#where the bit was him making a different fart noise for each finger

[tyrannosaurustexts]

do you ever see something that is just so incredibly wrong that you can’t even figure out where to start with correcting it

[ellewriteswrongs]

picking favorites (a @tsbandau drabble)

if y���all aren’t emotionally invested in @underdog-arts ‘s band au, idk what y’all are even doing /j

anyway, here’s a wholesome family drabble insp. by the band au and my (not-so) subtle obsession with remus and janus. also subbing to their patreon is the best $5 i’ve probably ever spent, no joke

“Honey, you can still pick up Ry, right?” Janus called down the hallway, carrying a basket of laundry on each hip before depositing them in the hallway to put away later. Remus was seated in their shared office catching up on emails as Janus began packing up leftover pasta into containers to take to their show scheduled that night. 

“I told you I got ‘em,” he agreed, banging the last clumps of his protein shake into his mouth with the heel of his hand. “I’m gonna’ jog to V’s and grab the van.”

Janus nodded to themself out of instinct before faltering, their brow furrowing. 

“Wait—Re, that’s like three miles,” they challenged, dumping the dirtied dishes into the sink. “Just take the fucking car.”

Remus’ snort laugh was audible from down the hallway. 

“They asked for the van!” Remus cackled. “And I, for one, do not disappoint. Apparently making my kid’s friends think they’re cool is worth a three-mile jog.”

Janus rolled their eyes, albeit fondly. This was, unfortunately, not news. 

Riley was having an…interesting phase. It wouldn’t be abnormal for kids their age if it weren’t for the fact that their parents were ridiculously competitive, and all of their parents’ friends were eager to get in on it. 

As soon as Remus attended career day in Riley’s first grade classroom, resulting in the entire class of six-year-olds marveling at the fact that their friend’s dad was a “rock star.”

Janus loved that conversation over dinner that night. 

They weren’t jealous. No, in fact, it was probably overdue for Riley to have a bit of a “Daddy’s kid” phase, considering how joined at the hip they were with Janus for multiple years now. But they wanted to win. 

Riley could make their own decisions about picking a favorite parent. As long as that decision was Janus. 

“You’ve gone so-oft,” they sing-songed, smirking as Remus appeared in the kitchen behind them, wrapping one hand around their hip and pressing a kiss to their temple. “Ry’s got you wrapped around their finger.”

Remus have a flash of his crooked grin. 

“Yeah, well…at least I know where they get that from.”

Janus rolled their eyes, trying to hide their reddening face. 

“Sap,” they grumbled fondly. “Hurry up and get on with your run before you’re late to pickup. And tell V I said hey.”

Remus gave an exasperated chuckle and affirmation, but pocketed his keys and wallet nonetheless. 

The jog to Virgil’s apartment wasn’t a particularly strenuous three miles, being downtown and all, and Remus was far from out of shape. Still, three miles was three miles—especially in the late afternoon sun. Needless to say, Virgil wasn’t thrilled to have a giant sweaty man on his doorstep, but he handed over the keys nonetheless. 

The van was old, still clinging to its axels from when Remus himself purchased it from an old neighbor and declared it the band’s “tour bus.” It was nice enough at the time, especially for the price he paid, but it certainly wasn’t still around for anything more than sentimental value. 

Mainly just Remus refusing to get rid of it. 

That, and the fact that, for whatever reason, Riley thought it was the coolest thing ever. 

The drive wasn’t long, only the sitting in traffic of other parents in minivans trying to get into the school parking lot. He…wasn’t a fan of that part of being a parent, that’s for sure. He could do without any other parents, thank you very much, but at least it was fun to see how obvious all of them were in their distaste of both him and Janus, compared to how much their kid absolutely adored them. 

A fact that was only proven when Remus eventually made it to the parking lot and exited his van, only to be met with ear-splitting squeal of “daddy!” and an armful of six-year-old. 

He can’t deny how, even after all these years, the title still makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like…he is a dad. That’s his kid! How fucking rad is that!

He happens to spot a few other parents, along with some of Riley’s friends that he recognizes, and he offers a quick wave with the hand that isn’t mussing up his kid’s hair. 

“You brought the van,” Riley points out with a toothy grin that Remus can’t help mirroring. He can’t help the knot in his throat when he spots the gap in their teeth from their first ever lost tooth—which only meant they were getting much too old and Remus would really appreciate it if they would slow the fuck down.

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Riley nods, bouncing on Remus’ hip just a bit out of excitement. “I gotta’ warn you though, JJ’s getting pretty jealous.”

Riley laughs before sticking out their tongue and making a fart noise in Remus’s face. 

Remus is, for the thousandth time, bewildered at how Riley couldn’t possibly be more like Janus if they tried. And mostly smitten. He has the coolest kid on Earth, after all. 

“They can suck my butt!” Riley squeals and Jesus Christ, Remus is going to have a heart attack right there in the parking lot. He’s gonna’ have to grill Jan again to make sure those two aren’t secretly biologically related. 

“Hey, your words not mine, squirt,” he smirks, opening the van door and strapping them into the car seat. “And your early bedtime if you let JJ hear any of that.”

He finishes with a pinch on their nose before closing the van door and getting back in the driver’s seat. 

Riley, as soon as the radio turn on, starts protesting very aggressively to listen to “your songs, daddy! Play your songs!” 

Thankfully, he has a CD burned with some of their…cleaner songs for that exact purpose. 

Riley, for lack of a better word, was ‘singing’ along at a volume that Remus would’ve otherwise found hilarious and impressive if it wasn’t right in his ear. Still, there was a certain fondness that came with watching his kid’s excitement over his work—something that, as usual, was paired with thrashing within the confines of a car seat and headbanging their little heart out. 

Along the drive Remus made every attempt to stop the barrage of the screamo singer in the making, but all were ultimately unsuccessful. At least…until he pointed out one particular building out of a strip mall assortment. 

“Hey, you see that store right there? The one with the red sign?” He spoke up, catching Riley’s eager attention in an instant. They placed both hands on the van window to look out. 

“What is it?” They asked, squinting to try and read what was on the sign. 

“You know the snake on my leg?” Riley nodded, quieting down. “That’s where JJ took me to get it.”

They paused, seemingly putting some pieces together in their head.

“How come you only have one?” They asked, still kicking their legs against their seat. “JJ has lots, how come you don’t have lots too?”

Remus chuckled, continuing along the road as the light turned green. 

“‘Cause I don’t need another one. They’re very expensive, you know.”

“Is it ‘cause you’re a wimp?” 

Remus choked on his own spit. 

“N-no,” he choked out, laughing. “No I’m not, I just think it looks better this way.”

He didn’t bother looking into the backseat to see what Riley thought of that answer, but if the return to karaoke that followed was any indication, they were not impressed. Still, he’d probably take the teasing over the screaming, but kids are kids. 

Even as they pulled into their driveway, Remus had to strategically dodge Riley’s flailing limbs in order to un-fasten the seatbelts on their car seat and actually get them in the house. Apparently the music was not as vital to the ‘sing-along’ as he’d hoped it was when he turned the car off. 

“Alright, alright, calm those legs down before you knock my teeth out, will ya’?” Remus teased, placing Riley on his shoulders where they instantly took fistfuls of his hair to hold on. Riley toned down the velocity, but otherwise did not stop. “Careful, squirt, if you wanna’ kick so bad, I’m signing you up to play soccer.”

Riley stopped almost instantaneously, gripping Remus’ hair even tighter as they headed back inside the house, Riley’s tiny backpack slung around Remus’ forearm. 

“Nooo,” they wailed, half punctuated by laughter that echoed through the house. 

“What are we complaining about?” Janus spoke, leaning against the doorway across the room with a fond smile. 

“He said if I kick him in the teeth I have to play soccer,” Riley whined, attempting to climb down from Remus’ shoulders on their own. Janus snorted a laugh before swiftly crossing the room to collect their child and place them on their hip. 

“Wow, your daddy’s so mean,” Janus agreed, raising a challenging eyebrow as they stood in front of their husband. Remus pouted before bending down to steal a kiss.

“Gross,” Riley giggled, pressing a hand on each of their parents’ faces to separate them. 

“Gross?” Janus smirked. “Well in that case, maybe your dad was being a bit unfair.”

Riley turned to Remus to stick out their tongue at him. 

“I mean, soccer? That’s just ridiculous,” Janus continued, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “We’ll obviously have to sign you up for football instead. A punt like that has got to be put to good use.”

Riley immediately went back to their dramatized complaining, this time reaching desperately for Remus to get him to take them back from Janus—to which Remus just held up his hands in mock innocence.

“No can do, kid,” he smirked. “The punishment has to fit the crime, after all.”

Riley continued their attempts to wiggle out of Janus’ unyielding grip.

“Never!” They declared, trying a different approach of reaching over Janus’ shoulder to escape from behind. “I won’t! I won’t do it, I promise!”

Remus and Janus both knew they wouldn’t actively try to hurt either of them, but sometimes it was just more fun to assert rules when it came with shrieking laughter and climbing their parents like a jungle gym.

“Well, now you know where we stand,” Remus spoke in false authority, reaching for one of Riley’s tiny shoes and holding it up to address it as if it were in control of their legs. “I better not see you around these parts again, ya’ hear?” He added in an over-the-top western accent, gesturing to his face. 

Riley squealed with laughter as he held out his hand for a handshake and they shook it with their accused foot. 

“Alright, alright, you two,” Janus intervened with fond exasperation. “Snacks are on the counter, take it or leave it.”

Riley whipped their head around to peer into the kitchen, cheering when they spotted two plates on the kitchen counter, each with a toaster waffle piled high with blueberries. 

“Second…breakfast!” They cheered, drumroll-ing on their leg before whooping and slinking out of Janus’ grip and climbing up onto the kitchen barstools. Remus, giving a fond eye-roll at the enthusiasm, turned to drape his arms over Janus’ shoulders from behind, perching his chin on top of their head. 

“They get it from you, you know,” he mumbled, smirking at the scoff it earned him. 

“Shut up,” Janus grumbled, the smile evident in their voice. “That is all you.”

“Babe, sports are a threat in this house,” he teased. “You’re telling me that came from me?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that one,” they chided, turning around to face their husband. “As long as you’re aware that the energy, the volume—honey, that’s all you.”

Remus quirked his brow with a proud smirk. 

“Or maybe it’s the fact that they sleep for fourteen hours and we haven’t even had eight in the last six years,” he challenged knowingly. “You know, I happen to remember that back in the day…that bed was hardly even for sleeping.”

Janus snorted, their face reddening slightly.

“Is it bad to think of those as the ‘good old days’ already?”

Remus swept a piece of their hair out of their face. 

“Hell no, dude. We lived like kings back then,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this—I’ll get Ro to take ‘em to the park or something this weekend and I’ll dick you down just like old times, ‘kay?”

Janus sputtered out a cackle, smacking Remus on the chest before covering his mouth with their hand.

“Fucking christ, they’re like two yards away,” they hissed, still laughing. “I am not going to be the one fielding questions about what getting dicked down means, oh my god.”

“You say that like they listen to anything when there’s food in front of them,” Remus countered, nodding in the direction of their kid as Janus rolled their eyes with a chuckle. 

“Now that, is from you,” they grinned, jabbing him in the side with their elbow. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re serving up delicacies like toaster waffles,” Remus said, raising his hands in mock defense. 

Janus gave him a look before crossing their arms. 

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I know you can’t go two hours without food. Go on, there’s one for you, even if it’s probably cold by now,” they teased as Remus excitedly kissed their forehead before practically running to the kitchen. He hopped up to sit on the counter, folding each toaster waffle like a blueberry-filled taco before funneling them into his mouth. 

Janus followed close behind—at a normal pace, thank you very much—and took the actual seat next to their kid, sipping at the cup of tea they had left on the counter before the two had returned home as they listened to Riley regaling their day at school.

———

Realistically, Remus probably should’ve seen it coming. He was a couple days past his previous record of days as Riley’s “favorite” and he knew he likely didn’t have much longer before Janus dethroned him again, but he certainly hadn’t expected the scene he walked in on that night. 

He had heard hushed laughter coming from one of their house’s bathrooms that evening, assuming at first that Janus was just handling Riley’s bath or something like that, but as he cleaned up the mess from their dinner and finished washing the rest of their dishes, he was surprised to find they were still in there. So obviously he had to investigate. 

He knocked on the door, rolling his eyes fondly as shushing and giggles came from within. 

“Everything good in there?” He teased, leaning against the door. “I gotta’ say, I’m a little hurt I didn’t get invited to whatever club this is that hangs out in the bathroom.”

More giggles followed by the oh-so familiar sound of Janus’ shushing. 

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself what all the fuss is about,” he sing-songed, slowly creaking open the door before letting out a snort laugh at the scene before him. 

Janus was seated on the edge of the bathtub, wash cloth in hand, as Riley sat on the sink counter, covered on all limbs with temporary tattoos. At least the pieces of tape that Janus had cut into circles and colored black to look like ear gauges were admittedly cute. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” he smirked from against the doorframe. 

“JJ said you’re a wimp,” Riley proudly announced. “I was right.”

Janus stuck their tongue out and made a spitting noise and…yeah, that was their kid alright. Not that Remus would have it any other way. 

[stray-kids-react]

Farting for the first time

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° Chan was pretty tipsy after a night out with you, every single thing you did could make him burst into a long fit of giggles. While he was giggling the night away, the food you had earlier wasn't agreeing with you too well.

° You nearly vomited over Han while he helped you and Chan into the car. He noticed how sick you looked and passed you a small trashcan for emergencies. Half way home Chan was passed out and you vomited twice.

° That was the last thing you remembered before waking up with a very strong hangover, your boyfriend sound asleep in your arms. You tried to go back to sleep, not wanting to disturb Chan from his slumber.

° But he stirred awake, groaning into your chest as he began to regret that drinks last night. Chan noticed how much worse you seemed to feel, all of the color from your face leaving by each passing minute.

° He rushed to the kitchen, getting two cups of water with some pain killers. The moment he opened the door to pass you the water, he heard a small noise come from under the blankets. Chan couldn't help but giggle.

"Here's your *giggle* pain killers."

"Give me a break Chris, I feel like dog shit."

Lee Know

(He's so fricking attractive istg)

° You were very sleep deprived, which made you very giddy and childish. Your job required a lot of work which made it hard for you to get any breaks or rest in general. This worried Minho from the start.

° Even though he found it cute when you became giddy and childish, it was bittersweet knowing why you were acting this way. He's only seen small amounts of how you act when tired, due to his schedule.

° But he had one week off to rest up for Kingdom, so he spent it at home with his precious fur babies and you. You came home at nine with dark circles under your eyes, and small giglles escaping your lips.

° Minho sighed, laying you down on his lap while petting your hair. He felt your racing heart beat slowly normalize, but you seemed to get a bit too comfortable when you let out a long slightly hushed toot.

° He would've teased you for it if it weren't for the fact that you were in a deep slumber. Minho tried to stop his laughs from waking you, but it was clearly not working by the way your body kept shifting on his lap.

"Goodnight baby."

"Goodnight, and please warn me next time."

Changbin

° You and Changbin were best friends before you started dating, and some of your traditions made its way into your relationship. Such as the yearly prank week, where chaos would possess both of you.

° Changbin made the first move by waking you up with a police siren app, and then getting Felix to act like a cop and 'arrest' you. But you both knew you always came back at him two times harder than he did previously.

° You replaced his meditation playlist with heavy metal, and then put hot pink hair color into his hair products. Changbin rocked the hair, but was still bitter with how clever and devious you were getting with the pranks.

° When he walked out with a pissed off expression and soapy pink hair, you couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter. Which led to accidently letting out a loud fart. Making his serious tone completely fade.

° You were both on the floor laughing until it hurt, these were the moments both of you cherished the most. Where you made each other completely forget about the stresses in life by making each other smile and laugh.

"I love you prince bubblegum."

"I love you too trash ass."

Hyunjin

° You and Hyunjin have been dating for three years, both of you became dependent of one another and are completely comfortable with each other. Which leads to many chaotic but sweet moments.

° Hyunjin had a hard few weeks and needed you, whether it be a cuddle session, make out session, movie night, or sex. Hyunjin just wanted to be in your presence for the next few days and wanted no one else around.

° Hyunjin was laying his head on your chest as he scrolled through his phone, Kkami laid on your legs making it so you didn't want to move even if you had to. But as time went by your stomach became bubbly and whined.

° You thought you could be silent, but the release of air was loud and short. It scared Kkami away leaving, Hyunjin in tears from laughing so hard. Mostly due to the fact that is made Kkami jump in surprise.

° You were a blushing mess while your boyfriend couldn't stop laughing or teasing you, so pulled up the covers to release the bomb you created. Hyunjin rolled off the bed dramatically with his nose tucked into his shirt.

"No! Don't release it you'll kill me!"

"Hyunjin it isn't a grenade or pot of acid."

Han

° You came down with a small bug, wanting to do nothing else but stay in bed and try to get better. You notified Jisung knowing he'd be worried when you didn't show up to meet him during lunch.

° You were surprised to hear your door bell ringing rapidly, but that was just sign that Hyunjin was at your door. He was the only member who rang it that rapidly, just to surprise and startle you a bit.

° You shouted that the door was unlocked, not wanting to leave your blanket cacoon. You heard many more voices than you were expecting, eight different voices to be specific. One fo which was your boyfriend.

° Jisung joined your blanket cacoon, gently pecking your face as a soft greeting. The rest of the members worked on some lunch for everyone while the rest chatted amongst themselves on the opposite couch.

° You let our the smallest toot possible, but Jisung noticed due to the fact that you were sitting on his lap. You looked back at him as if you were implying that he was the one who did it instead, he just laughed.

"Don't even try to blame that one me."

"But it wasn't me Hannie~"

Felix

° Felix loved how comfortable you were around him now, especially since you were so reserved and cold when he first met you. But now he could see how much of an adorable weirdo you truly were.

° You thought you could win a tickle fight with your boyfriend, seeing as you know all of his weak spots. But he over powered you after a few minutes, hovering over you as his fingers gently dug into your sides.

° You warned him to stop as tears were welling in your eyes from laughing so hard. You let out a noticeable fart, which panicked you in an instant. Your whole body heating up and your heart rate increased quickly.

° You were about to apologize when his lips melted into yours. You could feel his smile against your lips, a reassurance to your nervous thoughts. Felix chuckled softly once your lips were disconnected, eyes sparkling.

° You felt somewhat stupid for being self conscious over something everyone does. But you knew that feeling stupid would only cause a reassurance rant from your angelic boyfriend, becoming your positivity.

"I needed that kiss. May I have one more?"

"You never need to ask."

Seungmin

° You were watching a horror movie with your boyfriend, which he has been wanting to see for quite sometime now. You didn't want to disappoint him so you sucked it up and watched the genre you can't handle.

° You hid behind your bowl of popcorn, the anticipation of the jumpscares becoming too much to handle. Seungmin was focused onto the movie, barely wincing when the jumpscare finally arrived.

° He didn't notice your shaking figure until you accidently let rip to one. It was a near silent scene which led to Seungmin's attention focusing towards you. He immediately paused the movie.

° His warm comfort brought ease to your terrified and tense body. You felt bad for not telling him how you truly felt about the movie, but it seemed that he wasn't the tiniest bit upset about the situation.

° Seungmin ignored the fact that you let one rip, instead focusing on the fact that you were petrified by the movie. He felt terrible for not noticing your scared state earlier and putting the movie on in general.

"I'm sorry I should've told you how I felt."

"Don't worry, it wasn't that good anyways."

Jeongin

° You just woke up from a nightmare, it was early in the morning and your boyfriend was currently getting dressed beside the bed. Your breathing slowed down casually, knowing you were safe and it wasn't real.

° You didn't even realize you passed gas until Jeongin turned around giggling slightly, his eyes silently judging you in a teasing manner. Your relationship was always filled with teasing, it is a very playful relationship.

° He grabbed a can of spray on deodorant and filled the room with the scent. His hoodie covering his nose as he hurriedly slid the windows open, you couldn't help but laugh dryly at his dramatic manner.

° You threatened to pull him under the covers, but he continued to escape your grasp while you both laughed up a storm. He patted the blankets gently, trying to get the scent out of them even if there wasn't any.

° Once you both settled down and the grogginess of the morning kicked in, you pulled Jeongin in for some morning cuddles. Not wanting to get out of bed, especially when he felt extra comfy in his hoodie.

"I don't want to start the day~"

"I promise you cuddles when you get back."

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Forty-Five) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Dom/sub relationship. Sir kink. Sex toy. Brat taming. Bondage (ropes). Forced orgasms. Overstimulation. Oral sex (male receiving). Dom dropping.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 11,148

Timeline: Season 6 Episode 24. Three months after part forty-four.

Hotch was always gone nowadays. Between work and running errands for the three of us always stuck at home, he was just too busy to sit and relax. I missed him. I missed us, specifically, and how we used to spend every second together, and how good we were together at work. I missed work. I missed driving to Quantico every day or getting on the jet for a thousand different cases. I missed the bullpen, the roundtable room, Garcia’s office, my desk, throwing papers at Morgan’s head as he worked across from me, or teasing Reid, whose desk was across the aisle from mine. Everyone knew that I was anxious to get back— Hotch most of all. I loved our daughter more than anything in the world, but I loved work just as much. I understood now how Hotch felt about Jack.

“Elle was antsy to get back to work after Garner,” Hotch would always tell me whenever I would sneak into the office to look at some of the cases sitting on his desk. I jumped in my own skin as he caught me snooping. “You Greenaways are all the same.” He laughed and snatched me away from the office, practically carrying me down to the bedroom so that we could cuddle while watching Emily sleep in her crib.

At least we got those moments. They were scarce, but we tried to make as much time as possible, even if most of that time was spent sleeping. When he wasn’t around, though, I still tried to include him as much as possible. It was hard for him to talk on the phone whenever he was gone on cases, but I still sent him pictures and videos of the kids to keep him updated, like when Jack held Emily in his arms the other day and he was making fart noises in her face in order to get her to laugh. He called me immediately after I sent the first video. His voice was shaking on the other end, and I knew that something was wrong, so I asked, and he told me that Haley never sent him videos of Jack when he was young. She sent him one, and after that, they stopped altogether. I realized in that moment that he was terrified that I was going to stop sending him videos of Jack and Emily, and he would end up missing out on everything in their lives, and then I would leave him the same way Haley left him. So, I kept sending them. Every chance I got, I was recording one or both of the kids and sending them straight to Hotch’s phone.

It had only been three months since Emily was born. Sometimes it felt like an eternity, other times it felt like time was passing by too fast. When Hotch wasn’t around, it felt like time was moving at a turtle-like pace where I spent every waking moment counting the seconds until he would come home; but then, when he would be there, holding me in my arms, it felt like it came and went with a snap of my fingers. I wished I could have switched time. I wished that I could have just spent an eternity in his arms, not worrying about when I would see him next or if he would even come home.

I suddenly jolted awake when I heard Emily crying in her crib. “Shit.”

Hotch had called last night to tell me that they were finishing up a case and that he would be home soon, but his side of the bed was empty, and all of his stuff was untouched, which meant that he was going to be later than expected. So, that meant that I had to grab Emily and try to calm her down.

I sighed and sat upright. Emily continued to cry and shriek in her cradle until I leaned in to pick her up. As I cradled her in my arms, leaning back against the headboard so that I could close my eyes and rest for a little longer, I hummed a toon for her. Hotch’s favorite song was Blackbird by The Beatles. Since Emily had been born, he had been singing her to sleep with that very song every chance he could get. It seemed like it was the only way she could fall asleep now. I worried that the tradition and schedule was going to ruin her sleep patterns—and I guess I was right since she kept waking up throughout the night whenever he wasn’t there to sing to her. I kept trying to hum for her, despite that.

I was half asleep when she started calming down. I decided that putting her back down in the cradle wasn’t going to help—and even if it would, I was too tired to move. Having a baby was exhausting. With Hotch gone so often, I was having to endure these long nights alone, and the house was so quiet during the day that it sent a shiver up my spine, not to mention I was so bored whenever Emily would be put down for a nap in the middle of the day and I couldn’t call Hotch because he was busy. I couldn’t wait to get back to work. I knew that it didn’t make sense to do it just yet, but I was practically dying to get back. If anything, I’d ask to go back in a week or two. Hotch wouldn’t like the idea, but I was sick of sitting around with a sleeping baby all day while I was just drained. I needed a case. I needed something to keep my mind busy besides my daughter. As much as I loved her, I needed work, too.

“I could get used to this,” Hotch said. I opened my eyes while perking up to see him standing in the doorway, holding his go-bag in one hand and a bag of chocolates in the other. “Coming home to my gorgeous wife and our perfect daughter…” He set down his bag and hurried over to me on the bed so that he could kiss my forehead. He smelled like the jet. “I brought you your favorite chocolates from Seattle.”

“Mmm… Gimme.”

Just as I said it—not having even reached for them or anything along those lines—Emily started squirming and crying in my arms. There it was. Every time there was a bit of peace with Emily, she suddenly started losing it again. I couldn’t win. So, I sighed and slumped back again, ignoring the pleasant surprise Hotch had for me just so that I could try to focus a little more energy into dealing with my precious, perfect, miracle—No. The truth was, she was all of that, but she was also a little screamer, whiner, and… Oh, I loved her… I just had to remember that.

“Here, you take the candy, I take the baby,” Hotch said. He set the bag down between us, then reached to take Emily. “Oh, listen to our little singer.” He adjusted her in his arms with a bounce while standing up again so that he could bounce on his toes.

I opened the bag and took one piece of chocolate before setting the rest of them on my bedside table. “For the past four days,” which was how long he was gone for, “all I’ve done is change diapers and sit around, waiting for her to start crying again. Nothing helps.” Within an instant, Emily stopped crying, instead opting to start cooing and laughing at him. I rolled my eyes. “I hate you.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.” He shook his head at me and sat back down. “Listen, Jack used to cry every time I held him. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t seem to get him to calm down and love being in my arms. Even when he was already asleep and I’d pick him up just to hold him and admire him, he would suddenly wake up, as if he could tell that it was me, and he would immediately start crying. I hated it. The worst part was, every time Haley or Jessica would take him, he wouldn’t fuss a bit. I didn’t understand why. But now I’m on the other end of that deal, and I can tell you, Y/N, it’s nothing you’re doing or not doing. She’s just…” He smiled down at her. “I don’t know… But it’s nothing you can control, baby. I promise.”

I sighed. “One would think after carrying her around for nine months and then staying with her for the last three while you’ve been off at work, she would warm up to me, but nope.”

“She will eventually. We’ve got the next eighteen years at least with her. We’re going to be just fine.”

I smiled and snuggled up against his side, hiding my cold hands under his soft, warm shirt. His abs flexed against my freezing touch for a short moment before he relaxed and shuffled down on the bed somewhat so that I could rest my head on his shoulder, and he could kiss my hair. He inhaled deeply. Despite the fact that Emily didn’t like settling down in my arms anymore, at least we could afford to have little moments like these.

“Are you going to fall asleep again?” he inquired quietly, trying not to disturb me if I really was. I shook my head, though. “There’s something I need to tell you, then.” I hummed a question against him. “Cody and I had a meeting today.”

Uh oh. Personal meetings with the Director were never good during work hours. We had a friendly relationship with Cody, which allowed us to invite him over for dinner occasionally, and for our wedding ten months ago. But meetings during work were never good. Cody meant business while we were at Quantico, and him and Hotch liked challenging each other’s alpha personalities like it was fun for them or something.

“They’re making changes to the department again.”

I groaned, “I swear—”

“It’s okay. They’re just going to be contacting different people in the unit with different offers in order to consolidate their forces into other departments.”

“One of these days, I’m going to storm in there and ask why the hell he keeps sticking his nose in our business when we’ve been his best unit for at least the last ten years—or since you took over.”

“He’s getting pressure from the higher ups, baby. He’s doing his job, the same way we are. I’m just telling you this because if you’re approached by another department, you should tell me immediately.”

“I’m not going to leave the BAU, Aaron. I don’t care what deal it is someone has for me, I’m not leaving the one place that feels like home away from home. For the first time since I graduated high school, I feel like I have a purpose. People care what to hear what I have to say, people trust me, people love me, and people consider me family there. No offer can make me abandon my family.”

Hotch tensed in response to my words. “I think you should consider taking an offer in another department that doesn’t require you to travel as much,” he said quietly. I turned my cheek to look at him. “With Emily and Jack, our hands are so full, but we’ve been making it work because you’ve been at home. What happens when you’re back in the field?”

“Would you take the same job, if you were offered it?”

“Probably not.”

“Why?”

“Because I love the field.”

“Exactly.”

“Y/N…” he whispered in my ear, reaching over to lift my chin with his fingers. “You should really consider it. I don’t want you to get hurt out in the field.”

I put my hand over his. “Aaron, if there’s no pressure on you to stay home with the kids, and you just get to stay with the BAU because you love it, then I should be shown the same consideration.”

He kissed my cheek. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

He chuckled lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you.” I turned to look at him and kiss his lips slowly and passionately. And then his phone started ringing, making Emily squirm before letting out a cry that practically said: “Why have you awoken me from my slumber?!” I sighed. “Aaron—”

“I know, I know.” He passed Emily over to me gently before he started rolling off the bed so that he could answer the call in the hallway. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

As he left the bedroom, I adjusted Emily in my arms, bouncing her lightly while cooing against her nose that everything would be alright. I was so done with the shrieking. Someday, I was going to give her a lot of shit for all of this yelling, crying, and pooping. She was going to hate the way I would inevitably tease her about it endlessly, but she was my daughter… my perfect baby girl… I wanted to remember her like this forever and always. When she was big, and maybe expecting a kid of her own one day, I’d tell her about how she kept me up night and day with her shrieking. This would all be a distant memory before I would even know it. I felt my heart break somewhat. I didn’t want her to get any bigger than this. Growing up meant that she would want to explore the world, and I knew just how cruel other people and places could be, and especially to innocent, precious little rays of sunshine like her. I didn’t want her to get hurt. Ever. I wanted to just keep her safe in my arms until the end of the time. I could do that, right? No… But I could cherish this for a little longer, at least.

“They need me in the office for something,” Hotch whispered to me while walking back in. I let my eyes fall shut in order to hide my disappointment. “Here…” He reached out for Emily, offering to help calm her down and put her in bed before he would leave. I let him. As he lifted her and rested her tiny torso against his shoulder, giving him a chance to pat her back while bouncing on his toes slowly, he started humming Black Bird for her. I smiled and slumped against the pillows. “I’ll call Jessica to see if she can stop by later to watch the kids so that you can rest for a bit,” he said after noticing how I was already out of it.

I nodded with my eyes still closed. “Thank you.”

Emily started calming down. Her cries and shrieks slowly turned into pants that turned into coos before she fell asleep in his arms. “And like that…” he whispered, “she’s out like a light.” I heard him shuffle to the crib so that he could set her down. Our bed shifted as he sat next to me. “Baby,” he put a hand on my thigh, “call me if she starts fussing again and your humming doesn’t work.” I nodded. “Y/N, I’ll stay, if you need.”

“No,” I insisted weakly. “Go. I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just… Aaron…” I opened my eyes to look at him. “Promise you’ll let me come back for the next case?”

He stared at me for a moment while registering what I said. When it dawned on him, he shook his head. “I can’t promise that.” He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I’ll see you later tonight. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered, my eyes falling shut again.

Not even an hour later, however, Emily started crying again, and Hotch was already long gone again, leaving me to roll out of bed and lift her up into my arms. I didn’t bother trying to sing to her again. Apparently, that was Hotch’s thing, and I was stepping on his toes by making the futile attempt. So, I just sat there and cooed to her while heading downstairs to make some food for myself and also Jack who would be waking up in a few minutes to start playing video games and watching movies for the entire day. I smiled when she managed to fall asleep after feeding, giving me a chance to make myself a lazy breakfast.

When Jack woke up, he came running downstairs in his pajamas, he begged for me to grab the Cocoa Puffs from the top shelf in the pantry. Hotch and I had to put them up there because Jack was getting addicted to them. He was eating them 24/7. But, on occasion, especially when Hotch wasn’t around, I would let Jack have some. So, I carefully handed Emily over to him so that I could grab the box from the top shelf and pour a fair portion into a bowl for him.

