#without question if you ask any Bat 'hey do you really put dirt under your pillow because of dirt man?' they will say yes.

[noir-renard]

You gotta be careful when visiting Gotham, make sure you put dirt under your pillow. Just ask anyone it's a thing.

original audio by cartervailmusic on tiktok

[seijorhi]

Finders Keepers

the long awaited (sorry!) zombie au. hope y’all enjoy

Seijoh 4 x female reader & Miya twins x female reader 

TW Blood, gore, angst, um... toxic relationships?

“Let me see.”

It’s little more than a murmur, but in the quiet stillness of the night your voice carries. It hardly matters; Oikawa has you close, tucked under his arm with his injured leg stretched out between the two of you. He could stop you if he really wanted, but he only watches, those tired, wary eyes fixed on your face as you reach for his pants. 

“It’s fine,” he grunts out, yet he can barely get the words out before he’s hissing through his teeth – a knee jerk reaction to the scrape of rough fabric against his wound. His fingers are digging painfully into your arm, and it doesn’t make a difference how gentle you try to be, how many stammered apologies fall from your lips, your fingers are stiff and clumsy and his pants are caked with dried blood and grime, hindering the process.

Pursing your lips, you glance up. “This would go easier if you took these off, you know.”

He cracks a smile at that, strained and tense, but your chest still flutters at the sight of it. “If you wanna get my pants off so badly, cutie, all you had to do was ask.”

“Tooru,” you begin, but he sighs heavily and that brief flicker of mirth glimmering in his eyes fades. Reaching over he picks up his hunting knife, pressing the handle into your palm and letting his fingers slowly curl around yours. The weight of it feels unwieldy and foreign in your hand, and you can’t quite say for sure if the way your breath picks up and hitches is due to your nerves or the way Oikawa’s watching you, his warm hand still wrapped around yours.

“Cut it, then.”

The knife helps, shearing through his pants like butter, but the wound itself is messy – torn threads plastered to congealed blood and dirt – and blunt fingernails sink into your skin and Oikawa grits out a curse when you try to gently ease them free. 

It’s worse than you’d thought. A lot worse. Raked over his right knee, five gouges, jagged and gruesome, raw flesh and muscle exposed beneath. Your stomach roils at the sight of it, bile creeping up your throat, and for a moment you’re astounded by how calm he is, sitting there beside you. 

If it were you, you’re fairly sure you’d be rolling on the ground howling by now, but the only hint of pain Oikawa’s face betrays is the tightness of his jaw, teeth clenched even as he looses a shuddering breath.

“I-I’ll go see if I can find something to…” to what? Clean the wound? Stitch it? You’re not an idiot, unless this little cottage has an incredibly well stocked first aid kit, you know you’re in trouble. And even if it does, beyond the very basics of clean, disinfect and bandage, you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to fix this.

Iwaizumi was always the one to stitch up their wounds, muttering obscenities under his breath and glaring at them the whole time. It was their own idiot faults for putting themselves in a position where they could get hurt in the first place, he’d say, they could deal with a little pain while he fixed them up. But as you stare at the grisly mess of Oikawa’s knee, there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that this might be beyond even Iwa’s level of expertise. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, because Iwa isn’t here. 

Makki and Mattsun aren’t either.

And strangely enough, it’s not the fear of the creatures lurking in the woods that’s gnawing at your gut. It’s Oikawa’s injury, the blood and mangled mess that you can’t even begin to fix, the thought of the trap that’s awaiting the others back at the sanctuary. It’s that feeling of helplessness that’s tightening around your neck like a noose.

“Hey,” Oikawa calls, snagging at your wrist when you try to pull away. “They’ll find us, have a little faith.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod. “I know.”

You don’t have the guts to tell him that that’s only half the problem.

Making do with vodka and some old bandages you’d scrounged up from a first aid kit under the sink, you do what you can for Tooru’s knee. Working by the light of a few flickering candles, your hands shaking like a leaf, it's a job easier said than done, and you can’t help but wince at every pained hiss and grunt that escapes him. 

It’s a hack job, a bandaid over a gaping wound, but he thanks you for it anyway, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple as he drags you closer once more. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he murmurs, and the words hang heavy over the both of you; a promise and a sobering reminder in one.

Tucked up in his embrace, you shut your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep. 

Yet the moment you do, you’re right back there again: the hallway doors bursting open and the undead pouring through. Rotting and snarling, the sound of panicked shrieks tearing through the sanctuary in their wake.

Tooru’s hand in yours, yanking you along as he ran. Your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you gasped for breath, your chest burning. And the fear, the horror that threatened to choke you as the others fell behind, their frantic pleas turning into agonised screams.

Everybody else first. The words spoken before any one of them left the safety of the sanctuary; you’d always assumed it was a grim kind of joke between the boys, a good luck charm. How many times had you heard Mattsun laugh it, clapping Iwa on the shoulder, or Makki for that matter, or Oikawa?

‘Come home safe’, you’d thought it meant, not ‘rip the guns out of other survivors’ hands and throw them back into the path of the oncoming undead’.

And then you’d stumbled, tripping over your own two feet. You remember Oikawa cursing, the pain that radiated up your knees and the palms of your hands as you hit the floor hard, and the absolute, bone chilling terror that surged through you when you looked up and saw one of the undead creatures lunge for you; jaw hanging loose, more ripped flesh and gristle than an actual mouth–

Oikawa was too far away, too slow, and even if he wasn’t, you’d just witnessed the lengths he’d go to for self preservation. You’d screamed for him anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and praying you’d go quickly when those fingers and yellowing teeth dug into your flesh and ripped you apart.

And in the space of a single petrified heartbeat, three shots had rung through the air, a warm wetness splattering against your cheek. Tooru was there, kicking the rotting corpse away from you and hauling you back to your feet, back safely against his side.

But the next one was quicker, leaping over the husk of its fallen friend, snarling and bloody and savage, and then it was Tooru who was screaming, undead fingers sinking into the flesh of his leg, ripping as it tried to claw him back.

Heart pounding viciously, your eyes shoot open in the darkness.

Even with the reassurance of Oikawa’s frame pressed up behind you, his breath warm against your skin, sleep doesn’t come easy, and the dawn brings little reprieve.

Stupidly, you’d hoped – prayed – that somehow through the night he might’ve gotten better. It was early in the morning when you’d felt him start to shiver against you. You’d tried to roll away, to give him space so you wouldn’t accidentally knock his leg, but Tooru was having none of it, burrowing in closer, his grip tightening.

And when you’d felt him start to sweat, his arms becoming sticky and clammy, his shirt dampening at your back, that slow, cloying sense of dread took root inside of your stomach.

Under the first rays of morning light, the true extent of Oikawa’s condition is unignorable. Without the luxury of being able to properly close the wound, blood’s seeped through the bandages overnight, leaving them a mottled, macabre red. His face is pale, a thin sheen of sweat dotting at his brow and with every shallow, rattling breath he takes, his body trembles.

It’s more than just simple blood loss.

You think for a moment that he’s unconscious, long lashes fanned out over flushed cheekbones, but the moment you reach for the bandages, his eyes snap open. “Don’t,” he rasps.

You frown, “Tooru–”

“No,” he says. “It’s fine. Leave it alone.”

Between him and Iwaizumi, and to a certain extent, Makki and Mattsun, you’ve never had much of a say in how things are run. You’ve never questioned that they’re the ones in charge, Oikawa most of all. They’re the ones who’ve kept you safe, kept you alive all this time, and all they’ve ever asked of you is that you do what they say.

And you have. Always. Because without them, you’d be dead. You don’t have to pick up a gun and fight, because they do it for you. You don’t have to go on supply runs because they take care of it, they take care of you. And it’s never mattered whether it’s just been the five of you out there alone, or if you were banding together with other survivors; that’s never changed – no matter how many dirty looks it earned you from the others.

You are their responsibility, but in return, you do what they tell you without question.

But this–

This isn’t like that. This isn’t you begging Iwaizumi to take you with him on perimeter patrol because you’ve been cooped up for what feels like weeks, or pouting because they’re deliberately keeping things from you again. 

And maybe they have kept you in the dark, but you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. The reality of this situation hasn’t escaped you. 

