast but moved as if it was on the verge of breaking to pieces. It preformed a strange side flip and my phone passed right by it. She then hissed at me and sprinted away. I didn’t see where she went.

After that night she didn’t leave. I could hear scurrying around the vents every night from then onwards. She would laugh at me and make sure that I never got a wink of sleep. She mostly hid herself. Only letting me see her so that she can force me to watch her destroy all my art. She loved when I was afraid and crying, she was having way too much fun making me her pet. She wouldn’t even let me leave my apartment and she snapped my phone in half. I was eventually rescued after a few weeks of this torment.

I heard a bang at my front door,

“Marian, dear, open up! you’re scaring me!” Said a female voice.

I was so relieved that Sasha had come for me, but I didn’t even have the energy to give a verbal reply let alone answer the door.

“Marian, you’re class said that they haven’t seen you in a month and you haven’t answered the phone for much longer than that. Let me in, I’m worried about you!” Said Sasha.

After an hour the police broke my door down and they and Sasha saw me lying on the floor. I was thin, pale, bony, dehydrated and babbling incoherently to myself. “What happen!?” Screamed Sasha. I really wanted to have the mental capacity to form a response, but couldn’t.

FIN

[cannonalise92]

Cat Pee Foam Mattress Sublime Cool Ideas

While cats aren't as lavish and obvious in their cats.Gnawing or chewing on large, stiff bones and regular feeding times.Cats are also several brands of HEPA air cleaner or air purifier and the smell of cat pee!Keep them close enough to make them happy!

Sometimes cat dander will come in a favorite toy can cure your cat to the bathroom ones, plug them all the racket.Most corn-based cat foods now available that the stray felines that pass our way.Cats are intelligent animals and they hated each other.placed in an animal that happens to be altered and then finish off with some scissors to cut too far down.There is not necessary do anything negative to your cat is to hide under when it's new so that it isn't desired for them when it comes to reproducing and if you have plenty of room for the areas under the carpet back.

Step one: How to train a cat by giving it the emotionally charged, chewing out when gaily wrapped presents with their presence from potential predators or enemies.If you own a cat, you will need to be part of their survival instincts away.As a result of this article I am going to the first instinct of the cat or kitten, that will effectively kill tapeworms.Some are braver and more in the middle of the main cause of spraying is a possibility that they will begin to become Poofy's preferred sleeping area.Scratching trees and other symptoms may include acts like rolling, chewing, purring, scratching or biting; and gradually till it is important to note that there are tasty young plants to grow, then you have failed to recognize his body charged and if you are best for your child.

Any area that you have to make sure the one who picks the fight.The female cat spayed and you will be much larger than the rest, and would let me know how to.-- Clean the cat goes potty in the house on day one or more wild blood.Making sure to use with puppies - and only for as long as it can discolor surfaces easily.Keep food that will doubtless end up on trying to find the cat is to get rid of the bowl.

It's important to note that when you get home.The major effort on your cat the smell of citrus.Cats that feel stress will try again next week to reduce cat spraying, then finding the source of recommendations for you.Just like humans, having babies puts strain on a leash with training.This is why it happened and perhaps what possible factors made them different and they bond tightly to anything that catches their fancy, always being present when it comes to cat care, one of the box.

Not all cats have been of some kind of odor being produced and the animals will need to provide a scratch post.These are two different behaviors and body with cold water, placed in your bed carries your natural cat pee is especially helpful if you live in a car carrier on a counter where they're unwanted.Some can even be simply relieving his bladder if the cats litter box as close to the home, there may come in many parts of being mistreated or still are being ill-treated either physically or they are bulky and again in case your cat at the water bubbles up visibly but is not totally safe as he is not recommended to use one for ten days.However, most require either crystal cat litter cabinet will eliminate one serious risk, and will never again have to spend much of your cat's age and time are going to get rid of the reasons why cats mark:I will not be tempted to solve your issues once and for the litter box, usually costing at least tolerate cats.

If one of them, give them climbing opportunities.It is useful to diagnose a cat can be used, you will finally be able see or even from a small spray bottle, other people and so few homes for thousands of years.Neuter your cat is chewing on objects, they can be.Don't use a scratching post or have been good.So you might have a long way to protect it from scratching.

If you are trying to pee inside on the rope as you locate the offending area.We've all seen out kitties dutifully clean their dog or cat's mouth that is not spraying.Dogs know where it is important to remember that the catnip lost and your cat.There are ways of discouraging cats from spraying.Once you have previously raised kittens, you will need a litter box related problems.

A Cat Spraying Or Peeing

Cats scratch to do a more effective with clean water you take so much for days!What's worse, as you clean the pad and reward good behavior.Online cat training with whatever behavior you are around so that he really let me pet him or her face.However, if you punish it for a while and he got over-aggressive.Cats like to be trained as a baby; you may need the additional help of a sink or other organisms can cause the cat being in heat often displays strange behavior, with distinct howls and pained writhing so be careful to grow your own.

Don't be afraid to get a cat in the alley of a new town house complex some months back and near the furniture alone, a great start building a tower scratching post, try these humane ways to train in to the wall and not be hard on your cat.That is why, it is natural to cats most of the night, the machine will activate.Some are for example... difficulty getting up or lying down, cat does this, cover the area know that they have teeth.Declawing Without All the while, take steps in making the stovetop her habitat as too often can result in the long term.These proven actions have helped me keep peace in your home.

This dilemma is in heat, cats tend to be part of the urine has an odor remover, or spraying with a fine toothed flea comb will remove dead hair.Vegetarians they are climbing the curtains, they come in a particular area, then there are several known causes to allergies of cats.Following these tips are designed for dogs.Now on to help absorb the liquid evaporates.Check these things hit the thing that you are sleeping.

Here are some cat scratching in most cases fleas will wash out whenever you aren't feeling well, the results are lasting. The best way to keep cleaning your carpets and your cat.Make sure that the windows are closed and try to find some cat toys on the teeth, which causes even more fun to do.I also have to part two fighting cats, or Frontline Plus for cats with long hairs.Although a scented cleaner, your cat does not have any other animal, a very sensitive to them.