Afterwards, when he had shoveled every single pebble into his mouth and then proceeded to slurp down all of the chocolate-y milk, he put the dish in the sink for me, like I asked, then scurried off to watch TV, like I assumed he would. Only, this time, I decided to join him. With Emily in my arms, I dragged my feet all the way from the kitchen to the living room, where I crashed on the couch. Jack turned on something from Cartoon Network. You know, Saturday morning cartoons. I had Emily sitting on my stomach, letting her little hands play with my fingers up until the point where she started trying to chew on them. I shook my head and kissed her cheeks. At least she wasn’t teething yet. JJ warned me that if I thought Emily’s cries and shrieks were bad now, I just had to wait and see how bad it would get within the next few months or so when Em would start teething. Shit. I was hardly getting sleep as it was, I couldn’t imagine it getting any worse.

Halfway through a cartoon, Emily fell asleep against me. Her little breaths slowly turned into hiccups, which made me laugh. JJ used to warn me all the time when I was pregnant that Emily could hiccup in the night, which would keep me up. I guess I got lucky, though, because she only hiccupped once, and it was while I was at work with Garcia. We were sitting in her office, waiting for the team to call for help or with an update. We were ridiculously bored. At some point, Garcia revealed that she had a huge tub of Twizzlers hiding under her desk. Together, we went through all of it, and I supposed that was the trigger for Em to start hiccupping non-stop. It wasn’t annoying, like JJ said it would be. No, it was funny. When it started, I jumped, thinking that something was wrong, but then Garcia started laughing when it kept happening, at which point we realized what was happening. That was the only time she ever hiccupped, though. I almost wished that it would have happened again while Hotch was home, just so that he could have laughed with us.

Finally, when she stopped hiccupping during the cartoons, my smile faded and my eyelids started getting too heavy to keep open. So, I did what felt natural… I slowly fell asleep with the glow of the TV in the room and dumb cartoon sounds ringing in my ears.

----

I woke to the sound of the front door opening. The TV was off, Jack long gone to go play soccer outside, it seemed by the way I could hear the soccer ball hitting the side of the house over and over again as he practiced his passing. I rolled my eyes. At least Emily was still asleep on my chest, no sign of waking up any time soon. The drool soaking my shirt was a downside, though.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Hotch whispered.

I shook my head. “It’s okay, baby.” But then I realized who it was that was standing there and why that was odd. I tilted my head in curiosity at him. “Wait…”

Since he had been called away so early and left in such a rush, I was sure that he was headed off on a case elsewhere in the states. Yet, there he was. Standing there in his suit—which he must have changed into either before leaving when I fell asleep, or maybe even when he got to the office if he didn’t want to disturb me—he smiled shortly at me. At first, I didn’t think anything about it. I figured that we were both just tired, and he was probably busy, so I didn’t ponder on his short, yet still sweet, smile that he sent me, and I reciprocated.

“You’re home early.”

“Yeah…” He sounded like his mind was elsewhere.

“Is everything alright, my love?”

“Has anyone called with an open position?”

I furrowed my brows. “No.” Why was he asking?

Hotch swallowed hard before moving to approach the couch and sit down beside me, offering to take Emily from my arms. I watched him curiously. He was being awfully quiet for someone who just got home and would usually shower me in kisses and a thousand different ways for him to tell me he loved me. But he seemed like something awful was weighing on his mind, which was so concerning to me.

“Baby, I’m gonna have to go,” he admitted quietly to me while looking down at Emily. “I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged and smiled with relief. “Okay, so you have another case. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Hotch didn’t say anything. He kept his gaze glued to Emily as she played with his finger using both of her tiny hands. Something wasn’t right. If Hotch was being sent on another case, he wouldn’t have come home, especially not early. He would have stayed at the office and he would’ve just called me to tell me that he wouldn’t be coming home for a few days. This was different. He was acting differently.

Emily kicked against his elbow as she continued to wrestle with his finger. I cooed her quiet before looking back up at Hotch. “What is it?”

He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “They’re sending me to the Middle East to lead a task force.”

My heart sank in my chest. I let out a breath of disbelief then hid my face in my hands. A task force in the Middle East? What was he talking about? The BAU didn’t handle things like this— especially if it were just him. He warned me that morning about the possibility of reassignments, but I didn’t think this was what he had in mind, and I thought that we were going to talk about it before either of us accepted or declined any kind of offer that would be thrown our way. We just had a baby, and now he was being sent on a mission that was going to leave me alone for months? I didn’t know how to do any of this on my own. I wanted to go back to the BAU desperately, but that was because I was confident that between Hotch, Jessica, and I, we could balance it all. Jessica was struggling to keep up with Jack and Emily as it was… I couldn’t imagine what would happen if Hotch left. There was a strong chance that I wouldn’t even get to go back to the BAU if this actually happened. That didn’t feel fair. Why did I have to give up my dream so that he could lead a task force that he didn’t even want anything to do with? Or… did he want this and he just never told me? If so, when did he decide that it was something he was interested in pursuing, and why the fuck did he not tell me? It suddenly all made sense to me why Haley always got so frustrated with him. Our family was right there in D.C. and Virginia, and he wanted to tuck tail and run off to who knew where in the Middle East. 

“Don’t do this to me, Aaron… Please…” I lifted my head away from my hands so that I could look at him again. He seemed so sad to be leaving, but he wasn’t doing anything to prevent it. This was an opportunity, not an order. He could have turned it down whenever. “I can’t do this alone.”

“I’ve already talked to Jessica. She’s offered to move in until—”

I scoffed. “So, you’ve already made up your mind and talked to Jessica about it before you talked to your own wife.” I shook my head.

How could he do this? At first, I was distraught because I couldn’t bear the thought of being away from him for so long, especially while our daughter was only three months old, which wasn’t old enough for him to be away from her. He was the only one who could get her to sleep nowadays. The only one. No matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t get it to happen. I couldn’t do it all alone… I had never spent so much time away from him before Emily, but at least I knew that he was coming back to me every case. Now, I didn’t know anything.

I grabbed his face between my hands and turned his cheek to make him look right at me, though he was fighting to still look away. I was going to make him face this. If he was going to make a decision like this, he had to at least look me in the eye as we talked about it. I pouted at him. “Please stay,” I begged.

He let out a shaky breath. “I can’t.”

“Please.” Shouldn’t that have been enough? Shouldn’t his wife begging him to stay with his family been enough to convince him to never leave again?

“I can’t… The decision’s already been made. I’m leaving in a week…”

I hit at his shoulders roughly, a choked back sob finally escaping me. A fucking week. I was going to lose my everything in a week, and there seemed to be nothing I could do to stop it. Was this fate? Were we always destined to fall apart like this? The worst thought I had in that moment was, what would Haley have done if she were still around and in my shoes? Maybe she would have taken this chance to leave him. Honestly, if she were still alive, I probably would have run to her, of all people, and asked what to do; even though I already assumed that she would tell me that it was time to leave him. But I didn’t want to. I loved him more than anything, and I didn’t want to have to leave him just because he was leaving us. That didn’t seem entirely fair.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m unsure.”

“What will you be doing there?”

“It’s classified.”

I chuckled. “Of course it is.”

“Baby, you know that I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“Is that what you told Haley before you left for that last case before she decided to leave you?”

“Y/N,” he growled with a bitter tone.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized.

I knew that was wrong of me. I knew that bringing that up was unfair. Hotch and I always promised to fight for each other, even if it meant fighting with each other from time to time. Haley never gave Hotch the same courtesy. That was why she left and why I wouldn’t. Maybe Hotch should have thought about that before taking this offer in the first place. This offer… How could he beg me to tell him if someone called me with an offer, but he didn’t tell me first when he got an offer and before accepting it? I was so pissed… I couldn’t even bear to sit with him any longer. I knew that if I stayed on that couch with him, my anger was only going to grow, and I was inevitably going to hate him. Not on my watch, though. I just needed time to let this blow over so that I could try talking him out of it again later.

I took Emily from him without asking. Hotch hesitated for a moment, practically reaching out for her again before she was even out of his arms. I shook my head at him. “Maybe you should go talk to your son about why he won’t have a dad for a while.” I stood and left the room with that last stinging line.

----

The next morning, I was still angry. I think yesterday was spent sprinting between depression and denial over and over again while trying to find some kind of acceptance in between, but there was none. So, I woke up in the morning to find Hotch still resting peacefully, as if nothing were wrong, and I was mad. I was fucking pissed. He had fucked up a handful of times in the past—just like everyone else—but this was probably the worst. It felt like we were approaching the end. With our newborn in the cradle next to our bed and our son just down the hallway, I knew that it couldn’t be the end. It just couldn’t. But how was I supposed to believe that when he was going to be gone? We were going to both be alone on opposite sides of the world…

Perhaps there was one thing, however, that could remind him of why he married me. Maybe it would even be enough to convince him to stay. But I couldn’t do it while Jack was around. Saturdays were Jack’s relaxing days, then Sundays were his homework days, which meant that he was going to be working down in the dining room all day, which was too open for us. So, it had to wait until Monday. The good news was, that on Monday morning, I was still just as pissed as I was on Sunday. In fact, probably more so now. Yesterday, while I was sitting with Jack to help him with his homework, Hotch didn’t ever approach us. He didn’t ask to talk to me, he didn’t talk to Jack, and he didn’t even sit down to spend time with us or eat meals with us. Fucking ridiculous.

So, while Hotch was dropping Jack off at school, I started preparing my plan. At least, the first half of it, because the rest of it required Hotch to actually be there. When I was ready, I carefully lifted Emily out of her cradle and carried her to her own room to sleep, just in case. Then, I heard the door open. I rolled my shoulders back to fix my posture, as if I were suddenly dawning a new persona, and then I headed downstairs.

“Jessica called, Y/N,” Hotch said from the front door, meanwhile I was still on the stairs, “she said she’s going to be traveling next month, so she won’t be able to look after the kids. We might have to think about getting a nanny since you’re going to be heading back to—” He stopped when he saw me turn the corner. “I…” He chuckled to himself. “What’s this for?”

“Not you.” I turned away from him, the short skirt of my dress flaring up somewhat, revealing how I wasn’t wearing any panties.

I spent most of the morning walking around in that dress, bending down in front of him every chance I got, reaching up for things like the clean towels in the closet or a book up on the highest shelf in the living room. Hotch was silent about it at first. Then, he started testing the waters to see if I was really being bratty or just obvious. He learned quick that I was being bratty. When he asked if I could grab the laundry, I simply said, “No.” When he asked if I wanted any breakfast, I said, “No,” and walked away. Around ten, he asked me if I wanted him to pick up Jack from school later, and all I said was, “I don’t care.”

Next thing I knew, Hotch stormed across the room, held his hand out, and then he pressed his grip against my neck as he pushed me and against the wall. I gasped for air. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because Hotch only squeezed tighter, and he pressed his thigh between my legs. He glared at me. His eyes searching mine, I could see the hints of anger and lust brewing inside of him, something that she was trying to hide, to no avail.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Nothing, what?”

“Nothing, Aaron.” I was testing him. He huffed before moving his grip around the back of my neck so that he could start leading me towards the bedroom. “No, wait— Aaron—” I started playfully struggling against him because I didn’t really want to escape from him. At least, not yet. “Baby, I’m sorry!”

Hotch didn’t respond to me. He just opened the door angrily, then led me to the bed with him, still careful to ensure that I wouldn’t trip or hurt myself on my way there. As we approached the end of the bed, Hotch pressed on the back of my neck with his palm, forcing my face down onto the mattress. I hissed at the feeling. When I tried to stand up straight, Hotch increased his strength, pinning me down. I finally gave in, my knees buckling in response to the way his aggressiveness made me embarrassingly wet. But before I could get too comfortable, Hotch made another move. While he grabbed my wrists in order to spread my wingspan across the width of the bed, he also kicked his foot between my ankles with a short and stern demand to spread my legs.

When he was sure that I wasn’t going to budge, he carefully stepped away from me, then moved towards the closet. Shit. Shit, fuck, shit, shit, fuck—Hotch had been so careful with me since we found out that I was pregnant. We hadn’t used the black box since the honeymoon. Of course, since having Emily, it was hard to find time here and there to actually get to all of the fun stuff in the box. I mean, there was hardly any time for us to fuck at all—but we managed to find time since it was an important part of our lives and our relationship, and we knew it. But this… I didn’t think he was going to snap like this.

“Do honorifics mean nothing to you now, brat?” he hissed while pulling out two length of ropes.

“I said I’m sorry!”

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Stop speaking out of turn,” as he took my left wrist and looped the rope around it. “Got it?” I nodded. He chuckled at how I caught sight of the trap before it could catch me. He kissed my shoulders. “We’ll use Colors.” I nodded again, knowing that he was probably on edge, too, considering this was the first time we were using ropes in a long time. After roughly tying my left wrist to one of the bedposts, he said, “Color, baby girl.”

“Green.”

“You’ll tell me if it’s Red?”

“Yes, Sir.”

With the reassurance, Hotch moved towards my other wrist, which he tied to the other bedpost. “Maybe you’ll learn your lesson this way.” Suddenly, he flicked the skirt of my dress up, leaving me entirely exposed to him. I gulped. “Stay like that.”

He stepped away from me to grab something else from the black box, but I couldn’t hear what it was until it was too late. He pressed a vibrator right against my clit. My legs buckled again, the mattress and the ropes barely catching me. When I tried to close my thighs around the toy to try and grind against it, or maybe even to escape it, Hotch pressed his legs between my knees to make sure that I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t even think about cumming, slut.”

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath while hiding my face in the covers.

“Brats don’t get to cum.” He started moving the toy up and down my slit, making sure that every sensitive part of me felt the full force of the vibrations. “I’m gonna keep it right here,” he pressed it directly against my clit again, “and if you cum, things will only get worse. Got it?” I whimpered. He grabbed my hair and pulled me up roughly. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He let go of me and turned up the speed of the toy. I cried out somewhat and tugged at my restraints as hard as I could, as if it would help make him stop. Even if I escaped, he wasn’t going to stop. He would inevitably just pin me down himself and make sure that I stayed there the way he wanted, taking what he had to give me. Fuck. My stomach was already twisting into a knot. I felt so out of practice with all of this. My stamina was suffering the most, which meant that my orgasm was already approaching, and it was going to be damn near impossible to hold back.

“Sir, may I cum, please?” I begged before I could get too close to the edge.

“No.”

I cried against the comforter. “Please.”

“I said, no.”

I tensed my stomach as much as I could in an attempt to stop myself from getting any closer to cumming than I already was. “Please, please, please…” the plea kept escaping me without thinking. I knew that it wasn’t going to do any good. I knew that he was probably grinning behind me while watching me struggle against the ropes that were keeping my arms spread, and at how I was wiggling my hips in protest—even though it was probably just making the stimulation worse. “Sir,” I choked out, “I can’t—”

“Hold it.”

But I couldn’t hold it back any longer. My legs shook as I tipped over the edge, my orgasm washing through me ten times harder than I had anticipated, making me scream into the mattress. Before I even came down, though, Hotch shoved two of his fingers into me and curled them right into my g-spot. I struggled again. It was too painful to keep going, but Hotch didn’t care. I had cum without permission, especially after being a brat all day, and that was a big no-no. Not that he didn’t expect this outcome. He knew exactly what game it was that he was playing by denying my orgasm and then proceeding to force it out of me, anyhow. He was hoping that I would break the rule. He was counting on my broken down stamina betraying me during the one scene where I needed it to help me out the most; because no he had every reason in the world to make my life a living hell.

“Did that feel good? Hmm?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“It felt good to break my rule and cum without permission?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“It won’t feel good in a few minutes.”

My eyes widened as I glanced back up at the wall. “No, please, wait—”

“Color.”

“Green,” I answered reluctantly. As much as I hated the thought of what was in store, Hotch hadn’t actually crossed a line with me yet.

Hotch kept the vibrator pressed against me, ignoring the way I was still trying to close my legs and pull against the ropes, and that was when his fingers started thrusting in and out of me at an unrelenting pace. “You want to cum, huh? Fine… Cum. I’m not going to stop.”

My knuckles turned white against the ropes as I kept pulling as hard as I could. “I’m sorry, Sir. Please.”

“Are you sorry? Walking around in this dress all day… Teasing me… How did you think this was going to end?”

“I— Fuck—” I stopped myself when he added another finger inside of me. “Please, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I made an attempt to buck my hips away from the touch of the toy and his fingers, but he moved with me and then pressed harder to make sure I wouldn’t budge. I was too sensitive to keep going. I probably had another orgasm in me, but that was all, considering how out of practice we were with this stuff. If he tried to go any longer than that—

“Fuck!” I cried, shaking against his touch. “Please!”

“Cum,” he demanded when he felt me tighten my walls around him. I shook my head. “Do it. You said it felt good, so do it again.” I kept shaking my head in protest, but my body had decided that his words were enough to convince me to tip over the edge, so I came again, this time with a little less force considering how tired I was getting. “Poor baby…” he cooed when he saw me shaking helplessly.

“Please…” I whispered. “I can’t…”

“You don’t get to tease me and think that there won’t be a punishment in store for you, slut. You know the rules.”

“I was just mad…” I croaked. Hotch slowed his fingers and turned down the toy somewhat. “I just wanted to keep you here. I’m sorry…”

He turned the toy off and carefully slid his fingers out of my wet entrance. “Are you dropping?”

I shook my head, but Hotch was already working on untying me. “I was just mad,” I repeated. I was just mad and thought that I had to do something to make him mad, too… I was just mad…

----

Despite what we had done, I still wasn’t over Hotch’s decision, or the arguments that we were having. I was sore from straining my muscles, and my mind was exhausted. So, I was really just done with being around him constantly. I needed a break, and I figured that the best way to do so was by texting Morgan to see if he wanted to grab some lunch with me, and when I got the go ahead from him, I slid out of bed, got dressed into something more appropriate, and headed out without saying anything to Hotch.

When I arrived at the restaurant, I turned off my phone so that I could give Morgan all of my attention. I approached the hostess’ table to tell them that I was meeting someone. They grabbed a menu for me before leading me through the dining room and to the back door where the patio was open since it was such a nice day out.

“They live!” Morgan cheered from the table across the patio. I smiled and hurried over to him, my arms out to catch him in a hug after he stood. “It’s so good to see you, baby cakes.”

I squeezed his neck as tight as I could. “Freedom’s nice.”

He laughed and released me. “I’m sure.” He pulled a chair at the table out for me, then pushed it in under me slowly as I sat down. “How’s my goddaughter?”

“Always crying.”

“I told you I’d take her today.”

“You had her yesterday.”

“For an hour.”

“You know what, next time, she can just sleepover at your house with you and Clooney, and you can get up every time she throws a fit,” I joked.

“Deal.”

I squinted at him before glancing down at the menu to consider what I wanted. The thought struck me that if Hotch were really leaving, then we were probably going to have to get a nanny, like Hotch said when he came home from dropping Jack off at school, but it would also be nice to have Derek’s help. He always offered, after all. There were a handful of times over the past few months where he kept asking to take Emily to the park, or to introduce her to Clooney—which was a big no-no with me right now since he was such a big dog—and so on. Maybe it wasn’t too far out for me to ask if he’d be willing to help out just a bit. I mean, I didn’t mean that he had to constantly be there or answer my calls every time, but… Since she had been born, Morgan had been hanging out with Emily every Sunday that he was in town, so maybe he’d be interested in hanging out with her more often than just Sundays. Then again, he had his own life. He was still in his playboy phase, so it was unlikely that he wanted to carry a baby around all the time. Though, babies were chick magnets… Hmm…

“Something’s on your mind,” he finally said.

I looked at him. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at the menu.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m thinking about what I’m going to get.”

“Mhm. Hey, remember that conversation we had when we talked about how I always know when something’s wrong with you? Yeah… I remember. And it’s still true. So, tell me.”

I sighed angrily, slamming the menu shut, and set it on the table while rolling my eyes. Not at him, of course, but just in general. “Did Hotch tell you that the Director is trying to rearrange the BAU’s funds again?”

“Yeah. He warned the team that we might get offers.”

“Did you?”

“I was offered Kate’s spot at the New York Field Office again.”

“Are you gonna take it?”

Derek immediately shook his head. “No. I love where we are too much. Besides, NYC is too dirty and smelly for me.” Yeah, well, the Middle East was all dirt and sand… Maybe Hotch should have considered that aspect, too. “Y/N,” he began warily, “did you take an offer?”

“No…” I croaked, looking down at the napkin on my lap.

“Did Hotch?”

My lip quivered as I nodded.

Morgan sighed. “What is he—” He stopped when the waiter came over with our drinks. “Thanks.” When the waiter was gone, Morgan continued, “What was the offer?”

“A task force in the Middle East. The rest of it is ‘classified’, apparently.” I shook my head in disappointment while picking up my drink.

Morgan eyed me carefully but didn’t say anything yet. He was waiting for me to find the words to describe how it was that I was feeling about the whole situation, but the truth was that there were no words. I knew that I was angry, I knew that I was depressed, and I knew that I was going to be very lonely for a while because of how this was making me feel and react. I was lashing out at Hotch, and that wasn’t the right thing to do. Some part of me understood that. Some tiny, little piece of my mind was screaming at me to do better, to support Hotch like I normally would because I didn’t want to turn into Haley; but reality took the wheel instead of reason. The reality was that Hotch was leaving his family at a time when he needed to be around more. I just had a baby, our daughter was so young that she still needed her father around, and Jack needed reassurance from his father that he wasn’t being forgotten. But Hotch had decided to run from all of that. He made the choice to leave, and so I got angry, and I wanted him to fucking know it. Not that it would help.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “Is it weird that I just want to go numb?”

“No.”

“Then, why can’t I?”

“Because you know in your heart that you have to solve this—if not for your relationship, then for yourself. I know you, Greenaway, and you don’t like leaving pieces of your life unresolved. Whatever the decision ends up being, I know that you’ll at least end up feeling at peace with it eventually because you’ll know that you did all you could.”

“I want him to stay.”

“What does your life look like if he doesn’t?”

“Dark.”

“No. I mean, really, what would your life look like? How would you make it work, because I know for damn sure that you’re not going to give up on him.”

I hated it when he got all wise on me because that was when he started to make the most sense. “I—”

“Alright. What can I get for you two?” the waiter said while speeding over to our table and flipping his notepad open.

After we ordered and turned in our menus, he hurried away, and I looked at Morgan again.

“Realistically, Jessica would have to help out more, which isn’t fair of me to ask of her, even though, apparently, she’s offered to move in with us while he’s gone. I just don’t want to do that to her. But Hotch was right when we talked on Saturday about it. He’s going to be gone and I’m going to be busy with work. There’s no one around who can rush home if Jack or Emily suddenly need something important. Like, I can’t just drop a case because of it, you know? When Hotch and I were working together, it was easy because one of us could stay at work while the other ran home. But now… That’s not an option anymore. So, realistically, my life is going to boil down to family or work, not family and work.”

“And you don’t want to have to make that choice.”

“Of fucking course not. I’ve been dying to get back to work, Derek. I can’t stay holed up in the house any longer, I swear.”

“So, you need an extra pair of hands,” he said, almost like he was alluding to something.

My eyes widened at the realization. “No—”

“—Yes—”

“—Absolutely not!”

“Why not, pudding?”

I squinted at the nickname. “Because you have a dog, a line of girls waiting to fuck you, and your own life to worry about.”

“Well, Clooney can either stay downstairs all the time because you guys got those godforsaken baby gates—” Yeah, we all hated those because we kept forgetting that they were there, so we kept tripping, but then it was also ridiculously hard to open them while juggling a baby in one hand and trying to get the lock undone with the other— “Or, he can stay with a friend.”

“So, we do musical chairs, but with our babies. You get Emily, and your friend gets Clooney?”

“Why not?”

I shook my head. “I can’t believe…” I started laughing.

“Listen, Y/N, I really want to help out. You’re my best friend, and Hotch means a lot to me—and I know how much this opportunity means to him—and Emily’s my goddaughter, so, of course, I want to help out as much as I can. It’s not a big deal. Please, let me help.”

I stopped laughing long enough to gauge just how serious he was. His posture was still straight and unchanged, his eyes were soft like he was pleading, and his breathing was steady, which meant that there was no hint of an act or a lie. He was being serious. When I thought about asking him to help out here and there earlier, I didn’t anticipate this would be the outcome. But how could I say no? I mean, even if I did, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Derek Morgan was going to jump every obstacle between him and Emily until I would inevitably just give in to his offer; so, why not just make it easy for him?

“Okay.”

He smiled. “Okay.”

----

When I arrived home, a smile still on my face as I recalled a stupid joke Morgan cracked during lunch, I set my stuff on the table next to the door and hung up my jacket on the coat rack. The house was dark, which was… peculiar. It was Monday evening, which meant that Jack should have been running around or doing his homework downstairs. And there was no hint of Emily crying. Peculiar. Where had everyone gone?

That was when I turned into the living room to see Hotch sitting there, facing the TV, which was off. Odd. I carefully approached him in case he was holding Emily in his arms and she managed to fall asleep. But once I got close enough, I realized that he was just sitting there. He was staring at the wall.

“Hi,” I welcomed cautiously. He didn’t say anything. “Aaron?” He looked at me shortly, anger washing over him before he turned back to face the wall. “Where’s Jack?”

“A friend’s house,” he answered shortly.

“Emily?”

“Sleeping upstairs.”

“And you?”

He didn’t answer.

“What’s wrong?”

“Where were you today?” he asked quietly and calmly, even though there was a bite behind his words that insinuated that he was secretly boiling with rage. I sighed and shifted to take his hands. He moved away from me. “I dropped today.”

I stopped. “What?”

“I Dom dropped, and you weren’t there. I called you three times, and you didn’t pick up. I’ve just been sitting here all day, freaking out, thinking that I actually hurt you this time around, and that maybe that was why you were avoiding me… and that…” He took in a deep breath and looked away from me. “Where were you?”

“Baby, I didn’t know—”

“Where were you, Y/N?” he repeated, this time his anger breaking through.

I swallowed hard, then sucked in a shaky breath, none of which was helping me calm down for his sake. Hotch had never Dom dropped. Ever. I should have known that the one time I would disappear after a scene without a trace and without talking to him, it would take a toll. I should have known. And, yet, I didn’t do anything to prevent this because I was so caught up in the idea of escaping him and our stifling home long enough to just feel my legs again. Realistically, what I should have done was told him initially how I was feeling. I should have told him that I liked all the attention, and I liked what we were doing, and I was okay with the punishment I received for being a brat, but that I needed a break from all of it. I should have told him that I was mad at him. I was mad because he was leaving, and not even the sex was going to keep him home with me.

He would have understood. He would have cared for me and made sure that I didn’t drop, which would have been enough aftercare for him to not drop. But I wanted to see my friend, and I didn’t take my partner’s feelings into consideration. That wasn’t right. Not only did I fail in that moment as his submissive, but as his wife, and as his partner for nearly four long, blissful years. We were more open than this. We didn’t abandon each other’s feelings like this. All I could think was that I was sorry, but I knew that wouldn’t fly in this situation. I needed to do more.

“I was with Morgan, getting lunch.”

Hotch buried his face in his hands. “You could have told me that.”

“I had to turn off my phone so that I could focus on him. I’m so sorry, baby.” I tried reaching out for him again, and this time he let me. I put my hands on his shoulders, then slowly started squeezing, massaging away his tension, releasing all of the anger that was building up inside of him. “How long have you been dropping?”

“Since you left.”

“Okay…” I kissed his bicep. “Okay. I’m sorry. Did you have lunch?” He shook his head. “You need to eat. Do you want a sandwich or a salad or something?”

He moved to put his hands over mine. He brought them over his shoulders, moving me so that I was sitting on my knees behind him, my chest pressed against his back. “Can we just…” He let out a sigh after kissing the back of my left palm. “There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge. I’ll have that.”

I kissed the back of his head. “Alright.” I let him kiss my hand again before I shifted off of the couch and headed to the kitchen.

Once I had the pizza reheated for Hotch, I carefully balanced the plate and a cup of iced tea for him out to the living room. I slowly handed it to him while sitting down. He silently thanked me before setting the glass down, then settling his grip around one of the piece’s curst. I scooted closer to him so that I could rub my hand over his back as a comfort. He melted somewhat. He continued to eat through the two separate pieces before drinking the iced tea. Then, when he was done, he relaxed against my touch, letting me run my fingers through his hair over and over again.

“Baby, if I knew, I would have stayed. If I knew, I would have come back. I am so sorry, I wasn’t here, Aaron. You’ve never dropped, so it didn’t cross my mind.”

He sniffled. “I don’t know why it happened. I’ve just been so fucked up since I found out that I’m leaving, and I’ve been taking it out on you, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve gone that far with you this morning.”

“It’s okay. I was fine with it, Aaron, I swear. I know you think you hurt me, but you didn’t—you never have, and I doubt that you ever could.” I carefully grabbed his hand, but he reached around to hug me. I kissed his neck. “Look at me.” He did so. “How do we handle this in the future? Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll make sure this never, ever happens to you again.” When I offered getting him some food, I had just guessed that was what he needed, but everyone handled dropping differently.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he admitted. I brushed my fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t know what would help…”

“Well, there’s a handful of things. You know me, I like physical touch. Being held by you and loved by you is enough to help me not drop or to stop dropping entirely. But some people like service—like food, or clean, warm clothes or sheets; others like distractions, like movies or exercising; I’ve been with someone who always needed sexual release when she Dom dropped.”

Hotch squinted at me. It wasn’t that he disliked hearing about past partners, but he didn’t like being compared to them. That wasn’t even my intention. I only brought it up because it was hard to tell him that it was okay if he wanted to cum while he was upset. That didn’t make him a bad guy. Even though it was a long time ago, and she and I were young, I could remember vividly how she’d tell me if she felt off after a scene, and I would just know what to do, and she’d immediately feel better. That was how we worked. But I never thought that Hotch would need it, too. I hadn’t seen this coming—which was very much my fault—and so now I needed to find out how to prevent this in the future. His job as my Dominant was to make sure I was in a safe environment before, during, and after play scenes. I neglected my job as his submissive to show the same courtesy. She would have never let that happen because she knew herself well enough to warn me, but Hotch hadn’t seen this coming.

“Just,” I patted his chest, “whatever you feel like you need, tell me. I don’t want you to ever have to go through this again—especially alone. Okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He stayed quiet in order to consider all of his options. I continued to brush his hair back out of his face. A thought that was hitting me was that Hotch hadn’t cum before I left, which could have been part of the problem in the first place. He was so caught up in the idea of punishing me that he hadn’t even taken the chance to fuck me, or even use my mouth. And then, like he was reading my mind, he said, “Could you…” He gulped and rolled his hips instinctively. I smiled lightly. “I’m sorry… That’s stupid…”

“No, it’s not,” I insisted, shaking my head. “Just relax.”

I slid off the couch and landed on my knees before crawling my way between his thighs. He was already hard in his pants from waiting with anticipation. The point wasn’t to tease and play with him. The point was to make him relax and have him release the stress and anxieties that came with dropping. So, I immediately fiddled with his belt, buttons, and zipper, then pulled his pants down—with the help of him lifting his hips up, of course. When he was just in his boxers, I grabbed onto his waistband, then looked up at him. His head was already thrown back against the cushions, his arms stretched out over the back of the couch. While sliding his underwear down, allowing his erection to spring free against his stomach, I asked if he was alright. He nodded shortly.

When I took his shaft in my dominant hand, he hissed and tensed. I shushed him quietly to make sure that he would relax again, and I didn’t move until he did so. As his thighs on either side of my body released the tension that had built up, and his hands turned from fists to laid out palms on his chest, I pumped my hand up and down a couple of times before moving to luck my tongue over his tip.