The sanctuary’s overrun, and if – when – Iwa, Makki and Mattsun make it back, they’ll be walking into an ambush. Even if by some miracle they do manage to all make it out unscathed and somehow figure out a way to pick up your trail, there’s no telling how long it’ll take for them to find their way back to you.

(You can’t bear to think about the possibility of them not coming home; you won’t.)

Right now, it’s just you and Oikawa, stuck in some abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a rifle and a baseball bat between you. You have no food, no supplies and he’s getting weaker by the minute.

You’re terrified.

And you don’t have the luxury of sitting back and letting somebody else take care of you anymore. You don’t stand a chance of survival without Oikawa, and right now he doesn’t stand a chance without you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head. “Okay, I won’t touch it, but I’m not just going to sit here and watch you get worse.” Smoothing your palms over your lap, you take a deep breath in through your nose. “There’s a prison–”

“No.”

“Tooru–”

“I said no,” he snaps.

Biting back a sigh, you try again, “Tooru, there might be supplies there,” you plead. “Painkillers, antibiotics, something that might help–”

“I don’t need antibiotics and you’re not leaving. We need to stay here where it’s safe until the others find us,” he grits out, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Normally, this would be the point that you’d back off, running off to lick your wounds before he decided to get mean, but even as some part of you cowers at the mere thought of upsetting him, this time you don’t back down.

He watches warily as you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, gently smoothing damp brown locks back from his sweat slicked forehead. “I don’t know when Iwa’s coming back,” you murmur. “But until he does, the prison’s our best chance, if I can just–”

“No!” he snarls, cutting you off once again.

His eyes are manic now, blown wide and glazed over, he’s shivering, his breath a faint rattle – but his grip is iron, long fingers clutching at you desperately when you jerk back with a gasp.

“You don’t leave me.”

You don’t want to. 

It’d be easy not to, to sit and stay with him and pretend that your world isn’t falling apart and he isn’t dying. You’ve never been a fighter, always too soft, too weak, too naive to survive out there on your own. The thought of setting one foot outside of that door without him by your side fills you with absolute terror, but what other options do you have?

He might not like it, but you’re out of time – this decision isn’t his to make anymore.

“Tooru, I-I have to, you know–”

“No!” he snaps, dragging you closer. “You’re not leaving me, I won’t fucking let you!”

Your hand trembles when you reach up to take his, easing it from your shirt and bringing it to your lips. Tears spill from your lashes, falling in heavy droplets against the back of his hand as Oikawa makes a pained sound.

“Please don’t go.”

You both know he can’t stop you.

“Keep the gun,” you tell him, mustering up a tight, watery smile. “Anything but Iwa and our boys comes through that door, shoot it.”

—

It seems a cruel, twisted joke that you find a perfectly good truck sitting a little ways up the driveway, just begging to be used – with no way of getting it started.

Mattsun always made hot wiring look so easy, tossing you a wink when the engine rumbled to life, as if it was a neat little party trick he’d pulled out just to impress you. He did it so quickly, so smoothly, ripping the wires out and sparking them like it was second nature, but he’d never bothered to actually explain what he was doing to you.

And why would he? Between the four of them, there’d always be somebody else to take care of it for you. It’s the same reason they never taught you how to shoot, never taught you how to fight beyond the very basics of self defence.

Now, trudging along the side of the barren road with nothing but your baseball bat and a canteen of water slung over your hip, you find yourself wishing you’d paid a little more attention. Ten miles hadn’t seemed that far on paper – it was less than the trek back into town and you’d figured a safer bet, but walking around in broad daylight without any kind of real protection feels like you’re begging to be preyed upon. Yet by some stroke of luck (and despite that persistent nagging sense that you’re being watched) you manage to make it to the perimeter gates without coming across another soul, dead or alive.

The towering brick walls topped with spirals of barbed wire that line the prison complex are as imposing as they are unbreachable, and for a moment, standing there staring up at them, you feel a crushing sense of disappointment. You’ve walked over two hours, left Tooru in pain and alone for nothing. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to scale those walls, and without any kind of bolt cutters or firepower, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to get past the front gates. 

Iwa would’ve known that. Iwa would’ve been better prepared. 

But as you draw closer to the guardhouse, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it’s not a problem. The heavy wrought iron gate’s already unlocked and open, creaking in the breeze. And really, that should have been the first warning sign, but you’re too busy thanking your lucky stars as you slide on through to pay attention to things like that.

The courtyard is just as deserted. The crunch of gravel underfoot echoes too loud, setting your nerves on edge as you make your way towards the imposing structure. It’s quiet, eerily so – even the birds seem to have disappeared. Is this how all raids feel, you wonder as you climb the steps towards the door. This sense of foreboding dread that settles in your stomach, the goosebumps that prickle down your arms? 

Your grip tightens around the handle of your bat and you press gingerly against the door – just like the guardhouse gate, it gives under your touch, swinging open wide. It’s dark inside; you hadn’t thought to bring a torch and with the absence of any windows lining the corridor it’s near pitch black. Your heart hammers inside your chest, every cell in your body screaming at you to turn around and run back to Tooru, but you’ve come this far already. 

The undead flock to fresh, living meat. It’s been months since the outbreak began; anyone unfortunate enough to have found themselves trapped inside when it happened is probably long dead, and any of the undead likely long gone.

It’s just a little darkness. 

Steeling your nerves you creep through the black, clutching tightly at your bat, toeing your way down the corridor waiting for your eyes to adjust to the dim. Every breath you draw in feels too loud, every step too obnoxious. Deserted or not, the sooner you can find the med-bay, get what you need for Oikawa and get out, the better.

The layout’s simple enough – five looming multi-storied wings breaking off like fingers from the central watch-tower, but you don’t have a clue which one holds what you’re seeking. Your only option is to search them one by one and hope for the best. 

You’d expected steel bars and heavy locks, but the prison reminds you strangely of a school instead; long hallways lined with doors, each with a tiny window to peek through. They’re all open now of course, whatever locking mechanism keeping them shut having failed when the generators ran out. The first few are empty, barren and stripped of everything but soiled mattresses – it should be a relief. 

There’s nothing waiting for you in the darkness but empty halls and emptier rooms. If the others were here, they’d be teasing you for sure. Or Makki and Mattsun would, at least. You always were such a scared little baby – their scared little baby – you’d jump at your own shadow if you didn’t have them around. 

And it’s easier to keep going imagining them there by your side, the jokes they’d crack, the warmth of Iwa’s hand in yours, or Makki’s arm slung over your shoulder. You’d feel safe with them. You wouldn’t need to feel afraid.

But no amount of pretend comfort is enough to allay the heavy sense of dread that’s sitting in your stomach, growing harder and harder to ignore with every passing minute. And the problem, you realise, with the prison being so deadly quiet is that every noise, no matter how quiet, echoes.

Climbing the stairs in the dark, you don’t notice the slickness on the walls either side of you, the red handprints smeared messily over white paint. You don’t see the broken, bloody fingernails littering the steps beneath you. 

You hear it though, when you reach the landing. It’s soft. A quiet, wet squelching, ripping–

There’s no screams accompanying it like there were back when the sanctuary was overrun, but it’s not a sound you’re gonna be able to forget any time soon. In the dark you freeze, not daring to so much as breathe as you peer down the endless corridor, trying to pinpoint which of the cells it’s coming from. 

In the end, you decide that it doesn’t matter. 

They’re quicker when they’ve fed, stronger too, and there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to be able to fumble past in the dark without drawing that thing’s attention. The wooden bat in your hands feels heavy, your palms already slick with sweat. You weren’t quick enough back at the sanctuary; without Tooru, that thing would’ve eaten you. And suddenly it seems laughable that you came out here, that you genuinely thought you could handle this – fight one of them off if it came down to it.

Tooru needs those meds, you know that, and you might be useless and weak and absolutely paralysed with fear, but you’re not stupid. You can’t help him at all if you’re torn apart by one of those creatures.

Your pulse racing, a potent mix of adrenaline and sheer, unrelenting terror coursing through your veins, you draw in a quiet breath, slowly lifting your foot to back away. It hasn’t heard you yet, and so long as it’s distracted–

“Oi, hurry up! I know what I saw, she came in this way.”