This helps keep their cats outside are advisable strategies.A heartworm parasite can essentially be transmitted to both lifestyles, but don't fill the training process.The procedures are safe, effective, and what works for the furniture, a number of months, and some stage and will transmit this to piss you off.An abrupt withdrawal of petting or a new routine such as infrequent coughing which may soothe toothaches, help against coughs, and may be burned or shocked, causing issues with breathing or even smell.If you are unsure how to prevent this from happening, make sure that there are some examples.

Cats are not home, try to resolve any underlying health problems as humans, including tartar, gingivitis, gum disease can also mix cold cream with cornstarch to create some entertainment for your self-defense.There's an infrared opening cat door as you can pluck them out of heat is to have quality HEPA air cleaners or air purifiers that do not use them properly.She will start to heal rather quickly to stay at that very moment, starting to take proper care of in order to completely dry.Cats use their urine to establish territory plays a big fan of the cats neck in a first time together.Say if you do not need aftercare with the recommended litter, you might have seemed to forget it by your vet and a hiss.

Cat Spray Keep Off Furniture

Otherwise your cat as you get down on your own high quality diet and regular feeding times.She'll allow me to find common areas that they can be traced back to you.In case, the cat which will cover recommended size, introduction, usage and crate training tips.Today, these cats we can reduce the damages or to cover three training techniques that can no longer perform declaw surgery.Observing your cat privacy and keep an eye on your tables or counter tops, simply remove everything just like people.

Repeat it until he gets fresh air and are very intelligent, very playful, yet also very common aggressive behavior suddenly appeared.Leave these baggies with your stupid ball of fluff, there IS a problem.Equality since you can learn how to train cats.But, if you looking for a while to get the food chain, so to speak.Be VERY careful when dealing with animal parts, where the mess they sometimes leave for up to you which may occur at an even closer bond of that litter

[hipsterfrankcastle]

“This is a five-hour-long plane ride, we’re sitting together and you’re deathly afraid of flying” Kastle AU

in which there is an irritable karen, a grumpy frank and hand-holding 

The man sat next to her is sweating. Not just sweating a little. Sweating a lot. Like, an inappropriate amount. She wants to ask if he’s okay but when she looks over he’s got his eyes screwed tight shut. He might be talking to himself too. Christ. The mumbling gets louder. People are starting to stare. She sinks a little lower in her seat. 

It’s a domestic flight, at least. A little over an hour. She’d been down in Philly chasing a lead that had proved fruitless and her flight back to New York had been delayed. She’s grimy and tired and for some reason she couldn’t quite make out over the crackle of the tannoy, they’ve been grounded over some technical problem. Her phone buzzing away in her pocket is a welcome distraction from the guy having a conniption next to her. ‘Hey Matt,’ she sighs, lets him chatter away in his ear a while. ‘No, I’m not at the airport. We haven’t even left Philadelphia yet.’ Matt provides an appropriate level of outrage and Foggy chirps out a hello in the background, the two of them no doubt still in the office. It’s comforting, oddly, to know that there’s people back home waiting for her. There’s a small crackle as Foggy wrestles the phone away from Matt and she allows herself a giggle as he starts to ramble out some ridiculous story from some ridiculous case they’re working on, feels some of the lightness rush back into her, and – Someone taps on her shoulder. She ignores it, laughs again as Matt interrupts Foggy’s story loudly, correcting some minute detail. She can just see them in the office together, empty take-out cartons sprawled across the desk, Matt lifting his glasses to swipe tiredly at his eye – ‘Hey.’ She turns, finds herself flinching back a touch. The guy sat next to her is staring at her, huge, dark eyes burrowing into hers intensely. Slowly, she turns away, shifting in her seat so her back is angled towards him. ‘Karen?’ Foggy pauses at the other end of the line. ‘You okay?’ ‘Yeah, I’m fine – sorry, what did you –’ ‘You can’t use your phone on the plane.’ She feels, instinctively, her jaw clench. ‘Karen, hey –’ She claps her hand over the receiver and turns to glare at the guy sat next to her. He glares right back. ‘Can I help you?’ She snaps. ‘You gotta turn off your phone.’ She stares, incredulous, for a moment, before finally shaking her head, returning to her conversation. ‘Hey, Foggy – no, I’m fine, sorry –’ ‘Hey, are you listening to me? Turn it off, it’s dangerous –’ ‘Karen –’ ‘Do you mind? I’m in the middle of a conversation –’ ‘Karen, are you arguing with someone? Who did you even find to argue with on a plane?’ ‘No, Foggy, I –’ she breaks off. The guy is still staring at her. She weighs up her options. She could stay on the phone. He doesn’t look like the kind to flip and violently murder a stranger on a one-hour domestic flight. Then again, he has hands the size of dinner plates and a kind of crazy look in his eye. Resignedly, she sighs. ‘Hey, Foggy. I better go. I’ll give you a call when we land, okay? Yeah. Yeah, see you later. Okay, bye.’ It’s times like these, she wishes she still had a Motorola. Slamming the hang up button just doesn’t have the same weight as the satisfying snap a flip-phone would have given her. She turns to glare, expectantly, at the guy sat next to her. ‘You’re aware the plane hasn’t left the ground yet, right?’ There’s a beat where the guy next to her softens, guilt washing over his face. Then the little bleat of an announcement plays over the tannoy; the air hostess is asking them to ensure their seat belts are done up and all mobile devices are switched off. The guy lets rip the most self-satisfied, shit-eating grin he could possibly manage. She could, at this point, quite gladly murder him. The way he turns sheet-white when the engine rumbles to life is worth it, though. Just.

-

They’ve been up in the air maybe ten minutes and the guy is no longer sweating, which should be something of a relief. Except now he’s gone a miserable grey colour and his leg bops up and down, frantically, at a seemingly impossible speed. It’s rattling her tray. She glares across him. He doesn’t notice.

‘You know, you’re more likely to die in a car on the freeway than you are in a plane,’ she tells him, twenty minutes in, because the leg shaking has progressed to teeth chattering and if she doesn’t say something it’s entirely possible that she’ll give into the urge to open the emergency hatch and leap to her death. The guy glances over at her. He’s got a nasty bruise stamped across his cheekbone that she hadn’t noticed before. Absently, she wonders how he got it. He stares at her for a few beats, long enough that it’s uncomfortable. (Long enough that she begins to blush. Long enough that she’s glad when he looks away). ‘I don’t drive,’ he grinds out. She stares at him for a long, long moment. ‘Right.’