“Fuck, Y/N—” He stopped himself from moaning too loud because Emily was still asleep upstairs. “More…” He tangled his hands in my hair. “Please.” I let him push my mouth onto as much of his length that would fit—and then some. Rather than pulling on my hair, like he normally would, he instead opted to run his thumb over my cheek bone to encourage me. “So good,” he whispered when I started bobbing my head quickly. He held me as I hallowed my cheeks and used my tongue for extra stimulation. The goal was his release, that was all. There was no need to waste any kind of time. “Baby…” He was so breathless, and I could feel him tensing up again, so I snuck my hands under his shirt to feel up his loose abs, careful to avoid the scars that had been there for years and would be there for the rest of his life. He removed his hands from my hair. When I felt his fingers dance over mine through his shirt, I spread mine so that we could interlock. “I’m gonna—” His abs tightened against my touch, a thousand curses and breathless moans escaped him, and his hips bucked around slightly as he came. “Fuck, fuck, fuck— Shit—” He whimpered submissively as he rode out his orgasm. When I was sure that he was done, I slowly pulled off of him and swallowed, and I wiped my lips clean with my fingers. Hotch sat up to slide his pants on. “Come here.” I sat with him, but then he moved us so that we were spooning together. “Thank you.”

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes.”

I kissed his bicep that was against my cheek. “Good. I’m glad.”

Silence hung in the air for a few minutes as we both caught our breath, and I was thinking about how he didn’t want me to leave today, and I didn’t want him to leave in a few days… It was all so messy.

“We do have to think about getting a nanny,” Hotch whispered. I scoffed. “I’m serious. With me gone and you heading back to work, it just makes sense that we have someone here all the time with Emily who’s not Jessica.”

“Well, maybe if you stayed, we wouldn’t—”

“I’m not fucking staying, Y/N,” he hissed. “I’m sorry, baby, but I don’t know how much clearer I can be.”

“I’m not going to stop trying to keep you home with me, you know?”

He hummed a “yes” in my ear while pulling me closer. “I know.”

“Will it help?”

“Probably not.”

I screwed my eyes shut to stop myself from crying quietly against him. “I love you, Aaron. More than anything in the world. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You always feel like you have to control everything around you, Y/N, I understand that—in fact, that’s a reason I fell in love with you in the first place. But sometimes you can’t control everything… And when that happens, you just have to admit it and try to move on with your day.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re going to have to try if you’re going to get through this.”

I brought his hands up to my face and kissed his knuckles while thinking about how I couldn’t bear the idea of having to get through anything without him by my side. He was going to be gone for who knew how long. He was going to be who knew where in the Middle East, doing who knew what, risking his life who knew how often. How was I supposed to survive that? How was I supposed to sit around in our home or at the office and do nothing? How was I supposed to trust that he wasn’t going to get himself killed out there? I just didn’t want to think about it anymore. For once, I just wanted to pretend like he wasn’t leaving at all and that I had nothing in the world to worry about.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear. “More than anything in the world.”

A tear slid down my cheek. “I love you, too.”

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22  @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[enochianribs]

Chapter 2 of the Cabin AU is up now!

Read on Ao3 here, or under the cut. 

(Reblogs appreciated!)

The roof had a leak. Dean woke up to a growing wet spot on the pillow next to his. He laid still, eyes crossing as he stared at the ceiling, watching the bead of water run across one of the unfinished boards, suspending itself for an entire minute until it plopped right next to his head. Slowly, his mind pulled itself out of his dream, though the haze lingered.  The roof had a leak. Dean woke up to a growing wet spot on the pillow next to his. He laid still, eyes crossing as he stared at the ceiling, watching the bead of water run across one of the unfinished boards, suspending itself for an entire minute until it plopped right next to his head. Slowly, his mind pulled itself out of his dream, though the haze lingered. 

 “Mmm...great.” Another item on his to-do list. 

 Dean was willing to bet there were more leaks in the living room. 

For a moment he debated allowing himself to be lulled back to sleep. It was all too easy to slip back to that dream again: blurry hands, soft mouths, quiet murmurs, everything he missed and everything he’d never had. Not really. 

 Rain gently pattered against the outside of the cabin, the storm grinding in from the East and then settling its haunches right over the hills to stay for the night. The sun was rising, and the pink sky cast shadows from the drops on the window pane, little spots phantom dripping down his sheets. 

 It was the first morning since he’d gotten to the cabin that he’d slept in past sunrise. Sluggishly, he sat up, diggin the heel of his hand into his eyes as a yawn fought its way out of his chest. He turned his head, and reached out with a hand to wake his companion, before reality caught up with him and his hand fell to the mattress, going through the ghost.

 That’s right , he thought. His mouth tasted like ash.

 If he laid there any longer his chest would become heavy, and his breaths ragged, so he tossed the covers off, and trudged over to the shower. The cold water bit through the fog better than anything else could, and he leaned his temple against the glass door waiting for it to heat up and fill the room with steam. 

 Normally, he’d air dry, but it was chilly and an urgency hung around him. He grabbed the bleach-spotted towel hanging sadly by the door towelled off quickly. 

He wandered idly, picking his daily morning tasks up and dropping them before he’d complete them. Something pulled him around the house. He was forgetting something.

Dean was midway through folding the quilt and draping it on the sofa arm when they caught his eye. 

Two large feathers sat in the middle of the massive dining table (he still wondered who had built and what they’d been thinking—  the thing could seat the knights of the round table if necessary). Tugging the fridge door with one hand he reached blindly for the pot of coffee he kept iced, and nudged it closed with his knee, never taking his eyes off them. 

They were captivating. He continued to stare as he poured himself a cup, spilling some of the coffee onto the counter. He’d forget to clean it up, and it would stain, but that was okay. If they asked, he was experimenting with wood staining.

Dean could examine them once he made himself some kind of breakfast. Those were the rules: remember to feed yourself, and then you can do whatever you want to with your day. Breakfast ended up being toast and jam, and he plopped it down at the end seat of the table, and reached for the feathers before he took a bite. 

The color on the first one was so dark it looked heavy, but it was as light in his hand as any feather should be. He held it up and squinted, twisting his wrist back and forth. It caught the light and reflected a shimmering oil slick back at him. The colors shifted, hues iridescent.

 At first glance it could be a raven’s, but it was at least four times bigger than that.

 The second one was more muted, the black towards the base of it dappled into a brown and white, and it was downy soft where the other was sharp and precise. Yesterday he’d thought it was grey but better light proved that it was a grey-brown.

He’d assumed that it was from the same bird—  creature , but now he wasn’t so sure. Dean didn’t know the first thing about birds. However, he knew several people who did. 

▵▿▵

“Hey, Bobby. Can I talk to Rufus?”

“He’s kinda in the middle of some’in’, Dean.” The roll of his eyes was audible, as someone yelped in the muffled background. “Can I call you back?”

“Please?” Dean asked, grinning cheekily even though he wasn’t there to warm Bobby over in person. 

Bobby made a disgruntled noise and paused, before sighing. “You’re doing the face aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine. You never want to talk to me .” 

“You know that’s not true.”

“Hm.” Bobby replied. Out of spite, he kept the phone next to his face as he shouted for his attention. “Rufus! It’s Dean.” 

Ouch , Dean mouthed wincing at the volume, as he listened to the sound of two old men grumbling at each other before fabric shifted, and Rufus picked up the phone. 

“He lives.”

A smile burst its way through Dean’s concentration. “Hey Ruf, gotta question for you.”

“Coulda called us sooner. We were beginning to wonder if you’d sold the cabin and moved somewhere warmer with pink flamingos.”

The image made Dean snort. Him at the beach? Unlikely.

“Nope.” Dean quipped. “Still here and freezing my ass off. You guys ever think about installing a damn heater?”

“And pay that bill? Hell no. We added a fireplace, what more do you want from us.”

Good ol’ crabby Rufus. “What do you know about birds?” 

“A lot.” As per usual, he was being obtuse.

“Know of any big enough to leave behind two foot feathers?”

Rufus whistled. “Not in North America, unless you’ve got ostriches running around.”

“That’d be a negatory. So there’s nothing you can think of?”

“Nope. Did you find something, kid?”

“Holding one right now.”

“No shit.” He could hear the bewildered tone of his voice over the shitty connection. “Well, I guess keep an eye out. It’d be real hard for something that big to hide, and even harder for it to sit comfortable in those pine trees with the branches so dense. I’d say you’re about to make the biggest zoological discovery in North America in the past century. Keep us posted?” 

“Will do.” Dean said, and he heard Rufus handing the phone back over to Bobby. 

“Hope everything’s okay up there, Dean.”

“Everything’s peachy, honestly. Anyways—” He checked the clock on the stove. 8:30. The hardware store would be open in a half hour. “I’ve got some errands to run, so I’ll leave you to whatever it is a couple of old farts do in retirement.”

“Hey—” 

Dean grinned to himself. “See ya, Bobby.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

The line went silent, and Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket, bobbing his head to the side in thought. Though he didn’t get a definitive answer, at least the call had eliminated the options of native fauna. 

▵▿▵

At nine in the morning, Dean was usually one of a small line of people waiting outside Lafitte’s Goods to needle Benny’s brain for fixes and tools of the trade. Pamela was waiting against the brick wall, hand shielding the summer morning sun from her eyes, reading a 99 cent paper back with interest. 

“Hey, Pamela.”

“Dean-o. Call me Pammy.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not. But Pam works. I’m not your mother.”

“You call your mom by her first name?”

“Fair point. What’re you here for?” She nodded her head and bounced off the wall, as Benny unlocked the doors. A couple of grizzled old men shuffled in ahead of them, beelining it for the plywood. 

Porch season. 

“Roof’s got a leak.”

“Leak season.”

“Apparently. This is the third one since I got here.”

She squinted at him, like he was omitting something important, and popped the bubble of gum in her mouth. Dean started to itch under her scrutiny. He hated being studied like a lab rat.

What was the woman? A witch? Why was she peeling back layers of his get-up without warning.

Dean coughed, and used Benny’s presence as an excuse to wiggle out from under her gaze. “Gotta—  yeah, see you.” Turning on his heel he fled towards the adhesives, face contorting with embarrassment. 

Holy fuck, somehow he’d gotten even more awkward. 

Dear god, help me. 

Benny never pried unless Dean seemed interested in offering up information, and for that Dean was actually incredibly grateful. Most days he didn’t want to talk about anything, certainly not his past, but Benny and his bushy beard and warm eyes had managed to wiggle through his walls, just a little. 

“Benny.”

Benny stared at him from behind the register, inquisitive expression considerably easier to cope with than Barnes' hungry expression. A friendly smile danced across his face as he assessed Dean’s no-doubt rosey cheeks. 

“She’s got her claws in you, huh.”

Dean ducked his head, glancing sideways at the brunette woman still looking at the different kinds of rope. A tramp stamp peeked out from under the bottom edge of her tank top. Dean tapped his fingers on the pock-marked wood counter and turned his attention back to his friend. “Is she always like that?”

“Sure is,” Benny drawled, ringing up everything Dean had haphazardly shoved onto the counter in his escape. “You just happen to be the newest, prettiest , plaything in Pringle.” The burly man winked.

 Pink crawled up Dean’s neck  from his collarbones and spread into his cheeks once again. Christ, there was no escape from these people. Still stammering, Dean practically ran back to the Impala. 

▵▿▵

 The phone vibrated in his back pocket. By the third ring, Dean had parked Baby in her usual spot, and he struggled to tug it out of his pocket, checking the Caller ID. 

California. 

He pumped the window down, the air getting warm inside the car, and he flipped the phone open, inhaling sharply. He should have called before now. Shouldn’t have let so much time pass. In the fall, he’d be too busy to take any of Dean’s calls anyways. 

“Hello?”

“Dean?”

“Sammy.”

Several seconds of too-long silence passed between them. 

“Where have you been?”

Dean swallowed, thick, guilt permeating the small space. 

“Sorry, I just—” He didn’t have an excuse. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“You still could’ve picked up the phone. I tried to call you about six times. You don’t always need to have something to say, y’know…  It just would’ve been nice to know you’re still breathing.” His brother’s voice was basically a whisper at the end. 

“I know.” Dean closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing shakily. “I know.”

“I had to hear it from Bobby. Dean—” Sam’s voice pitched up to that octave it always did when he was upset. “Dad’s gone again.”

Fuck. 

“And that’s fine. It’s not like I’m ten and incapable of caring for myself but I thought—  I thought he’d be back by now. It’s been a couple of weeks.”

“Shit, Sammy.” 

“I think he’s fine. He sent a vague text a couple of days ago, it’s just with school starting in two months I get worried. Not even for him, just for us. I can’t pay for school myself, and I can’t afford to miss anything because of Dad. If my grades drop, I’m out.”

“I know.” God, Dean knew.

Sam was a late bloomer for college. The kid was brilliant, but he’d been dealt a bad hand, and it was a miracle Rufus and Bobby had invested in a saving fund for the two of them decades ago. At twenty-two, Dean knew that he’d already had trouble securing the scholarships. Stanford wanted the best and brightest, not the kid with seven schools on his high school transcript and an overabundance of unexcused absences. 

The guilt piled up and perched itself on his shoulders until he sagged into his seat under the heaviness. It was his job to keep John out of trouble, not Sammy’s. And instead he’d run away from that responsibility. 

The repair materials sat in the backseat, and his heart twisted in his chest. The meadow sat peacefully in the late afternoon sun, just across the short distance of woods, and it still kept its secret. He didn’t want to go back. Not yet. Not until he’d had his fill of independence.

“Look,” He could kick himself for how his voice cracked. “If John doesn’t turn up by the end of the week, I’ll come back. I’ll help. Promise.”

For what it was worth, a facet of his brother’s relieved sigh sounded apologetic.“Thank you, Dean. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“Okay then.”

“Bye.”

“Talk to you soon, Sammy.” Dean’s jaw clenched involuntarily, as he flipped the phone closed and tossed it against the passenger door. His frustrated shout echoed between him and the trees, but he didn’t feel better.

Always this .

Historically, John would do something stupid and irresponsible and Dean would drop everythign to clean up the mess and no one would thank him. Not really. That was fine.

Family was supposed to break your heart. 

 ▵▿▵

 The leak proved to be an easy fix. 

Dean fought the attic door that led to the roof, following the small staircase up until he was on the balls of his feet, head sticking out as he pulled himself onto it. The shingles were rough, cracked and damaged from the winters, and he scrapped the length of his arm against it.

 The source of the leak took only a minute to find. Five or so shingles were missing, leaving nothing but the wood underneath, which did nothing but absorb any and all precipitation. The rubber sealant smelled terrible, and he gagged dramatically, almost dropping the metal can in the process. Done applying, he plopped his ass down, determined to see it dry properly before he went back inside.

Half assing things had always resulted in a stern talking to in the least, and it had been something he’d struggled with growing up, his mind yanking him a thousand directions until his head was spinning and John was disappointed. 

Dean grit his teeth, purposefully dragging the raw scrape against the rough roofing, the burn biting through the thought, bringing him back down from that far off place he so frequently wandered to. He didn’t even know how he got there, but he found himself lost, shrunk down, smaller than the hand-me-down leather jacket he tried to fill.

From the roof he could see almost everything. It turned out that Rufus and Bobby’s cabin foundation was built onto a gentle slope.

The rain clouds had dissipated, migrating to the flat plains further south, and it left a crisp atmosphere behind. The sun poked through the remaining gargantuan cumulonimbus clouds, sunbeams gently caressing the grass. Grey mist rose from where the creek beds greedily absorbed the heat. It reminded him of the paintings of cowboys, sitting on a stallion, bathed in golden light, their backs to the audience, all the edges illuminated and throwing everything else into stark purple shadows. 

 The burn of the scrape subsided as a sense of peace settled Dean, his body melting into the shingles. An hour passed before his stomach growled, and he climbed back down for lunch.

 ▵▿▵

 Tapping. 

Tapping at the window pane only inches from his face. 

Groggy and only slightly encrusted (gross) Dean opened his eyes and was met by dark blue ones, a tawny human hand pressed up against the glass. 

 Dean’s soul evaporated out of his body, back pressed to the headboard as he scrabbled for the small knife he kept under his pillow. Before he could look again, it was gone.He launched himself out of bed, so very entirely grateful that he’d had enough sense to go to sleep in his boxers and his worn-out threadbare Kansas shirt. 

Holy hell.  

Fingers trembling, he opened the window, leaning almost all the way out, hovering a few feet above the ground.A single feather slowly came to rest soundlessly on the pine-needle carpet. The view from the window remained unyieldingly motionless. 

Black-eyed susans had begun to sprout in the shade, despite themselves, and now they quivered where they grew between the pine-roots even though the morning wind had not pierced through the woods yet. 

Craning his neck, he glanced up, half expecting the last thing he’d ever see to be a terrifying bird man staring down at him like he was lunch. Nothing. 

Dean practically fell out of his room, chanting under his breath in a poor attempt to calm himself down as he stumbled down the short hall to the living room. 

It’s human.

“No,” Dean spoke to the picture frames on the walls. He had no idea what he was denying, but the situation begged to be denied. He paced back and forth in the living room, no doubt wearing the floor down despite the fact that he was wearing socks—  the ones with the holes in the heel. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Oh my God, it was so very not okay. 

Suddenly, the couch seemed like the perfect place to suffocate himself to unconsciousness. Someone else could deal with this. 

 No , he thought. You wanted this to happen, you dirty liar. Stop panicking and deal with it. 

Wings was human- or at least partially human. He looked like a man. Dean’s thin eyelids fluttered closed, and the image was painted on the backside of them with crystal clarity. Square jawline, arrow-straight nose, curiously arched eyebrows…  and the eyes . They were so blue. And they had been looking right at him. Watching him. 

It was entirely ridiculous that his eyes overshadowed the massive lurking darkness behind him, of what had to have been his wings. 

A human with wings. 

This was crazy. Everything was crazy.

The way he saw it, there were two directions this could go: he could pretend he hadn’t seen anything, and this would be tucked away into the delusion box that he kept under lock and key at the back of his mind and he could grow old being none the wiser of whatever breach of reality this was, or he could go find it. 

The first option was sounding real nice. Normal. Well adjusted. 

He was well adjusted. 

Besides, Dean wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t a dream.  this entire thing was a fever dream and he was in some hospital bed back in Lawrence, stuck in a coma. Dean pinched himself, viciously and stared at the white marks left on his forearm, helpless. 

Nope. 

“Okay.” He barked out a laugh. 

He should call Jo. 

After a few more minutes of pacing and hyperventilating, he decided against it. He would tell her—  of course he would! —but when it came up.

The Harvelle’s were good people and they’d shown him nothing but kindness. 

The situation had to be broached with care, or the small home he’d built in the life he wanted to live would topple in on itself, and the rubble and dust would drown him.

Trust issues were a problem of his, and he’d been aware of them since high school, when he’d had too many secrets to keep and any semblance of a support system was states away. 

God, he knew the way he clammed up was obvious, but sometimes he surprised even himself. If he was being honest, there was a lot more to it than a strong need for privacy. Didn’t matter though. In the end, after all the nit-picking and self beratement, it boiled down to fear. 

Jo could keep her mouth closed, but there was always a chance she’d accidentally tell someone, and there was a high chance it would be the wrong person. If he let it slip that this thing existed, who knew what would come packing. And he knew sooner or later, someone would bring the heat. Words got around easily in a small town like Pringle and he knew everyone would be at his door, wanting a chance to see the freak of the week. 

Which… was a thing that existed. A human with wings, that called the small clearing his home.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He felt protective over the man, almost ferociously so. 

The day’s hunting trip wasn’t happening— now Dean was paranoid.

What if he accidently shot him? Or scared him off permanently? 

His stomach churned, acid and bile climbing their way up his throat. The burn was familiar. Half his childhood had been spent subsiding panic attacks and anxiety, calming down Dad or Sam or both at the same time. 

▵▿▵

The tin echo of a gunshot managed to penetrate through the thick log walls of the cabin.In a heartbeat, he was scrambling for the ancient shotgun. The front door swung open, the little voice in his head told him to close it behind him, but his feet carried him quicker than his mind and so he left it swinging on its hinges at his back. 

An anguished scream gargled its way from somewhere deeper into the woods, due south of the cabin. Rocks dashed the soles of Dean’s feat and he swore out loud, having forgotten his boots at the door. 

Shit shit shit.  

Someone was nearby, and they were ballsy enough to fire a weapon despite the illegality of hunting on private property. His mind raced at the same speed he ran towards it, a limp skewing his gate every few steps. Stray branches caught the sleeves of his shirt, tearing through the fabric as he refused to slow down. 

It’s just a deer. 

He knew better. 

They’re just after a deer, or a bison that wandered away from the heard or an elk or something—  

Another blood curdling scream erupted from amongst the pine, this one loud enough to rattle the crows out of their nests. They cawed, the sound of dozens of pairs of wings taking flight muting the pained groans. 

He knew better. 

Please—  please. Not Wings.

He faltered over a boulder, panic overtaking muscle memory and skidded to a halt at the crest of a ledge. The scene below knocked the breath out of his chest, leaving a vacuum in its wake. 

Campbell, one of the more elderly hunters of the area was standing over another tawny body. Giant black wings sprawled out, twisting and twitching in the dirt and mud, feathers slightly splayed underneath his back. 

Campbell’s face distorted in pain, a tense moment passing before his wild eyes landed on Dean, the whites of his too visible, even from ten yards away. Blood pumped out from a wound on his neck, and he had a hand clamped down onto it, slick with red, he held a shotgun limply in his left hand, the butt of it dropped heavily to the ground. 

Semi-satisfied that Campbell didn’t seem interested in shooting again, Dean fixated every ounce of attention on Wings and his breath hitched. Smeared across his mouth and chin was a copious amount of blood. He’d bitten Campbell. Dean’s heart swelled with pride.

Good . 

His short encounter with Campbell prior had proved that the man was a bag of dicks, cocky and far too keen on the killing aspect of hunting. It skeeved Dean out then, and it certainly did now. Campbell was still looking at Wings like he was prey. Though no component of the scene begged to differ: the man was naked, teeth bared, but he was incapable of escaping, the gunshot wound in his abdomen bleeding him dry. 

Dean leveled the end of his shotgun at Campbell’s head. “Get the fuck away from him.”

Campbell backed away from Wings, the muscles in his right arm tensed, like he wanted to put it up defensively, but it was necessary he kept pressure on the wound. It looked like Wings had gone for the jugular. “It attacked me, Winchester.”

“And?” 

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Dean would put money on the fact that he looked the part, he could feel his chest heaving, something akin to dull rage pumping through his veins. He prayed the tremor in his hand didn’t betray his hesitation. “I said move .”

Obeying his orders, Campbell stepped back, never taking his eyes off of the strange man. Agony flashed across his face where he laid in the dirt.In his hands, he held a silver blade. Wings looked from Campbell to Dean, expression visibly softening.

“Give me your coat.” Dean didn’t have much time, glancing at Wings, he saw that a red gleam of blood was starting to trickle from the corner of his mouth and his eyes moved frantically. He slid down the slope and went to take off his jacket and remembered his was only in his boxers. “ NOW .” 

Campbell shirked it off and threw it at Dean, staying exactly where he was. Moving quickly, Dean pressed the thick fabric to the wound, moving his other hand to the back side to see where the bullet went. There was no opening there, and he was thankful that Wings was naked. He could skip the sometimes detrimental process of removing his clothes to assess the wound better.

 He tied the jacket around him and slid one arm under his legs and the other across his shoulder blades, lifting him up carefully. Dean had to get him back to his house immediately, before Wings lost too much blood.

One last time, he regarded Campbell. He felt the sneer tug his lip up, his voice like acid trying to eat through the other man’s bones until he was nothing. “Get the fuck off my property. And don’t tell anyone about this. He’ll be fine, not that you care. But you won’t be if I see you here again, or if I hear about this from anyone. Do I make myself clear?”  

Samuel’s eyes darkened clearly at war with Dean’s threat, but his skin was taking on a pallor akin to lethal blood loss. He nodded curtly, acknowledging the agreement, at least for the moment. 

Reasonably satisfied that Campbell wouldn’t shoot them in the back, Dean turned and left, the body draped over his shoulder too warm.Dean’s hand wrapped around, hand feathering over his taut side, avoiding the wound. He could feel his fingers wet with blood. 

Wings was whispering something feverishly, though Dean couldn’t catch a word of it, his eyes glazed over with pain, searching the sky for something with a fervor of a religious man with hell hounds on his heels. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Dean murmured, straining to carry the both of them the distance to the cabin. “I’ve got you.” 

Wing’s head lolled to the side, and his body went slack. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but Dean couldn’t afford to cry now. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to get them inside safely. He swallowed the terror. He ducked and wove through the undergrowth, fearing that the drooping wings would catch on a branch or boulder. 

The time it took until he could lay Wings down on his dining room table felt like hell had manifested on Earth, keenly able to feel life slipping away in his arms.

Once Dean managed to put Wings on the table without his head smacking the wood, he tore the kitchen apart for salt and a bowl of water and some clean washcloths, and sprinted to the bathroom, yanking the drawers out and emptying their contents onto the counter and sink until his eyes landed on the tweezers and isopropyl alcohol.

It wasn’t a perfect med kit, but there was no other choice. It had to do. 

Dean approached the table cautiously, worried that too much movement would set him off. The dark wingspan spread out almost three feet on either side of the table and Dean swallowed a stone.

He had no idea what to do next, not really. The closest experience he’d had to being a doctor had been treating John’s stab wound when he was thirteen and John had come home more beaten than usual.  

He stared helplessly down at Wings.  

“He...help.” Wings voice was like a ghost’s, he barely heard it, and he was standing right next to him. He looked up at the cobwebbed chandelier lighting like it was something holy and mesmerizing and Dean realized he was losing him. 

“Shhh… it’s okay.” His forehead was sticky with sweat and drying blood, and Dean pushed some of the unruly black wisps from his eyes, humming low. “I’m gonna help you.” 

Wings hand shook, following the edge of the table, feverishly searching for something to hold onto. Tentatively, Dean slid his fingers between his, feeling his calloused palm against his own. “Wings. Wings, you gotta listen to me. Wings, please . You have to lay still.”

He had no idea if the man understood a single word he was saying, but it seemed to do the trick. Over the span of a terrible minute, his breathing slowed down, and his grip on Dean’s hand went from frail to almost bone crushingly alive. 

Wings’ blue eyes were on him, flickering a little in the low light. Dean waited, untrained, unable and unwilling to play operation on him while he was still conscious, eyes desperate to look at anything but the daunting task before him. 

Eventually, he passed out, his painful grimace replaced by a soft one, and Dean began to remove the shrapnel bullet, praying to anyone who was listening that it had not shredded his insides beyond repair. 

 ▵▿▵

 At some point in the night, Dean had gotten up to draw the curtains and lock the door, willing to sacrifice only a moment to seal them away from the rest of the world. 

 Now, sunlight pierced through the cracks, illuminating them both in thin lines of white light. He watched Wings toss and turn, his face gnarling into pain each time he moved.

 What if Dean had fucked it up? What if the next breath he drew was his last? His mind raced, punishing him for every moment’s hesitation that could very well lead to his death. 

 Dean caught himself following Wings jawline, examining the stark contours of his face like he would never see them again. Please, just please make it out alive.

 “Don’t die on me, Wings.” The words slipped out subconsciously. “Please, God, don’t die on me.”

 Dean had the decency to cover him up with the quilt. The two’s hands were still tightly entwined long after the heartbeat in Wing’s wrist lulled Dean into sleep, tumbling heart over head. 

[officerjennie]

Grief

CW: MCD, alcohol abuse, mentions of wanting to commit suicide, canon typical injuries. Ship: Lambden. WC: 7.4k+

Brief Summary: Aiden dies and Lambert suffers for it.

Denial

It wasn’t until the next summer that Lambert knew what had become of him.

Spring had always been their time of the year. At the end of winter, before the snow had even properly cleared from the path, Lambert was the first to leave Kaer Morhen behind. The trek was treacherous, slick with melting ice that would freeze over during the nights, proper footing hard to find and starving creatures more than willing to test their fading strength against anything that moved in a desperate attempt to keep living. Lambert’s blade was stained with blood by the time he made it to the first town on his path - the first one that accepted witcher patrons at their inn, at the very least - and it took him a good hour to properly sharpen and clean it in the flickering candlelight of his room.

That spring, there was a pit in his stomach that grew with each step he took. Nerves, thoughts he didn’t want to think, things he didn’t want to have bogging down his already fucked life. For the first time in a long while he didn’t envy Geralt and Eskel’s affinity with animals, preferring the slow trek as he headed to the coast, towards a small fishing village that saw his face near the beginning of each and every year.

With each step, that pit grew and hardened, his hand shaking as it gripped the sword at his back. Lambert paused several different times, taking detours, taking missions he didn’t need to take and spending an extra night in a brothel despite how little interest he really had in the woman he’d chosen to spend time with - all to waste time, to keep the coast from coming into view over the hills that surrounded it.

It still came into view. He stood on the same hill he did every single spring, smelling the damned dandelions and clovers that covered it, salt carried on the wind to greet him along with the sound of gentle water on sand. With a deep breath he took it all in but it did nothing for the shake of his hands, did nothing to make it any easier to take that next step forward.

The people all knew him, or at least knew of him. Children still stared at him like he might toss them to a harpy if given a chance but he was fine with it, fine with that, kept them out of his way and out of the danger that haunted a witcher’s footsteps. But the people knew him and knew he wasn’t there to cause more trouble than necessary, for the most part leaving him be as he walked the rather quiet streets towards the noise and bustle of the early morning fish market.

Crowds weren’t his thing, but Aiden loved them. He’d asked him once why he loved this little village so damned much, Lambert himself seeing it as nothing more than the next, and had been surprised when he got an honest and rather vulnerable answer.

“Reminds me of home,” the cat witcher had said, no faux humor to tint his wistful tone, his eyes on the fisherman that shouted and tossed their catch from their carts. It had reminded Lambert of nothing but the reek of fish guts, his face turning as much as his stomach, and yet…

And yet, here he was, making his way past the bustle of the fisherman once more. Their early catch was tossed here and there, the reek of dead and still dying fish heavy on the air, his nose and tongue both regretting every step that he took down the slick streets. Some of the men knew him and nodded his way though it was no friendly greeting, just a greeting, just something to acknowledge that he was there and existed. He did not nod back.

It was the outskirts of town where he was headed, down to the little beach just passed where all of the fishermen docked their fishing boats and hung their nets for the little ones to fix up. They were already busy at work, their little fingers no doubt pruning up as they stitched any holes that might have been made in the netting, some far too short to work on the whole netting, their hands showing the speed of familiarity with the tasks. Lambert watched as he walked past, as he always did, a little mesmerized with the simplicity of the hard work that civilians took part in.

A life he would never know. He readjusted his sword on his back, its weight a constant in his life, feeling the sand move beneath him as he made his way to their little beach.

The same rock as always stood waiting for him, just outside of the reach of the high tide. He didn’t climb up on it - that was Aiden’s spot when he got their first, as he did so many of the years. The cat witcher would sit cross-legged on the rock, not caring that it was damp, his daggers still strapped to his hip save one which he would use to peel an orange as he waited. The oranges were never ripe this time of year but he always managed to have one, a mischievous glint to his eye as he fed himself the fruit on the sharp blade, his dark brown eyes sharp as they caught sight of the wolf.

“About time, little Lamb,” he’d always say, just to get a rise out of the younger man. His braids would sometimes be disheveled by the ocean breeze, the scars on his face stretching from his grin, fangs showing and almost shining in the sunlight.

Aiden always looked like he belonged here. Lambert never did. He leaned against the rock, arms crossed as he stared up at the sky, taking the time to watch the clouds roll over head as he waited for him to show up.

By late evening, Lambert knew it would not be that day. His nausea had not left him. If Aiden had been there, he would have weaseled them a place to stay with one of the fishermen’s families, always able to get his way, always able to convince anyone of anything - but Aiden was not there, and Lambert had no real liking for people.

He camped out in one of the trees nearby, not bothered with a fire despite the chill in the wind, hardly able to sleep with his hands and legs refusing to stay still.

The next day, he had to hunt for food, refusing to touch the fish that already invaded every one of his senses. It was the work of but a few minutes to find enough small game to tide him over, Lambert building a small fire just at the edge of the beach to cook it over, keeping an eye on the rock while he slowly turned a few skinned rabbits over the flames - rabbits he barely touched despite how he knew he needed the food.

By the end of the week, he had grown restless out of boredom, having to travel to the next town over to find some sort of contract to keep his hands busy. Hunting down a troll by himself wasn’t always the wisest decision but it ended up being a younger one, inexperienced, felled easily enough and filled his coin purse enough for a few pints and a warm, soft woman to keep his bed company for the night.