“Jesus, just shut up for a sec, wouldja! Ya don’t need to keep yellin’ at me, I’m comin’!”

Through the grate at your feet, you see two beams of light break through the darkness, the sound of loud, heavy footsteps echoing down the wing. Icy claws tighten like a vice around your heart and you still once more, squeezing your eyes shut as you listen, praying…

The squelching’s stopped.

Grip tight around the handle of your bat, your entire body quaking with fear, you watch with wide, stricken eyes as one of the doors halfway down the block slowly creaks outwards. 

For a heartbeat, there’s nothing, and you try and convince yourself it’s just the wind, that you’re imagining things and your mind is playing mean tricks on you–

A feral snarl rips through the air, and before you can so much as scream it’s crashing through the open doorway, head swivelling as it searches for the source of the disturbance. In the dark you can’t make out much, only that it’s huge, half its flesh torn and decaying, smeared with blood and filth – but you see it when those white, cloudy eyes fix on you, its rotting mouth bared and salivating.

And this time you do scream. You scream for Oikawa, for Iwa, for Makki and Mattsun and the faceless strangers on the floor below as you cast your bat aside and run. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you take the stairs two, three at a time, slipping and slamming into the stairwell wall, a sharp burst of pain radiating down your shoulder – you can hear it giving chase, the rabid growls and snarls too close for comfort.

Tears flood your eyes, your chest heaving with every desperate breath as your feet hit solid ground once more and you take off.

“Please!” you sob as you run, blinded by the brightness of the torch beam as it’s shone in your direction. “PLEASE HELP ME!”

You can’t outrun it forever. Even now, you hear it gaining on you, its hot, foul breath puffing against your back – it’s just like back at the sanctuary. It’s gonna catch you, rip into you and feast while you choke to death on your own blood and screams, and this time you won’t have Oikawa here to save you. You’re going to die in agony, torn apart and devoured, and it’s all your own stupid fault.

Your throat tightens, more tears springing free. You can’t see anything beyond those two blinding lights, moving now, dancing across the field of your vision. “PLEASE!” you shriek, desperate and hoarse as the undead creature behind you readies itself to pounce.

Please don’t leave me here to die.

And for one heart wrenching second, you think back to your boys, and the words they’d said before kissing you goodbye. Everybody else first. Maybe this is some kind of divine retribution, you think. Maybe when the world went to hell people became cold and selfish and you deserve this for sitting back and letting others die in your place.

“Get down!” the voice yells, and you don’t even stop to think before you drop, sliding across the floor. There’s another blinding flash, a shot fired into the dark and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hug your knees to your chest as the creature snarls in anger and jerks backwards, a gruesome spurt of blood spraying over you.

“Ya fucking missed! How could ya fucking miss?!”

The gun cocks and reloads, another deafening shot ringing out above you and you flinch, your nails biting into the soft skin of your palm–

But this time the bullet hits its mark. The creature crashes to the floor with a loud thump and doesn’t move again. 

You don’t waste a second scrambling to your feet, launching yourself into the arms of your saviour. You don’t care that you’re crying, that you’re covered in blood and filth and god knows what else, you cling to him like he’s a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder. And instead of pushing you away like he probably should, he lets out a short huff that sounds almost like a laugh, his arm curling around your waist.

“I’m the one who shot the damn thing,” the other mutters sourly.

The man holding you snorts, “Nah, yer the idiot who missed.” Belatedly, you realise that he’s still gripping his gun, the brightness you’d assumed to have come from a torch actually from a light mounted to the barrel. He slings the rifle carelessly over his shoulder, drawing back slightly to appraise you. “Now, wanna tell me what a sweet thing like you’s doin’ all alone in a place like this?”

With your eyes now adjusting to the light, you can see that the two of them can’t be much older than you. They’re both tall, broad shouldered and handsome, the same jawline, the same slope to their nose, nearly identical hooded eyes – brothers you decide, maybe even twins. And they’re both smirking at you, not with the relief of just barely escaping a brush with a particularly gruesome death, but with an odd sort of lackadaisical amusement, as if this – skulking through dark, abandoned places, killing the undead – is nothing out of the ordinary for them. 

And from the ease with which they carry their weapons, maybe it isn’t.

Oikawa warned you about men like them. Men in general, really. Even the ones who smiled at you back at the sanctuary, the ones who offered to help you move heavy supplies when they saw you struggling – at least, until Iwa or one of the others stepped in with a poisonous glare. Anyone who wasn’t them was dangerous, a threat, just waiting in the wings to take advantage of a pretty, dumb little thing like you.

And maybe he’s right, but when the one holding you instead drags you closer, wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins to lead you back towards the guard tower as his brother falls into step on your other side, you don’t shrug him off. 

Oikawa isn’t here, and they have just saved your life. That has to count for something, right?

“I-I thought it’d be safe,” you confess breathlessly, trying not to focus on the thumb sweeping over the curve of your shoulder. “Well, empty at least. I didn’t have a choice.” And they listen, sharing glances in the dark as you tell them about what’d happened at the sanctuary, about Oikawa and the desperation that’d led you to leave him and walk miles alone to try and find some kind of medicine–

Until a snicker interrupts you. “Sorry,” the blonde mutters, though he doesn’t look all that sincere when your eyes flash to his. “It’s just…”

“Anythin’ worth taking woulda been snatched up months ago,” the darker haired one interjects.

“There ain’t nothin’ here but the occasional idiot tryna set up camp an’… Well, ya saw how well that turned out.”

It hits you like a gut punch, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh, gasping breath. There was never anything here, everything… all of it was a waste. You came all this way, left him feverish and screaming himself hoarse for you, risked your life, almost died and–

It was all for nothing.

Fresh tears sting at your eyes, they’re still talking but it’s just white noise washing over you. You don’t even realise they’re leading you back outside until you’re walking through the doors, the sudden burst of sunlight making you flinch. But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.

You’re an idiot.

A naive, dumb little girl who was stupid enough to think this half cocked plan was gonna work. That you would make it back to Tooru in one piece, medicine in hand to save the day and prove you weren’t the helpless damsel they’d pegged you for. 

You’ve wasted so much time, for nothing. 

There’s no drugs, no food, nothing that’s gonna help either one of you make it through the next few days and suddenly you’re drowning under a wave of hopelessness and bitter disappointment. You fall to your knees in the dirt, taking both your saviours by surprise, and let out a painful, heart wrenching sob. And once you start, you can’t seem to stop. It’s overwhelming, every emotion you’ve bottled up and shoved aside over the last two days suddenly forced into the light. You cry for yourself, for Tooru – for Iwa and Makki and Mattsun. You cry until it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, and then there’s rough calloused fingers brushing your tears away.

You look up through wet lashes to find the dark-haired man crouching before you, his expression sober. “Ya don’t need to cry, sweetheart, we’re not monsters y’know.”

His brother chuckles behind you, “We’re not about to leave some pretty little thing all alone out here to starve to death.” His hand’s resting atop your head now, smoothing down the hair at your crown. It’s soft and soothing, and you’re so attuned to seeking comfort that you can’t help but lean into it, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. “We’ve got some friends nearby, a nice little hideaway stocked full of all kinds of shit. Everything ya could possibly need.”

“Y-you mean it?” you ask, wide eyes flickering to the dark haired one, who smiles at last. “You’ll share them with me?”

“‘Course we do. Meds, food, weapons. Whatever ya want, it’s yours.”

You take the hand he offers to help you stand, your limbs trembling once more – but this time it’s not from fear or exhaustion, but the overwhelming rush of sheer relief. You could kiss him, kiss them both, but you don’t.

Instead you settle for throwing your arms around them once more, breathless thanks falling from your lips faster than they can catch as you hug them tight. They don’t seem to mind though, sharing almost identical smirks as the three of you head out to an old, beat up camaro parked out by the entrance to the prison. While the blonde slides in the driver’s seat and his brother takes the passenger’s side, you climb up into the back seat. 

“Is it far?” you ask as he kicks the car into gear and peels out onto the deserted road. Hopefully it’s not, the sooner you can get back to help Tooru the better. 