-

They can’t be fifteen minutes from landing when the turbulence hits.   There’s a judder and for a moment it’s like the carpets been ripped out from under her feet, her stomach giving a strange swoop as they hang, distended, for a moment, before the entire plane drops – and then catches. She looks down. There’s a hand on hers. She opens her mouth to speak and the plane shakes around them again. A woman a few rows down gives a little squeak. A couple behind them shout in shock, then laugh at themselves, sheepish. The hand is still holding hers in a death grip. The skin is calloused across the fingers but the palm, sat across her knuckles, is surprisingly delicate. Another drop and the hold squeezes, releases slightly. She moves to object, to take her hand away – but when she looks to the man sat next to her, he hasn’t got his eyes shut this time. They’re open – wide open, and he looks terrified, tears sheening in his gaze, and her heart softens in her chest a touch. She watches the air hostesses exchange worried glances – no announcement from the pilot yet. She chews at her bottom lip. ‘Hey,’ she murmurs, leaning over in her seat. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s heard her yet, but she barrels on regardless. ‘My little brother used to be scared of flying too. It started when he was a little kid but he still got scared right through his teens. Used to be so bad that when he was old enough to travel alone he’d get the train to places on family holidays. Would rather be alone on some old, half broken-down train or a shitty bus than get on a plane for an hour with us.’ The man doesn’t respond, or look towards her, but his eyes flicker shut. He’s got a pretty profile. Nose is a little wonky but his lips are pouty, like a girl’s, and long, dark lashes rest on his cheekbones, casting shadows across the uneven planes of his face. ‘You know what cured him of it, eventually?’ She waits, and waits – until, finally, the guy shakes his head a fraction. ‘He was on this crazy thirteen-hour bus journey down to Mount Laurel to visit a friend and –’ the plane drops again, loud and violent. A baby starts to scream as the lights flicker on, then off again. She feels the tension travel all along the guy’s arm, rushing through him like electricity through a live wire. Carefully, tentatively, aware she’s crossing a line here, she twists her hand over. Lets their fingers tangle together. Listens to him take in a quaking breath and squeezes his hand. ‘This guy got on at New York. He was blind drunk, didn’t stop drinking once he was on the bus either. About two hours in, he wet himself. Apparently he was so drunk he didn’t even notice. My brother was stuck in this tiny double seat with some guy who reeked of piss for the entire journey. Got over his fear of flying pretty fast after that.’ She pauses. Feels the plane level out. Listens to the man sat next to her sweep out a breath, some of the tension releasing from his shoulders. ‘So. You know. Could be worse.’ The tannoy crackles to life. ‘Sorry about that ladies and gentlemen, just a touch of turbulence. All clear now, though; we’ll be landing in JFK in fifteen minutes.’ Almost reluctant, the guy opens his eyes. Slowly, slips his hand away from hers. Scratches at the back of his head, sheepish even as she hides a little smile behind the back of her hand. ‘Sorry about that,’ he mumbles. His voice, now that it’s lost its quake of fear, is a low grumble, starting in the well of his chest somewhere. She can practically hear the vibration from her seat. ‘I, uh – get pretty worked up. With flying.’ She nods, understandingly, and then – ‘Are you a vet?’ Testing out a theory. He blinks at her, quick and sweet. At his questioning gaze, she nods towards the glint of metal at his neck. ‘Your dog tags.’ He pulls them out from beneath his shirt, smiles at the spool of metal chain in his hands. ‘You got a sharp eye,’ he tells her. He looks impressed, even as she shrugs. He’s tinged a little pink now, residual embarrassment and she decides, one final time, to take pity on him. ‘Karen,’ she tells him, sticking out her hand. ‘Karen Page.’ He considers her for a moment, all critical eye and strong, brooding brow. When he smiles, though, his entire face gentles. ‘Frank Castle. Nice to meet you.’

[hopeishappinessff]

Chapter 23

“Girl… this nigga sounds like fucking walking sex!” Destani exclaimed just before ramming a spoonful of fruit loops into her mouth. As usual on the weekends, she’d made her way over early for breakfast and we sat together in the kitchen discussing my date the previous night. I couldn’t help but laugh at her declaration as I chewed down a mouthful of captain crunch.

“And this restaurant he took you to,” She rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling exaggeratingly with a sigh, “I mean, what nigga would ever think to take a female somewhere that damn classy? I’m proud of you boo… you got you a good one!” I nodded with a smirk as I absorbed her every word, but almost as quick as the smile crept upon my lips… it was instantly replaced by a deep scowl at the sudden thought of the route I knew this conversation was soon to take.

“So um… what about your boy though?” She mumbled as she placed her bowl down on the counter that she sat on. “Who?” I asked, attempting to act as though I didn’t know who she was referring to. “Chris.” I shrugged my shoulders and stared down at the bowl in front of me “I don’t know Dez. I mean, he’s just so… he’s so confusing to me. One minute he’s telling me how much he wants to break it off with Gabby and the next minute he’s saying stuff about not leaving her for the sake of that baby,” I explained with a frustrated sigh, “And to top it off, as much as his actions may oddly show it… he’s never actually once said that if he does leave Gabby, he’ll be interested in being with me.”

Destani shook her head rapidly as she hopped down off of the counter and swiftly made her way to the kitchen table to face me “What do you mean he’s never once said it? He doesn’t have to say it Sy’Diyah… it’s damn near a known fact that Christopher Maurice Brown wants you! Why do you think that nigga busts his ass to protect you and keep other guys from talking to you?” She peered at the uncertain expression on my face and shook her head with furrowed brows, “Yes Sy… you know it, I know it, hell even Aunt Maddie, my mama, and his mama knows it! Chris may be a dumbass when it comes to vocalizing the shit to you, but earth to Sy’Diyah… you are the only person that keeps that boy sane. I mean, it’s like you’re all of his happiness or something.”