Spring was heavy in the region before Lambert finally gave up waiting, no hint of his kitty cat in sight, his nerves back in full force for another reason beyond their last conversation. His heart was a bit heavy as he left the fishing village and all of its occupants behind, heading down further south, wondering if he’d run into Aiden later that year or if he’d have to wait until the next spring before he saw him again.

It was a coincidence, he told himself, that brought him to where they’d parted early the fall before. Not concern that brought him there, not concern that had made him hesitate either, the journey of naught but two weeks taking him all the way until mid-summer to greet the hills that he’d seen Aiden stroll down as he walked away from him, a forced tune on his lips as he’d twirled one of his daggers between his fingers - his anger showing.

“A witcher?”

The innkeep’s good eye pinned Lambert in place where he was leaned forward on the bar, Lambert’s fingers twitching, unable to stay still. As the man cleaned one of his mugs he seemed to chew the question over in his head, grey beard sticking to the condensation on the outside of the mug, the entire place around them mostly quiet and stinking of the seedy clientele that usually inhabited it.

And Lambert would know, given Aiden and him had been there not a year before. Had stayed here off and on for over a month, getting into fights whenever it pleased them, grinning as they were kicked out of the place at last, falling in a drunken stupor of laughter over each other as they carried themselves away to make camp in the woods nearby.

But as far as he could tell, this old man’s memory was nothing. He didn’t give any hint of remembering Lambert as he put his still dirty mugs away, turning to wipe the counter with the same rag, making Lambert grow impatient for his answer.

“We’ve had a few around these parts before,” the old man said at last, jerking his head to the side as he caught sight of a fly. He swatted it with the rag and continued to clean, not looking up at Lambert as he spoke to him. “Besides you, there were a couple last year. One stuck around longer than the other.”

“How long?” Not that the information would do him much good, but it was all he had to go off of - if the old fart remembered at all.

“A few days,” the man shrugged, continuing as if his words meant nothing, “the rest of his life, turns out.”

He stopped after that. Stopped as if that was the end of the story, wiping his counters like the smudges weren’t stains soaked into the wood that no one could ever clean - but that couldn’t be. Lambert shook his head, running a hand through his short hair - that couldn’t be the end of the story.

“Better finish talking if you want to keep your head, old man.” He growled it but it wasn’t anger that had his heart picking up its pace, and no matter how much he blinked Lambert couldn’t seem to focus on anything.

“Found the body by the swamp.” The words were distant despite the man’s closeness, but there was a ringing growing in his ears that made the world seem far away. “Didn’t have much use for a witcher’s body, or what was left of it. We don’t bury what’s not our own.”

The man spat, and Lambert found himself escorted out of town by sword point. He couldn’t recall how many of them he hurt on his way out, but he’d never forget the sound of that old man’s nose breaking under his knuckles.

Anger

‘By the swamp’. It was cold and wet, the air thick with the stench of rotting things. Lambert had waded in and out of the waters, some up to his waist, most not past his shins but every bit of it clinging to him and weighing him down. He was soaked through to the bone and shivering but he’d been shivering when he got there, his hands shaking and no amount of clenching his fists able to stop it.

It wasn’t very good direction to go off of, ‘by the swamp’. He could have been searching for hours and hours (and he would have been, there would have been no stopping him from tearing every inch of the swamp apart to prove the old man wrong, this wasn’t the end) but eventually part of his mind caught up with him.

Aiden had been about to hunt something. A troll, maybe, or maybe it had been a chimera - fuck, Lambert stopped to lean against a tree and think, stepping up onto its protruding roots to get out of the cold water for a moment.

He’d been hunting something. Lambert held his face in one hand and breathed, telling the rest of his thoughts to quiet themselves so he could focus on where his friend had been going - because Aiden had told him, he was certain of it, exactly where this beast had been.

It took longer than a moment, but he remembered, and hopped off the roots to once again wade further into the swamp.

The southern border was where the beast had been hunting and picking off civilians. It wasn’t a contract that had brought Aiden there but a necessity for some potion or another; Aiden had loved dabbling in that sort of thing, crafting his own concoctions that the sight alone of made Lambert’s stomach turn.

Lambert could stomach a lot of things, but actual poison was a bit beyond his limit. And there was no doubt in his mind that some of the shit his friend had thrown together was going to kill him some day.

Would have- no. Lambert took a deep breath through his nose but it did nothing for the rolling of his stomach, his thoughts turning to nothing but a dark cloud as he waded through the afternoon into the evening.

Eventually, he found his way through the swamp. All the way through, his feet now mostly on solid ground, the area covered in the stale scent of a troll - a troll that was no longer here, as evidenced by the bones he eventually found, the corpse long since rotted away to nothing. Didn’t mean the smell was gone. It made his nose twitch but he’d smelled worse, seen a lot worse too, but he kicked some of the bones for good measure just to hear them snap.

They weren’t right by the water’s edge. A good thirty meters away, give or take; Lambert looked around but saw little evidence of a fight here, no matter that time would have eroded most of it away. Still, some destruction told the stumbling path of a dying troll and he followed it, not sure what good it would do but having to know. 

It hadn’t made it far. Though its body was gone Lambert could guess, if his friend had indeed faced the troll, that it was poison that did it in. That was if…

No. This wasn’t the end. He shoved over a leaning tree that had been nearly cracked in half before, hitting it hard enough for it to finally snap and crash down into the swamp, taking down branches of surrounding trees as it went and disturbing the wildlife around him.

Maybe he was more violent than he thought. His fist clenched and unclenched, wanting nothing more than to continue on with idiotic, needless destruction - but he put the need behind him, letting his hand rest at the hilt of his sword for now, the promise keeping his nerves calm as he stepped over some weather dampened debris.

It took the rest of the evening to find him.

No body was left for him to find. The clothes were barely there, barely recognizable in their torn and shredded state. Scavengers had picked the body clean and barely left any bones, and most of what was left of him - of what had been him - had sunken into the mud and earth.

Lambert knelt next to the place where someone had died. Fingers trembled as he reached out to touch what had once been a part of his armor - a shoulder pad, thick and sturdy, meant to take hits and oh, it had taken many over the decades. 

No weapons left. Lambert looked around, the swamp quiet save for the ringing that grew in volume, not even the wind registering as he noticed not a coin purse nor a sword nor even a single one of the many throwing knives that used to glint in the sun as Aiden threw them with deadly precision at his enemies. They’d glittered just like his feral grin, sharp and always hitting their mark just like his words, his dark eyes not even narrowing in his anger as he tore anyone apart who dared to think his cheerful grin or lighthearted demeanor an easy target. 

Nothing was left now. 

It didn’t mean it was him. Lambert swallowed and wiped at his blurring vision. A body looked like a body, like any of the rest, especially when it was so eroded and scavenged away. It could have been any fool in armor no matter that it might look like his armor: leather scraps strewn here and there, the same black buckles that strapped it onto his chest, a few pieces of the over abundance of belts that Lambert had made fun of him for over the years.

He leaned back on the balls of his feet, running a hand once again through his hair. There wasn’t even enough evidence to suggest it was a witcher, specifically. No potions nor smells left, time having taken that evidence with it, and without any of that it could have been anyone. Anyone could have died out here, slaughtered by a troll that they pissed off. It could have been anyone.

But something caught in the fading sunlight, something silver and shaped like a coin connected to a broken chain, and it was not just anyone who had faced the troll and died for it.

Lambert broke the rest of the troll’s bones, but it did nothing to clear his vision.

Bargaining

It was possible that time could have helped heal his wounds, but time had never been kind to him.

Lambert hid the medallion in one of his pockets, never letting it leave him but refusing to look at it. And over the years that’s where it stayed, weighing heavy in his hand whenever he felt the need to hold it, grip it, squeeze his hold on it until its dull edges bit into his palm and made him bleed. It didn’t matter how long had passed - years, he knew that much, but how many he could not recall. All the springs and winters bled into the next, the rest of the year meaningless, his only counter for it all being when he had to leave to meet his brothers, when he should leave to go to the coast…

The first time his feet took him to the coast, he almost broke the rock. Their rock. It broke his fist when he’d hit it and he left a sizable crack along its side, a crack that he touched with ginger fingers that had nothing to do with the pain shooting straight up his arm. Fingers that shook like his breaths and could not even hold sand, let alone grip onto the past that left him cold and alone.

Nothing he did would take it back. Bring it back.

He tried being alone. Avoiding everyone he could, not taking a single contract for over a year and a half, living off of nothing but the land and his own anger that fueled his hunts. Trolls stood no chance against him, every single one of them he sniffed out and slaughtered like the last, not caring that they were sentient beings and knew nothing of what caused his rage.

It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. He could feel his friend’s disappointment in him growing.

Lambert tried not being alone.

“You’ll be joining us, then?” Geralt’s bard had too loud of a voice for such an early morning, his hair curly and wild in a way that made Lambert regret his choices. His chattering on and on made his knuckles grow white where it gripped the table in front of him - but this would be good for him, would be good for the emptiness that took him some nights.

And the too much that filled his days.

Geralt rode Roach, as he always did, a little ways ahead of them as they marched down the path. For his part Jaskier trounced about the place, too much energy, too loud and too carefree and always too much. It wasn’t as if Lambert had never been in his presence before - before, he had known him. Had met him and thought the bard was just another cute face, even flirted once or twice just because he liked the lack of fear that flashed across most humans’ expressions when he dared to speak to them, but he’d known long before Geralt and Jaskier had become a thing that his brother wanted him.

So Lambert had known Jaskier and his ways. Hadn’t minded his voice back then, how his laughter was quick and easy, how his words could be barbed and as sharp as throwing knives. How his hair curled just like undone braids that the air had caught and caused to go wild. Back then, he hadn’t minded.

Now he couldn’t make his thoughts stop. 

Months dragged on. Summer came and started to go, and the bard made his skin itch and his hands sweat. There were whole nights he couldn’t sleep so he forced Geralt to let him keep watch instead, knowing the looks his brother gave him but ignoring them all the same. Just as he ignored the whispering when Jaskier thought he was out of earshot.

“Is he alright? He’s been so quiet.” Lambert’s jaw tightened as he sharpened his weapons at the edge of their camp, the bard’s back turned to him, Geralt nudging his shoulder in lieu of a verbal response.

“When was the last time he slept?” It had been three nights but Lambert didn’t tell the lark that, continuing on climbing up in the tree to at least avoid their eyes, letting them think whatever they’d like.

“Geralt, I’m worried about him-”

“Leave it be, Jaskier.”

On and on, for weeks on end. Pitying eyes following his movements as if he was a child and didn’t notice them, the never ending humming in the mix, that bright laugh and wide grin making him want to rip his hair out. 

It was too much. And it was made all the worse when Geralt had to go track down some beast on his own, leaving Lambert there to protect his bard, not able to escape his chatter or worrying looks. 

“I’ve really enjoyed you traveling with us this year.” Jaskier plopped down on the same rotting log as him, not caring that it would stain his expensive clothes, a genuine smile on his lips that made Lambert want to snarl at him. “Not that I don’t adore traveling with Geralt alone - he might be a right arse when he wants to be, difficult to talk to at times, comes back reeking of monster guts and certainly doesn’t enjoy the finer things in life, and...hmm, where was I going with this?”

“Away from here, I hope.”

“Oh, right, yes!” Jaskier snapped his fingers, ignoring Lambert’s sharp comment and leaning towards him, the glint in his eyes making him nauseous. “It’s just nice to have someone else around for a while. Especially someone who gets him in ways I can’t, you know? I adore him, I really do, but it doesn’t matter how much I tell him that if he won’t let me in. With you, well...he trusts you. Trusts you to not hate or judge him, or shrink away when he comes back all hyped up on potions. Doesn’t matter how many times I tell him I won’t, there’s always a...hesitance, in the way he approaches me.

“It’s just...nice to see him relax, and not worry about those sorts of things.”

Lambert didn’t know why he was being told all of this. Didn’t care, just wanted the bard to leave him alone. He stared at him until he stopped talking, watching the way the lark sighed wistfully, catching the longing in his gaze as he stared off in the direction Geralt had trudged away into an hour before.

What had he done to deserve this?

“I think it’s good for you, too, Lamb.”

Lambert went ridged, body tensed and fingers suddenly clawing into the log beneath them. ‘Little Lamb’, his memories purred at him, sharp teeth glistening at the end of a laugh - and he hated it, hated everything about this damn bard, his carefree nature hiding his sharp tongue and the damn tunes he never stopped humming and the knife he carried at his hip-

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he spat, and he didn’t stick around to hear anymore, his eyes wild and his heart racing with the rush of memories trying to over take him. Some part of him heard Jaskier’s surprise but he couldn’t process his words, jerking away from their log, leaving in a rush and breaking out into a sprint the moment he was out of sight.

He didn’t know how long he ran. His lungs were burning, his cheeks raw from branches clawing at him in his haste, burned by the tears he didn’t want to admit were spilling down his face. But eventually Lambert had to stop, doubling over as it all finally took over, leaving him sobbing and screaming in anger at the memories - because that’s all they would ever be now. The past, trapped in his mind, poisoning him from within.

Lambert was too far away to hear the chort that found their camp. Even if he had heard it he would not have reached Jaskier in time to protect him, the bard’s screaming reaching no one, luck being the only thing that saved him from death that night. But his injuries were great and he would never walk without a limp again - and the grave, betrayed look in Geralt’s eyes when Lambert at last returned to them told the truth they all knew:

It was his fault.

Depression

No amount of gull would drown out the truth, but Lambert tried his best despite that. Inn after inn, tavern after tavern, spending coin he didn’t own himself to make his thoughts stop and his chest from caving in on itself. Sticky fingers he’d learned from one of the many he refused to think of, swiping coin purses and hating the stir in his gut at the knowledge that the very man who taught him this would be disappointed in him for using it.

‘Thought better of you, little Lamb.’ He heard the words as he drank himself into a stupor in a dark corner of some shady inn, not even aware of what town he was in anymore; they all bled into the rest, faces meaningless and lost to him, all the continent the same without a person to meet up with and make it mean something.

He’d betrayed his own brother’s trust. Lambert laid his head on the table, not caring about the grim and spilled drink there, his own half-empty glass tipping and leaving the short hairs on his head wet with drink.

All he’d been charged with was watching the bard, and he couldn’t even do that. Left him on his own when he’d known danger was in the area, and now he’d live the rest of his life with a pain no magic they’d found could fully take away from him. After he’d swore to stay there, protect him, he’d left him-

Lambert swayed on his feet when he jolted up, the walk from his table to the bar a blur. He didn’t bother walking back, half laying on the bar when his drink arrived, downing it and not even noticing most of it spilled down his front. 

Hadn’t even stuck around to face his foolish mistake. Didn’t even give Geralt the time to chew his ear off, had just. Left the both of them. Left them there and avoided the both of them like a bloody coward, only knowing the extent of his mistake a year later when he’d run into Eskel on the path.

Jaskier couldn’t make it up the mountain to winter with them, and Geralt had stayed behind with him - and Lambert had been too drunk in some tavern near the coast to realize winter had come and went.

The drinks eventually stopped coming but he wasn’t aware enough to even realize it, his coin purse as empty as the five others he’d dumped the contents of onto the slick wood of bars across the country, his woes never going quiet but the pain being dulled like his senses.

His fault. His head swam even against the cold grain of the wood his cheek was pressed against, even with his eyes shut tight. ‘Such a loyal wolf,’ his memory supplied, a hand soft on his chest, calloused fingers tracing the scars there. ‘Why’d you take that for me, hmm?’

Lambert sniffed, choking back the emotions that were supposed to be deafened and dulled by the gull that filled his stomach so full it hurt, raising his head just enough to hold it up with his hand.

“It’s who I am,” he gruffed out to no one - but it was a lie. It’s who he was, once, loyal to a fault, loyal to the point of self detriment.

Who was he now? 

Acceptance

Aiden was dead.

Lambert knew this, accepted it, hated himself for it. There was nothing he could do to change that and he found himself too much of a coward to join him, though he wished to, desperately wanted to as the inn beds stayed cold at his side.

He traveled alone, save for the scattered moments where he ran into Eskel and allowed the other wolf to join him. Though the memories flooded him at times their contents became hazy. Hearing a tune that was almost familiar could still bring him to his knees but he forgot what Aiden’s voice sounded like, the exact shade of brown his eyes and hair were, what his last words to him were. And when he lost the cat medallion that he’d hidden in one of his pockets he almost didn’t have it in him to feel the grief anymore, hands shaking as he searched and searched to no avail, breaths quickening but the tears refusing to come.

Slowly, the memories left him. No longer plagued him and that was a poison of its own, forgetting. But some things never left him alone.

He’d become a liar. A thief. A betrayer. Geralt never trusted him again, not to the extent he used to, and Lambert accepted that because there was nothing else he could do - he had betrayed him and doubted himself for it, knowing it was possible he would do it again. 

It was easier to avoid them all. Live life out on his own, hardly heading home for the winter, sending brief letters instead that bore no further information than him being alive and mostly unharmed. And that was how Lambert lived for a long, long time: on the path, alone, stealing coin whenever he felt the need to, lying his way through the continent and holding no one close to him.

Vesemir had long passed, gone one winter when he fought a leshen that was too quick for him. Geralt went not long after his bard, heart broken and unable to go on, leaving two wolves left and one that refused to return to the keep. Eskel took over the care of Kaer Morhen and was the only one there to read Lambert’s brief letters, but eventually he, too, was taken by time, Lambert’s letters being delivered to an empty keep that caved in from the unkept snow on the rooftop.

He knew he was alone, but sent them anyway, his only connection to who he used to be, the life he once had. And one spring even found him following that familiar path to the coast, the fishing village a ghost town of crumbling houses and the forest taking it over - but his rock, their rock, was still there, jutting out onto the beach.

As he smoothed his hand on their rock, he thought about his friend. The one he’d loved and never confessed his feelings for, the one whose laugh and smile he couldn’t remember. The one who he knew had a quicksilver tongue but for the life of him he couldn’t remember anything he’d said, who’d been irresistible and insatiable yet Lambert could not remember any specifics of their times laying together.

He remembered him like a vague notion of a feeling he’d once had, and his heart and chest ached for the absence - because he could not remember him. But what did it matter, in the end, when Aiden would never recognize who he’d become.

Mistakes

In the quiet of their shared inn room, the dust thick in the air, sunlight barely peeking through the windows at that early hour, Lambert found it...difficult to pretend anymore.

They lay naked together, the blanket just barely resting above Aiden’s hips, the bruises and teeth marks Lambert had covered him in the night before already faded and gone. Lambert was always the early riser between the two of them; Aiden could sleep the whole afternoon away if allowed, his eyes fluttering as he dreamed, dark lashes touching dark brown skin as his breaths ghosted across Lambert’s chest.

It made Lambert’s heart ache. One of the summers of his youth Vesemir had taken him aside, Lambert’s cheeks stained with hot and angry tears, his tiny fists at his side as Vesemir tried to calm him down.

“You feel so much, little pup,” the old wolf had told him, rough hand on the top of his head to keep him grounded in place.

And he was right, damn him. Lambert felt too much, and it ached, and he wished he could swallow it all down and forget and feel nothing like the humans said.

He had nowhere to keep his hands but on Aiden’s body, holding him as he waited for his friend to wake, aware of every inch of their bodies as the seconds passed like minutes.

It was sex. Nothing more. And that was fine.

Except apparently it wasn’t.

Aiden slept in too long and had to be forcefully pried away from Lambert’s body, the cat witcher whining that he was warm while Lambert griped and bitched that they had shit to do. Once that mischievous glint in Aiden’s eyes returned and he remarked that Lambert was near the top of his to-do list, Lambert unceremoniously dumped him right on the floor, leaving his friend cackling in his wake as he hurriedly got ready and stormed out of their room.

A morning like any other. Bar fight got them kicked out of the inn with the threat to never step foot in there again, Lambert’s cheek barely stinging from the pitiful punch the drunken bastard had managed to land on him - only because Aiden had purposely distracted him just for a laugh, which they both shared as they left town, hanging off each other like they were the ones too drunk to hold themselves up.

Their friendship was why Lambert refused to acknowledge anything more. Why it was enough, why he shoved any fluttering heartbeats out of his mind. He groped his friend’s rather sinful arse just to see Aiden’s teeth, his friend whipping around so fast the silver beads worked into his braids almost smacked him in the face. 

Aiden was on him a moment later. It was always an equal toss up how he would react: would he tackle Lambert and attempt to wrestle him to the ground, lethe body belying his strength, determined to ‘teach Lambert a lesson’ full of teeth and one very memorable evening including a knife that ended up carving a deep scar into his shin; or would he pin him against a tree, holding him there and not letting him move, teeth accompanied by a wicked tongue that could leave Lambert whimpering as easily as those skillful fingers that loved to dance across his skin.

Lambert loved both equally, and Aiden wouldn’t have let him keep his hand if he didn’t love it too.

“Still feeling frisky, little Lamb?”

Lambert scowled over at his friend as he readjusted his clothing, not bothering to tell him to shove it at the nickname - it had never worked before, and likely it would just give Aiden ideas. But he had been caught ogling, unable to help himself even after they’d frotted against each other right there on the path where anyone and their mother could have walked up on them. He was still hot just from the thought, his soiled smalls speaking just to how frisky he’d been feeling when Aiden had pinned him.

“Can’t waste the whole day away, kitty cat.” He risked patting Aiden’s arse one more time, ducking away from the knife swipe aimed right at his head, jogging ahead with a laugh, his chest lighter then than it had been in years.

This was enough. What he had, what they had between them. Traveling together as the path stretched onward, taking turns keeping watch as rain deafened the forest around their night campsite, picking up in the morning with a tune on Aiden’s lips that was sung in a tongue Lambert knew not a word of.

“I’d like to kiss you.”

Lambert cocked his head as he straightened back up from where he’d been rolling up his bedroll, finding for once Aiden’s eyes held no humor in them at the offer. He couldn’t name what he saw in them then, but it made his heart pick up in rhythm, made his tongue thick in his throat when he said, “then kiss me.”

But Aiden didn’t. Didn’t make a single move towards him, leaning back on his heels, dark eyes staring off to the side far away from him as he frowned.

“I want it to mean something.” Aiden licked his lips, a nervous tick, something sheepish in the way he tilted his head to mirror Lambert’s own expression. “More than what it usually does. I want…”

He was hesitating, not saying what Lambert both never wanted to hear and suddenly realized he’d wanted to hear for the longest damned time. It made his hands tremor, his throat suddenly feeling tight - but it was all too much so he clamped down on the feelings trying to override everything, shaking his head and turning away from his friend, refusing to look at him.

“Isn’t it enough?” It had to be, it was, he didn’t need to think and overthink everything they said, everything they did around each other. He didn’t need to know why his tongue got tied when he made Aiden laugh - that genuine, surprised laugh that he only managed to hear on very rare occasions - why he couldn’t keep his hands still when Aiden was sitting near him, why he felt so much it felt like he could drown if he let it all go.

He didn’t need that. It terrified him, the thought of drowning in his own feelings, and the last thing he needed was to drown in them right in front of his friend.

“You,” Aiden started, and Lambert didn’t dare to look up at him, “don’t want…”

“I want what we have.” His words were a bit rushed, his movements jerky as he shoved his bedroll into his pack, not bothering to roll it up neat and tidy like he usually did. “I like what we have. Isn’t that enough?”

“Right, yeah. Of course it is.”

He did look up then, and hated himself for it. Because he would never forget the pain he saw - in the way Aiden refused to look back at him, his head ducking down, the shake of the breath he took as he turned away from him.

Lambert swore to himself then and there that he’d think on it later. Not there, not then, but later, when he could sit by himself alone and let the feelings come as slowly as he could manage so they wouldn’t overtake him.

The rest of the morning was spent mostly in silence. It stretched between them like a fresh wound, sharp and throbbing at the edges, making Lambert grind his teeth and wish his friend had said nothing at all. As unfair as it was to blame him - and he wasn’t blaming him, it wasn’t his fault Lambert was so damned skittish about his own feelings and couldn’t hold them back for the life of him - he couldn’t help but wish the morning hadn’t happened at all.

By afternoon, they’d reached the town over, Aiden heading quickly off to see if there were any contracts and Lambert for once not at all eager to follow him. He piddled about here and there, not even feeling like pissing off some bastard for an excuse to punch someone’s teeth in, ending up taking too long staring at armor sets at the local blacksmiths that he really had no interest in buying.

Without having said a word to each other, they both met at the local tavern that afternoon, arriving in the same half hour and sitting further in the corner than they usually would. Gull was drunk in mostly quiet, a few words shared here and there, and Lambert’s heart ached at the tension between them.

“Found a decent one.” Aiden eyed the bottom of his empty glass, in the end pushing it away with a sigh. “There’s a troll not twenty miles from here. Shouldn’t be too difficult with the two of us.”

And Lambert would usually go right along with him. Any other day he would be at his side, traveling the path, hunting down trolls and clearing out drowners and fighting battles with the most fearsome of leshens.

But he was feeling too much, and it was all but a centimeter from the surface, threatening to spill over and never get cleaned back up. And Lambert wasn’t ready for that.

“I think I’ll actually head down south.” He said it slow, a little quiet, clearing his throat after as if he hadn’t meant for it to be a whisper. “Want to get some warmth in me and there sure as hell ain’t any around here. Think you can handle one measly troll on your own?”

Aiden wasn’t fooled, and his hurt wasn’t veiled, but Lambert would make it up to him. His friend still sent him a sharp grin as he waved over his shoulder, leaving the tavern and Lambert behind, and Lambert drank enough gull that night for the both of them.

He needed time. Lambert dropped his head on one hand when his vision swayed - or was that his body? It was hard to tell and the old shit of an innkeep wasn’t letting him order any more gull either, leaving Lambert to drag himself up to a room he hadn’t meant to rent to begin with.

Time. Just a little bit of time to himself, to think on it, think it all over and figure out how the fuck to feel so much without- without, fuck, he didn’t even know anymore. The world was swimming around him and the bed was so alluring he didn’t even take off his armor or weapons before dropping heavy on it, laying across it the wrong way on top of the blanket while his head tried its best to stop spinning.

At least there was that for him. Time. He took a deep breath and let everything settle: his head, the way his body felt like it was swaying while still laying down, his thoughts, the bursting feeling in his chest.

All he needed was a little time, and he’d make it up to Aiden. Sit him down and tell him things and maybe even let himself feel, and they could maybe, maybe, talk about the possibilities of more. Aiden had a quick and dangerous temper but they were closer to each other than anyone else in either of their worlds, so there was...a chance, and it was one Lambert would take - later.

Time was all he needed, and he had that. They both had plenty of that ahead of them.

[cherryblossomflowers]

Day 2: Family

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Summary: Jensen is nervous about meeting YN's family for the first time, but he soon learns he has nothing to worry about.

Warnings: Fluff, Anxiety

A/N: Day 2 of my writing challenge! No hate on any SPN Cast/Character. The names are actually from my own family. Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

***ASK OPEN***

*LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED*

December One Shots Masterlist

YN's Family Tracey- YN's Mom James- YN's Dad Teresa- YN's Older Sister Emily- Teresa's Partner Riggen- YN's Younger Brother Elijah- Teresa & Emily's Son

YN looked away from the road for a moment at her boyfriend in the passenger seat, bouncing his leg and staring out the window. He was so nervous about meeting her family for the first time.

The two had only been dating for 5 months, but YN's family invited her and Jensen over for the holidays. And she couldn't say no.

"Honey, I wish you would relax. My family already loves you. If they didn't, they wouldn't have invited you over for Christmas," YN tried to reassure Jensen.

He turned to look at her, "How do you know they didn't invite me out of sympathy? They could've just been inviting me because you wouldn't have come otherwise."

"Jensen Ross Ackles, you know better than that. I've done nothing but talk about you to them, and from everything they know from me, I'm in a happy, loving relationship. And that's why they invited you. They want to meet the man that makes me so happy."

Jensen sighed and leaned back in his seat, "I just...I don't want to mess this up."

YN smiled as she pulled into her parent's driveway, "You won't, babe. Just be yourself. And if you get overwhelmed, we'll make an excuse and leave."

She put the car in park, turned off the engine, and stepped out of the car. Jensen stepped out as well and walked around to the trunk to grab the bag of presents for YN's family. YN waited for Jensen so they could walk hand in hand.

He took her hand in his, took a deep breath and walked towards the house. YN gave his hand a comforting squeeze as they stepped on the porch. She rang the doorbell and instantly felt Jensen tense next to her.

"Just relax, take a deep breath. They're going to love you, I promise," YN whispered to him.

Suddenly the door flew open and YN's mother was standing in the doorway, "Hi honey! It's so good to see you. Come on in, don't be standing out in the cold."

"Thanks, Mom," YN spoke as she walked inside, "Merry Christmas."

"Oh, Merry Christmas, baby," her mother hugged her.

Jensen stepped inside behind YN, but didn't move from her side. He felt his anxiety was sitting like a weight in his chest and stomach.

YN's mother spotted Jensen out of the corner of her eye, "And this must be the famous Jensen Ackles."

He took a deep breath and extended his shaky hand, "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. YLN."

"Oh, please, call me Tracey. Bring it in, honey," she extended her arms out for a hug.

Jensen hugged her and smiled as his anxiety was slowing down a big. YN smiled at her mother and Jensen, happy to see he was relaxing a bit.

"Where's Dad?" asks YN.

Tracey rolled her eyes, "Either sleeping like the old fart he is, or playing video games with the boys," she pointed to the living room, "Go on and see everyone. Lunch will be ready soon."

"Need any help?" Jensen asked.

Tracey smiled and shook her head, "No thank you, honey. I think I can handle it. But I'll yell if I need something."

YN took Jensen's hand as her mother walked back into the kitchen. They walked into the living room and saw YN's father, younger brother, and her nephew were sitting on the couch playing a video game.

"Oh come on!" her brother yelled out, "I totally won that. You cheated," he pointed to his father.

YN's father scoffed, "You think I cheated. In Mario Kart. There's a difference between cheating and just being better."

"I agree," YN spoke, "If Dad were going to cheat, it would be in a poker game. Besides, little brother, you have yet to defeat the queen of Mario Kart."

"Well, if it isn't my baby girl," YN's father stood from the couch and walked over to her, "How are you, sweetheart?"

YN hugged him, "I'm doing well, Dad. How's life?"

He chuckled, "Oh, you know. The usual business at work."

YN turned to Jensen, "Dad, this is Jensen. Jensen, this is my father, James."

James stuck out his hand, "Put her there."

Jensen shook his hand, "It's great to meet you, sir."

"Sir? Don't make me laugh, boy. I'm not that old yet. Just call me James."

YN pointed to her brother, "That's Riggen, my younger brother. And sitting next to him is Elijah, my nephew."

The two boys waved at YN and Jensen before focusing back on their game. YN rolled her eyes with a chuckled as she knew the boys wouldn't actually acknowledge her presence until lunch.

"Has Teresa shown her face yet?" YN asked.

James shook his head, "What do you think?"

"I think her and Emily are upstairs doing something that's not...age appropriate," YN whispered.

"And you'd be right on that one," James mumbled in response.

Tracey walked into the living room, "YN, can you help me for a moment? I need help with the table."

"I'll come too," Jensen said quickly.

"Nonsense. You can stay in here with the boys for a bit," James laid a hand on Jensen's shoulder.

Jensen turned to YN with fear in his eyes, "Oh, uh-"

"It's fine, babe. I won't be gone long," YN whispered and kissed him on the cheek, "You can get to know them a bit."

YN turned and followed her mother back into the kitchen. She took the plates from the counter and started setting the table.

"So?" Tracey spoke quietly.

YN looked at her, "What?"

"How are things going with Jensen?"

"Fine, I guess? Why do you ask?"

Her mother turned back and focused on the ham, "Oh, no reason. Just curious is all."

"Mhmm. I know that face, Mom. That's the face you and Dad both gave me when my last boyfriend and I started dating," YN crossed her arms.

"I was just making sure everything was going well, honey. That you're happy. And maybe Jensen-"

"Could be the guy I'm going to marry?"

Tracey pointed at her, "Hey now, I never said that."