“Nah, not too far. We’ll be home before ya know it.”

Of course, they’re driving you to their friends, but they haven’t promised anything about driving you back to the cottage and Oikawa–

Which is perfectly fine! You’re not going to push your luck, they’re already doing plenty for you. More than they really have to. You don’t even need that much – just some medicine for Tooru and enough food for the two of you to get through the next few days, and you’ll be fine. Whatever you can carry, which, admittedly isn’t much. There’s still a few hours of daylight left, if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it back to him before nightfall.

Things are gonna be fine. You’ll bring the medicine and once he’s better, the two you can head out to find the others. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’ll be better when you’re all back together, the way things were meant to be. 

You need them, if anything this little venture’s proven that much at least. 

They’d promised that it wasn’t far, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion of the last few days creeping in, or the gentle hum of the engine as the car drives along the long, narrow stretch of road, but your eyelids start to droop, your breath evening out as sleep beckons.

And you’re just dancing on the edge of consciousness when a hushed voice breaks through the comfortable silence, dark eyes flickering up to watch your slumbering form in the rearview mirror. “Ya think Kita’ll be pissed?”

There’s a snort, “Nah. He’s always had a soft spot for strays, ‘specially the pretty ones.” He’s quiet for a moment, almost contemplative before he opens his mouth to add, “‘Sides, we’re gonna take real good care of her, ain’t we, Samu?”

The only reply he gives is a soft grunt of acknowledgement. 

[starlessea]

Here Comes the Sun: XIV. Jailhouse Rock (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 5378

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury, Slight canon divergence.

You threaded the bandage carefully from hand to hand, around the man's leg where he sat. It was tight, like he'd instructed, but you still worked tentatively in case you hurt him. Hershel watched appreciatively as you bound it, covering the stump where his leg had been amputated - just below the knee. It was looking a lot better recently, having been almost a week since the incident. It no longer oozed different colours or looked like it was rotting. The antibiotics from the infirmary had really helped you out there.

Once you had finished, you threw away the previous bandages and rolled down the older man's trouser leg. Beth had cut one shorter than the other, so that the excess material wouldn't trail on the floor when her father walked. The ends were a little jagged and frayed, but the intention had been pure. Hershel let you tend to him without a single complaint. Not once did he wince or look uncomfortable - he hadn't done since the initial injury. He was a fighter, you'd all realised. There was not a thing left in this world that would stop him from spending every last second he could with his daughters.

He gave you a nod and offered you a small smile as you lent him your arm. He gripped it tightly, using his other hand to press down onto the mattress and push himself up. He wobbled a bit as he did so, but you remained steady, supporting him. Once he was upright, he held onto the metal frame of the top bunk, and you let go to retrieve the crutches resting against the wall. You threaded each one under the man's arms and watched as he began to take unsteady steps with them.

It was slow, and you stayed close to him in case he fell. Though, after a few minutes he seemed to get the hang of it, pacing back and forth the small cell. You couldn't help but smile as you watched him.

"Just like riding a bike." You teased, rubbing your palm over his shoulder.

He'd asked you to bring him the crutches that morning, finally feeling up to trying them out. He said that he wanted to surprise his daughters, since he'd felt guilty about making them worry so much.

"I'm ready." He replied with a determined look, and the two of you made your way out slowly to the courtyard.

It had been nearly a week since it happened, but you remembered it vividly. Even as he was recovering, almost every time you closed your eyes you could see the man's face contort in pain. The day after you'd all secured the yard, your plan was put into action to tackle the prison. It had been a success at first, as you set up base in the C Block - but that false peace soon shattered as you delved deeper into the heart of the prison.

Rick took the front, guiding you all with a flashlight as you trailed behind in a line. You were directly behind him, followed by Daryl, then Glenn, and finally Hershel at the rear. The place was like a maze, each corridor leading into two others - like a hydra splitting its heads. Everything was dark save for the single stream of torchlight, and you could hear the occasional drips of water seeping through the cracks of the ceiling, splashing onto your boots when you walked. Corpses littered the floor as you all navigated your way through them, and even more walkers came out from the shadows to greet you.

Rick took the brunt of the assault, sinking his blade into the skulls of any that got too close. You all stuck in a tight formation as you continued on, alert for any more undead. All of a sudden, the atmosphere changed. The tension was cut with a startled yell, accompanied by a familiar groaning sound. You immediately whipped your head back to find the source of the noise, only to see Hershel with his leg caught in the jaws of a walker slumped against a wall. You'd all thought it was dead when you stepped over it - as in actually dead. Yet, now it had its teeth sunk into Hershel's ankle, tearing away the skin there to expose the tendons beneath.

Everyone sprung into action. Glenn immediately drove his machete through the walker's skull and Rick came to pry Hershel's leg from its mouth. He and Daryl then picked up the older man by his arms, as Glenn took his legs. You all ran together in search of the nearest safe area, as you took the front of the formation to clear a path. You'd had to take down two walkers on the way, and everyone started to yell - not caring to keep quiet anymore. Rick was shouting about how Hershel was losing blood, and Daryl pointed to some double doors with the words 'cafeteria' above them.

Glenn placed Hershel's legs down when they got closer, wedging his knife between the crack of the door to pry it open. After a few seconds, you heard the bolt give in, and he kicked it harshly before it flung open. Hershel was carried inside immediately, and placed on the floor. You saw his eyes roll back into his head, as he struggled to stay conscious. Rick wasted no time removing his belt and tying tightly just below the other man's knee. The action alone made you feel sick to your stomach, as you prepared for what you knew would happen next.

Hershel's face was coated in a sheen of sweat, as he lay on the cold concrete. His eyes were cloudy as he met yours, and you couldn't conceal the tears that welled up there. In your peripheral, you saw Rick take Glenn's machete from him - as it was the biggest and sharpest blade you had among you. Daryl quickly moved over to Hershel's left side, opposite from you, and held his shoulder down where he lay. You swallowed thickly and followed his lead, taking one of the older man's hands in your own.

He looked at you, choking on air as he inhaled too quickly. You could see the panic in his eyes, even as he struggled to keep them open. You clenched his hand tightly, feeling him grip onto you with all of his strength. Meeting his vacant stare, you looked into his eyes with intent - trying to reassure him that he'd be okay.

"Hershel." You whispered, looking down at his clammy face.

You remembered how he'd been there for you when you needed him most, at the bar shootout, telling you to keep your eyes on him and focus. You needed to do the same for him now.

"Do you want to go home?" You asked, repeating his question from that time.

You saw a single tear run onto his cheek as he nodded, before his pupils rolled back. Daryl tensed, preparing to hold the man down. You did the same. Then, Rick swung the blade.

You led the way as you and Hershel made for the courtyard, where the others were all gathered. You took small deliberate steps so that he could follow at his own pace. When you stood outside, the sun was so bright that it made you squint your eyes. It was such a contrast from the dark and shady prison. You shuffled out of the doorway of C Block and opened the lattice cage leading out onto the concrete yard - holding the door open for the man behind you.

The sky was a clear blue, completely cloudless, and when you stared out at the field it almost felt like home. You guided Hershel a few more steps before the others began to notice him. Daryl was one of the first. He'd been lying with his back to the concrete, fiddling with the underside of his motorcycle. He had his bandana tied around his mouth and nose to protect him from the fumes, but what was visible of his face was covered in black grease - as were his exposed arms. Once he caught your eye, and saw the man near you, he immediately sat up and pulled the cloth down from his mouth to show his smile.

"Yer one tough ol' bastard!" He called out, causing the others to look in your direction.

Maggie and Beth quickly stopped what they were doing, dropping their shovels to run over and greet their father. You took a step away from the man, letting his daughters embrace him. You could see how proud they were, as Maggie shot you a grateful smile and Beth's eyes welled up with tears. The whole scene gave you hope. Hershel gave you hope. You wondered what you would have done in his position. You would like to think that you would have soldiered on, just as he had, but in reality you probably would have given up. Though when you looked at him, looking at his girls, you understood why he didn't.