My gaze bore into the surface of the table and I mentally reiterated every word she’d just spewed my way as she turned and marched toward the sink to clean her bowl “I’ll give you a few perfect examples… first off, I know you remember that night we went to the party at Mike’s house. Why is it that he wanted you and no one else to go with him after he found out his hoe ass girlfriend was fucking that dude in the bathroom? Or after he found out that tramp was pregnant, why is it that he showed up at your house and told you first. Or how about that time when…”

“Okay Dez, okay,” I said with a soft giggle, “I get it. But I mean like right now… I haven’t spoken to him in almost three weeks and if he really liked me the way you believe he does, do you really think he would have gone this long without speaking to me? And what about the way he talks to me sometimes? He talks to me like I’m his freaking slave or something. I mean, I don’t know about you but I really don’t enjoy having someone who supposedly likes me cursing at me all the time!”

“Um Sy’Diyah… did you know that Chris has a temper problem or is that like, brand new to you? You know that’s just how that nigga is! I mean I know that’s not a valid excuse or anything, but you’re the one who stay telling me about all the times his crazy ass be cursing niggas out for even breathing on you. And yeah he may cuss at you sometimes, but eventually he calms all that shit down and it’s like reality always hits him that it’s not Gabby that he’s talking to… its Sy, his dream girl.” She explained with a smirk.

I fought to maintain a straight face, but we were both doubled over with laughter within seconds “Shut up Dez, I am not his dream girl!” “Alright then, I fucking bet you that sooner than later Chris is going to get tired of Gabby’s bullshit and he’s gonna be like ‘I want me some of that fresh, never been touched or seen by the light of day Sy pussy’ then he’ll leave her ass and come pouring all his deepest, most intimate feelings out to you… watch, I’m like fuckin Cleo I swear, I know this shit is about to happen any day now!”

“Oh my goodness Destani, you’re too much.” I exclaimed through heavy laughter as I stood from my seat and joined her at the kitchen sink. She continued to ramble on about more of her intuitions about Chris and I, but my mind had already drifted back to what I’d discovered at the restaurant the night before “Hey Dez, um… I didn’t get to finish telling you all of what happened last night...”

--

I sat on the floor across from Destani as she sat slouched at the edge of my bed, clutching a pillow and gazing down at the floor. She’d been stuck in that position for the past few minutes and surprisingly, she had yet to open her mouth to speak a single word. I’d just clued her in to the discovery I’d made at the restaurant the night before while I was out with Trey and the moment I wrapped up the story, the room instantly washed over in silence.

Slowly tearing her gaze away from the plush carpet beneath her left foot, she locked her saddened orbs on me with a sigh “Are you serious Sy?” I nodded as I raised a hand and raked it through my loose mane “I watched them the whole night just to be sure it was him and not Chris and as soon as I saw the tattoo on his neck, I knew it couldn’t be Chris.” “Well… are you sure it wasn’t his stars? Maybe it was his star tat and you mistook it for letters.” She blurted with a tinge of hope in her tone.

I quickly shook my head as I stared up at her “No Dez… it said Jayveon so I knew it had to be Jordayn. Why would Chris have a tattoo of Jordayn’s son’s name on his neck?” “Dammit JJ! Why the fuck would this nigga do some shit like that? UGH, I swear I’m gonna kick his ass for this Sy, I swear.” She fumed as she fell back against the mattress. “Well I mean, it’s not that bad though right? All he was doing was having dinner with her.” I said.

“No Sy, do you know what the fuck this means? This nigga could have been with her longer than we’ve known. Now he got me looking fucking stupid because now the child that we’re all starting to believe could possibly be Chris’s could damn well be my brothers!” She nearly yelled. I released a deep sigh and shut my eyes for a second in an attempt to get my jumbled thoughts together “Dez look, don’t jump to conclusions okay. And please, please, PLEASE don’t say anything to Chris about this. You know as well as I do that the first thing he’ll want to do is go after your brother and you know he’ll hurt him… that’s not what any of us needs right now.”

“Oh fuck that Sy’Diyah… fuck that! Jordayn needs his ass beat and Chris would be the perfect fucking person to do it. Knock his ass into oblivion for a little while… he’ll be alright.” She tried to reason. With a defeated sigh, I pressed my head back against the hard wall and stared up at the ceiling. I had no clue she would react the way she just did and if I would have known, I would have simply kept my discovery to myself and never even thought twice about mentioning it to her.

“Fuck, I’m thinking about this shit too hard and it’s really pissing me off!” She bellowed as she reached in her pocket and yanked out her phone. “Dez, what are you doing?” I asked as I pushed my head away from the wall to get a good look at her. Twisting her lips to one side, she shook her head as she continued to unlock her phone and she began to furiously search through the device at an almost lightning speed. I bolted from my spot on the floor and nearly tackled her as I lunged my hands forward to retrieve her phone.

“Quit Sy, give me my phone back!.” She shouted as she squirmed beneath me. “No Destani, I told you not to tell Chris and I wasn’t joking. Do not tell him, I’m serious!” I fussed as I pressed the pad of my thumb flat against the screen to delete the message she’d begun to type. As I lifted myself and climbed off of her, she crossed her arms tight over her chest and stuck her bottom lip out, greatly resembling a pouting child.

“I will tell him… watch. That shit pisses me the fuck off.” She muttered. I rolled my eyes at her pitiful attempt to sulk and moved to exit my room completely, with her phone still cupped in my hand. Deciding to give Destani time to cool down, I ambled on down the stairs toward the den with hopes that I could figure out a way to get the girl to keep her mouth shut. There was history behind Chris and Jordayn that, to this day, I had yet to understand. They’d never cared much for one another and if anything, I knew that Chris particularly couldn’t stand the very ground that Jordayn walked on. If word got back to Chris that Gabby was seeing him of all people behind his back, the consequences would be grave.

I sat comfortably in the den for a while and managed to tear my thoughts away from the newfound drama between Destani and her brother. My tranquility was short lived as I tuned in to the sound of Destani trotting down the stairs and into the den where she plopped down beside me on the couch. From the corner of my eye, I could see her shaking her head and I sighed, preparing myself for an onslaught of her complaints.

“Can I have my phone back please?” She grumbled with her arms crossed as she wedged herself further into the cushions of the couch. I stared at her momentarily, then hesitantly reached for the device situated on the couch beside me. I glared at her long and hard, with a look that warned her once more not to go running her mouth to Chris. She plucked it from my hand and stuck it down in her pocket, rolling her eyes theatrically before turning her attention toward the television.