"But you implied it."

A silence fell between the two. Then a sigh escaped YN and her mother's mouths simultaneously.

"Listen, Mom. I really like Jensen. So I'm beginning you to just not say anything about a future. I want this to work, I really do. But it won't if you get involved like you always do," YN walked over to her mother, "I love you. Please just let this be a normal Christmas."

Her mother nodded, "I will honey. Go ahead and finish setting the table then go get everyone, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

YN quickly set everything they needed on the table, including the food, before she walked back into the living room.

And the sight in front of her was a picture worth a thousand words.

Jensen, James, Riggen, and Elijah were all playing a video game together. The smile on Jensen's face made YN feel so happy. He finally had relaxed and was having a good time with her family. Emily and Teresa had finally come downstairs as well and joined the family.

Jensen looked up when he saw YN standing in the room, "Hi, YN. What's up?"

"Mom sent me in to get everyone. Lunch is ready."

Just then Jensen threw his hands in the air and cheered, "Yes! Victory is mine!"

"No fair," Elijah yelled, "This is why I never play Rainbow Road."

"Elijah," Teresa snapped, "Mind your manners, mister."

He sulked, "Sorry, Mom."

YN walked up to her nephew, "Don't worry, kiddo. One day you'll be able to take the Mario Kart crown."

"I thought you have the crown," Riggen raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, I do. But you know," she kissed Jensen, "Every queen needs a king."

Her brother and nephew made grossed out noises at YN and Jensen as he father laughed at the boys.

After turning off the game, everyone left the living room and walked into the kitchen for lunch. They took their places around the table, of course Jensen and YN sat next to each other, and began to prepare their plates with food.

As Jensen was reaching for a bread roll, he whispered to YN, "I'm sorry I was so anxious about coming here. You're family is so nice and welcoming."

"I told you not to worry," she whispered back, "I already knew they loved you. Now if we can get through lunch without my parents poking at our relationship, it'll be a miracle."

He gave her a confused look, "How do you mean?"

"Oh, Jensen?" YN's mother spoke.

He turned to her, "Yes, ma'am?"

"I was just curious," she began, "Are you planning on...moving forward with YN?"

YN mentally face palmed as she closed her eyes and sat back. Jensen looked at her, understanding what she meant now.

He cleared his throat, "By moving forward you mean what exactly?"

"Well, marriage of course! Big wedding, honeymoon, grandkids. The whole thing," YN's mother said enthusiastically.

Jensen felt the color drain from his face, "I, uh-"

"You do see a future with my daughter," YN's father interrupted sternly, "Don't you, son?"

"Exactly! James, you get it," YN's mother turned back to Jensen, "Maybe by next Christmas there will be a ring on her finger or at least one grandkid."

Jensen sat there wide eyed while YN covered her face and shook her head. She felt him nudge her and she looked up.

"Help me," he spoke quietly and desperately.

YN took a breath and sighed, "Welcome to my family, Ackles."

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

Masterlist

My Cherry Blossoms

@mlovesstories​ @smollestbean-2​ @kitwithnokat​​

​​​@idksupernatural​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @desiredposion​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @thevelvetseries​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @let-me-luve-you​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@obsessedwithfandomsx​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mangueweaschester​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starchildwild​​​​​​​​​​​​ @deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​​​​​​​​​​ @unicornmadness2444​​​​​​​​​​​​​

​​​​@emery--nicole--morrison​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @spnfamily-j2​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @akshi8278​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @avocadogirl216​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@imthedoctorlove​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @wecantgiggleitsafandom

[jimjamthehorrorman]

the chunky bubba request was so good! could i also maybe request some nsfw for chunky bubba & thomas (separately obvs) thanks hon!

I NEARLY lost this one in the pile of other things going on! Sorry for the delay!

Bubba Sawyer (1974 Texas Chainsaw Massacre-Leatherface)

He's a big boy and new to the game so he's eager to learn. He has always had pretty or handsome victims but never worked on any urges that fell upon him. You are the one who was the willing victim of a cannibal.

When you're cuddling he usually keeps a pair of lounge pants on over his boxers, even in this hot Texas weather. He is very self conscious and had never really wanted to show you under his shirt, but as the days grew hotter he had to take it off eventually.

When you tell him you're in "The Mood", he is puzzled at first and then OVERLY enthusiastic. He won't say it, but you can see in his eyes an air of "I'M READY, C'MON, LET'S DO THIS!" the most determined you've seen him in a LONG time!

He slips his mask off, setting it on a stand atop the dresser. He looks at himself in the vanity mirror, brushing his messy hair out of his eyes with his fingers. He winks at you before making his way over to the bed.

He lay back on the bed, watching adamantly as you strip down. As the shirt slips off onto the floor, you notice the tent in his pants.

"We haven't even started the fun part, Bubba"

He's smiling ear to ear, eagerly twiddling his thumbs and stretching out his legs, trying to make comfortable his trapped bulge.

When your underwear finally go, he squeezed his thighs together, pulling his knees in and tucking them close to his belly and biting his lip. He's terribly aroused and the anticipation is getting to him.

As you climb in the bed, pulling his pants off, he sighs. What a relief it is to him to finally let his member free. You start to slip his boxers off and he makes a noise as though he's uneasy. Perhaps you're moving too fast.

Laying your head on his belly and looking up at him, he smiles down at you, blushing a deep crimson. He's new and eager, but he's still anxious. How can you ease the tension?

You blow on his belly, making a goofy fart noise. He starts laughing. A hearty Texan man's laugh hits you like a freight train.

"It doesn't have to be scary, Bubba. We can have fun too!"

He looks much happier. All the expectations he thought you'd be looking for seem to leave his mind like a weight off his shoulders.

As you settle yourself in his arms, straddling his waist you place small kisses on his cheeks, leading to a long, sloppy make out session.

You begin to trail kisses down his neck, much to his pleasure. Bubba pants hard, his body arching toward you with every soft touch. He lets out a whimper and you feel the heat in his chest and underwear below you.

You turn around and slip his underwear off, a thick and decent sized member stiff in your hands. As you begin to palm at his member each touch is a new sensation for Bubba.

He whines softly, lifting his hips off the bed to meet your touch. The soft whining escalates to a series of grunts and moans. Before you can go too far he sits up abruptly.

"Bubba is everything okay?"

He nods, his chest and face are redder than a strawberry as he lifts you back onto his lap, pushing his member up against you, not sure where to go but going for it.

You readjust yourself on top of him. His tip just barely at your entrance.

"Are you ready?"

He nods so quickly he could get whiplash and you begin to press gentle kisses against his panting lips as you place pressure on him. He wraps his arms around you with a yelp, he's holding on tight like a hug as you descend onto him. Thick and hot as it enters you, you shudder going down, letting out a loud moan.

He jumps a bit worried he's hurt you, only forcing himself further into you, moaning softly himself. His eyes full of love and adoration for you as he gently bucks his hips upward, head on your shoulder.

"Oh Bubba, you're doing so so good, such a good job!"

Oh how he loves your praise, it only makes him buck more, pushing in deep enough to touch your g spot but not enough to really hit it.

"You won't hurt me, Bubba. You can go at your own pace, I'll catch up!"

That's what he wanted to hear. This feeling has been bottled up inside of him for years, and when it comes to you on top of him, in his embrace and his only real love, he goes all-out. He sits up, flipping you both over and he's on top. He's in control for the first time in his life and it's all because the one he loves trusts him.

He carefully lays a pillow beneath your head and back to give you some support as he wraps your legs around his waist and leans into you. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he begins to enter you once again. He pushes HARD, not enough to hurt you but enough to get as far as he can inside you. He's practically lifted you off the bed trying to get comfortable for you, trying his best to keep his weight off of you.

His frustration leads to him lifting you up and bucking into you. Gripping your rear and pushing straight up reaching depths you previously thought impossible. The pressure built up in yourself about to release, your legs tingling from this all too new sensation.

His moans heavy in your ear as he pulls you in close. As yours get louder, his follow shortly behind. You can't hold it anymore.

"Bubba I'm going to-"

He nods, pushing as hard as he has this entire night. Your body releases, cumming as he does, filling you with his own.

He huffs and lay back, he's completely spent his energy but he's got such a look of pure bliss on his face as he reaches out for you to come to him.

He pulls you in for a kiss, holding you tight and making sure you're alright. He kisses your cheek and holds you tight on his belly and chest. For now, he just wants to cuddle and hold you. Later, he'll tend to the bruises on your rear.

~~~

Thomas Brown Hewitt (2003/06 Texas Chainsaw Massacre - The Beginning-)

Thomas isn't new to self pleasure, hell he lives with Hoyt. You know that dirty old man had naughty magazines and films laying around.

The heat that lie between you and Thomas was different. You're a human being and he feels far different for you than some naked floozy on an old magazine. He actually LOVES you.

After a long day at the farm, Thomas comes upstairs and climbs in the shower, discarding his mask in his side table and his clothes on the floor.

When you see the clothes you know, tonight's the night. He's gonna be all cleaned up and smelling fresh and better yet, in a towel. You climb on the bed and strip down to nothing, climbing under the covers in his cool room.

Thomas walks in, flipping on the light to see you bundled up in his bed. He smiles at you, brushing his long hair out of his face. He reaches for a pair of boxers when you blurt out:

"You won't need those tonight."

He blushes, he knows what he's fantasizing of and he's not sure if it's reality or not until he closes the door behind him and you stand in front of him, nude.

He gazes over you, taking in every inch of your body visually. He breathes shakily, getting ahead of himself.

You cut to the chase, kissing him hard and throwing his towel to the floor. He moans softly at the touch of your hand on his chest and the grip on his long member. This was a surprise to him and he's been waiting for this moment.

He picks you up-still locked at the lips- and throws you onto the bed, the soft pillows catching your landing. He climbs on top of you and spreads your legs wide, his tongue prepping his entrance to come, but tasting you. He takes his time, your moans only making him more eager and excited. He finally climbs up the bed, grabbing the pillows behind your head and slamming himself into you without warning. You let out a loud moan that only fuels his desires. Your body was ready, but you were surprised. You feel filled to the brim with him and only more to come. His still-wet hair dripping onto your body as the steam from the shower rolls off of him. The warmth of his body against yours as he thrusts is insane against the cold sheets and air conditioning.

His kisses brim your ever moaning mouth, the louder you get the faster he gets until you're practically screaming. (Thank god no one's home.)

He sits up, a tight grip on your thighs as he slows down, thrusting hard and deep until you scream. You're so close and his grunts and moans are only readying you further, his hands squeezing your thighs hard as he reaches your g-spot. The tension your body had is replaced by a feeling of warmth and toes curling when you finally finish, an absolutely blissful feeling in all this rough man's idea of love.

He's not done yet, but he's very close. He flips your legs up on his shoulders, he's determined to finish, relentlessly thrusting and speeding up as he gets closer. He lets out a LOUD moan, followed by small gasps as he cums, both inside of you and on your stomach.

He climbs up beside you, wrapping you in his arms and embracing you. He gives you multiple small kisses before throwing the blanket on top of you both and laying your head on his massive chest...

Aaaaaaaand he's asleep. He snores softly and he's smiling even in slumber. You can't be mad, he really put a lot into this. When he wakes up, maybe you could go for round 2... or 3... or 6.

We won't judge you 💕😉

~~~

HOPE YOU ENJOY!

[huntertales]

Part Two: I Just Want To Be Good. (The Great Escapist S08E21)

Episode Summary: When Sam, Dean and the reader receive a distressing video message from Kevin Tran, they set about trying to uncover the third trial. The boys and the reader make a discovery that sends them to a casino in Colorado, to find a mysterious recluse who may be able to fill in the holes in Kevin’s research. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,949.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

The path to finding someone who could translate a demon tablet you didn’t even have was growing colder with each passing day. Kevin was the only one who knew where it was, and somehow he ended up dead. All the prophets who were in line after him were still going on with their daily lives. You were at a near dead end, but you had one more shot at figuring out what the final trial was before you threw in the towel for good. It was an ambitious move, and probably even a little bit stupid, to track down this Metatron guy. He was the messenger of God who came in contact with this Native American tribe centuries back. It was a long shot, but you didn’t have many left. You were hoping the Two Rivers hotel might have some answers to your questions. 

You followed behind the boys when all of you headed into the casino and hotel, your eyes wandering over the many machines with their flashing lights and noises, enticing anyone who dare take a chance at gambling away their money. For a place like this you were guessing to see old folks gambling away their retirement fund. Maybe even a few people enjoying themselves with a weekend away. But the place was like a ghost town, not even an employee was around to greet the three of you. Dean hit the bell placed conveniently on the counter, hoping it might draw some attention. Sam waited beside his brother, casually glancing around to see if there was any other guests besides the three of you. 

"Morning. Hi. Uh, we'd like a room?" Dean gave whom he presumed was the hotel manager a smile when he saw him emerge from the back office to see who was ringing the bell. The offer for business didn’t seem to make the manager move, he just kept staring at Dean, causing the older Winchester to be more specific. "Here, please." 

You found yourself drifting away when you became curious about seeing the rest of the hotel, wondering what else there might be to do here besides playing a few slot machines. When you noticed a door that lead into another room, you began walking forward to it. You winced slightly in annoyance when you noticed a buzzing sound that you couldn’t describe. It was hard to tell if it was coming from the other room, or your ears were starting to ring. You poked a finger into the canal in some kind of attempt to make it go away, but it only got worse with each step you took away from the boys. It got louder and louder to the point where it felt like white noise. 

For a second you felt like you were in your own world from what happened next. You blinked a few times when you noticed your vision was starting to go blurry, making the game room you spotted hard to see. And the damn ringing was getting louder. You were experiencing something you've never quite felt before. You quickly turned around in your spot and took a step towards the boys, and just like that, suddenly the noise disappeared and you could see just fine again. You furrowed your brow slightly from what just happened. 

“Did you guys hear that?” You asked them, wondering 

"Hear what?" Dean asked you. He listened for any odd sound other than the slot machines and birds chirping outside, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. He looked over at the manager and gave him a friendly smile, explaining your behavior. "She has the flu."

The manager barely showed any changes in his facial expressions, his brow furrowed together at your behavior, causing Dean to awkwardly chuckle and smile once again. When the man still wouldn't even crack the slightest of emotions, Dean rushed out a forged signature and booked it out of there. Dean wasted no time getting out of the lobby and onto one of the double beds.He couldn't stand another night of sleeping next to you with you being like this, your skin hot to the touch. You laid down after complaining that you were thirsty, Sam took on the task of grabbing you a drink while Dean mentioned something about checking around the place. You waved him off when he asked his brother if he was okay with watching you for a few minutes.

Sam watched you as downed a glass of water in mere seconds, acting like a woman dying of thirst before asking for another one. With the fever running through your body, you were bound to be dehydrated. He got up and went to the bathroom sink to get you another. You smiled and tried to somehow take a sip while lying on your side on the bed farthest from the door. The cold water felt amazing down your throat. All though you were hot to the touch, you felt awfully cold. And suddenly so tired. Maybe you were getting the flu. Because you were feeling weird lately. It was different when you were back at the bunker, but you were discovering that your body was feeling more unusual, almost like you were moving in a fog.

“Regular tourist mecca we got here.” You turned your head to the door when you heard it open to see that Dean was back from his sweep around the hotel. “We’re the only guests in this whole place. Last entry in the registry was in ‘06.”

“Mmm. Anyone else getting ‘Psycho’ vibes?” You cracked a joke that you thought wasn’t even the slightest bit funny, but it was enough to make you smile. You tried to put the empty glass on the nightstand, too tired to sit up and make it easier on yourself, only your attempt ended with you missing and accidentally dropping it to the floor a quiet thud, the carpet managed to save it from breaking. Your smile grew wider at your clumsiness and rested your head back into the pillow, you placed an arm over your face, trying to block out the sun peeking out from the blinds. “Hey, Dean, you remember when uh… when John and my mom took us to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, on that pack-mule ride?”

“The what?” Dean asked you, not sure where this conversation came from. 

“And you’re, uh…your mule kept farting, just—letting go, like, gale force?” You weren’t the one to laugh like a school kid at jokes like that. But the memory made you let out a series of laughs that made the boys look at you with an odd expression.

“Y/N, you were like four years old.” Dean said. “I barely remember that.”

You giggled to yourself and turned your head to look at Sam, “Your brother rode a farty donkey.”

“Okay. Uh, since Sam has some background on this kind of stuff, him and I are gonna check out the Two Rivers Tribal Museum and Trading Post.” Dean said, telling you the plan.

“Yeah, yeah! I’m gonna…I’m gonna—“ You were finding it hard for you to sit up on your own, for a second, it seemed like you forgot you were almost six months pregnant with a belly that was far past being a small bump like you remembered. You got yourself up and pointed a finger at the boys to tell tell them what you were going to do while they were gone. “I’m gonna follow the hotel manager. D-Dr. Scowley-scowl. He’s like a villain from Scooby-Doo.”

“No, hey, uh, how about no?” Sam put a stop to your plans, watching as you tried to gather some energy to stand on your feet. You continued to sit on the eye of the bed, trying to force your eyes to stay open to keep this conversation going. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah,” You mumbled with no resistance at all. “I can do that too.”

And with that, you fell back to the bed, suddenly losing consciousness a little too quickly. When the boys made sure you were still breathing, they made their way out of the room to conduct some of their own research while you to some much needed rest. 

+ + +

You weren’t sure how long you had been sleeping for after your head hit the pillow and lost consciousness in record time. From the way your body was feeling and the thin layer of sweat covering every inch of you, you took a wild guess that it was a while. You groaned softly when you tried to get yourself up into a sitting position, moving slow as possible, not sure why your body aches so much. You looked around the room to see if the boys had returned, but you were still alone. The room was quiet for the most part considering there hadn’t been any other guests since ‘06. You thought that’s what Dean said. Maybe you didn’t hear him right. 

You had been pretty out of it when you got settled into the room, talking about some family trip you took with the Winchester’s decades ago when you were still in each other’s lives. You forgot about it until just recently. The memory was crystal clear in your head, like it happened just the other day. If you had to think about...things had never felt so much clearer. You slowly got up to your feet thinking you just needed to stretch your legs from sleeping in such a stiff position. Maybe even see what the hotel manager was up to. You did mention something to the boys about tailing him to see what he was up to. It was odd enough this place wasn’t crawling with at least a few drifters. Something weird was definitely going on here.

Somehow you were able to get yourself to the door and opened it just enough for you to stumble your way out into the hallway, not taking into consideration how your appearance must look at the moment. There was no doubt in your mind your hair was a mess, your skin felt clammy and sweaty. Not to mention you had a sickly color to your skin. You felt like how you looked right at this moment. But every instinct was telling you to get off your ass and do your job. 

You moved at a gruelingly slow pace, making sure to steady your hand against the wall to keep yourself from falling and the other to block out the extremely bright florescent light. You stumbled your way down the hall and to the corner, wondering the hell the manager was, not taking into consideration you really shouldn’t have been out in the open like this. You took a few steps down the hall until you heard it again...that ringing you noticed when you checked in. This time, it was louder than before. Everything felt off. 

The hallway you stood down of suddenly appeared like it was spinning around you, the ground beneath your feet felt like it disappeared. You couldn’t hear your heavy or even anything else, all you could concentrate on was that chiming noise ringing loudly in your ears. For a second you were caught up in the rush of feeling, not realizing the manager was closer than you thought. Quick as the dizzy spell came, it vanished right after you saw the elevator doors slowly opened, giving you a small window to find a hiding spot. 

You managed to press your backside against the nearest door’s alcove just as the manager stepped off the elevator, pushing something that sounded like a cart from the squeaky wheel that echoed down the hall. You slowly peeked your head out from the corner to see he was crouched down on the ground with his back towards you, giving you a chance to see what he was doing. You noticed he was stacking delivery boxes on top of at least a dozen others. You furrowed your brow slightly in confusion. Why the hell was he delivering packages? There wasn’t anyone else here besides you and the boys. Maybe the previous guests before you checked in and loved the place so much they never wanted to leave. 

When you saw the manager push the cart away and back to the elevator without seeing you, you began moving when you heard the ding of the doors closed shut. You slowly made your way over to the hoard of boxes, wanting to know what was in there. You grabbed one of them to read the mailing address, only to discover it was the same as the hotel’s. All these boxes had to be filled with something important. You ripped open the box to see what was inside. What you discovered was...not what you expected. 

Books. At least a half dozen of them stacked neatly inside. You picked up a hardcover that was a pretty pale blue with silver swirled details engraved into the cover. You read the title, “Oliver Twist” by Charles Dickerson. A classic you remembered reading in English class years back for an essay. Then was more, books of all kinds, from different genres to different decades published. Classics. Mysteries. Self help books to quit smoking. You put them back where you found them, wondering why the hell the manger was dropping them off in another room. That’s when it hit you. 

What do writes love more than creating their own work? Reading other adventures. You pushed yourself back up to your feet and headed to your own room quickly as your body would let you. You didn’t know why you figured it out sooner. He was under your nose the entire time, hiding in plain sight. And yet hidden away from the world, probably spent centuries reading. An introvert’s dream to spend out their days. Their own company fictional beings. Endless worlds that weren’t their own. 

You shut the door behind you and pulled out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts until you found Dean’s number. You blinked a few times to get your eyes to focus when you noticed your vision was starting to grow blurry again. You managed to hit the send button and heard the first ring before you felt yourself starting to get light headed, to the point where you were starting to get nervous you might fall. 

You took a few steps to make it over to the bed closest to you in some kind of attempt to sit down before that could happen. You felt your knees give out on you could make it there, causing your body to stumble to the floor and your phone mere inches from your grip. You didn’t hear the sound of Dean’s voice when he picked up on the second ring.

+ + +

All you remembered before passing out on the hotel room floor was that you were in the middle of trying to make a phone call to Dean after the discovery you made. It was too important not to wait on. You managed to make it back to the room and dialed his number before you found yourself losing consciousness, probably from the fever that was some kind of effect from doing these trials. Everything felt blurry, like you were in a fever dream. During the time you were passed out for a short while from the time the boys discovered you and when you woke up you were bombarded with all sorts of memories you either forgot or compressed down. Things about who you used to be, and the horrible things you did. 

When you finally came back into consciousness you weren’t exactly sure where you were for a split second. Your senses started to pick up on the fact that you felt like you were floating in water, freezing cold from what it felt like. You suddenly realized your lungs were starting to burn, the familiar sensation that made you start to panic. You felt your brain starting to scream for air as you felt your arms suddenly shoot up, feeling for a surface you could grab a hold onto. You grabbed each side of the tub you were lying in and quickly pulled yourself out of the ice cold water, your body freezing cold to the bone and your lungs burning for the need of air. When you finally managed to get yourself up into a sitting position, you quickly realized you were in a bathtub full of ice cold water. 

You inhaled a wheezing breath before the next few came out in short and quick pants from the temperature your body wasn’t used to. You looked up to see the boys were standing above you, the ones who were responsible for putting you here in the first place. You felt your teeth starting to chatter and your body shaking from how freezing you were, you needed to get out of here before you got hypothermia. You slapped away Dean’s hand when he tried to help you out of the tub so you wouldn’t risk the chance of slipping and hurting yourself.

“Get off!” You shouted at him, your voice coming out shaky as you managed to push yourself up to your feet and stumble your way of the tub, only to make yourself feel worse at the even colder feeling room. You stood in the middle of the bathroom with your clothes soaked to your body and your entire body violently shaking. “What the hell?! God!” 

“Take it easy.” Dean told you. You tightly crossed your arms around your chest to try and warm yourself up before you could get anymore freezing. Sam grabbed a towel to wrap around your body to start warming you up best as he could. “We found you on the floor, passed out. Your temperature was a hundred and seven. I had to force it down or you were toast.” 

“He’s here, guys. Metatron is here.” You stuttered out the news you wanted to tell them over the phone before you passed out. Sam momentarily stopped grabbing another towel to try and help warm you up from the words he heard come out of your mouth. Both of the boys gave you a confused expression. “I know it. I can feel it.” 

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked. 

“All I know is that I’m connected to it somehow.” You tried to explain it as best as you could to them, figuring it explained the ringing in your ears and the dizzy spells that you had earlier. 

“What, like you got a link to him, like a prophet?” Dean went on with his questions, wondering what the hell you were talking about. 

“I don’t know! I just know he’s here.” You said. “Metatron is here.” 

“Okay. Where?” Dean decided to amuse this idea of yours, wondering if you were still delirious from the fever you had earlier today.

“I can show you. I can show you.” You muttered to them, sounding a little bit worrisome as you started to get a look in your eye. “The manager—he was delivering books to him.”  

“Books?” Dean repeated what you just said. 

“Books. Hardcovers, paperbacks, novels—books.” You practically spelled it out for them, trying to make them understand the point you had figured it out on your own. 

The boys took a few seconds before you realized why the books were such a factor into figuring out that it was Metatron the entire time, stories were something he would have enjoyed. You shrugged off the towel and wasted no time at all changing into a new set of clothes, wanting to hunt down and have a talk with the angel yourself. The boys kept insisting that you should have kept it easy and rest, but you shrugged off their concerns, saying that you were perfectly fine. Your stumbling around and odd behavior before wasn't exactly proving you were in good shape to keep on going like how you wanted. 

You managed to get dressed and make your way out the door with the boys following right after you in some kind of fear that you might fall again and hurt yourself this time. You took your time getting out into the hall again, steadying yourself on the wall while Sam kept his arm stretched out just enough to catch you if you were to take a tumble, Dean shut the door behind him and began following behind you as you slowly made your way down the hall to the room you were trying to show them that supposedly belonged to this angel. 

“I should be taking you to the E.R.” Dean said, sharing his concern for your wellbeing. 

“They can’t do anything for me. I have to get worse before I can get better.” You found yourself mumbling the last sentence to yourself, but Sam managed to catch your rambling. “You know, I’ve been remembering things—little things so clearly.”

“What?” Dean asked you. “Donkey rides?”

“You used to read to me, when you were still learning how to, from this really old Grimm's fairy tale book. My favorite one used to be 'Little Red Riding Hood.' You read it so much that I'm pretty sure you had it memorized. You would always make up these voices for all the characters. You always told me that you were the hunter. And I was Red.” You found yourself reminiscing on a memory from times when things were much simpler, when you still lived in Lawrence and the boys were in your lives. You and Dean shared a small moment of childhood innocence that was long lost from the years. Until you started to remember all of it. “I thought I was for a long, long time. Little Red Riding Hood, I mean.” 

You steadied one hand on the wall as you kept on walking with the boys following behind you, for a second you wondered why you were saying any of this. But another part of you felt like you needed to get the past off your chest. "I used to be obsessed with that stupid book. You know that? I forced my mom to read me a story from it for the first year when I moved to Y/H/S. It was the only thing that would help me fall asleep. Mostly it was the ones where the princess or some pretty damsel was cursed. They had something wrong with them. I thought I was one of them, too. How stupid was that?” 

You found yourself smiling at the things that were coming out of your mouth, finding your childhood innocence on things so stupid. “Yeah. It’s normal for little girls to believe in fairy tales. Happy endings and Prince Charming. But that wasn’t it. Things happened to me that nobody could explain. I thought it was easier to believe that someone cursed me. And that one day it was all going to disappear. I didn’t know what was really wrong…” You felt a lump form in your throat at the clear memories flooding back to you, things you tried so hard to forget. “I should’ve.”

You used to hear voices. See things nobody else could. And have blackouts of rage that you didn’t even remember doing. All of this was things turned into a blurry memory before you subconsciously buried deep down inside of you. Every trace of hints that you were a monster were hidden from daylight for long as possible. You settled into a safe and normal lifestyle your mother sold her soul for. Maybe she knew the entire time what kind of monster she made. She tried her hardest to keep it chained up and brainwashed you into keeping away from the very thing that brought you into this world. But one could only do so much beyond the grave. 

When you’re a kid, you’re taught the things that go bump in the night were just figments of your imagination. Characters in a story that was made up by someone to scare little kids. But kids have the mindset to believe these things. Because at that age anything is possible. For a short time before society and adulthood tricks us into thinking, you know about the evil in the world. And yet you’re still innocent enough to believe there is good as well. When you grew up you learned the truth. But the part of optimism where you get a happy ending dies. You had to take off your rose colored glasses and see the world for what it was. The monster you always were. 

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” Sam asked you, wanting to make sense of all the things that were coming out of your mouth. 

You stopped walking and stood there for a second with your hand pressed against the wall. You slowly turned around in your spot to face the boys to continue on with what you were saying. “I thought for the longest time I was Little Red Riding Hood, walking through life and being tricked by monsters who pretended to be my friend. Deep down. I thought I was good. But I wasn’t. I was never...clean.” The way your lips twitched at the word, it made it seem like you were saying a vile thing. “I was the wolf hiding in plain sight. I lied to you guys. I lied to myself. For the longest time I tricked people into thinking I was capable of making good decisions. But everything I touched turned to crap. I was tainted. Evil.”

You felt your lips twitching into what looked like a smile, but your eyes told a different story from how you were feeling at the moment. The boys had felt their fair share of emotions over the years, Sam had empathized with your pain about feeling unclean. At the end of all of it, you weren’t to blame for how you turned out. “Y/N, it’s not your fault.” 

“For the longest time I thought it was. I blamed myself for the horrible things that happened. Sam dying. You going to hell. Lucifer being set free. The apocalypse. Everything could have been avoided if I made different decisions. I mean, knowing that I was a half-demon didn't really bother me. I could control her. I did my entire life. You know what really hurts the most?” You asked them, but not giving them a second to take a guess. They would never get it.” “It’s the fact that Lucifer made me. The most evil thing out there created me. I felt so alone. Isolated.” 

“You’re not alone, Y/N.” Sam reassured you. He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, hoping a touch would break you out of this head space. “You never were.”

“I’m the only of my kind. And there was no changing that. But I don’t feel like that anymore. Because these trials..." You felt yourself inhaling a deep breath, taking a pause between what you were about to say next. The look on your face from the things you knew for the future made you seem like you were suddenly at ease, despite all the things you admitted to just a few minutes earlier. A sense of hope followed after, it bloomed in your chest from the three words that followed after. "they're purifying us." 

Dean felt himself being taken aback from the last word that slipped out from your mouth. He found himself standing there for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what you meant by that. Even though in the back of his mind he knew the answer, he wanted to hear it out of your mouth. The different answer than he suspected. You had been acting strange since you started the trials, and you were only getting worse. He watched as you made it down the hall and to the last door on the right. You stood there for a moment, trying to find something that was no longer there. 

“They were here, the books, the boxes!” You pointed at the empty ground that no longer had the things you seen earlier today. Your voice was growing frustrated at what was happening. All of this was making you look like you were going crazy. “They—They’re gone.”  

What you didn’t discover was the fact that room three sixty-six was opened just the slightest to anyone who dared walk inside. Dean took it upon himself to push open it wider and took a look inside to the hotel room you claimed belonged to Metatron. He stepped inside first to see the place was empty, you followed after and Sam trailed behind, discovering a collection of books that must have taken decades. You felt your anger slowly subsiding when you discovered the stock pile of books all around you. Piles that were taller than you, neatly stacked on tables. You read every title you could as you passed by, wondering to yourself if they had all been read. 

The more you traveled into the place, the more you discovered thousands upon thousands of books from what it felt like. All neatly packed together on the floor and shelves. Someone was a bit of a bookworm. You and the boys traveled farther into the hotel, trying to find this angel you had traveled all the way here to see, not taking into consideration he might have been one step ahead of you. You felt your gaze going straight forward when you felt someone’s grip around your arm tug you back slightly, stopping you from walking into the barrel of a shotgun. 

[Next Part]

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[fightmejamie]

‘The fuck we’re not exclusive’

Here we go, my first little bit of fiction. Please note, I was aggressively bullied into uploading this.

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

You twisted your key in the lock and pushed open the heavy door. Tyler had given you a key so you could come and go and you pleased, you basically lived there anyway. You strolled through the foyer and were greeted by an excited Gerry and Marshall.

‘Y/N, I’m in the kitchen,’ you heard echo through the room.

Tyler had obviously heard you come in, especially with the pups scrambling around you. Walking into the kitchen, Tyler was sitting at the island, his face shadowed by his snapback but you could tell something was bothering him.