Hershel gave you one more curt nod as you left to give them some privacy, and you offered him a small smile in return. You made your way over to Daryl, who leant against his bike waiting for you to come see him. He was wiping his hands in his bandana, like it was a rag, trying to get rid of the dirt on his palms before he dared touch you.

"Hey, stranger." You called out to him with a smile. "Is there a man underneath all that grease?" You teased, making a point of looking him up and down.

"'M not sure." He grumbled, scratching the back of his neck as he squinted from the low sun.

You walked closer to him, reaching up so that you were on your tip-toes, and your face was close to his. You furrowed your eyebrows, now seeing the grease stains that smeared his cheeks - from where he'd rubbed the backs of his hands against them. You pulled his bandana out from his back jean pocket, where he'd shoved it only a few moments ago. Then, you used it to wipe away some of the marks on his face, holding your hand under his chin as you did so.

He grumbled at that, trying to bat your hand away half-heartedly. You just held his jaw more firmly, and continued to scrub the stubborn grease off. You got one cheek relatively clean before giving him his bandana back, not bothering with the other side of his face. Then, you stepped on your tip-toes again to leave a quick kiss there.

"Much better." You smirked at him, only for the man to rub his thumb down over your own cheek in one swift motion - smearing a line of grease over it in return.

You laughed and reached over to smack his chest, causing him to step backwards to avoid it. You tried again to punch his arm, but he caught your wrist - leaving a black handprint around it. Squealing slightly, you tried to pull out of his grip, but his other hand grabbed hold of your free arm and painted it black, too.

"Get your hands off me!" You cried, laughing as you did so. "You're filthy!"

You giggled some more, running away from the man, before the two of you formed a sort of truce and settled back down. You leant against the bike together to watch Hershel make his small laps of the courtyard. Your vest was covered in handprints that looked like they'd been pressed on with oil paint, and you knew you'd have to scrub your skin with cold water later, too.

Maggie had one of her father's arms over her shoulder, as he used a crutch in the other. Beth walked alongside them and you could hear their muffled chatter in the distance. His appearance alone was enough to raise the spirits of the whole group.

"Ya did a good job lookin' after him." Daryl said, eyeing the man who seemed content just to be with his daughters.

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your grease-smudged shirt. "I didn't do much besides staying with him." You admitted. "This is all Hershel."

"He's one stubborn son of a bitch." The archer agreed, muttering below his breath.

You let out a laugh, giving him a side-eye glance and one of your best lopsided smiles.

"Says you, Dixon."

Watching the Greenes made you realise how far you'd all come in just a matter of days. That incident felt almost a world away from you now. In truth, it had been one of the most traumatic things you'd experienced in this new world. That night, after the initial panic of trying to save Hershel's life, you were granted a few brief minutes to go and sit with Daryl. You immediately felt your legs buckle beneath you as you sank down onto his mattress. You were entirely exposed on the upper catwalk of the cell block, since he'd refused to stay in one of the 'cages' - as he put it. At that point, however, you didn't care.

The images of Rick hacking away at bone replayed in your mind as you cried into Daryl's neck, feeling him stroke your hair to try and calm you. You honestly had thought that the older man was going to die, leaving his daughters behind without a father. You'd felt so much guilt, holding his hand and watching the light fade from his eyes. The thought of having to tell Maggie and Beth that you'd failed him was just too much.

You didn't stay long with Daryl, wiping your eyes and collecting yourself not even moments after you'd sat down. You took a deep breath and waved the man who'd comforted you goodbye. Then, you returned to Hershel's cell - where you stayed for days on end until he woke up.

"I'll leave you to your bike." You said, pulling yourself out of your thoughts.

Daryl nodded, wiping his palms over his jeans. You gave him a soft smile before going on.

"You still have to teach me to ride that thing one day." You noted, looking over at the intimidating hunk of metal like you were trying to convince yourself rather than him. "You promised."

The man chuckled lowly under his breath, turning to face the bike. "One day, Sunshine."

You flitted around the courtyard doing odd jobs while waiting for Hershel to finish up his walk. Carol and T-Dog were cleaning some of the guns and Rick had sent Glenn to go check if there was a breach in the back of prison - letting him use one of the vehicles to do so. You sat on one of the rusted metal benches, sharpening your knife which had become dull. You barely noticed when a man approached you, taking a seat next to you quietly.

You looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. It was one of the prisoners you'd encountered a few days ago. Him and the other man, Oscar you thought his name was, had been allowed to stay with you provisionally as you all decided whether to trust them or not. They weren't in the same cell block yet, but you sometimes saw them around the yard. Rick had been skeptical at first, but allowed this much when you'd all insisted on showing kindness to the men.

He gave you a wiry smile as you looked at him. The man was small and scrawny, with long ash hair and a handlebar moustache to match. He was still dressed in his blue prison jumpsuit, and you thought he was lucky not to get shot on that first day of clearing the prison - when those jumpsuits had been your targets.

"I hope you don't mind me sayin', but you're mighty pretty." He remarked, unprompted. He had a Southern twang to his accent, but it rang out a lot more grateingly than the ones you were used to.

You gave him a curt smile, looking back down at your hands as you continued sharpening the knife. "Thanks." You said.

"Like, really pretty." He went on, looking you up and down as though it were flattering. "The rest of the women here are fine, too. But you're just on another level, sweetheart." He smiled, much too warmly, and rested a hand over your thigh before giving it a squeeze.

Your eyes flickered to the palm pressed on your jeans and then back at your knife. He must have seen you do it, because he quickly pulled away and let out a strained laugh. You looked over at Daryl, who watched the exchange with a scowl. He was a few feet away, and you didn't know if he could make out exactly what the man was saying, but he was definitely close enough to get the gist. You shot him a warning look, as you had a feeling he might come over and cause trouble if you didn't.

"Look, Axel?" You questioned, still unsure of the man's name. He nodded, and you went on. "I appreciate you giving me compliments and all, but I know someone who wouldn't."

Axel was sitting with his back to Daryl, oblivious of the way the archer tensed when watching the two of you. You thought that it was for the best that he couldn't see him, and you met Axel's stare in a way that made you hope he would take the hint.

He squinted at you, leaning back against the bench. "You with one of these folks?" He asked.

You nodded, letting your eyes purposefully look over his shoulder.

"The one glaring daggers at the back of your head." You explained, and he immediately whipped around to see.

Axel quickly stood up, throwing his hands in the air defensively when he met Daryl's gaze. He took a few steps in his direction, before becoming intimidated and deciding to stay where he was, instead.

"Sorry, brother!" He called out, giving a quick glance back to you. "I swear I didn't know she was taken."

You scoffed, despising the way he looked at you like you were an object to be claimed. Daryl scowled right back, throwing his rag over the seat of his bike.

"I ain't yer brother." He growled, just loud enough for you to hear it. He then shot Axel a look before skulking away to the other gate.

You didn't have a chance to say anything back, as suddenly an alarm started blaring. It was so loud that you thought it was coming from inside your head. Before you could comprehend what was going on, you heard screams coming from the other part of the yard, and saw the group running for the inner gate.

The next moments were entirely chaotic, as you were reminded of the fall of the farm once again. Walkers poured in through the broken section of the fence, as you all scurried for the inner part of the prison. The alarm continued to whirr, as you stood unable to tell where it was coming from. You dashed towards Hershel and Beth, who'd become separated from the others, and urged them to safety as you locked yourselves up in one of the small lattice cages that connected to the watchtowers. Then, you waited.

With no weapon, all you could do was comfort Beth and offer a shoulder to Hershel for support. The three of you watched as some other members of the group tried to close the gap in the gate, putting down the walkers that had gotten through it. You heard Rick yelling, and everyone followed him to the prison's interior - presumably to find the source of the alarm.

It felt like hours before it was shut off. Even then, the high-pitched noise still rang in your ears for a good few minutes after that. You all remained silent where you stood, enclosed in your metal cage. You didn't know how long you'd been there, but the adrenaline hadn't settled down in your chest yet. Your mind filled with thoughts you couldn't control, as you prayed that Daryl and the others were safe. You'd barely been able to see anything through the mayhem. The group had been split, that you were certain of, but you didn't know who went where, exactly.