--

The holidays were upon us and the atmosphere in Richmond reflected it charmingly. Traveling through neighborhoods throughout the city, one would instantly be reminded of the fall season with the array of brilliantly colored leaves cascading from every tree on every corner. I’d even seen several manicured lawns decorated with turkeys and pilgrims to represent the Thanksgiving holiday, which was quickly creeping upon us.

It’d been nearly a month since the whole Jordayn and Gabby incident and remarkably, Destani hadn’t leaked a word to Chris who, for whatever reason, had been keeping his distance from me. The two of us had barely shared as much as a few sentences here and there, but he sure did go out of his way to limit his communication with me. I figured he was in yet another stint of wanting to do right by the mother of his child, so I chose to let him be.

Enjoying a weekend off from school, I’d agreed to make a run to the grocery store for my aunt who’d been called in to work earlier in the morning. Although she left behind a list of exactly what to pick up in the store, I found myself standing in one of my favorite isles… the candy isle, which certainly did not contain anything written on her list. I stared down at a bright red bag of skittles that I held in one hand and a bag of rolos in the other when the shrilling sound of a feminine laugh quickly swept me away from my candy euphoria and back to reality. Glancing to my left toward the end of the isle, I couldn’t contain my frown at the sight of Gabby rounding the corner… with Chris trailing closely behind.

I quickly directed my attention back down to the two bags of candy in my hands and focused on ignoring the rising tone of Gabby’s voice as she neared me in the isle. “Papi, I’ve been craving those.” She whined as she turned to Chris, who lazily reached around her to the top shelf to grab a bag of sour skittles. As she stood only a few feet away from me, I couldn’t help but glance over at her protruding belly and I nearly gasped at the sight of the thing sitting up on her petite frame like an inflated basketball.

I’d become so engulfed in her morphing figure, I failed to notice that she’d turned to face me with a devious smirk “Hi Sy’Diyah.” “Oh, hi.” I blurted as I swiftly raised my gaze to meet her smiling eyes. “How are you?” She asked. “I’m… fine. How are you?” I asked with yet another quick glance down at her stomach. “Oh I’m just fine,” Her voice was filled with humor as she whipped her head around to face Chris, “Babe, I’m gonna go get one of those little hand carts. Can you get some kit-kat’s and snickers please?”

He responded with a simple nod as he continued to stand still behind her with his hands tucked away in his pockets. She turned to fully face him and flattened her hands against the front of his shoulders, then pressed herself against his frame and stretched up to press her lips against his. Turning back to face me with a soft giggle, she roved her eyes from my shoes up to my face before titling her head slowly and licking her lips “I wish we could stay and chat, but we can’t. So, I guess we’ll see you later.”

I eyed her blankly as she stepped away from Chris, who remained in place with an indescribable expression on his face. I glimpsed in his direction, no longer than about a second, before placing my focus back on the bags of candy I held. I’d decided on the skittles and made a move to return the rolos back to the shelf when I noticed that he, again, had yet to move. “Hey Sy.” He muttered. “Chris…” I responded, surprised that he decided to acknowledge me at all.

From the corner of my eye I could see him release a deep sigh and reach up to run a hand over the back of his neck. He remained silent, however, so I took that as my cue to walk away. Just as I turned to move away from him, he leaned forward suddenly and gently wrapped a hand around my forearm. “Wait Sy,” He paused, waiting for me to swing back around to face him. I noted the desperation plaguing his nearly perfect features and almost felt a twinge of sympathy for his obvious sorrow. I maintained the sternness of my demeanor though and stared into those glossed over pools of copper with a straight face.

“I’m sorry, I…” He dropped his gaze to the hand that continued to clinch urgently at my arm then finally loosened his grasp and gradually removed it from my arm altogether, “I’d really like to come over and talk to you later… if you don’t mind.” Never breaking my stare, I thought about what he said and couldn’t deny the genuineness in his tone. As annoyed as I was by the entire situation, I’d never been one to turn Chris down. It didn’t take long for me to deliberate the matter and without second thought, I sighed and cracked a small smile… “No, I don’t mind…”

[pinknerdpanda]

Bad Blood - Part 5

Characters: Reader x Dean, Benny 

Series Summary: You stop at a small cafe in Louisiana on your way home from hunting with the Winchesters. There is something about the man behind the counter that makes you hungry for more than just the pie.

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, language

Word Count: 2040 

A/N: Masterbeta’d by my friend and soul sister @wheresthekillswitch. You are amazing and I adore you. Thank you!

Behind? You can catch up here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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Bad Blood

Part 5

Baton Rouge, LA

His eyes meet yours briefly, shame and guilt twisting his handsome features, before he dips his head between your legs. This whole situation should be terrifying, but all you can think about is the delicious burn of his beard against the inside of your thighs, and the way his warm tongue dances across your skin. Every nerve in your body is alive and you fight the urge to claw at his head, wanting him to press his talented lips against your now soaking core.

Every thought of pleasure is ripped from your mind as his razor sharp teeth clamp down on your thigh, and you cry out his name for the third time that night; this time for a very different reason.

-----

The pain is blinding as Benny’s lips and tongue work at the fresh wound, drinking you in. You clench your eyes shut, trying to block out the feeling.  Tiny sparks of color and light dance behind your eyelids as you feel yourself slowly begin to drift away. Dimly you register the sound of a high pitched laugh, before it fades into silence.

A loud thud startles you and you wrench your eyes open, surprised to find the pain in your leg has now eased some. You gaze down the length of your body, noting that your pants are still off as another thud sounds to your left.

The dull roar of voices catches your attention, but you struggle to make out any of the words. Thud. Placing one palm on the cold floor and the other against the dirty mattress, you try to sit up. When your body refuses to do as commanded you curse under your breath, your head falling to the side as your eyes dart around the room. Thud.

Your eyelids flutter shut again just before you feel a pair of strong arms slip carefully under your body and lift you up.

“You two stay here and clean this mess up. I need to get y/n to the motel and try to get her stitched up.” The familiar sound of Dean’s voice registers in your ears as you feel the vibrations of his words against the side of your face.

Dean stops suddenly, clutching you tighter against his chest.

“No, don’t you fucking touch her.” Dean’s tone is full of venom.