‘What’s wrong?’, you asked Tyler as you bent down to give some attention to Cash who was laying down at Tyler’s feet.

‘We need to talk.’

You could feel your blood go cold. Even though you and Tyler had been, quote unquote, ‘hanging’ out, you had never discussed where each other stood. This was definitely a relationship talk. You sat down beside him and sheepishly smiled at him, trying desperately not to jump to any conclusions.

Tyler ran his hand across his beard as he nervously started flicking his tongue around his mouth.

‘Seriously, what happened?, you place your hand on his and you notice Tyler’s gaze locking on the entanglement of your hands.

‘I did something really stupid,’ his eyes flashed up to yours trying to read an expression.

‘Normal Stupid or Tyler Stupid,’ you run your hands through his hair, tucking a little curl behind his ear.

‘No, like you may not like me anymore stupid.’ He grabbed your hand and pulled it down. He turned his body to line up with yours before taking a deep breath.

‘I slept with someone when I was in Nashville.’ You could see him trying to study your face for a reaction.

‘That’s okay,’ you slightly furrowed your brow. Of course, you were kind of upset, but you knew Tyler’s history. You knew you’d never discussed anything. You were purely friends who sometimes ended up in each other’s beds.

‘We’re not exclusive anyway,’ you lifted your hand and followed your finger against Tyler’s jaw.

‘The fuck we’re not exclusive,’ Tyler leapt from his seat shocking Cash who was quietly snoring beneath him.

You sat frozen in disbelief. How did you suddenly become the bad guy in this conversation.

‘Hold on, no. You aren’t about to get mad at me after admitting that you SLEPT WITH SOMEONE ELSE.’ You stood up and followed him into the sitting room. Tyler was pacing the room, Gerry by his side trying to match his strides.

You watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists, murmuring to himself before he stopped and stood facing you across the room.

‘Have you been sleeping with someone else,’ his voiced cracked. Tyler rarely cried, he rarely showed this sensitive side of him. This side of Tyler had taken you aback and you weren’t sure how to handle the oncoming situation.

‘No,’ you shook your head and stayed frozen beside the couch. You didn’t dare move close to him when he was so emotionally exposed.

He didn’t move, his eyes just darted around your face, searching for answers.

‘I haven’t been with anyone else Tyler, we all know I don’t like other people enough,’ it was a common attribute you both had, making jokes when serious discussions were happening.

Tyler expression didn’t change, it was surreal seeing such a stoic Tyler.

‘Then why did you think I would.’

You took a deep breath, this was not going to end well.

‘Because you’re Tyler Seguin. You’ve never had a proper long term relationship. We’ve gone out and I’ve actively seen you flirt with other woman. Jeez, Tyler I know you have several girls on rotation at a time. I’m not angry. I knew what I was getting myself into...’

You inhale as much as you could, bracing yourself for what was about to come out of your mouth next.

‘... but I don’t think it’s fair that you expected me to act different than you would, or to be fair, are.’

You could see Tyler’s heart break in two, you could see his eyes glass over with tears.

‘Is that what you really think?’ The sadness in Tyler’s face was beginning to change into anger. He took a step towards you.

‘No,’ you held your hand up to him. You knew Tyler would never do anything to you but you needed to stand your ground.

‘You don’t get to make me come over to your house in a panic, tell me you’ve slept with someone else and then get angry at me for expecting it. You don’t get to be the victim here.’

Marshall began whimpering in the corner, loud noises always made him more anxious. You bent down and began to calm Marshall. Right now, you didn’t really care what Tyler had to say and to be honest, it gave you a chance to choke back the tears that were forming. Marshall’s deep brown eyes glared up to yours wanting confirmation that he was safe. You rubbed behind his ears, desperately trying to stifle your sadness.

‘Y/N, I’m sorry. You’re right. About everything,’ Tyler placed his hand on your shoulder and lightly massages your neck. ‘It’s a reflex I guess, throw the blame on someone else. Then it’s their issue, not mine.’

You turned your attention around to Tyler. At the end of the day, you wanted to be with him. Sure it started off as a fun adventure, to hook up with a NHL player, but there was something about the two of you together. You couldn’t imagine letting someone else blow on your stomach to sound like a fart, only to blame it on Gerry. Or to let someone run their fingertips along the inside of your palm while watching TV.

‘Tyler, you know how I feel about you. Or I feel like you should,’ his hand still hadn’t left your skin.

‘I didn’t think I had to tell you how I felt,’ a sly smile spread across Tyler’s face. You knew that smile well, it was his smile that got him out of most trouble.

You picked up Tyler’s hand and gently dropped it to his side.

‘You need to make a decision,’ you could feel your breath get heavy. ‘What are we?’

You cringed at the words that came out of your mouth. Tyler put his hands around your waist and pulled you close.

‘I want this, I want to give this a good, proper try. I’m pretty sure, like 99% sure I’m in love with you,’ his lips curled into the wide grin you knew so well.

You smile back before pulling your hand back and making contact with the side of his face.

‘Then don’t sleep with other girls,’ you pull away and try to walk away from him.

Tyler catches your wrist and you spin back into his chest. His grin had not dissipated even after you slapped him across the face.

‘That was the reaction I expected,’ he looped his arms around your back and pulled you close.

‘What? As your girlfriend,’ you lovingly mocked.

‘Ew, that does sound weird,’ Tyler joked back as he scrunched up his nose, ‘can’t you just be my Y/N? But I think I still want you to call me your boyfriend. Or Daddy.’

You playfully pushed your body against his, making him loosen the grip around your back.

‘For fuck sake, you always ruin nice moments,’ you laugh.

‘It’s a skill, what can I say.’

[silverliningslurk]

Looking Up

A pinch hit I wrote for @harutobirbi for the HQSSII! I really hope you like it, and I’m very sorry it’s late. It ended up longer and more troublesome than expected. 

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei/Kageyama Tobio Word count: 6k Rating: Teen for swearing Potential Trigger Warnings: None.  Summary: There’s a mistake with the futons during a camp, and via a ridiculous series of stupid events, Kei is left sharing with Kageyama. This can only go badly. Right? 

You can read it on AO3 here!  There’s an extra tidbit I wrote that didn’t quite fit on AO3 too, tumblr formatting doesn’t really work for that...

Kei feels a sense of impending doom as soon as they are led into a room full of futons, and one of the faculty gives them an apologetic look as she turns to face them. He feels it, completely, in every one of his bones, when she opens her mouth. He doesn't know why. Maybe it's just having seen those looks before, usually off his mother when she announces they're spending New Year at his aunt's place. Never fun. 

"So, I do apologise, but, you see, we made a slight miscalculation on the number of futons we would need, another member of staff saw the name 'Miya' twice and assumed it was a typographical error, and so, you see..." She mumbles, fumbling around with her hands like there is an easy solution to be found there, her red face indicating that perhaps she was indeed that staff member. Kei raises an eyebrow, as do most of the room. They're all tired, and they just want to go to sleep. "Is there a possibility, at all, that perhaps, two of you could maybe share? Only for one night, and we shall do our very best to rectify this situation tomorrow, I understand this is difficult, but I don't believe there are any extras within reasonable distance, you see..." 

They all stare at her, puzzled. It's not exactly the first thing they expected her to say; the sense of imminent disaster builds, although Kei will be the very last person to volunteer to share. 

Getting even more flustered, she flaps her hands in embarrassment, her face a stunningly bright shade of red. "I'll confer with the rest of the staff and see if there's any other options! Please decide amongst yourselves in case there aren't, though." She nigh on runs out the room, pausing barely long enough to bow deeply, and Kei is certain she started running before she'd fully finished. Not particularly interested in mentally debating whether it counts as a respectful bow if you start running in the middle, he just glances around at the others.

"Before any o'y'all say 'nythin', I ain't sharing wi' 'Tsumu." Miya Osamu drawls, shoving his hands in his pockets. Atsumu sneers at him.

"I ain't sharin' with 'im either! He farts!"

Osamu makes an impressive kind of 'psssssh' sound. "Not as much as you." "How would’ya even know, asshole?! You're asleep!" "So are you!"

"All votes in favour of having them on opposite sides of the room?" Kei suggests, crossing his arms. Most of the others raise their arms, which – thankfully – ends the argument between the twins. Mostly. They keep grousing at each other quietly, while Kei glances around the room again.

Sakusa looks visibly ill at the very notion of sharing with anyone. Kei is with him on that one, certainly. Hoshiumi looks like an ice demon who would warm his feet on your legs, and also seems like the kind of person to jump out of bed at 5am just to announce they were awake. Chigaya looks as though he’s trying to meld into the corner of the room, playing on his phone to avoid the whole situation. Kei guesses if he had to choose someone to share with, it’d probably be him, mostly for the reason that he looks like he’d sleep right on the edge just so he wasn’t touching anyone.

Motoya looks mostly disgruntled by it, like he doesn’t really care either way and just wants it sorted. Again, Kei can relate to that. He kind of wants to pick a futon, but then again, that might volunteer him for it.

He glances at Kageyama, frowning deeply at the Miya twins. Kei genuinely can’t tell if he even understands what’s been asked of him – knowing Kageyama, he’s been in a volleyball world ever since arriving and hasn’t left yet, certainly not to contemplate sleeping arrangements. He probably just assumes someone else will do it, unable to think of group dynamics off a line-marked court. Good for him, Kei thinks a little bitterly. He should probably be one of them having to share, because it seems like it would be funny to see how Kageyama, single child of the century, would react to that. He smirks to himself as he imagines the kind of outrage that would happen, but then gets to thinking who would make the funniest reaction.

Sakusa, certainly, but Kei doesn’t think he could be paid any amount of money to get in the same bed as someone else. He seems like the kind of guy who brought his own sheets because of his distaste of sleeping on someone else’s. Kei is quietly surprised, now he thinks about it, that he didn’t bring his own futon.

The rest of them he doesn’t think would have any particularly interesting reactions. Maybe Hoshiumi, but then those two are so obsessed and single-minded, they’d probably end up not sleeping and practicing instead. That would result in an incredibly ratty Kageyama, and a sleep-deprived Kageyama means everyone gets yelled at way more. Maybe less so here, but it will happen, and if it does, Tsukishima will get most of it, since he’s the one Kageyama is most comfortable with.

He uses the word ‘comfortable’ incredibly loosely indeed.

Although, having him share with either of the Miya twins could be interesting. As soon as he thinks about it, though, it makes him frown for no reason he can really put his finger on. It’s like… Kageyama almost gets on with them, but equally, there’s a feeling Kei gets about Atsumu, and to a lesser extent Osamu, that he can’t really trust them. Atsumu’s interactions with Kageyama set him on edge, just a bit, and he generally chooses to ignore it, and certainly hasn’t examined it closely. It’s probably just a sense that they’re taking advantage of Kageyama, but why would Kei even care about that? He doesn’t care about Kageyama. He’ll admit his talent, and the fact that he’s better than he was, but even so.

He doesn’t care about Kageyama, and that’s final. He’s not even thinking about that simmering weirdness right now, or the fact that Kageyama’s been acting kinda weird for a few weeks even before this camp.

It’s probably just been the thought of the camp itself, but it’s never happened before, Kei doesn’t think. It didn’t happen in first year, so unless he’s had a run in with someone here, but then, the one who seems to be getting the brunt of the weirdness is actually himself.

But that’s a puzzle he’s left in Miyagi, or tried to, at least. It’s Kageyama’s problem, and Kei doesn’t care enough to try to work it out.

He does not care about Kageyama. He’s good at avoiding things, and that’s a thing he’ll ignore wholeheartedly. Kageyama is probably just jealous Kei got invited. Hinata was too, but he’s got the flu. Kei thought there was some saying about idiots, but maybe that’s just colds, rather than the flu. Kei heard his mother had to practically lock him in the bedroom to stop him dragging himself over here.

He probably just imagined that, in actuality, but it's an amusing image. He smirks to himself, then sobers up and mentally thanks Hinata's mother for being sensible and not getting him to spread it. Hinata can keep his damn viruses to himself.

"Psssh!"

With that noise from Osamu, he becomes aware of a growing argument in the room, and realises the Miya twins never quite stopped grousing at each other.

“- you’d probably want to sleep with someone, manwhore.” “Wha’s wrong wi’ that? Too innocent for that kinda shit, ‘Samu?” “Not in a room full of other people, ‘Tsumu. That’s just gross.” “Well, nobody said I couldn’t!” Atsumu remarks brightly, and turns, surveying the crowd. His eyes almost immediately latch onto Kageyama, and gain a gleam Kei would say that he hated the look of. If he had cared enough about the whole thing. Atsumu makes a lewd expression and saunters forward towards Kageyama. "Say, me an’ Goody-Two-Shoes here could always makes ourselves comfy... together... couldn’t we?"

And Kei would normally just let it go. Would have let it go the year before. Should have let it go. But from something about Kageyama's face that says he doesn't get it at all, to not trusting Atsumu as far as he could throw him off the court, to a hot ball of unpleasantness squirming in his guts, instinct takes over the few brain cells that don't think before they act. The remaining brain cells look on tiredly and do not stop him.

Just because he thinks Atsumu is probably joking doesn’t mean he trusts him to not be serious. Everything about it rubs him up the wrong way, and he may not care about Kageyama, but.

So he strides to stand in front of Kageyama and puts an arm in front of him, like that would really stop Atsumu. But it halts him temporarily, puzzled. He feels the rest of them staring at him, and kind of wishes he hadn’t done anything at all.

Why does he care? It's only Kageyama, but then, it's Kageyama. Kageyama who wouldn't know flirting if it kissed him square on the lips, Kageyama who's probably never had a stray thought since he found volleyball, Kageyama who is probably just about dumb enough to go along with anything if he thought it would make him better. The thought of Atsumu too close, unsupervised, to the dense-enough-to-be-a-black-hole Kageyama, makes Kei feel intensely uncomfortable. Makes him kind of want to lock Kageyama in a different room altogether.

The door opens. "I'm terribly sorry, there really aren't any other futons..." She trails off, seeing Kei where he is, and maybe she's just grasping at straws, maybe she thinks it actually looks like they're agreeing on something or whatever, an incredibly stupid chain of thoughts happens in her head and her face lights up in relief. "So you two have decided to share for the night? Thanks for volunteering, we do have a slightly bigger futon over here you can use, you know where the bathrooms are, let us know if you need anything!" She says, and dashes away, as if sensing the disagreement.

Funnily enough, the rest of them snort, then scuttle off to occupy their own beds and mark their territories, leaving Kei and Kageyama in the middle of the room, dead still. Atsumu shrugs, and winks at Kei as if he knows something, and Kei swears murder will happen before these three days are up.

Kei is just trying to process. He was looking forward to a good night’s sleep, he’d brought ear plugs in case anyone snored so he wouldn’t be too tempted to strangle them, and he’d been going to pick the very corner futon to be furthest away from everyone.

Now he’s going to be the one sharing?

He doesn’t know how much worse it could get. Now though, most of them are settling onto futons and are not going to give them up easily.

Atsumu, still looking at the two of them, laughs raucously. "If you don't wanna sleep with him, I could always swap wi' ya?" He drawls, and it seems likely to be engineered exactly to piss Kei off. Osamu snorts. "Bet you ten ramen pots they don't make the night." He pitches in, and it swiftly descends, with the others making various bets as to the transient of this arrangement. Kei hates it, but he's nothing if not stubborn and refused to let people win. Furious, he leans over to Kageyama, still in his daze.

"You'd best not piss me off." He hisses, and storms off to attempt to get to sleep as early as possible. He wanted to read. He wanted to listen to music. "Who said I was gonna piss you off! Maybe you shouldn't piss me off!" Kageyama snaps, his first words in some time. Probably in volleyball dreamland like always, his freakishly sharp mind providing video replays of all the plays he made and how he could tweak them to improve. Instead of focusing on real life. Instead of seeing the things in front of him. So much of his brain is trapped on a volleyball court, Kei swears that’s the reason he’s so utterly stupid off it. Most people would be at the same level of stupidity if only 1% of their brain travelled around with them.

"Maybe if you weren't so stupid and kept responding, it wouldn't be a problem." Kei returns acidly, and grabs his headphones.

"So you want me to ignore you, then." Kageyama spits, and for a second, Kei thinks about it. His heart kind of... droops, when he does, like that would be a bad thing. The very idea that he might care about Kageyama and the fact that he does talk to him pisses him off. His grip on his headphones tightens. "Too bad. You're in the team, so I have to get on with you! Besides I-" Kageyama halts himself dead in his tracks; Kei notices several of the others furtively - or not so furtively - watching, and turns on his heel. He doesn't want to examine Kageyama's weirdness now. He'd not found any solution before the camp, and he especially doesn't want to find one now, whatever he might find, before he has to spend 8 hours sharing a futon with him.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with. I'm not interested in anyone making money on me." He says, casting acerbic stares at certain parties in the room. Much to his disgust, most of them don't react too much, and mostly with amusement and the occasional 'we'll see about that'. Kei decides to do what he does best and ignore it fully, lying down, tugging his headphones on and putting on his loudest music. Which isn't that loud, but it is at least continuous in its volume, leaving no chances for snippets of surrounding conversation. He hates having it too loud for fear of damaging his hearing – and knowledge of how irritating it is when everyone else can hear music from someone else's headphones – so he sets it at the exact volume required to cover up most things. If anyone shouts he'll hear it, but they don't.

It's only about half a song later when the futon shifts. Kei freezes on instinct, and glances across – it is indeed Kageyama, which just increases his discomfort. Their eyes meet, then skitter away, Kageyama gaining a constipated sort of look in the split second Kei keeps looking. He then resolutely closes his eyes, determined not to look, or make this weird, or think at all.

He has shared with his brother. It can't be any worse than that, surely. Kageyama isn’t as tall or gangly as his brother, and probably not as much into casual touches. Kei’s never seen Kageyama instigate any kind of friendly contact, at least, which is a godsend, but still. So he’s probably not going to find himself hugged to death, but equally, this whole thing is so awkward and irritating, he’s not convinced he won’t. But the thought of people handing over cash and ramen pots because he couldn’t keep his cool in such an annoying situation irritates him more. If he has to deal with their smug faces on top of a bad night’s sleep, he cannot be held responsible for whatever he does do.

It can’t be any worse than sharing with his brother.

But it is. His anxiety is such that every shift Kageyama makes is heightened, and Kei even feels his presence when he is still, an odd kind of emanating presence. The rest of them have started to settle down and someone's turned the lights off, so it just feels so close. He doesn’t want to sleep in his headphones, but the music is the only thing distracting him, so he clings to them for as long as possible.

But even in his edgy state, he’s still incredibly tired, so it doesn’t take too long for his eyes to start feel heavy, the ceiling only taking so much of him burning holes in it. Reluctantly, he pauses his music and delicately places his headphones on the rest of his stuff, then his glasses in their case, habitually softening the snap as it closes, and puts that too on top of his bag, nestled down a bit so neither of them roll off and get stepped on, hopefully. The world takes on an auditory clarity, and a visual blurriness, and Kei tries to relax.

There are blurry light patches where some of the guys are checking their phones, and some hissed whispers he doesn’t catch enough of to understand. There’s just enough light from the windows to make out some shapes. Simply the act of putting his headphones away – and having to look at his phone to pause it – has temporarily banished a modicum of his immediate sleepiness, and he once again becomes aware of his current predicament.

The futon, as the faculty member had stated, is a little bigger than the rest, but it is not big, by any means. Even as close as he can get to the edge without falling off it, their shoulders are touching. It’s a burning heat he can barely stand, mostly because it makes him think.

“Move over.” He grouches quietly, uncomfortably aware of his heartbeat. He’s not used to close proximity with people, least of all Kageyama. There’s a flick of movement, and a hmph sound.

“I’m not falling off for you.” Kageyama grouses back, and Kei recalls the bets, and bites back a returning taunt. Presumably Kageyama is as far away as he can get too, and there goes his thought that perhaps he might avoid that contact.

And he can’t help but think about it. Kageyama’s been acting weird for weeks now. Nobody else had really commented yet, but it was only a matter of time, and if Kei had noticed surely it was obvious enough. He doesn’t even watch Kageyama much, so surely someone like Hinata has picked up that Kageyama’s been acting weird.

Which is in itself weird. Kageyama is consistent to a degree that you could set your clocks to, Kei has always thought to himself. Emotionally, at least. He got the same level of irritated at the same things every time. He got the same type of ecstatic when they won, and the same type of begrudging defeat whenever they lost. He got the same type of glint in his eye when he respected a player, and the same type of anger when someone pissed him off or worse, didn’t try hard enough at volleyball.

Kageyama didn’t act different.

But now he was.

Kei hasn’t been able to put his finger on it. He just seemed quieter than usual, not really challenging Kei on the same things he always would, not rising up to the bait the same whenever Kei taunted him. There was a slight, but noticeable, lack of quality in the shots to Kei, in particular. Sometimes one of the others, but Kei hadn’t seen Kageyama fumble this much since difficult games in first year. Nowadays, settling into his skills and scouted for the National Team, he rarely fumbled like this, and his irritation with it seemed… wrong, somehow. It didn’t seem quite the same as it had – he didn’t promise to work harder, or blame some aspect of the spiker. No, he tended to glare at Kei as though his mere presence had the ability to mess things up, and turned away just as fast.

Kei’s been intrigued, to say the least.

It happened more in practice than in practice matches, although it did happen then too. Every time it happened in a match, the opposing team never really seemed to think much of it, but Kei couldn’t stop. His analytical mind had latched onto it like a difficult maths problem, and refused to let go, even as much as it irritated him. He had to work it out, partly because real matches were coming up soon and it better not affect this year’s chance at Nationals, but mostly because Kei just could not stop thinking about it, and Kageyama.

And the more he thought about Kageyama, and observed, and taunted and spoke to and worked with, the more he noticed. The way that Kageyama was actually always sending him glances. The way he was sitting closer than he ever had, but never really looking at Kei when he did so. The way that he’d shove his homework under Kei’s nose just as much as Yamaguchi’s, now. (Mostly because Yamaguchi was better at explaining maths to them, but Kei was better at English and Science. The rest, as far as Kei was concerned, wasn’t hard enough to help them with. Rote memory, Kageyama had already shown to be very proficient at, so Kei didn’t bother with those.)

So he’s found himself spending a bit more time before and after practices sitting with Kageyama going through homework concepts. Kageyama even seems to get some of them – for five minutes, anyway. Sometimes Hinata is there and other times he gets wrapped up texting Kenma and drifts off like he seems to more nowadays. It’s become a common enough occurrence, him and Kageyama in the library, watching Kageyama get more frustrated with something and him just smirking more and more because it’s funny and kind of- nice, in a weird way. The lights in the growing gloom set a halo in Kageyama’s hair, his brows furrowed and calloused hands twitching to spend fractions of a second sending a volleyball on abnormally accurate courses, rather than holding a pen.

Somehow, he never gets much work done at those sessions, even though he swears he’s working. He blames Kageyama entirely. Him and his unending stupidity.

Stupidity that’s led to this. If he’d responded normally to Miya’s taunts, Kei never would have had to step forward. If he’d even realised, none of this would have happened. Kei would be asleep in his own futon and never worrying about any of this.

“Just so you are crystal clear on this,” Kei murmurs as quietly as he can muster, turning his head to glare at Kageyama, “I’m blaming you for all this.”

He can’t really see properly, but Kageyama looks at him, and frowns. He does not, as Kei would have possibly expected, get angry. “Why.” Kageyama mutters. “I shouldn’t have to explain to you.” Kei returns, and Kageyama huffs. “Tell me.” “It was because you’re thick. You didn’t get it.” “Get what.”

Kei is kind of glad that it’s dark. He can’t believe he’s having to explain this to Kageyama. “What Miya was doing.” “Which one?” “Atsumu.” “What was he doing?”

“Flirting, you numbskull.” Kei only says it, and says it quietly, because he’s sure that the others are just far enough away to not overhear. A few of them have started snoring, anyway, and the phone lights have all gone off. “Oh.” Kageyama says, and pauses. “Oh…” He stops again. “Why is this my fault?” “Because you didn’t get it.” Kei reiterates, annoyed. “What, so you felt you had to protect me or something?”

Kei feels like his lungs stop working for a second. “No,” he wheezes, acutely aware of how unconvincing he sounds. “Of course not. Anyway, this is just ridiculous.” “Oh. Okay.” “I’m going to sleep.” Kei retorts, put off-centre. Protecting him? From what? He didn’t care if Atsumu had his wicked way with Kageyama – except he kind of did.

That is a whole ballgame he does avidly not want to think about right here, in this second, pressed up against Kageyama because there is nowhere else to go. Kageyama hums, and he sounds kind of pleased. Kei turns away, and thinks so hard about music and volleyball and dinosaurs and very literally anything other than Kageyama, it gives him a headache, then bores him to sleep eventually.

The faster he goes to sleep the faster this situation disappears.

Except of course, that it is a situation that reappears upon waking up. The first time he wakes up, it’s far too early, and he’s been awakened by motion. He barely remembers it until later, and then wishes he had properly woken up, because he could have saved himself a lot of problems. The next time he wakes up, it’s to a camera shutter sound, and he feels warm and snug. And safe.

And somewhat trapped.

Kei decides to evaluate his situation firstly, and open his eyes next.

He is laid on his back, nothing abnormal about that. His left side is warmer than it should be, and there is a pressure across his chest, and his legs, and his whole left side.

He can guess, he thinks, but he needs to know, needs to check visually.

So he opens his eyes, and looks across and finds exactly what he ought to have expected. Kageyama is, for lack of any better word, flopped on top of him, head nestled into Kei's shoulder. His face is- remarkably relaxed, for once, not grinding his teeth or scowling like normal, and Kei just.

He doesn't know what to think. He knows what he wants to do, which is to not rouse him, or pull him closer. He feels like smiling, like taking a picture, like staying there for a while, like he's maybe possibly a little bit fond.

Fondness equals alarm bells. His eyes dart upwards, and find several of the other guys looking down at him - them. A smudge that looks like it could be Motoya has got his phone out taking a photo, and Miya Atsumu is grinning like like Cheshire cat. Kei squashes his eyes shut again, to give himself space, to think about this.

There proceeds to be a suspiciously Miya Atsumu sounding murmur of 'hah, gaaaa-yyyyyy' shortly followed by a slapping sound. Kei decides Miya Osamu is probably alright, but still, he's not staying in this situation. He needs to extricate himself and get some quiet. There's a level of controlled panic in the way he shifts sideways, and hears Kageyama groan. Discontent? Kei doesn’t want to think about it. He has just enough forethought to grab his glasses in their case, and ignores some suggestive and smug sounding voices as he pushes through them, to hide out in the bathroom.

Once there, he sets the glasses case on the side, and splashes his face with cold water. It does nothing to soothe his racing heart; it does nothing at all except bring him further into wakefulness and the awful realisation he has arrived at.

He’s fond of Kageyama.

He thinks, for a moment, that his brain has just skipped the friends stage, but then, it hasn’t, really. What are study dates in the library if not between friends? What are the teasing conversations, no longer as barbed as they used to be? What is the glare he gets when he calls Kageyama king, half-hearted and softer than usual? What are the allowances he’s been giving Kageyama, the more time spent with him, the more time dedicated to matching up with him? They’ve been friends, but Kei never realised. Like he never realised how much he’s been watching Kageyama, been thinking about Kageyama, and indeed been avoiding thinking about why he’s been thinking so much about Kageyama.

Yet still, this fondness, a pooling dripping sentimentality he’s never quite fully erased from his heart. It’s similar to the way he can’t quite throw out his oldest childhood toy, a stegosaurus with some of it’s plates falling off and patched up a hundred times. He’s used to Kageyama now, and in some ways looks forward to seeing him, looks forward to his blunt stupidity, the banter they have between them. The way they’ve started syncing up on court, and working together.

Fuck, he thinks to himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror, clear now he’s put his glasses back on. How could he have let this happen? He doesn’t know what to do with this, he’s never had this before. Maybe that’s why he never saw it coming, creeping up on his blindside and taking him unawares. How is he going to get out of this now?

The door swings open, and Kei prepares to defend himself – but it’s Kageyama, and now he doesn’t know how to react. Stunned by his newest revelation, he just kind of nods. Kageyama has gone red, and stops.

And there’s a thick silence. Kei doesn’t want to admit that he didn’t mind it, but doesn’t quite want to say that he hated it either. He needs time to work it through, get on top of his feelings.

Kei decides to leave. He grabs his glasses and makes for the door, even though Kageyama is between him and it. He expects Kageyama to move. He doesn’t.

“Are you disgusted?” Kageyama demands, looking anything but peaceful like he did in sleep.

Kei thinks about it. Yes, would be one answer. He’s disgusted with himself for not noticing, for letting it go on so long. But equally, feelings aren’t quite so easily hauled into line. He’s not disgusted with Kageyama, particularly. He doesn’t care if anyone is that way inclined, he just had never thought he was himself. With little to no precedent, how was he meant to know?

“No,” Kei murmurs, “Are you going to move?” “Are you running away from me?” Kageyama tries again, glaring defiantly up at Kei. Kei can’t quite meet his gaze. “No.” Kei says, more certain this time. He means yes, of course. He needs time to think on it, analyse the problem, and find a solution. Needs to weigh the evidence, pros and cons, and external opinions. If he can get them without alerting the parties to the fact that he’s collecting them. Can’t be seen to be too interested.

“You are.” Kageyama states, blunt as ever. Kei huffs an incredulous laugh, but Kageyama continues. “You’re not even looking at me.”

Characteristically blunt, as always. Kei glares at him. “Happy now?”

Kageyama looks surprised that he complied. Daunted, even. He swallows, a manoeuvre Kei cannot help but watch.

“Someone is going to come in, soon.” Kei mutters, eyes glued to Kageyama’s. Kageyama nods. “Are you going to move?”

Kageyama gets that face like he’s trying to solve a particularly difficult problem.

Then he reaches around the back of Kei’s head and pulls.

Caught in a moment of surprise, Kei doesn’t fight it; consequently, he smacks into Kageyama’s face with some force. There is an instant of nothing, then a flash of pain. He coils away, holding his lips and nose, trying to ascertain whether there’s bleeding or breakages.

“Holy shit, Kageyama!?” he screeches. “What was that? You trying to kill me?!” Kageyama, in the midst of howling quietly, chokes, and ends up in a coughing fit. Kei brings his fingers away from his nose, and finding no blood – and no signature trickle at the back of his throat or down his nose – whips his head around. He’ll check his teeth in a minute. “What the hell was that.” He demands, and then- observes. Kageyama is red as anything, and although he does look like he’s choking, he’s not been doing that long enough to cause that reaction. He’s got one hand over his mouth and his eyes are flitting around frenetically. His brain starts clicking over, the previous conversation and everything prior, and fits it imperfectly together into- “Was that supposed to be a sorry attempt at a kiss?”

“No!” Kageyama shouts, too fast, too high pitched. Kei narrows his eyes. “So it really was? Because that is not the way to do it.” Regardless of whether Kei actually knows the proper way to do it, he can be fairly certain that any way that involves possible permanent damage to his nasal cartilage is not it. “Like you know better!” Kageyama spits, sounding faintly panicked. “Clearly better than you, if that’s what you think is a good idea!” “Why don’t you try then!” Kageyama dares him, and Kei swears that proto-kiss knocked a few brain cells loose, because he actually considers it.

“No.” Kei remarks, and stands up, intending to check his teeth for blood, and also to hide his face from Kageyama. “Because I’m not into messing with people like that.” It’s ridiculous to get his hopes up. Kageyama has the social skills of a slug, and the finesse to match. People cling to things in their sleep, it’s a natural habit left over from being an infant, and a human need to be close to things. It’s for warmth, more importantly, and therefore likely means nothing. Kageyama probably has some weird idea in mind that for some reason involves Kei.

There’s no blood in his teeth, and none apparently forthcoming. That’s good. He’ll go and get changed and start his day and analyse this all later, or better, after the camp. He’ll package away the hurt and the confusion, and dwell on it later. He’ll only get annoyed if he does that now.

But before he can turn and leave, there are footsteps across the floor, and a hand on his arm. He barely gets a chance to raise an eyebrow and take a breath to speak when Kageyama steals it from him.