After a few more minutes, you saw Rick emerge from the C Block entrance, followed by Glenn and Daryl. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you met his gaze, slipping your fingers through the gaps in the metal like you were trying to reach out to him. They quickly came over to you, unlocking the door so that you could all leave the small space. You instantly flung your arms around Daryl, not caring in the least about the grease and bloodstains on his skin this time.

You barely got to exchange a few words with each other before you noticed Carl and Maggie exiting the prison from another doorway. Rick ran over to his son, pulling him into his chest when he got to him. Though, you didn't miss the look on Carl's face, as he stared straight through his father. What you did miss, however, was the newborn baby bundled up in Maggie's arms.

You instantly felt your face fall, as you stood back from Daryl's arms to look at your friend. She let out a sob, shaking her head at Rick when the man finally noticed her. The officer stood in silence for a few seconds, before he finally comprehended what she meant. He let out a yell, so deep that it sounded like it came from his core, and started to pace back and forth whilst running his hands through his hair. He shook his head, not once looking towards the newborn. Instead, he retrieved his hatchet and walked straight past Maggie, back inside the prison. And all you could do was watch.

The baby cried and cried in your arms as you huddled her close to your chest, trying to soothe her. She was hungry, you knew, but all you could do was wait for Daryl to return with some formula - if he had the luck of finding any. After Rick had left the group, the rest of you got Maggie and Carl back to C Block - where they explained everything that had happened. They both trembled as they spoke, obviously traumatised. You could remember the look on Carl's face when he'd told you about shooting his mother, and you didn't waste any time pulling him into your chest and holding him tight.

Glenn left with Maggie to go back to their cell, since she looked like she needed some comfort. Daryl went to go and search for Rick, but ended up coming back to the block with Carol in his arms instead. She'd seemed so pale when he brought her in, and Hershel had told you all that it was shock once he looked over her. Later, she'd come around enough to tell you about T-Dog, too, and how he sacrificed himself so that she could get back. In one day, you'd lost two members of the group and gained one more. Though, baby Grimes was living on borrowed time. You all knew that she wouldn't survive for long if you didn't get her some formula.

Daryl had left almost immediately after that. You pleaded for him to stay with you, trembling in his arms as you did so, but you knew that he had no other choice. He'd be able to get there and back the fastest on his bike - wherever 'there' may be. So, you sent him off with a sad expression, watching the motorcycle leave through the gates and listening to its signature low rumble. He left his poncho behind, and you'd used it to swaddle baby Grimes when she was handed to you - and you hadn't let go of her since.

You tried to hush her, rocking on the balls of your feet gently from side to side. She wailed in response, and you felt your heart breaking. You unintentionally started to pace around your cell, suddenly feeling like a single mother much too young to take care of the life bundled in your arms. The rest of the group were tending to Carol, Maggie and Carl, so you were left to look after the baby in the meantime. You thought that you could do it, initially. Though, seeing how much she looked like her mother, even as young as she was, made you crumble.

She howled and spluttered against your grubby vest, hiccuping on her own tears as you tried to lull her to sleep. You had no experience with babies, and you felt like you were torturing her by making her starve so soon after she'd come into this world.

"Come on baby girl." You whispered to her, feeling her cheek press up against the skin by your neck.

Her little mouth quivered against you, and you thought you could feel her whole body tremble even through the material you had her wrapped in. She choked out another cry and you felt completely useless. You didn't know what else to do. So, you swayed her gently and began singing.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine." You smiled down at her, trying to compete with her broken wails.

"You make me happy when skies are grey." She spluttered a little, and you rubbed her back gently with your palm.

"You'll never know dear, how much I love you." You stopped swaying as she started to quieten down.

"Please don't take my sunshine away."

The little girl in your arms opened her mouth slightly, but didn't let out a cry. Instead, it almost seemed like a yawn as she offered a couple more whimpers before drifting off against your chest. You looked down at her in disbelief, wondering how something so pure could be born into a world so cruel. Then, you noticed Carol standing in the doorway, watching you.

You immediately opened your mouth to explain yourself, but she just brought a finger to her lips - reminding you to keep quiet. She had a warm look on her face, as she glanced over at the baby in your arms, and approached you with the practiced silent footsteps that only a mother could have.

Wordlessly, Carol readjusted the baby in your hold, so that she was better supported. Then, she gently tugged at the corners of Daryl's poncho, wrapping the swaddle securely - in a way much more experienced than you had done. You watched in awe as she seemed to know exactly what to do. After a few seconds, you glanced down, and then back at Carol, offering for her to hold the baby. She shook her head politely and you nodded.

"The song worked." You whispered to her, and she leant her head on your shoulder to look down at the newborn in your arms.

"I know." She replied.

Not long after that, you both heard the familiar sound of the metal keychain unlocking the cell block door, and made your way out into the main area. Daryl walked through, shrugging off his backpack and letting it fall heavily to the floor. He didn't say anything, crouching down and unzipping it to pull out a bottle and a number of formula boxes. You let out a sigh of relief as the group started to praise him, going to collect the supplies. Hershel clapped a hand over his back and gave him a small nod, but Daryl just continued to make up a bottle in silence.

You walked over to him with the baby in your arms, and saw the softness of his expression when he recognised his poncho as her swaddle. You rested your head in the crook of his neck in a half-hug, as baby Grimes rested between both of your chests - starting to rouse from her nap. You thanked Daryl, and helped him take the baby from your arms.

You watched as he brought her in close and held her nearly as well as Carol had taught you. Everyone seemed surprised, too, as he started feeding her the bottle with a soft look in his eyes. You had to admit, you never would have expected him to be as natural as he was with her. The baby sucked on the bottle contentedly, as Daryl tried not to let her take too much at once. She'd been waiting for her first meal all day, and she spluttered a bit on the milk as she drank too quickly.

"There ya go. Must've been hungry, right?" Daryl questioned, looking down at her little face poking out from the thick poncho.

She gurgled a little, which made your heart melt. "You like that, lil' Ass Kicker?" He asked, and you all laughed.

You crossed your arms, shaking your head at him in disbelief. Only Daryl could nickname a baby as adorable as her Ass Kicker.

"What?" He grumbled half-heartedly, looking up at the group who watched him. "It's a good name, ain't it?"

Carol nodded beside you, and had a smile on her face as she looked over at the baby resting against Daryl's bare arms.

"Ass kicker." She said, trying out the name on her tongue. "I think it suits her."

The others mumbled in agreement, and you felt pride at how Daryl had managed to change the atmosphere in a single instance. You watched as he cradled the baby, holding her like he'd never let any harm come to her.

"What do you think, Carl?" You asked, pulling the young boy into you by his shoulder. "You think she'll grow up to be a force to be reckoned with?" You gave him a warm smile, and he nodded in return.

"She'll be just like mom." He said, and you couldn't help but agree.

Daryl walked you back to your cell that night, after you'd all eaten and taken it in turns to coo over lil' Ass Kicker some more. The two of you took quiet steps as you went, as not to wake any of the others who'd already turned in. You felt exhausted, and could tell by his face that he did, too. So much had happened in the span of a single day. So much had reminded you that this place wasn't actually safe yet. You wondered if you were fooling yourself all along - holding onto the idea that the prison could be a home.

You bit your lip as you got lost in your thoughts. You decided that you had no other option; this place needed to be your home. This baby needed a safe place to grow up, and this had to be it. Somehow, you all had to make it work - for her.

"We've got to protect her, Daryl." You whispered, feeling the words slip from your mouth before you even considered saying them. You looked over to meet his eyes as you approached your cell.

"Yeah, I know." He replied, with a thousand yard stare. He seemed equally as caught up in his own thoughts, too.

"For Lori." You clarified, and he nodded. "And until Rick gets through whatever he needs to get through."

The man stopped once you reached your cell, pulling you into his chest for a few seconds. You allowed yourself to be taken in by his warmth, and feel his heartbeat against your cheek as you stayed there. Though, he soon pulled back. You were almost glad he did, fearing that you wouldn't have been able to let go if he'd stayed any longer. He gave the top of your head a brief kiss before telling you to get some rest, and turning to leave.

You eyed his mattress at the end of the catwalk, just lying on the floor where you'd all had to occasionally step over him some nights.