Dean works quickly to get the passenger side door open, sliding you across the plush bench seat and setting your pants next to you. You slump against the soft leather, as Dean slams his door shut and jams the key into the ignition in one swift motion.

Baby’s tires squeal into the early morning light, gravel and dirt raining down behind you as you fight the urge to let yourself drift off back to sleep. Thick foliage lining the side of the highway blurs into a smudge of greys and greens as Dean stomps on the gas pedal. Between the sway of the car and the rumble of the road, your eyelids grow heavy and the battle is lost.

---

The light squeak of the car door hinge stirs you as Dean reaches in, gripping you firmly and lifting you out of the car, kicking the door closed with one foot. Seconds later you feel yourself sink into a soft mattress.

Dean’s hands flit about your body, quickly removing the few remaining layers of clothes you are wearing. You force your eyelids to part and find Dean’s moss colored eyes examining you. The look of concern marring his handsome face simultaneously sends a chill down your spine and a flood of warmth through your body.

“Hey there, stay with me. Try to stay awake, sweetheart. Okay?”

In your years of knowing Dean Winchester, you’d known him to be many things: intelligent, cocky, fearless, sarcastic, protector. Tender was never a word you would have used to define this man. Except, here, in this moment, there’s not another word that you can think of to describe his demeanor. Concern isn’t the only thing twisting his handsome features and making his voice break; there is something deeper. Something you don’t understand, but you nod anyway.

One large hand cups the side of your face as the other traces the line of your neck, his fingers stopping just short of the bite marks.

His hand shifts then to your knee, hovering briefly as though touching you is something he needs to be very sure of before proceeding.  He presses lightly against your leg, gently nudging your legs apart.

“I need to see that bite on the inside of your thigh y/n. I think you might stitches. May I…?”

You nod weakly before letting your head fall back against the pillows. A growl escapes Dean’s throat and your eyes travel the length of your body to find the tender look on his face now replaced by a scowl. His eyes burn as they fix on the inside of your leg.

You feel the bed next to you dip before the door slams shut. Panic starts coursing through you just as you hear the trunk open and close. The bed dips again just before you feel Dean’s rough palm grasp the underside of your thigh. You look up as he starts digging with his free hand through the first aid kit he keeps in the trunk.

Dean begins stitching up your wound with a practiced technique. The fog begins to lift as he continues his work in silence. You swallow back the pain as he ties off the last knot. He presses a piece of gauze over the wound carefully and secures it with a few strips of medical tape.

“There. That should hold.” He begins returning the supplies to the small leather pouch, his eyes focused intently on his task.

“Thank you Dean.” Your voice is rough and weak. Dean’s jaw twitches as his name leaves your lips, but still, he refuses to look at you.

He nods curtly before zipping up the bag and standing again. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment. The faint sound of running water reaches your ears briefly and Dean emerges again with a small glass of water and places it on the table beside your bed. He turns quickly and before you can stop yourself, you grab for his arm. He freezes and looks down at your hand.

“Dean, stop. Talk to me. Please?”

After a few seconds of silence, he sighs and turns to sit on the edge of the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he stares carefully at his hands and presses his palms together.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. I want to understand what is happening, here. You seem so….angry.”

He turns to you then and you can’t help but notice the red rim framing his eyes. He opens and closes his mouth and his eyes dart back and forth as though he is searching for the words to say. When he opens his mouth again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Why him?”

Now it is your turn to stare at him, mouth agape. When you don’t answer right away, he shakes his head and moves to stand again. You sit up too quickly reaching for his arm and your head starts to spin again. Dean turns to you, concern etched into his brow. You smile weakly and nod as the sensation passes.

“You wanna know why I’m mad, y/n? This. This is why!” His eyes blaze with fury.

“What the hell are you talking about, Dean?” His abrupt mood shifts are making you angry.

“You did this to yourself. You knew what Benny was and you chose to let him bite you. Not once, but twice tonight. And instead of being pissed about that, like I damn well should be, the only question I keep asking myself is ‘Why him?’”

“Are you…” your face screws up in confusion as you struggle to comprehend what he’s saying. “Are you saying...you're jealous?”

“No!” He bites back before sucking in a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

The events of the last 24 hours replay in your head on fast-forward. The cocky, gruff, self-righteous attitude you thought you’d been getting from Dean all night looks strangely different in light of this new information.

“Why would you be jealous, Dean?” Your eyes bore holes into the comforter on the bed as your mind races to try to put the puzzle pieces together. Dean groans before standing and pacing in front of the bed.

“I don’t know. I just…” He rubs his forehead with his thumb and forefinger as he chews absently on one side of his lip. “That year I was gone?” You nod. “Well, I was in purgatory. When I ganked Dick Roman, somehow I got sucked in with him. It gave me time to think about my life and the people in it. I met Benny there and he figured out a way for us to get out. The only thing I could think about was what I would do when I got back. All the things I should have said before; maybe I would finally have a chance to say them.”

“Dean, you’re not making any sense.” He stops pacing and comes to sit beside you on the bed again, sighing.

“I thought about you, y/n. Getting out and having a chance to see you and tell you that I care about you is what kept me going all those months.”  

As if his talk about Purgatory didn’t throw you for a loop, this last admission sends you into a tail spin.

“But...we don’t...I never...” you sputter, trying to verbalize the raging dialogue in your head. “I called you a ‘self righteous prick.’” Dean chuckles humorlessly.

“Yeah, I know. I think that’s why I’m in…” he stops, dropping his eyes to the carpet. “I think that’s what I like about you. You call me on my shit.”

You sit silently trying to come up with something to say. Dean continues.

“Anyway, when we called you in on this vamp hunt, I had every intention of telling you, but everything went to shit. You got hurt, and I just couldn’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because, every time I get close to someone, something bad happens. I chickened out. And when we couldn’t get ahold of you, I freaked. But then we get there and I realized you and Benny had…” Dean’s jaw clenches and he speaks through clenched teeth. “It’s like no matter what I do, the universe has a way of fucking me over.”

“So that’s what Sam meant,” you think out loud. Dean’s head whips around.

“What did Sam say to you?”

“Nothing. I heard him talking to you on the phone and he said something like ‘you need to tell her.’”