It’s much softer, thankfully, although his bruised lips still complain. It’s clear still that Kageyama doesn’t really know what he’s doing, screwing his eyes shut, but he makes a good approximation; he weaves his hand into the fine hairs at the nape of Kei’s neck and makes him shiver. Kei’s wide eyes stray to the mirrors, reflecting this scene, black and blond, fuzzy out the side of his glasses.

They’re so different. So very different. How can they be here? How can they occupy the same space, and not explode like antimatter meeting matter? Maybe that’s why they’ve always fought before, but then why is this good, and not bad? Why does it feel like a summation of their parts, rather than a negative and positive clashing and negating the other’s effect?

He could push Kageyama away, right now. He could push him and all this away, and run. It occurs to him in the same breath that he gives in, closes his eyes and puts his hand on Kageyama’s shoulder, pushes back into the kiss, because now he thinks about it, the thought that Kageyama was organised enough to mess with him seems wrong. Unlikely, somehow. Kageyama is not known for his grand schemes off the volleyball court, nor his ability to manipulate people.

And Kei can make the most of the opportunity in front of him. If this is the only time he gets to do this, he’s not going to pass it up too easily.

By the time they separate, they’re both breathing harder than usual, and Kageyama frowns at him. “I don’t mess with people.” “I’m getting that vibe, yes.” Kei murmurs. “Someone’s going to come in here soon.”

Kageyama nods, and steps back. He keeps his eyes on Kei, expectant. “But I want to do that again.” Kageyama says. “Of course, but not now.” Kei returns, thinking it’s been a surprising amount of time without interruption. It’s only when he notices Kageyama’s eyes widen that he realises. “I mean…” Ah, what the hell. “I need to think about this. Later. We have camp to survive, first.”

“Later.” Kageyama repeats, sounding pleased with himself. “Alright. I can wait.”

Kei grimaces as he hears loud footsteps and voices storming up to the door. “You were always going to have to.” He remarks, but, quietly, to himself, he can reflect that he’s kind of looking forward to it.

But he can enjoy teasing Kageyama by making him wait.

Where’s the fun in making it easy? Plus, he has no interest in giving any of the others any smug pleasure. In addition, he’s going to be a rich man if they all cough up their debts to him. He might even see to sharing a few ramen pots with Kageyama.

If he’s lucky. If he hasn’t actually knocked any teeth loose.

Well, there’s room for improvement, and time for it, too. Things are looking up.

[mamabearcat]

The Importance of Ramen Ch 11

Kagome giggled as she grasped Inuyasha's elbow, steadying him as he almost overbalanced in the geta he was wearing. A frustrated growl slipped past his lips.

"How are you doing this Kagome?" he muttered, watching as she walked along in the raised platform shoes without any problem, the two wooden teeth making a click-clack noise as they met the hard surface of the footpath.

Kagome laughed quietly into her sleeve as he almost rolled his foot again. She felt a tiny bit guilty that she was actually enjoying not being the clumsy one for a change. Inuyasha was usually so graceful in the way that he leapt about so effortlessly; it was novel to see him struggling with something physical.

"Practice", she smiled. "Remember, I've been wearing these to festivals since I was a little girl. Maybe Mama should have bought you flat ones, like Souta wears."

She looked behind her to see Mama, Grandpa and Souta bringing up the rear, each in their festival yukata; Grandpa's in traditional indigo stripes, Mama's in swirls of pale blue and silver, and Souta in pale grey with purple dragons and an obnoxiously acid green obi. Souta clumped along noisily in his flat wooden geta; the wooden shoes slowed his usual bouncing a little, but not much. He tugged on Mama's sleeve.

"I love Bon Odori", he said excitedly.

Mama smiled at him. "I know you do Souta, you've only told me about ten times."

"I know, but I don't usually get to go out at night and look at stalls. Do you think they'll have the corn on the stick this year? The ones with furikake are the best! And the choco-bananas? Remember how last year I won an extra one playing Janken? That was awesome! And I bet Kenji that I could beat him at the Shateki stall." He raised his arms, imagining holding the rifle and aiming his cork bullet at a prize, and the defeated face of his best friend as the stall owner handed him his winnings.

Inuyasha chuckled at Souta's animated rush of words. "Someone's excited. I didn't understand half of what he said though."

Kagome looked at him puzzled, thinking about what he could mean, and then realised all the things that Souta had talked about; corn, chocolate, bananas, playing Janken, and shooting guns had all arrived in Japan after Inuyasha's time. Wait, when did the Portuguese start trading in Japan? Maybe there were guns. She was a little fuzzy on that one, but now was not the time to be thinking of all the dates she couldn't remember from history class.

Kagome looked around to see if anyone would notice, and then shyly took Inuyasha's hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. She was not quite used to the feeling of them being 'together' in public. Sure, she'd held his hand before, but that was as friends, before they were a couple. They were a couple, weren't they? Surely they were, especially after those kisses… An image of a gloating Kikyo holding Inuyasha in her arms popped into her head, and she took a deep breath in, shaking her head and dismissing that thought as quickly as she could. Tonight was about having fun together, and she would not let her stupid overthinking brain spoil it.

"Kagome?", asked Inuyasha uncertainly, taking in her sudden head movement and deep breath. He cursed the fact that his hearing wasn't good enough to check her heartbeat, that he couldn't smell if she was worried or scared. If only he had his usual heightened perception, he would have more of a clue about what might be troubling her.

She smiled back at him, ignoring his concerned look. "I could explain all the things that Souta mentioned, but it would be much more fun to show you." She shook the small pink and red drawstring purse dangling from her wrist, coins jingling. "Mama gave me some money to spend, so we're going to try everything!"

Inuyasha drew a plain black drawstring bag out of his obi sash. "Your Grandpa gave me some paper he said I could use to buy things for you; I wasn't sure if he was joking or not."

Kagome grinned. "We use paper money in this time, as well as coins. If Grandpa gave it to you, I'm sure it's fine." Inuyasha still looked a little unsure. "What's up?" she asked, squeezing his hand.

Inuyasha frowned, tucking the small bag back into his obi. "He said it was in payment for all the help I gave him clearing up his shed. Why would he pay me? I didn't help to get something for it. Mama asked if I could help him, and even though he can be an annoying old fart, he's not that bad, I didn't mind." His thoughts drifted back to Grandpa's tearful face, begging him to protect Kagome. He rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain eyes back on Kagome. "I'm not sure it feels right."

Kagome squeezed his hand again. "I'm sure it's fine. He wouldn't have given you any money if he didn't want to. Even though he won't admit it, he's not as strong as he used to be, and he would never ask Mama to carry something heavy that he couldn't lift himself. He probably really appreciated all your hard work." She giggled at Inuyasha's muttered "Keh" at her words of praise. A sudden increase in the level of noise in front of them alerted her, and she moved her attention back to their surroundings. "Look", she pointed, "here's the festival!"

The large open field in the middle of the park was covered in rows of small stalls with pathways in between. Even with his dulled senses, Inuyasha could smell a range of different foods, both savoury and sweet. The air was full of the chatter of people, talking and laughing, the sounds of meat sizzling on a grill, sellers calling out to people as they wandered in front of their stall. A group of small children ran past them, laughing, all wearing different masks to hide their faces; only the tengu and kitsune masks were familiar to Inuyasha. Behind all the noise of the festival, the steady thrum and screech of cicadas pulsed in the slowly dissipating humidity and heat of the day, the temperature cooling a little now that night had fallen.

A raised wooden platform stood in the middle of the area, lit by strings of coloured lanterns. A group of people were up there, all dressed in colourful yukata, some dancing and singing, some playing taiko drums to keep the beat. A large group of people were grouped in the flat area around the base of the platform, following the dance steps of the women on the stage, moving in a circle around it. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.

Kagome squeezed his hand again, bringing his attention back to her. "So, what should we do first? Dancing or eating?"

Inuyasha sniffed the air, his mouth watering a little. "Definitely eating. What sort of food do they have here Kagome?"

They began walking towards the food stalls. Mama patted Kagome on the arm as her and Souta moved past, Souta tugging impatiently on Mama's other arm.

"Kagome, I'm taking Souta off to meet one of his friends, and Grandpa has a Go tournament planned with some of the older men from the library. Have a good time you two. I'm sure you'll bring her safely home Inuyasha."

They both waved at Mama's departing back, and without missing a beat Inuyasha kicked the wooden geta off his feet one at a time and into a nearby bush. Kagome laughed, hiding her loud giggles behind her sleeve. "Feel better?" she chuckled.

"Oh yeah", breathed Inuyasha. "Those weren't shoes, they were torture instruments." He closed his eyes and wiggled his toes in bliss against the soft green grass, cool against his feet after being rubbed a little raw by the fabric straps of the geta.

Kagome smiled, tugging on his hand to lead him over towards the food stalls again. "So, you were asking about the food. They usually serve the same sorts of things every year. I've made you futomaki sushi and inari in a lunchbox before, remember? And Mama's made teriyaki chicken and yaki soba for you at the shrine."

Inuyasha nodded, mouth watering again. "Yeah, I like both a those."

"How about you try some of the things that you haven't had before?" suggested Kagome. "Let's walk around and you can tell me to stop if you want to buy something to eat."

They strolled along the row of food stalls, Inuyasha sniffing as they went. He didn't think much of the okonomiyaki pancake, so Kagome ate most of it. They both ate a serving of takoyaki balls, which Inuyasha didn't mind.

He suddenly sniffed the air and dragged Kagome over to stop in front of a busy stall, the smell of sizzling chicken hovering in the air. Relenting at his pleading look, she bought him two servings of sticky teriyaki chicken, and he ate both, hardly chewing them in his enjoyment of getting them down as fast as possible.

They stopped in front of a stall selling a long yellow vegetable on sticks. "Inuyasha, you should try this! It's corn, you won't see it again where you come from."

"I dunno…" said Inuyasha. He wasn't overly fond of vegetables as a rule.

"You'll never know if you don't try it!", wheedled Kagome.

They ended up buying one serving to share. Inuyasha didn't hate it but disliked the way it got stuck in his teeth, so Kagome finished it off.

"That was good", she sighed, patting her stomach. Spotting another stall close by, she dragged Inuyasha off to one side, under the darkness of some tall trees and out of the flow of the crowd.

"Before we go to the next stall, I need to teach you a game", she said. "It's called Janken, and on this stall, if you win, you get an extra serve for free."

She curled Inuyasha's hand into a fist. "This is rock." She opened his hand up flat, thumb upwards, palm facing inwards. "This is paper." She curled his last two fingers and thumb back into his palm, so only his forefinger and middle finger were extended. "This is scissors."

She moved her own hand in a similar way, showing him the rock, paper and scissors again. "The way it works is, paper beats rock, because it wraps it, but rock beats scissors because it blunts them. Scissors beats paper because it cuts it. Do you understand?"

"Is there a sign for water, 'cause that would beat all those things", said Inuyasha. "Scissors would be rusty, paper would be wet, and rock would be worn away."

"Um, no", said Kagome, smiling. "I guess you're right about the water though. But what's the point of that, you'd always win?"

Inuyasha tugged her closer and laced his hands behind her back. "What's wrong with that?" he drawled, pushing her backwards gently so she was leaning up against the trunk of a large tree. "I like winning."

She looked up and gasped a little at the slightly predatory look in his brown eyes as he leant over her, dark hair shadowing his face. She glanced around uncertainly, but no one was paying them any attention.

"If we played now, Ka-go-me, and I won, what would you give me as a prize," he teased, bumping his nose against hers, and smiling at the pink staining her cheeks.

A sound behind them made him sigh and drop his arms from around her, as a group of people made their way over to the trees to find a place to sit and eat their food. He grabbed her hand and led her back to the crowd but turned his head towards her at the sound of Kagome's soft voice.

"Maybe, we could play later Inuyasha", she smiled, biting her bottom lip. Inuyasha groaned a little, and turned back towards the crowd, trying not to think about those little white teeth pressed against her soft skin of her lip. Wench! She totally knew how much he liked that. He squeezed her hand, trying to get his thoughts back onto food and away from other activities he'd like to be doing with his mouth right now.

Kagome's heart was beating fast. Would he have kissed her under the tree, with all these people around? She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. Part of her writhed a little in embarrassment at the thought that someone she knew might see her kissing in public, but another part, the part that ran on adrenalin, was more than a little excited by the idea.

They made their way over to the choco-banana stall where Kagome paid for a banana and asked if she could try to win a free one. The seller, a muscular looking man in his late twenties, winked at her.

"Sure thing cutie", he said smiling. "If I win, do you think I could get your phone number too?"

Kagome's eyes narrowed, but before she had the chance to say anything Inuyasha stepped in front of her, blocking her from view, and holding out his fist in the rock shape, ready to take her place.

"Oho, a little man steps up to the plate instead of his girl", teased the seller. "Alright buddy, let's see what you got."

Inuyasha glared at the man, as Kagome whispered the right words to say in his ear.

"Saisho wa guu!" they began and then, "Janken Pon!" The sellers hand moved to the shape of scissors, while Inuyasha's hand stayed steady as a rock.

The seller grinned good naturedly. "Looks like luck's on your side little man", he said, handing another chocolate covered banana on a stick to him.

Inuyasha took the banana in one hand and Kagome's hand in his other. Leading her away, he glanced over his shoulder at the seller and said nonchalantly, "Luck's got nothin' to do with it, old man. My fist always wins." He bit into the banana, making a face at the mushy texture, but had to smile at Kagome's hysterical giggles.

"Maybe I should teach Janken to Kouga too", she teased, as soon as she had calmed down.

"Nah, not worth it. I already know how to beat him with my fist", said Inuyasha in a dry tone, setting off Kagome's giggles again. After a few more exploratory bites, he decided he liked the banana after all, and finished off the rest of his before Kagome had a chance to eat more than a few mouthfuls.

"Hey Kagome, do you think they sell shaved ice around here anywhere?" he asked.

"Shaved ice?", she repeated, her voice muffled around her last mouthful of banana. She glanced around, then pointed to a long line of people waiting in front of a colourful stall. Blue, red and white banners on the front of the stall flapped in the evening breeze that was starting to cool down the heat of the day, but the dip in the temperature didn't seem to have any effect on the amount of people wanting to buy a frosty treat.

"Are you sure you want to wait in line?" asked Kagome. "I'm starting to get a little full anyway. We could go over and try a couple of the games instead if you like?"

"Nuh uh", said Inuyasha, pulling Kagome over to take their place at the end of the line. "I wanna buy some for you." Seeing the questioning look in Kagome's eyes, he blushed a little and muttered, "Your mama said your papa bought her shaved ice to eat the first time they were at a festival together, and I wanna buy some for you, alright?"

Kagome stepped closer to him, squeezing his arm. "Thanks Yash. I'd really like that", she whispered, her eyes bright. She was more than a little touched that he would think of doing something like that.

She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment. This soft side of him, that she had only just discovered, would it all go away once they went back to the past? She knew she would understand that private moments together would be few and far between, especially travelling with first class gossips like Miroku, Sango and Shippou, but she hoped that there would still be some moments. An image of Kikyou popped into her head again, and she pushed it away angrily.

She shifted from one foot to the other, leaning on Inuyasha a little more as they slowly moved forwards in the line.

"What's up wench?", asked Inuyasha, taking in the way she was leaning to one side, resting her weight against him. "Your leg's hurtin' ain't it. Do you need to go home?"

Kagome sighed, smiling at him. "I can't get anything past you, can I dog boy? It aches a little, but I think I'll be okay if I sit down for a while. Besides, we can't go home yet. Dancing, remember?"

Inuyasha ignored her teasing look and his sharp eyes spotted an empty bench not too far away, under the cover of the trees at the edge of the park. During the day it would be a shady place to sit out of the sun, but now it looked peaceful and calm, away from the hustle and bustle of the festival. He pointed it out to Kagome. "Go sit down now, and I'll wait in line. I'll bring it over to you."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"It's not rocket science", Inuyasha huffed. He wasn't exactly sure what that phrase meant, but Kagome often said it when she thought something would be easy, so it seemed applicable. "Go sit down, before your leg starts hurting more."

Smiling at his use at one of her phrases, she did as he asked, limping a little as she went. She sat down on the bench and stretched her injured leg out. Her thigh did hurt, a dull ache with a pulling, tugging feeling deep within the muscle which she was sure had to do with her body healing, but there was no way she was going home. She was having a wonderful time with Inuyasha, talking and laughing, just like a normal couple would. She smiled a little at that thought. Normal was the last word that she would use to describe their relationship, but there was nothing she wanted more.

She must have been thinking for longer than she realised, because when she looked up again, Inuyasha was standing in front of her, two paper cups of ice held in his hands.

"Here", he said, holding hers out with a slightly sheepish expression, "I forgot to ask what flavour you wanted, so I got all of them."

Kagome looked at the veritable rainbow of ice in his hands. Strawberry, melon, lemon, mango, lime and bright blue syrup decorated the ice in thin stripes. "It's beautiful! I never would have thought to get more than one flavour, but now I can try them all!" She plunged the small spoon into the blue ice at the edge and licked her lips at the sticky sweet flavour. "What did you get Inuyasha?"

'The red one", said Inuyasha, looking at the ice a little uncertainly. He'd never seen food quite this… bright… before.

"You need to eat it quickly, or it will melt", laughed Kagome.

Inuyasha plunged his spoon into the centre of the paper cup and shovelled a full spoon of ice into his mouth. "Cold!", he coughed, spluttering a little. Then the intense sweetness of the red syrup burst across his tongue, and he looked up at Kagome, wide eyed.

"Are you okay?"

"It's a little sweet", he said huskily. He'd never been grateful for not having his full range of senses before, but if it tasted this strong to him right now, he didn't want to think at how it would have tasted on a normal night.

"It's okay if you don't like it you know" said Kagome cheerfully, shovelling spoonfuls of the syrupy sweet ice into her mouth. "We don't all have to like the same things. I don't like pickled ginger the same way that you do."

Inuyasha sat the cup of ice down on the bench carefully, and watched Kagome eat hers. She had eaten a third of the way through, carefully not mixing her flavours, her eyes closed in enjoyment. A sudden idea made him smile.

"Hey wench, can I have that for a moment?" he asked, tugging on her paper cup of ice.

"Hey, get your greedy hands off!", joked Kagome. "Did you want to try a different flavour Inuyasha?"

"No, I just thought of a game", said Inuyasha, holding her icy treat carefully in his hands. "You taught me a game, and now I wanna play a different one. Close your eyes."

Kagome looked at him warily. "This game wouldn't involve that cup of ice down the front of my yukata would it?"

Inuyasha grinned wickedly. "Hadn't thought of that one. Thanks for the idea Kagome, maybe I could try that another time", he snickered. He waved the spoon over the flavoured ice. "No, I wanna see if you can guess the flavour without looking."

"Oh." Kagome looked at him carefully for a moment. It was dark over here, away from the lights of the festival, and a little harder to read his expression. He was smiling, but she didn't think he was going to play any tricks on her.

"Don't ya trust me wench?"

Kagome sighed, and closed her eyes, then opened one rapidly to see if she could catch him doing anything sneaky, but all he had done was placed the spoon into the cup.

"Hey, don't cheat!"

Kagome sighed again and closed her eyes.

"You ready?" She nodded. "Open up."

Cautiously opening her mouth, her tongue tingled as Inuyasha delicately placed a spoonful of ice into her mouth. She rolled the flavour around her tongue – it was a little sweet from the syrup, but mostly tart. "Is it lemon? The yellow one?" she asked.

"Good guess Kagome. Lets see if you can do it again. Open."

The next flavour was much sweeter, almost sickly sweet. Kagome rolled it around her mouth again, licking her lips thoughtfully to catch a small drop of syrup that escaped. She couldn't quite guess the flavour as it mostly just tasted of sweet, but remembering Inuyasha's extreme reaction to the taste of the strawberry, she hazarded a guess. "Is it the red one?"

"Hmm, you're good at this, wench. Let's try one more", said Inuyasha a little huskily.

She parted her lips, ready for another spoonful of shaved ice, and almost squeaked in surprise as she felt the heat of Inuyasha's hands on her cheeks, and the warmth of his mouth on hers. He licked at her lips gently, as if asking permission, and she opened her mouth to him, inviting him in. His tongue swept delicately across hers, feeling almost hot after the chill of the ice, teasing her tastebuds with the sweetness of syrup he had eaten earlier. But before she could respond in kind, he was pulling his mouth away, resting his forehead against hers.

"Sorry", he said, panting a little. "I hadn't planned on doing that, but when you licked your lips, you just looked so…"

Kagome stroked him gently on the cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You surprised me a little, but I liked it." He seemed a little less sure of himself compared to earlier today, and she wanted to soothe him, let him know that she loved him no matter what he looked like on the outside.

Her thumbs ran gently over the hardness of his jaw and across the soft skin of his cheek, and his eyes closed as he leaned into her touch. These last few days had shown her an Inuyasha full of contrasts. Boastful and uncertain. Restless and still. Angry and loving. She wanted to get to know him better, experience all of his moods, feel closer to him. If they were going back through the well tomorrow, there would be hardly any chances like this, and she wanted to grasp it with both hands. That one kiss wasn't enough; she wanted more.

She looked down at the almost empty cup of ice. Her cheeks were burning, a little embarrassed at the audacity of her decision to ask him to kiss her again, but she had never been one to back away from a challenge. She glanced quickly around, but she didn't think anyone would notice them here in the gathering dark, when there was so much light and movement over at the festival. And in truth, the idea that there were people close by, made her heart beat a little faster.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the cup of shaved ice that was beginning to melt in the summer heat. "Look Inuyasha, there's one last flavour left to try." She spooned a large mouthful of the mango flavoured ice onto her tongue and let it melt, watching his expression with her large doe like eyes, licking her lips. Inuyasha eyes followed her tongue as it slowly traced a path around the soft skin of her mouth. Putting the cup and spoon down, she reached her arms out and wrapped them around his neck, smiling a little nervously but with so much love in her eyes. "Would you like to try this flavour too?"

Inuyasha didn't waste any time on words. His hands moved around her waist as he drew her close to him, his lips moving against hers in a burning kiss, running his tongue around her lips where hers had been just moments before. He chuckled against her. "I think I like this flavour most of all."

Kagome's hands moved from his neck to his hair, scratching his scalp, moving upwards towards where his ears usually were.

"Forget what night it was there for a moment did you wench." Inuyasha's hands lifted her, carefully minding her injury, so she was sitting in his lap.

"Sorry", stuttered Kagome. She moved her hands downwards towards the back of his neck again, as his tongue gently teased hers.

"Don't worry 'bout it Kagome", he said softly, kissing her gently. "It still amazes me that you'd want to touch any part of me at all."

Kagome smiled against his mouth, her fingernails softly scratching the skin behind his human ears.

"I like your dog ears" she whispered. "They're sooo soft. And they tell me more about what you're feeling sometimes than your words do." She placed gentle kisses from the corner of his mouth across his cheek, and then gently bit the fleshy ear lobe of Inuyasha's human ear. "But maybe I like these almost as much."

"Hnn, Kagome", he moaned, as she nibbled her way down from his ear to his throat and licked over his pulse, breathing on the wet skin like he had done to her yesterday. "We're gonna have to take this down a notch."

"Why?", breathed Kagome, kissing her way back over to Inuyasha's soft lips. Inuyasha's reaction to her kisses made her feel powerful. She loved that she was able to make him feel a little out of control. She softly bit down on his bottom lip, teasing him with her teeth.

He answered her with a bruising kiss, his hands on her waist pushing downwards as his hips ground up against her. She moaned into his mouth, her breasts pushing into the hardness of his muscular chest.

"Kagome", Inuyasha groaned, moving his hands from her waist to cup her face gently, and with a loud sigh, pushed her backwards to create a little space between them, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

He smiled at her mutinous expression and ran his fingers through her dark mussed-up curls, trying to neaten it for her.

"Slow down my baby girl, we've got all the time in the world. I don't wanna rush this, okay?"

"I thought you said the other day that I wasn't a baby", pouted Kagome, still breathing hard.

Inuyasha chuckled darkly. "No, you're definitely not a baby."

Kagome moved in his lap, seating herself so she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. She reached out and twirled one of the dark sidelocks of his hair around her finger. Sighing deeply, her bottom lip trembled, and without really knowing why she was crying, a single hot tear rolled off her cheek and onto the thin fabric of Inuyasha's yukata.

"Kagome?", he asked, tentatively.

"Tomorrow we're going back through the well", she sighed. "Everything will go back to the way it was before. Miroku and Sango will tease you, and you'll be embarrassed and won't talk to me about stuff anymore. You'll ignore me and go sit in a tree and then run off with Kikyou the first time her soul collectors turn up. My feelings will get hurt about it, and you'll get upset because I'm hurt and get all defensive and say, 'now's not the time to talk about it Kagome', and I'll keep loving you even though it hurts to even look at you. Then I'll remind myself why you should prefer her anyway, because she's beautiful and can actually use her powers properly like a miko should, and can shoot arrows without looking all…

"Whoa, whoa, hold up there a second", said Inuyasha, turning Kagome in his lap so that she faced him. "How did we move from us kissing to you spouting all this crap? Kagome, for someone who's actually very smart, you can really think some stupid things."

Kagome hit him in the arm, hard. "It's not stupid", she hissed, her bottom lip trembling again. "This is exactly what's been going on. Just because you're too obtuse to notice doesn't mean it isn't happening!"

Inuyasha ran his hand down his face, taking in Kagome's defiant but fragile expression. He hated talking about this sort of stuff. It made him feel awkward, because he couldn't find the words to match exactly how he felt, and opening himself up to anyone emotionally was as good as an invitation for them to smack him down again. But this was Kagome. His Kagome. And thinking all this was hurting her.

"I'm not very good at talking about this stuff", began Inuyasha, and then paused, hurt, when Kagome rolled her eyes at him, and sighed melodramatically.

"Fine", he said, tight lipped. He moved her off of his lap, not roughly, but not with quite the same gentleness as before. "I wanted to talk, but obviously you know better. I mean what would a hanyou know about feelings and relationships and stuff like that when they don't deserve to have them in the first place?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it you jerk! You always make that excuse, that you're not good at talking about feelings."

"For fucks sake Kagome, I say it because it's the truth! You wanna know why I never spoke to you about Kikyou? Because I didn't know how I felt! How was I s'posed to put it into words if I couldn't even get it straight in my own head? She was dead, and then she was alive. She was a sweet gentle person who I loved, and now she's a homicidal bitch, but it's not her fault because she never asked for this. She never asked for any of this. I can't just leave her alone! She doesn't deserve that. I know what it's like to be lonely, to have no one in your corner who cares whether you live or die. I can't do that to her."

Kagome reeled back as if Inuyasha had slapped her, and slid to the ground, her arms wrapped around her knees. There was a faint noise of static in her ears, and she felt dull, lifeless, emotionless. There was a sharp pain in her chest, as if her heart were actually cracking. How had it all gone so wrong?

"I understand", she said in a monotone voice. "You choose her."

"Dammit Kagome!" Inuyasha dropped to the ground in front of her, placing his palms on her cheeks. When she tried to pull away, he held onto her more strongly. "No Kagome", he growled. "This ends right now!"

At the word 'end', she couldn't help the fat tears that began pouring down her cheeks, or the sobs that constricted her chest. She didn't have it in her to fight anymore. "If you were always going to go back to her, why did you kiss me?", she moaned. "Why did you let me believe I had a chance at all?" She slumped forward and didn't even struggle when Inuyasha pulled her onto his lap.

"Stupid wench", he muttered, his own voice thick with emotion. He tucked her head under his chin, rocking gently to try and calm her sobs. "You better listen now and listen good to what I have to say. I'll say it every day, every hour, every minute if I have to, until you get it into that pretty little head of yours." He took a deep breath.

"When I look at Kikyou, I see death. I see sadness and regret. I see a woman I once cared about who has been abused by evil, and I can't help but want to set her free, but that's all I want. When I look at her, I see my past. But my Kagome, when I look at you…" his voice choked for a moment, and he cleared his throat.

"Kagome, when I look at you, I see strength. I see determination to put things right, even if the odds are stacked against you. I see caring and empathy for others, no matter who they are. I see the first real friend I ever had."

He kissed away the tears that were slowly rolling down Kagome's face. "I see an inner fire that makes me want to fight for you and keep you safe. I see a heart that beats for me, like mine beats for you." He kissed her on the lips tenderly and gazed into her eyes. "I was born to find you Kagome. When I look at you, I see my future. I don't know what else I can say to prove to you how much I love you."

Kagome threw her arms around Inuyasha's neck and hugged him tight. She started crying again, but these tears were healing and happy, not the choking sobs of despair that she had been crying before.

"Oi, stop it with the waterworks wench. I'm pretty sure your mother has a machine for washing clothes, we don't need your tears to do it."

Kagome giggled through her tears and sat back to look into Inuyasha's face. His eyes were red, and he sniffed a little self-consciously. He dabbed at her damp face with his sleeve.

"You're all snotty again wench, but I don't have any tissues to blow your nose for you."

"That's okay", smiled Kagome. "I think I have some in here." She opened up the tiny drawstring bag, and after producing house keys, a phone, lip balm, coins and notes, and band aids, she finally produced a small package of tissues.

"It's like a tiny version of the yellow backpack", said Inuyasha in wonder. "Do you have a medical bag in there too? A packed lunch? Change of clothes?"

Kagome slapped his arm. "Quiet, you." She blew her nose loudly, and then placed everything back in the little bag. "You do realise that I'm never going to believe you again, when you say that you're no good at talking about feelings."

Inuyasha rubbed the back of his neck. "That was a one-time event. Never to be repeated. I don't have anything left in me to say."

"Oh really?", teased Kagome, snuggling up to his chest. "I thought you were going to tell me every day, every hour, every minute?"

He scoffed, wrapping his arms around her. "You get the short and sweet version."

"And what's that?"

"I. Love. You. Kagome."

"I like it. Short and to the point."

Inuyasha kissed the top of her head. "I don't know how good I'll be at saying it in front of other people who aren't you though", he said cautiously.

"That's alright. I'm the only person who needs to hear it." She popped her head up and stroked his cheek. "You know that I love you too Yash, right?"

He smiled at her a little mistily. "After all that, I should hope so."

"So, Inuyasha, are you ready to go dancing now?"

Inuyasha flopped backwards, so he was lying flat in the grass. "You're joking right?" he whined. "After all that, my stomach feels like I've just had Sesshomaru's fist through my gut again. I'm not dancing Kagome, and you can't make me."

"I'll buy you some more teriyaki chicken?"

Inuyasha moaned loudly but sat up again. "You drive a hard bargain wench. Okay. Just one dance, right? Can we go back to the shrine after that?"

"One teriyaki chicken. One dance. Then home. Sounds like a plan." Kagome pushed herself to her feet, hissing a little when her thigh pulled again.

"Kagome, maybe we should…"

"No way!", she said, pointing her finger at his chest. "You said dancing! This is probably the only time I will ever get you to agree to this, so I'm not giving up. You can just carry me home."

"Fine", he groused. "I should get two servings of chicken then. Gotta keep my strength up."

They dusted each other off, making sure they looked mostly presentable, before venturing back into the light and noise of the festival. After pausing to buy two servings of teriyaki chicken for Inuyasha, and a quick stop at the sweet stall so Kagome could buy a gift each for Miroku, Sango and Shippou, they ventured over towards the dancing at the centre of the field. Standing at the edge, watching Souta mucking around with his friends was Mama Higurashi.

"Ah, I wondered where you two had got to. Where were you?"

Inuyasha pointed behind him, towards the edge of the park. "Talking."

Mama fished a leaf out of Inuyasha's hair that Kagome must have missed in the dark. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he smiled at her a little sheepishly.

"Mostly talking."

Stepping in to rescue him, Kagome said, "We were talking. I just had some questions about how things were going to be when we went back through the well tomorrow."

"Ah, I see", said Mama. "And did Inuyasha answer your questions?"

"Definitely", she said. The look of love that she gave him nearly stopped Mama's heart.

"So Inuyasha, I take it that you two are a couple now?"

"A couple?", he repeated cautiously, as if not quite understanding the meaning of the word. He reached out and took Kagome's hand. "Wherever Kagome goes, I will follow. Doesn't matter where, doesn't matter when."