"Daryl." You called out softly, before he could get far.

He glanced back to look at you, and you opened your cell door further so that he could see inside.

"Stay with me, please?" You asked, and for the first night he did.

A/N As if my 3am writing session last night wasn't enough, I thought 'fuck it, what's one more?' I LIVE for the idea of Teach and Daryl almost being like Judith's godparents at this point - taking care of her until Rick can.

Send me a message if you want to be included in the taglist for chapters!

Tag List:

@xxboesefrauxx @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @teel-dinosaur @greenbeansarelit @bunnymother93 @alularae3 @death-becomes-her @royaleclown @alex-sulli​ @julesmalek

[calpalirwin]

Numbers

Summary: Sebastian doesn’t want to be another number to you, but little does he know he’s the only one.

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for always being willing to cry over this man with me. 

Important distinction: Italics represent his thoughts, while bold italics represent hers

Word Count: 3.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

The sun was high and warm, and the sounds of wood cracking against leather grew louder as Y/N walked towards the baseball fields. “Yo, Number 1, lookin’ good!” she whistled, her fingers wrapping themselves in the chain link fence surrounding the field.

There was a loud laugh from the man playing shortstop, and he turned to either flip her off or stick out his tongue, but a baseball came flying in his direction, high and powerful. But not high enough. Almost lazily, Sebastian lifted his heels off the dirt, raising his left hand in the air, the ball coming to a stop in his glove.

“Right field, get ready!” Anthony, the pitcher shouted. “Stan’s lucky charm showed up!”

“I don’t need luck, Mackie,” Sebastian taunted, pulling at the sleeves of his jersey. “I’m Number 1 for a reason. Best shortstop in the state, right here, baby!”

“Mackie! Stan!” the coach barked in warning.

“Sorry!” both men laughed. And with his brief pause, Sebastian took off his hat, waving it at Y/N in greeting as she took a seat in the stands, before putting it back over his sweaty locks of brown hair.

As the practice continued, more girls made their way out to watch the team, and Y/N couldn’t blame them. Something about a guy’s ass in baseball pants, especially when that ass belonged to Sebastian Stan. And the college baseball team didn’t have any complaints about the attention they gathered, plays becoming more dramatic than they needed to be as a chance to show off, until the coaches finally called it quits.

“So,” Anthony asked Sebastian as they headed for the dugout. “Is today the day you ask out Y/N finally? Or should I try to shoot my shot? Like what's going on here, man? Cuz whatever it is between you, it’s gone on way too long, and I only got so much patience.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how his face could grow warmer after being in the sun practicing for two hours, but it did. “I- We’re friends, ya know? And it’s not that I don’t wanna ask her out. It’s that I don’t know how. Or how she’ll react. It’s… a whole thing, ya get me?”

“Dude…” Anthony shook his head. “I say this because I care. But if you’re gonna make a move, make it fast. No one wants to be the one to cross you when we all know you got a thing for her. But if you’re not gonna shoot your shot…”

“Thanks…” Sebastian said, not sure if he appreciated the obvious advice or not. He knew he needed to ask Y/N sooner rather than later. But the idea that his teammates were lying in wait for him to either make a move, or step aside stirred up feelings of jealousy. But the only way of making sure they didn’t date her… He slung his bag over his shoulder, before squaring them and strutting out of the dugout, headed straight for Y/N. “Now or never, Stan,” he whispered to himself.

“Seb!” a girl called out and he turned to the sound, putting a smile on his face.

“Hey.” He offered a small wave, his eyes spotting Y/N, and kept walking, but then more girls were calling his name, batting their eyelashes, and touching his arm as they asked questions, and somehow Y/N got lost in the shuffle.

Y/N watched from her spot, the smile on her face dropping as she watched Sebastian get swarmed by girls who only wanted his attention so they could later brag to their friends that they’d gotten to talk to the star of the baseball team. And Sebastian wasn’t the type to be rude, even when he should.

Sighing, she shouldered her bag, heading down the bleachers, figuring she’d she go rescue him from his oh-so terrible prison of adoring girls.

“Hey, Y/N,” a shy voice called out as her feet hit concrete.

She lifted her gaze to find one of the newer players smiling at her. “Oh, hey, Tom,” she smiled back at him. “Good practice out there.”

“Heh, thanks,” he mumbled, his cleat digging into the ground. “So… you waiting for Seb?”

“I was yeah,” she admitted, looking over at Sebastian who was still under siege. And then a swell of anger bubbled inside her. If he couldn’t be bothered to pull himself away from them for her, then she didn’t have to wait for him. “But I’ll just catch him later. So, what’s up?”

Tom blinked in surprise. “Uh… I… Not much really. Was gonna head back to my dorm. Ya know, normal stuff I guess.”

“Well c’mon, I’m headed that way myself, I’ll walk with ya.”

Tom brightened as someone whistled from behind. “Damn! Kid’s got moves!” Anthony’s voice called out loudly. He jogged a few steps to join the couple, “Yo, Y/N, what about Seb?”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Sebastian who still wasn’t even looking her way. “What about him?”

~~~

She mumbled airplane sounds under her breath, twisting her wrist to make the paper airplane fly around, before she really sent it flying across the living room. She watched as it glided through the air before nose-diving into the carpet as the front door opened.

“Apology food?” Sebastian asked with a hopeful smile, holding up a bag of takeout as he kicked the door shut.

“And what’s the apology for?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing her arms.

“For being a dick after practice.”

“Chinese?”

“Your favorite,” he said, handing her the bag.

“Fine. Your transgressions against the crown are forgiven. This time.”

He tilted his head back as he laughed. “Thank you, your Highness. Although a little birdie told me that you ended up alright. Holland, huh?”

“Mackie is worse than girls with gossip, I swear…” Y/N said with an eye roll. “But yeah, Holland and I talked.”

“You know he’s a freshman, right?”

“Aw, is somebody jealous?” She flashed him a sardonic smile as they both plopped down on the couch and dug into the food.

Sebastian let out a scoff. “Me? Jealous of Holland? Pfft, yeah right.” Yes, insanely jealous, actually.

“Oh, so if I said he walked me all the way to the apartment, that wouldn’t make you mad?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said around a swallow of food. Despite how much I wish you were.  “If you wanna make baby Holland feel like a man for escorting you home, I really don’t give a shit. But you can do better than a freshman.” Like me.

Like you? “And you’d smell better with a shower,” was her retort as she knocked her shoulder into his.

“Mmm, you gonna join me?”

“Pfft! In your dreams, maybe.” And in mine.

Only in my dreams cuz once again, I fucked up.

~~~

Y/N figured one date would be enough to stir Sebastian into action. But one, the man had already made himself scarce by the time she left for her date. And two, the date sucked.

You’re not Sebastian was all she could think about throughout the dinner of cheesy one-liners, and bad jokes that bordered on offensive.

“So…” he asked suggestively as they walked out. “Wanna head back to my place?”

“No, I’m kinda tired,” she declined politely.

“Oh… well then I’ll call you sometime and we can do this again, maybe?”

“Yeah… no,” she said, shaking her head. “This was… nice. But no. You and I? Not gonna happen.”

“Right… I forgot you’re friends with Stan.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, c’mon. Dude obviously likes you. And he’s not the one anyone wants to have on their bad side.”

“Then why did you ask me out? If all of you are so scared of Seb?”

“Cuz you’re hot, and I’m not on the baseball team,” he shrugged.