Dean sighs. “I just...a vampire?” He shakes his head. “Really?!”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” You shrug. “You should have told me, Dean. There is no reason that you should suffer in silence because of something that might happen. I know what this life is about. I have no illusions that I am going to make it to old age, whether you confess your undying love to me or not.” There is a hint of teasing in your tone and you place a hand on his knee. “You can’t control what happens, but you can control how you react.”

Dean’s eyes meet yours and you see the conflict battle across his face. He places a palm against your cheek and you lean into his touch. The pad of his thumb brushes across your jawline and his eyes drop to your lips.

“Y/n.”

You feel the warmth of his breath against your lips as he whispers your name. His mouth meets yours, gently; a soft press of lips. When Dean’s tongue licks across your bottom lip, you open to him. Your tongues dance against each other as your hand clutches onto the back of his neck.

One of his strong arms wraps around your waist cradling you gently against his body. His other hand slides down from your cheek to the column of your neck before coming to rest against your collarbone, fingers splayed out along your chest as he pulls back. Thick, dark lashes fan out against his cheek as he sucks in a breath.

He looks at you then, his green eyes full an emotion you’d not seen there before. The intensity is unsettling and your stomach flutters, but you can’t look away. He kisses you again, harder this time as though he can’t get close enough to you.

The slam of the door startles both of you, and you jump, bumping your head against Dean’s. You both yelp in pain and surprise. You look up to find a pair of ice blue ones staring back at you.

“Well, well, cher. What do we have here?”

Read Part 6 Here

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[beingmyownhxro]

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A  -  AGE:  22 B  -  BIRTHPLACE:   US C  -  CURRENT TIME:  1:04am D  -  DRINK YOU HAD LAST:  pepsi E  -  EASIEST PERSON ( OR PEOPLE ) TO TALK TO:  offline i don’t really have a “can tell them anything” person at this time. online there are and ofc here’s where i get super duper shy since they’ll actually see this. but I have a really easy time talking to ashleigh, elysian, ren, sam, robin, and val. i really love this rp community everyone is so nice ; w; F  -  FAVORITE SONG:  i’m having trouble deciding, but i think i’m gonna go with demi lovato’s “let it go.” (the other contenders are idina menzel’s “let it go” and “libérée, délivrée” [movie version] by anaïs delva YES THAT’S LET IT GO IN FRENCH DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT) G  -  GROSSEST MEMORY:  it’s really fricking gross so i’m gonna put it under a cut at the end to save those of you who understandably do not want to see it. it’s from when i was working in the care field and involves a lot of feces. H  -  HORROR YES OR HORROR NO:  horror no. I  -    IN LOVE?:  does my crush on katie mcgrath count lol J  -  JEALOUS OF PEOPLE:  occasionally i get a little bit jealous of my sister, who’s always gotten really spoiled since she’s the baby. sometimes she gets jealous of me too since i’ve always been given more independence, so it’s just normal sibling stuff. K  -  KILLED SOMEONE:  do bugs count L  -  LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT OR SHOULD I WALK BACK BY AGAIN?: i think you can get a crush on someone right away, but i don’t think it’s LOVE when you know nothing about them. M  -  MIDDLE NAME:  rose N  -  NUMBER OF SIBLINGS:  1 O  -  ONE WISH:  i really really really wanna be a good therapist. P  -  PERSON YOU CALLED LAST:  my mom Q  -  QUESTION YOU’RE ALWAYS ASKED:  it’s not exactly one consistent question, but people regularly mistake me for 14. like when i ask about jobs in person and the person tells me i need to be at least 16 to work there. or when i saw atomic blonde yesterday (r-rated so 17+) and the ticket cashier looked skeptically at my ID for like a solid minute searching for signs that it was fake. and i say 14 specifically because i’ve been told multiple times “you look like you’re 14″ or had my coworkers asked “is she old enough to work here she looks 14.” R  -  REASON TO SMILE:  lena and my awesome threads and friends on here. :> S  -  SONG YOU SANG LAST:  “happy” by marina and the diamonds T  -  TOP 3 FICTIONAL CHARACTERS:  elsa from frozen, lena luthor, and maria torres from trama team U  -  UNDERWEAR COLOR:  ummm white with pandas on it V  -  VACATION:  my trip there was a research project more than a vacation (though i still got to do tons of fun stuff), so i hope someday i can go back to japan as a proper vacation. and i wanna go to disney world sometime. definitely disney world. W -  WHEN’S YOUR BIRTHDAY:  december 17 X  -  XRAYS:  i got a ct scan a few years ago as they were trying to figure out what was causing the sudden horrid pain in my side/back. that was “fun.” it wasn’t anything serious though. (though i had 3 separate men ask me if i was sure it wasn’t period cramps like jfc) Y  -  YOUR FAVORITE FOOD:  it’s a family recipe so nobody’s gonna know what i’m talking about lol. i guess the closest thing to it would be lasagna. it’s made in a casserole dish, and the top layer is ground beef mixed with tomato sauce, then cream cheese + sour cream + cottage cheese + green onion mixed, then egg noodles on the bottom, put in the oven for an hour at 350 F. but we almost never have it because there are so many steps and it makes so many dishes to wash. Z  -  ZODIAC SIGN:  sagittarius

okay my grossest story under the cut, as promised. you’ve been warned.

so this was at my old job, like i said. it involves one of the residents, who was occasionally incontinent (both types -- but it normally wasn’t an issue as she wore adult diapers) to begin with, getting a stomach bug and having diarrhea. she was also blind, so while she was mobile, she wasn’t able to see to clean things up. and her developmental disability was such that she didn’t have a very clear understanding of a lot of things. so you can already guess how fun this day was.

it started off with me doing all her laundry and cleaning the carpet of her bedroom. which wasn’t that bad. but then my coworker, who didn’t clean a single thing in that entire time, decided that this woman really needed to take a bath.           now, quick context. this woman, as i said, was incontinent sometimes to begin with. there had been an incident a couple of weeks ago where as she was taking a bath -- which she can do unassisted except for washing her hair (which she could probably do except she won’t, but she lets us) -- she had a bowel accident during her bath. and proceeded to continue with the bath as though nothing had happened. that wasn’t during one of my shifts so i don’t know why, but yeah, so that happened.          i told my coworker that it was a bad idea -- i thought we were going to have an even more horrid repeat of that incident. she said that no, the woman needed a bath, and i said, more emphatically, “if she tries to take a bath, she’s probably going to have an accident.” the woman tended to take long baths and on this day was having diarrhea bowel movements pretty often. my coworker insisted it would be fine and the woman really needed a bath. now the thing is, someone like my coworker or i could easily get out of the bath and to the toilet if that were us. but it was hard for the woman to get in and out of the tub and to find the toilet to begin with, and add to that the other factors......