"Ah", smiled Mama. "That definitely sounds like a couple to me. Congratulations." She pushed them both a little, so they moved out into the flow of dancers. "Go dance you two. The festival will be over soon. Dance while you can!"

She laughed at them both, Inuyasha doing his best to copy Kagome's movements, and Kagome getting them wrong because she was laughing too hard.

Mama looked up at the stars. "Doesn't matter where, doesn't matter when huh. Toshi, maybe you could keep an eye on the for me when they're out of my reach. And save a dance for me, dear heart. I will be coming to find you again, some day."

She turned her gaze back down from the heavens to smile at her small son, weaving in and around Kagome and Inuyasha, laughing as Inuyasha finally picked him up and threw him over one shoulder to keep him out of the way.

So, they finally had 'that' conversation. I'm not guaranteeing that it will fix everything to do with Kikyou, but it's a good start. Hope you liked the festival. Most of this was based on Japanese Matsuri festival I've been to here in Sydney, and online research. I hope it sounded okay. I would dearly love to attend Bon Odori in Japan one day.

[sculptorofbeginningslibrary]

Little Things

My Masterlist

Summary: John and Sammy go shooting.

Characters: John Winchester, Sam Winchester

Warnings: None, flangt maybe-ish?

Word Count: ~900

A/N: Card fic 1 out of 2, written for @spnskinnyballs Card challenge

This prompt is John & “Deep breaths, you’re doing great”

No beta, all mistakes are mine

            (though I did edit the crap out of it)

AS ALWAYS,

ENJOY!

__~*~__

When John had imagined raising his children, teaching them to shoot had been on the list, but much further down. He’d wanted his boys to be almost grown before they’d ever hold a gun, but fate had other ideas.

The sun was barely up, the morning air still sticky-wet with dew as John and Sammy trudged their way across a muddy field. With every step, their boots sucked deep into the ground before popping out with an obscene squelch. Eleven year old Sammy snickered every time. John wanted to tell him to man up--that he couldn’t find fart noises funny forever--but before the words were out, he realized he was on the verge of being an ass. Sammy was young, and their life was hard. He could be allowed to laugh at farting noises for a while longer.

The small concession wouldn’t make up for the lack of a real childhood, but John hoped the little things would add up someday and leave his boys feeling fulfilled. He had repeatedly promised himself that when the hunt was over--when he’d finally killed the demon that had ripped a hole into his family--he would settle them back down. Give his children the lives they deserved.

But there were days he wondered if that would ever happen; if normal was even in their future any longer.

Until then, they had to find the small moments and cherish them.

Sammy turned back and caught John’s wide grin, a sense of pride blooming in his chest at the sight. He wasn’t sure how, but he’d made John Winchester smile before he’d finished his first thermos of coffee. It was going to be a good day.

Sammy’s chestnut hair gleamed in the rising light as the boy reached the edge of the wood and turned back to look at his dad. His hero. John felt his heart swell as he saw Mary in Sam’s gaze. It was bittersweet, the love and fear that he felt for his son as he took in the young man he was becoming, and the future John was desperately hoping to prevent.

“Come on slowpoke!” Hollered Sam, his hand coming to rest on the strap across his chest and adjusting the gun on his back as he waited. John hadn’t seen a grin like that on Sam’s face in a long time. He locked the image into his memory, remembering to remember the little things.

__

Deep in the woods, the sun filtered through the trees, speckling light across the line of cans John had set up. Birds fled, squawking offendedly in their rush to escape the canon-like sound of the 9mil going off. Sam huffed as his bullet whizzed between two tall-boys to lodge inside of a tree, far from where he was aiming. He could swear he was doing everything right, but he couldn’t hit a target today.

He didn’t know if it was the added pressure of his dad’s watchful eyes or the newness of the gun, but with every missed shot, every reload of the weapon, Sammy grew more frustrated. He thought he could feel John’s eyes burning into the back of his head, judging every erroneous move he made in silence. He would be disappointed if Sam went all day without hitting a single target, mad even. Sam’s body was starting to shake from frustration before John’s hands landed firmly on his shoulders. The calm pressure grounded him and Sammy found himself looking up into amused eyes instead of the annoyed ones he’d been expecting.  

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” The warmth in John’s tone was almost unfamiliar. Sammy searched his dad’s gaze for a moment before looking to the gun in his hands. He tested the weight in each palm, tentatively wrapping his fingers around the grip and adjusting until it fit right. His hands were too small, the gun too big. It felt awkward, unfamiliar, and unbalanced.  He didn’t want to look like he was giving up, but the embarrassment of being such a bad shot was weighing heavily.

“I don’t think I can use this one, Dad. It’s too big...” John frowned at the forlorn sound of his son’s self-doubt.

“Sure you can.” Affectionately, he squeezed Sammy’s shoulders before squatting down. Sam watched as John adjusted Sam’s hands until the grip was seated properly against his palm. “It’s not the gun that’s the problem, son. You just gotta compensate for the size difference is all. You’re too used to the shotgun and that pea-shooter Dean got ya.” When he was satisfied, John stood and helped maneuver his son into position. Sammy lifted the weapon to take aim and John felt the tremor in his small shoulders where he held them.

“Deep breaths, you’re doing great.” The tension eased a bit under John’s hands with the praise and he smiled. “Remember, pull the trigger on the exhale. You got this son.”

The moments that ticked by felt like an eternity as the boy carefully lined up his shot. The woods were eerily silent, almost as if every organism was waiting for his next move.

Inhale. Exhale. Squeeze.

Time seemed to slow as Sammy braced against the recoil and the centermost can exploded. He was quiet for a split second, almost in shock, but then Sammy’s hoot of victory was loud enough to drown out the last echoes of the gunfire. John’s laughter joined quickly, and he ruffled Sammy’s hair.

Sammy’s smile was brighter than the sun as he looked up at his dad, squaring his shoulders and beaming with pride.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“No problem, kiddo. S’what I’m here for.” Yeah, John thought. From mud-sucking fart noises to a victory hoot in the woods, he definitely wanted to remember the little things.

__~*~__

4ever&ever Tags:

@ain-t-bovvered @bamby0304 @curly-haired-disaster @dean-winchesters-bacon @ldyhawkeye @justcallmeasmodeus @maddiepants @mogaruke @mrs-meghan-winchester @stormy-skies-1997 @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @waywardbaby

[neoandersons]

Crave || Patrick Hockstetter

I apologize for any grammar, punctuation, and spelling errors. 

Warnings: NSFWish (not really). 

It was the ending of winter break, and for the dismay of all the children and teens in Derry, they had to return to school. [Name] felt jittery, gazing at her appearance in the mirror – she looked different. The whole winter break, she was out of state, spending time with family in California. In those three weeks of vacation, it was safe to say [Name] had drastically changed.

Her cousin, Stacy, figured it was a good time for [Name] to ditch the conservative and shabby clothes, and try an outfit more risqué…trendier. At first, [Name] felt a bit against the concept of change. I mean, what’s wrong with how she is now? It took a bit more convince from Stacy, who simply exclaim in persuasion, “Come on. [Name]! Pull an Allison Reynolds, get a makeover, and drop the tile of a basket case!”

[Name] eventually gave in, and in that moment, a rebirth began. In that vacation alone, [Name] transformed her appearance. The truth is, she wasn’t ugly – never was – just not noticeable. Since forever, she blended in with the crowds, and stayed with a small group of friends. Unlike some of her peers, life in Derry wasn’t all too bad.

But if would be a lie if [Name] said she never craved the attention. She wondered how it was to have people care what she does or care about her in general. So, Stacy proposition began to sound more appealing the more [Name] thought about it. Stacy did the whole ten yards, bringing [Name] to the mall for a new wardrobe, teaching her how to use makeup, how to do her hair, etc.

It was a lot of work, but Stacy simply muttered, “Beauty is a pain in the ass.”

But now [Name] was back in Derry, Maine, and school was back in session. [Name] wore a polka-dotted navy blue dress, which hugged and defined her curves. Her hair was curled, and a white hairband was placed in her hair. [Name] sighed, scrutinizing her makeup one last time. Was she ready for this? What if no one notices her drastic changes, was this all for nothing?

[Name] shoves any apprehensive thoughts to the back of her head. She picked up her backpack, and headed downstairs as her chunky Mary Jane heels thumped with each step.  

As the day progressed, [Name] was astonished that Stacy was right. People did notice her, complimented her, in fact, even Greta had complimented her! [Name] wasn’t sure if the girl was being genuine or not, but she still appreciated the sentiment. [Name] was basking in the warmth of the attention, that she never realized the cons of being noticeable.

It wasn’t until later, closer towards the end of the day, did she have her first encounter with the Bowers gang. To be honest, they had frightened her. Then again, who didn’t they instill fear into?

It began with the catcalls that ooze throughout the halls as she passed by the group of boys. [Name] frowned, feeling a shiver of disgust crawl up her spine as she briskly hurried to her sixth period. Those boys were bad but nothing had freaked her out more than Patrick Hockstetter’s lecherous expression and debauched hand gestures.

Patrick made her feel all sorts of feelings, and she wasn’t too sure how to pinpoint each feeling. It was even worst because the lanky boy shared the same sixth period – chemistry – with her. Most of the time, he never bothered showing up. He found more interest in terrorizing the young, unless there was cool lab involving the Bunsen Burners or a variety of chemicals.

When she arrived to class, she sighed in relief, noticing her table was empty. [Name] wasn’t too sure where her other seatmates were at but she was glad Patrick decided to ditch another lesson of Chemistry.  She sat on the stool, pulling her materials out of her backpack as the shrill noise of the bell boomed through the halls.

Mr. Carpenter began discussing molarity, and [Name] quickly jotted down notes as her teacher wrote on the chalkboard. Her sense of comfort was simply an illusion, which fractured and broke as soon as Patrick sauntered in with a shit-eating grin.

Mr. Carpenter began to scold the lanky boy, who simply shrugged it off, ignoring the man as he headed towards [Name]. [Name] felt anxious, and her palms began to feel clammy as she tried to ignore the tall teen.

The stool next to [Name] was pulled out, and the spindly boy sat besides her. [Name] tried her hardest to ignore the eyes that were boring into her but it just made her feel more edgy. She wasn’t too sure what to expect from Patrick, but she was startled when she felt a large hand on her knee.

She threw a panicked glance at Patrick, who continued to look so smug, and [Name] wish she could punch the look off his face if she had the strength. Even with her alarmed stare, he doesn’t stop, instead Patrick inches his hand up higher, going under her dress and giving her upper thigh a tight squeeze.

“P-Patrick…” [Name] stutters out, her eyes wide like a doe, and her eyes held innocence that Patrick wanted to devour.

He simply hummed before jibing, “Pay attention, [Name]. You don’t want that old fart to notice, do you?”

Before [Name] could question him, she felt his index finger graze her underwear, and nearly yelped in surprise.

Patrick tsked at [Name], muttering into her ear, “You really don’t know how to listen, huh? I might have to punish you. Be quiet.”

[Name] was consumed by shock, fear, and excitement. She’s never had this kind of attention, especially not from a boy before. Even if Patrick gave her the absolute creeps, [Name] nodded to his command, turning back to the lesson.

She felt warm, almost to the point where the room became too hot, and she would drift in and out of focus. Patrick continued rubbing soft circles against the fabric of the meek girl’s panties. [Name] gripped her pencil, trying not to release a loud moan.

“You’re doing so good, [Name].” Patrick whispers into her hear, which makes the girl shudder in delight. She always loved being praised, even if it was by someone as filthy as Patrick.

It was shocking to see Mr. Carpenter not notice the illicit scene occurring towards the back of classroom. [Name] decides she’s grateful, as she barely holds on the flimsy thread of control.

Patrick begins to nip the girl’s neck, leaving small hickies on the side of her neck. He was marking her as his, and the whole school would know by the time the bell rings.

“I can’t to see you squirming under me, and moaning my name. I bet you’d look fantastic under me.” Patrick murmurs to her, smirking as he notices the girl drop her pencil against her notebook.

Her control was withering fast, if she failed, he’d have to punish her. Not that he minds anyways.

Patrick was ready to slide the girl’s panties to side, but the shrill bell rings once again. [Name] was so focused on making sure the class didn’t notice anything, time had passed by, and school was over.

Patrick withdraws his hand from under girl’s skirt; “I can’t wait to taste you, princess. Hurry up, and pack your stuff – we aren’t done yet.”

[Name] hadn’t intended to catch Patrick Hockstetter’s attention out of all people, considering how vile he is. But now? She doesn’t mind too much anymore, after all, she craves attention.

[art-killed-the-superstar]

i’m in love with the mecha turtles short and in headcanon hell i accidentally... started shipping, because i don’t headcanon they’re siblings based on how disjointed their teamwork was in the short lol. beneath is the context for this sketch, a vignette from a more complete fic i’m currently working towards. Not everything is explained because it’s part of a bigger picture, so if it gets confusing I’m sorry.

Rooftop Talks (Frida x Kusama)

“What are you doing topside?”

Frida peered down over the edge of the local pizza joint to see Kusama climbing out of the manhole, wobbling a little. She wasn't in the traditional dress that Frida had seen hanging in her wardrobe earlier, instead in some sweats and a duffel coat.

“Wanted some air. I thought you were making buckwheat noodles with Sensei?”

Kusama began to climb up the fire escape, wincing with every creak and groan from the rusty metal rungs, and Frida offered her a hand up.

“Yeah, they'll be ready in five. He told me to come get you so we could all eat them together. Looked everywhere, ya know.”

Frida offered an apologetic smile as she hoisted Kusama onto the roof.

“My bad.”

Kusama flopped down gracelessly next to Frida and peeked down at the small bottle in her hands. “That beer?”

“Cider, actually. Want some?”

Kusama blinked. “I'm fifteen, Frida.”

Frida shrugged. “And I'm sixteen, Mecha-langelo. I don't make a habit of this, you know, and neither should you, but it's new years so we might as well. Don't you like, drink way more alcoholic stuff in Japan at new years anyway?”

“Traditionally, we drink sake, but Mama's never let me try it,” Kusama said with a huff. “And Leo... hah! 'An inebriated ninja is a dead ninja' is what he always says! Whatever, tradition stinks. He sent me a kimono but I haven't even worn it yet.”

“There's still time before the countdown,” Frida said, handing Kusama the bottle. “Maybe put it on before the fireworks?”

“No way! He thinks sending me a pretty kimono is gonna change anything? I'd rather be in my jammies!” She patted her pikachu-patterned sweats with a grin. “Comfort beats fashion, any day.”

Kusama took a swig and pulled a face. “It's like... kinda bitter apple juice? With a bit of strawberry to it?”

“Yeah, it's the weak stuff,” Frida said with a laugh. “Raph would sometimes slip me one when we were on the road together. He was like, 'I'll only give you the apple juice stuff, so I don't get arrested for anything', but I didn't mind. I think he just didn't want to admit that he preferred the fruity ciders too. For some reason guys are sensitive about this stuff.”

Kusama filed this interesting scrap of knowledge in her mind for later.

“Men are weird.”

“That's for sure.”

Frida took the bottle back and sipped, staring up at the moon.

“You know, Leo cares about you. Reckon it's the guilt that made him send that kimono, not the goodness of his heart.”

Kusama rolled her eyes. “Don't need to tell me that, Fearless. I know he feels bad about it. Doesn't exactly make it right, does it?”

“Well, no.” Frida handed the bottle back, and they took turns drinking. “It's probably the same reason that Raph sent me that biker jacket for Christmas. He dumped me at Sensei's door after we got into a fight, so there wasn't any closure. Why'd we get stuck dealing with dumb old farts who can't just say they're sorry, huh?”

Kusama burst out laughing.

“That's an understatement! Leo hates being wrong. All these gifts he's been sending are just a testament to his guilt. Since he won't go back on his word, this is the next best thing.” She shivered, and instinctively Frida pulled her into a side on hug.

“It's getting cold out here,” mumbled Frida, feeling her heart begin to pick up as Kusama's smaller shoulders leaned in close.

“When are the fireworks starting again?”

“The big ones start around midnight, but I've seen people setting them off on every block,” she said dryly. Kusama wrapped her arms around Frida's waist, pulling her in a little closer.

“You know, you guys do things differently here, but at the end of the day it's all the same,” Kusama remarked. “When I first came here I expected New York to be so different to Japan, but in all honesty it's like a grimier version of Tokyo.”

“Oh, so it fell short of your expectations?” Frida joked, nudging her. Kusama giggled and rested her head against her shoulder.

“You aren't from here either, right?”

“No, I grew up in Philly,” Frida said, feeling electric as one of Kusama's stubby pigtails tickled her cheek. “It's different here, that's for sure, but... It's not so bad. I liked roadtripping with Raph, but it's nice having a roof over my head after so long. I like being here with you guys.”

She took the final swig and set the bottle down beside them.

“You had a rough time,” Kusama murmured softly, and Frida's heart felt like it was going to stop if things kept heading this way. “It's gonna get better.”

Frida forced a smile and rested her head atop Kusama's, even if it was slightly uncomfortable to strain her neck like that. “Of, of course it is! I mean, we're heading into the next decade! 2090 is gonna be so much better than 2089, I'm telling ya!”

Kusama reached over to squeeze Frida's hand, and the two of them found their faces inches apart.

“I hope so. 2089's been a shitty year,” Kusama admitted with a giggle that showed her missing teeth.

“Yeah,” Frida said quietly, heart in her mouth, unsure of where to train her eyes.

For a beat, the two of them sat in an unspoken ceasefire, just peacefully counting the moments they could sit like this and just relish in each other. Unfortunately, even ninjas were destined to be discovered eventually.

The scraping noise of a manhole being dislodged wrenched them from their own private moment.

“Fri? Kusama?”

They jolted apart like they'd been struck by lightning as the cover came off completely and Basque pushed himself out clumsily, peering around. “You guys up here? The noodles are ready!”

“We'll be down in a sec,” Frida called, hoping her face wasn't burning as red as it felt. Basque spied them sat on the roof, legs dangling, and frowned disapprovingly.

“Kusama, you're wearing slippers! What if you stepped on some glass? And, and what if you guys catch a cold? Come on, it's freezing out here!”

Kusama rolled her eyes and pulled one of her slippers off, lobbing it square at his forehead.

“Stop babying me, Mecha-tello, we're coming already!”

Basque pursed his lips but said nothing, leaving her slipper neatly beside the manhole lid before disappearing back down into the sewers. Frida and Kusama flopped back, lying flat against the roof, and erupted into helpless giggles.

“Oh my god,” groaned Frida, running her hand through her fringe. “Oh my god.” “His timing is just incredible,” snorted Kusama. She wound her fingers between Frida's and rolled over slightly so they were facing one another. “He sure knows how to pick his moments.”

“Damn straight,” Frida agreed, and burst out laughing all over again. When their giggles died down, the two of them watched each other for a few moments, and nothing really needed to be said. Besides, if they opened this particular can of worms again, Master Michelangelo would never let them hear the end of their tardiness. As prone to lateness as he was, to be late for a meal was near unforgivable.

Frida sighed, reluctant to let go of the moment, and sat up, releasing Kusama's hand. “Come on, let's go. Sensei will be wondering about us.” After a pause, she added, “They all will.”

“What's there to wonder about?” Kusama asked, with a grin that borderlined between sickeningly innocent and sweetly wicked. “Just two girls, hanging out on a rooftop in the dead of night...”

“Drinking something they shouldn't, almost doing something they also probably shouldn't,” Frida agreed, and Kusama rolled her eyes fondly.

“You know, I really don't think we're the type to put feelings before a mission objective, so if you're worried about it affecting the team...”

“Of course it won't,” Frida said quickly, beginning to climb down the freezing cold fire escape. “We're, y'know, professional. As the leader, I would never put the team at risk over, you know, emotional stuff.”

Kusama hummed in amusement and followed her down. “You know, I definitely wouldn't go easy on you in training. If we did decide to carry on with whatever that was on the roof.”

“Good,” Frida shot back, “because neither would I. You're still my teammate first and foremost, Kusama.”

“And you're still the know it all fearless leader.”

Kusama jammed on her rogue slipper and with one last wistful glance up at the waning moon, pulled the manhole lid over once more.

[s3venpounds]

1 - 40

jesus buddy, if you wanted to know more about me just friend me somewhere and talk to me facebook,discord,overwatch,psn, snapchat w.e! haha i dont bite!

also this is gonna be really feckin long

1: Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie.

How to train your dragon (1 and 2 i can’t decide) I fucking LOVE dragons. the idea to fucking ride one in the sky?!?! fucking DOPE. the idea that theyre also SCALY DOGS?!?!? MOTHER.FUCKING.DOPE. i just associate the idea of freedom with flying through the sky and that feeling was conveyed really well in that movie so i really loved it!

2: Talk about your first kiss.

honestly? kinda dumb now that i look back on it. it was a peck, i wasn’t even like mentally prepared and it happened way faster than i thought. If i knew it was going to happen i would have really like milked that fucker. i woulda went romance movie on that shit with all the extra shit like groping and weird inhaling noises and kissing so hard your teeth almost clink together. but yknow coulda woulda shoulda

3: Talk about the person you’ve had the most intense romantic feelings for.

theyre not a part of my life anymore which admittedly fucking sucks but i think its for the better at least for them. do i wish it worked out and we were together? i mean yeah duh, the reasons i fell for them don’t fucking disintegrate/ i just have more information than i had when i first met that person. will i actually actively pursuit them in the chance to be with them again? hell no. i’m tired. and i’ve seen enough “ self confidence” posts on here to think “ hey if someone really wanted me in their life they would go out of their way to do so and seeing as they haven’t even messaged me in god knows how long then its safe to say theyre off being happy

4: Talk about the thing you regret most so far.

man i haven’t seen this person is literally almost 20 years. I need to apologize. or at the very fucking least, see how theyre been doing. its driving me mad just trying to picture how theyre living and just coming up with a giant question mark.

5: Talk about the best birthday you’ve had.

lets be real bro most of my birthdays have been shit so i gave up on tryna make them memorable or fun, ‘s just another day to me. i mean the best one would have to be this one time i got a gameboy advance but thats pretty much it

6: Talk about the worst birthday you’ve had.

yknow how everyone says “ OH MY GOD WE SHOULD KEEP IN TOUCH” once you move? yeah thats bullshit. honest to god bullshit. i kept tabs on everyone when i moved to a different city and when i came down to visit for my birthday inviting all those people who supposed “wanted to keep in touch with me” literally 1 person showed up. and i think they only showed up because our parents were friends too. so yeah. fuck people sometimes.

7: Talk about your biggest insecurity.

hygiene. breath, hair, clothes, eating habits, manners, anything that might make me come off as unclean to people im trying to impress drives me off the fucking wall. specially at formal events. if im wearing snazzy clothing at like a suite 16 or a debut or a wedding bet you $100 that im adjusting little aspects of my appearance every like 15 seconds. eating mints the second one is finished, trying not to be too close to someones face when talking, even when i fucking fart i always take note of which way the wind is blowing, or im sitting down on something that can absorb the stench, how much pressure is in my gut and how much of it can i let out in small bursts to avoid sound. that or asian dick syndrome. yknow. haha asians got a small dick? that kinda shit bugs me a bit. not a ton but more than i thought it would

8: Talk about the thing you are most proud of.(i am literally only 8 questions in and my fingers are a little sore from typing)

my singing and impressions? i once scared some friends when i imitated a party blower kazoo thingy since the ones they bought from the dollarstore didnt make any sound. same as my singing, i tend to get high scores and i impressed my cousins once with a perfect score on a backstreet boys song HEH

9: Talk about little things on your body that you like the most.

my biceps? theyre not like chris hemsworth level of meaty but like when i worked at this physically demanding job my coworkers are like “ woah dude ur arms are different from mine, if you worked out theyd look so ripped” that kinda stuck with me for a while specially knowing they were a football jock and they had their own special diet and fitness instructor or something. i also like my smile/ jaw shape? my hair can look pretty good too sometimes

10: Talk about the biggest fight you’ve ever had.

my family is very passive aggressive oh and racist

11: Talk about the best dream you’ve ever had.

i once had this dream where i had reallllly passionate sex and it felt real and i could feel like every little detail down to like hairs brushing my skin on my arms and shit. i swear to this day it was a modern day succubus or something

12: Talk about the worst dream you’ve ever had.

that dream where i was a bird and flying away from”something” just all my instincts telling me to RUN. or that dream where i got shot in the hand, chest then the head and before i blacked out i said “Ch*****” who incidentally i was going to see later that day which made things very awkward at least for me

13: Talk about the first time you had sex/how you imagine your first time.

it was pretty good. looking back i was probably shit in bed hahaha first time so of course theres shit to work out. 

14: Talk about a vacation.

hit on by a cousin AND their gay friend. to which the cousin threatened me with self harm but the gay friend took the rejection very easily it was almost baffling in comparison (although the second the settled down they started to bash on me for rejecting their friend) also ate some REALLLLLY garlic covered crab the smell took 5 washes to get out… also got to ride in the back of a truck as its driving at like 120 mph and flying off all these little hills and tracking mud everywhere it was great

15: Talk about the time you were most content in life.

she was in my arms fast asleep and i took a photo. she didnt like that but let me keep the pic so that was nice.

16: Talk about the best party you’ve ever been to.

i can’t really remember any that stand out they were all equally fun. dont get me wrong some were super fun its just that it was also followed by a lot of bad choices that kinda take it down a notch. i will say this one party a friend hosted where i got to meet a BUNCH of new people. i also snorted some fundip powder as a dare. they refuse to let it go so i figure might as well own it. i also landed some sweet shots in beerpong

17: Talk about someone you want to be friends with.

ellen paige would be dope to be friends with. same with zendaya. and gal gadot just so i can like sit in her presence and be in awe for extended periods of time

18: Talk about something that happened in elementary school.

i was cheating on a test and my so called friend ratted me out never talked to him again that white privilege lookin hoe

19: Talk about something that happened in middle school.

i stopped talking to a friend that id thought i would be friends with for my whole life. i also became friends with my current best friend

20: Talk about something that happened in high school.

people are dumb. drama is dumb. people who seek out this kinda shit needa leave me the hell alone. and if youre going to challenge me to a fight, tell me about said fight so i can show up. dont march around telling people ur gonna fight me and not tell me so i dont show up and make it look like i pussied out. like for real?

21: Talk about a time you had to turn someone down.

oh yeah like the vacation one said : shit got really weird. and to have that sorta conversation on spotty wifi in an airport in south korea meaning jet lag is also disorienting af

22: Talk about your worst fear.

death. nuff said

23: Talk about a time someone turned you down.

it sucked but it happens so like.? lmao i dont really know waht to say but it sucked

24: Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot.

i have a horrible memory and on top of that my mind moves at like 32754895274 miles a second so i dont keep stuff in mind a lot in the first place. i can’t really think of anything that had so much impact that i’ve remembered it. well i mean there was this one song a friend told me about in a letter and to this day i’ve kept remembering the same verse “ maybe if we met each other under a different sky maybe things would be much better between you and i”

25: Talk about an ex-best friend.

we just….grew apart. and if we tried to be friends now im sure there would be tension and unease. hes just in a different friend circle. i dont hate him for it i just feel like hes living in a world of white and im living in a world of black like its just plain and simple

26: Talk about things you do when you’re sick.

on the computer. i can’t rest when im sick. i just keep trudging along. school, work, hangouts, i still go. i just take precautions to not spread it

27: Talk about your favorite part of someone else’s body.

neck? shoulder? hands? face? hair? idk dood i don’t really like specific places more of how WELL those parts can mesh together to make this beautiful being.

28: Talk about your fetishes.

y’all about to learn some shit because im gonna teach you a thing about me. pov’s, deepthroat/gagging, emo/goth, anal, massage, ropes and power trips, asians, tentacles if im feeling kinky, hentai /cartoon shit, glory holes, dirty talk and asmr (who woulda thought theres porn for that huh?), ahegao(being fucked silly or till your mind breaks into being nothing but a cumdump), swallowing, threesomes, double penetration, latex is pretty cool too, cosplays are nice if the characters are ones i recognize, tittyfucks, source film maker porn of like video game characters are getting pretty professional nowadays, lesbian, orgys, teenage girls and old ass guys, horse dicks and girls who try to take em, i got turned on by a girl fucking a dog once so i guess bestiality is a thing, oh i saw this scene in a movie im not sure if it was real it seems kinda hazy but it involved necrophilia but im not sure if it turned me on or it was so weird i’ve memorized it because of how weird it was. chicks with dicks fucking other chicks. and a plethora of other weird shit. i dont know what fetishes count and what doesn’t so i just listed whatever came to mind as i wrote have fun with that shit

29: Talk about what turns you on. 

short hair, asian heritage, playful and lighthearted but can be lustful as all hell, shorter than me, big boobs is a plus, mid driffs, underboob, small frame or face, scent( god if you smell good thats instant brownie points with me), likes anime, high pitch voices are cute as hell, very physically intimate, loves PDA’s, yeah i can’t really think of much

30: Talk about what turns you off.

uhh smells bad?, when their personality is bland/boring, or just shit. over timidness i get being shy but like if you can’t trust that the person youre interested in then like what am i supposed to do. i literally dated a girl who was so sheepish all i could do was ask her yes or no questions. and honestly that got old really fucking fast. i get she was trying but like i can only finesse so much of a relationship man. bad hygiene holy fuck. if you got like ear wax showin our ur ears, or like a bleeding pimple in plain view and refuse to at least dab it with a wet cloth or tissue then pls its not gonna work out. dandruff oh my gOD. dandruff would drive me nuts. like if i get close enough to see individual fucking flakes im gonna tear my whole scalp off

31: Talk about what you think death is like.

i feel like our bodies stop responding but our “souls” are still present there trapped screaming and trying to move our body but can’t. and thats why burials and shit sound so terrifying

32: Talk about a place you remember from your childhood.

dont need to. im a couple blocks away i can visit it any time. (my elementary and middle school the neighbourhood surrounding it was also where i used to live so that was dope)

33: Talk about what you do when you are sad.

i force myself to get MORE sad so i can get it all out in one go and much faster. like how the human mind can only get so angry that the brain gives up and just tries to find another way to spend its time. 

34: Talk about the worst physical pain you’ve endured.

when i was a kid me and bunch of other kids decided to clog a slide with just a shit ton of people and one of my friends who came after me kept pushing me to the point i was hanging on for dear life using only my knee down that was wedged between a fat kid and my friend who went after me. i fell off eventually knocking skulls with another kid near the end of the slide(this slide was shaped like a spring so that explains why there were kids under me) my arm bend backwards for a sec after hitting another kid’s legs, and then i fell chest and fast first on the asphalt winding myself. kids are rugged as all hell man they can really take a hit. i walked it off but god damn if i didnt get bruises and shit afterwards. or that time i got beaten so bad by father dearest because work was stressful and i ended up blacking out. wasn’t even allowed to go to the hospital. just kinda laid down in my room with bruises all over.

35: Talk about things you wish you could stop doing.

relying on people for happiness. distracting myself from sadness and responsibilities. procrastinating in general

36: Talk about your guilty pleasures.

i dont really feel guilt save for some specific circumstances. ask any of my friends. does that mean im a sociopath or whatever? 

37: Talk about someone you thought you were in love with.

they just got out of a relationship with someone and was avoiding them profusely and i just started to get to know them. we got to the point that when she was ready we could date. little did i know that later, she would end up dating a friend of mine. to which i promptly had the appropriate reaction of crying myself to sleep, sending that friend a text message with all the things he should know to keep that girl happy and ultimately smashing a lot of things (some bottles actually because we were gonna build a sculpture or something together with em. man middle school was a fucking RIDE)

38: Talk about songs that remind you of certain people.

mmmmmm i would prefer to keep those underwraps.

39: Talk about things you wish you’d known earlier.

family will be there for you in the end. (not because they want to but because the world teaches them that they have to meaning they will help just in their own way and to their own ends.) friends come and go. they always have always will. anyone who says forever is a fuckin idiot. lovers come and go thats just a natural part of growing up. and lets be real all the people that said they would self harm ultimately never did so dont stress it so much god damn(but dont let it slide either)

40: Talk about the end of something in your life.

how about the end of my interest in anime and video games. nothing seems to really interest me anymore. everything is just kinda “meh”