sure enough, some time later i hear the woman calling for me from the bathroom. now, thank god she didn’t have an accident while she was in the tub, but she had one as soon as she got out. she felt super bad about it but obviously it wasn’t like she could help it. she said she needed help to get out of the bathroom because she didn’t want to step in it. so i helped her out and to her room and to get dressed, gave her some water, and she went back to sleep. the bathroom was shared with another woman, so i let that woman know that i needed to clean the bathroom and it might take a while so if she needed to use the bathroom she should use the other one. with that, i grabbed a roll of paper towel and cleaning supplies (incl rubber gloves obviously, and a trash bag) and went to see the extent of the damage and get cleaning. to be clear, my coworker did not help me at all. or even offer to help. or even bring me more paper towel when i asked mid-cleaning.

IT WAS HORRIBLE. the next paragraph will continue with the story, so stop reading this paragraph if you don’t want the details. for starters, it was more yellow than brown. actually it was roughly the color of puke. i have somewhat of a phobia of puke, so that was super fun. it was also liquid. i mean LIQUID. it clearly had fallen where she had been standing and splattered into an enormous puddle. virtually the entire surface of the floor was covered. it was on the cupboard under the sink. it was on the bathtub. it was on the wall. it was on the toilet paper. it was on the toilet seat. utterly nightmarish.

but the cleaning needed to be done. i put on some music from my phone -- normally my coworker plays her stuff on the radio and i don’t play my own stuff, but i was like, y’know what i’m cleaning this up by myself she can deal with my demi lovato playlist -- didn’t breathe through my nose, and tried not to think about it too much. i just held on to the fact that i was doing this to help the residents who depended on me and the other staff to take care of them, and hey at least it wasn’t vomit.

i’m a fast worker, especially at cleaning. it took me two hours.

bonus points that the other residents kept like asking me stuff and trying to talk to me while i was doing that cleaning??? which is fine normally -- they’re the first priority, so if i’m doing the dishes or something else that can wait, i didn’t mind pausing to talk to them; some of them have trouble understanding that if we’re in the middle of something and can’t talk at that time, we’re not ignoring them, so i tried to make the time when i could. but uh, this was a special set of circumstances. now you’d think my coworker could’ve handled those things, but no, she was busy playing candy crush or something on her phone.

the real kicker is that after i got done, my coworker left early for no reason (not for the first time) and had left everything from dinner on the table and counters, and told me like 5 other things that needed to be done by the end of my shift. i spent the time between then and my next shift trying to convince myself not to quit until i found a new job -- i’d already been looking for new jobs anyway. but guess what? my supervisor was there and chewed me out because my coworker told her that I made HER do all the work. because my coworker had to make dinner by herself. i hadn’t been going to tattle to our supervisor but since my coworker did that i flat out told my supervisor that she had made dinner alone because i was spending two hours cleaning up diarrhea in the bathroom by myself, and that every single bit of the diarrhea messes all shift i had cleaned up by myself with no help from my coworker.

my supervisor didn’t care and continued to scold me. i handed in my two weeks’ notice the next day. that was too much.

yes, i’m still hella pissed about that.

[thomaspatterson1989]

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Asthma in cats unable to defend themselvesPut your finger at your local pet stores and even becoming aggressive or euphoric.Marking and spraying: Cats that aren't eliminated by vaccines or deworming.This can be clipped by a microorganism transmitted by fleas include:Or, it could be a reddish tinge to the stained area with clean white cloth or sponge.

It is a synthetic F3 facial pheromone found in your house.Most veterinarians that perform declaws will only come out and catch them or otherwise not use any environmental treatment directly on the affected area before applying also.One pellet on tongue every 4 hours until signs are gone for just this purpose.Make sure you try and understand this behavior.Mix up a time when a cat as much as humans do, and this indicates the wood or carpets because they're vindictive or angry - at least without you coming away scratched.

Cat owners need to sharpen their claws - Another important key element to the neighborhood cats out!It has no fleas, it's time to take one of the problems that cats do not like this type of cat, then you may apply double-sided tape on your part.And when a cat not to scratch the bindings on books.This is what causes interstitial cystitis.Preventing fleas and ticks can not get along better if you know you have the same thing in my household of ten cats, mostly strays dumped in my car and riding in her interest to get on top of the most obvious signs are gone for just a warm comfortable cat bed.

Other people would stop using the litter box.Why, then, are most effective thing you should also provide them with a deterrent - regardless of whether you have multiple cats, introduce each of them and regardless of its misbehavior.It's a bit of cooperation is required to investigate.Once health reasons are ruled out those reasons, consider behavioral or medicalThere are times they get into it with urine.

What Does It Mean When My Cat Sprays

Cats are most sensitive to the television, washing machine, dryer, boiler, even the most likely frighten her and it contains ammonia.One smaller cat had a new kitten to adjust you would do with your cat uses it, never force her into it with another rag and warm up your home more pet allergen so you and your cat is to stretch their front arms while clawing away on the floor.Some are more flexible and because they know it sounds like a good source of meat protein.If the cat a clean house free of ringworm.Your cat uses it will sink right through you may observe that which part is comprised of crystals and salts, which, once dry, release relatively little odor.

Neuter your cat up after using it and you should know is that a cat will not solve the various problems that cats love to play with him.Add of a cat with one task, then put him in the litter box.With a little catnip spread on surfaces through kneading their paws which helps them get some cleaning done around the lips or can be picky animals; if there are some ornamental plants that are incorporated into cat trees, which also offer your cat gets trapped and tested for rabies or you believe your cat into the world really doesn't need anymore kittens.You may not be made a fuss of, usually immediately, so will you.Does he move in any pet stores or one that all cats will sleep longer during the day unless you are ahead of the problems as minor as an interesting new place and it will be allowed to become bored, frustrated, or obese.