“Yeah… I’m gonna go home now. And you… ugh… yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

~~~

Sebastian turned his head as the door opened. “Back before curfew, huh? Whatta gentleman.”

“Fuck you,” she told him with a roll of her eyes before stalking off towards her bedroom.

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” he said, bolting up off the couch. “C’mon, what happened?”

He wasn’t you. “He’s a pig. Said all the wrong things.”

“That sucks. But hey, can’t all be winners, right?”

“I guess… Although he did say one thing that was somewhat interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently you scare people off from asking me out.”

He snorted. “That’s fuckin’ stupid. Will I be pissed if some jackoff makes you feel like shit? Yeah, and I’ll probably say something. But shit… I’m not your boyfriend, or your dad, or some shit. Sounds like a lame cop-out because they just don’t wanna admit they’re pussies.”

And what’s your lame cop-out? “Ugh… I need a drink.”

“Grab me one, yeah?” he asked, sinking back down into the couch as she changed directions to head into the kitchen instead.

“So, how was your night?” she asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“Uneventful,” he shrugged. “There was a girl I was hoping to go out with, but it didn’t work.”

“Aw damn. That sucks,” she said, as she joined him on the couch and handed him one of the beers. 

“Eh, it was my fault for not asking sooner,” he shrugged again, clinking his beer against hers. “To shitty nights.”

“Here, here,” Y/N cheered half-heartedly as they both took a long drink. “Fuck it. Paper airplane contest?”

He snorted into his beer. “We’re not seven anymore.”

“Aw, afraid you’ll lose?”

He sat up straighter. “Loser buys next case of beer?”

“You better get your wallet out, now.”

~~~

Sebastian knew he should have taken his chance after that first date gone bad. And Y/N knew she should have pushed him harder in her confrontation. But for whatever reason, the friends stayed at their stubborn stalemate.

Without Sebastian willing to make a move, Y/N began to wonder if maybe everyone had it all wrong. Maybe Sebastian was simply protective of her without having an ulterior motive behind it. So, she continued to go on dates with other guys on campus to ease the ache, until she couldn’t pretend they weren’t Sebastian anymore.

For his part, Sebastian not only took careful notes of the reasons Y/N gave for each of her short-lived romances, he also stupidly pointed her in the direction of new interests. And then he tried not to drown in his jealousy, before learning to grow doubtful of wanting a romantic relationship with her at all. Why would he want to sacrifice a lifelong friendship just to become another nameless guy she tossed to the side once she had her fun with him?

~~~

“Sebastian!” she gasped at him when he came home one night as she nursed away the end of yet another short-lived romance that wasn’t him.

“You’re drunk,” was the observation as he dropped his duffle bag to the floor.

“Ooooohhhh yeah,” she giggled at him with a wide grin, eyes hazy. “You gonna join me?”

“So we can both be sick? Yeah… Not a chance.”

“Boo…” she pouted. “You never wanna do anything with me.”

“One night. One night I don’t wanna drink with you, and that equates to me not wanting to do anything with you ever? Make it make sense, Y/N.”

“Well, you don’t wanna date me, that’s for sure,” was the drunk scoff.

He balked. “When did I ever say that?”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? Everyone keeps saying that you like me, but you don’t do anything about it. Are they all lying? Or are you?”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re drunk off your ass!”

“Just answer the question!”

“I don’t know!”

“What type of bullshit answer is that?! How do you not know if you wanna date someone?!”

“It’s the answer you give when you used to think you wanted to, but now you’re not sure anymore! Now… I gave you my answer. And I already told you once I’m not having this conversation. Not when you’re drunk. I’m going to bed. G’night Y/N.”

“COWARD!” she hurled the insult at his retreating back.

In his room, Sebastian didn’t sleep. He lay in bed watching his ceiling fan spin in slow hypnotic circles, cursing himself for letting it get this bad. If he had just asked her out after that one practice… If he could just rewind the clock…

In the living room, Y/N sobbed into her hands. The distractions never worked, even the promising ones. And Sebastian… If it turned out he didn’t want her…

Thoughts spiraled and time ticked by, Y/N growing more sober, and Sebastian more angry with himself.

“Seb?” she asked in a small whisper, knocking lightly on his door as she pushed it open, finding him still awake in bed, the little lamp on his nightstand illuminating the room.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, more harshly than he meant to, as he pushed himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I- Nevermind… It’s stupid…”

“No, wait,” he called out to her as she turned to leave. “I didn’t mean it like that. I- What’s up? What did you wanna ask?”

She took a slow breath to steady herself as she turned back around to face him. “Do you like me? God, that sounds so juvenile…”

“Of course I like you, Y/N. You’re my best friend.”

“But you don’t like me enough to date me. Just enough to be protective about me dating anyone else.”

He sighed. Now, or never. “It’s not that I don’t wanna date you, Y/N. It’s that I’m scared to.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, maybe. But to me, it’s perfectly valid.”

“How? How is that a valid reason? Sebastian Stan, scared of dating a girl? A girl who he’s known his whole life? Make it make sense.”

“You think I wanna be one of the guys you date? Maybe if you actually dated people, I wouldn’t have ever thought twice about dating you myself. But you don’t date, Y/N. You… God, I dunno what it is you do, but it’s not dating.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, feeling tears well up. “Fuck you! You don’t get to slut-shame me!”

“Slut-shame you?! How is it slut-shaming that I don’t wanna be another number to you?! That I don’t wanna be another source of entertainment for you until you get bored of me?!”

“Because you’re not a number, Sebastian!”

“Bullshit I’m not! You literally call me Number 1! You don’t love Y/N! You… you entertain yourself until someone better comes along!”

“That’s not true…” she whispered, heartbroken that he thought it was.

“It was for all the other guys! I don’t wanna be like them, Y/N! I don’t wanna be some random number to you! I wanna be the one! I don’t know how much clearer I can make that.”

“You know I only dated them to make you jealous, right?”

“Well congrats… you win. I’m insanely jealous of every guy that you parade through that goddamn door.” His mouth twisted and his vision started to swim.

“I didn’t wanna win, Seb. I wanted you.”

He hissed through his teeth. “Past tense… that, uh… Yeah, that hurts. Thanks for that… For this…” he twirled his finger about the room. “Awesome conversation. Glad we could have this talk.”

“You wanna know why it never worked with those guys?!” she yelled at him, her hands flying up in the air. “They weren’t you! God, I tried so hard to make it work with those guys! Any of them! But none of them made me feel the way you do. None of them get me the way you do. And… God! I wish they did! I wish at least one of them did, because then I could finally stop wasting my time on you when it’s obvious you don’t feel the same way about me!”

“I don’t feel the same?!” He grabbed a small notebook, hurling it at her. “If I never felt the same, explain that!” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, pointing at a small tattoo of a paper airplane on his chest “If I never felt the same, explain this!”

“Y-you got a tattoo? When?”

The sudden drop of her voice level took him a moment to realize what she’d asked. “When you started dating the guy with tattoos…” he told her.

“And this?” she asked, bending down to pick up the small notebook he’d thrown at her, thumbing through it. “Blue eyes, tattoos. Text back on time. Don’t say stupid shit,” she read aloud. “A-are these notes on how to date me?”

He shrugged. “I like to think they’re observations.”

“W-why would you need notes on how to date me?”

“To make sure you don’t get bored of me. To make sure you don’t forget me.”

“Seb-”

He shook his head fiercely, feeling his throat close up. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? I know this is all my fault. I know if I had just stopped being a little bitch, and said something sooner like I wanted to, none of this would be happening right now. But I- Fuck… It’s always been me and you, and I dunno what I’d do if that stopped happening. You’re my best friend. And I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And… I can’t risk losing you. I won’t lose you. Even if that means spending the rest of my life jealous of the guys you date.”

“And you never bothered to think that I had the same fears? That I’m just as in love with your stupid ass?”

“Why would you be? I’m just the idiot best friend.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I- God, did you really get a tattoo?” she asked. “What even is it?”

“It’s a paper airplane,” he mumbled, face turning red.

“Can I see it again?” she asked somewhat shyly.

He shrugged, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Happy now?”

“Oh, Seb,” she giggled, crossing the room to him. “You didn’t have to take your shirt off. You could have just tugged down your collar again.”

“Are you complaining?” he teased lightly, pulling her into his lap.

“God, no,” she said with another giggle. “Oh, Seb,” she sighed, her fingers tracing the ink on his skin. “God, we’re so fuckin’ stupid, aren’t we?”

“Oh, I’m definitely stupid,” he admitted. “Said and done so much stupid shit I shouldn’t have said or done.” His nose nudged against hers, his lips brushing against her cheek when he said, “God, I’m so sorry. I shoulda manned up sooner. And I shouldn’t have said those things about the guys you dated. I just- I fucked up. I let my insecurities get in the way, and I fucked up.”

“I fucked up too, Seb,” she whispered, carding her hands through his hair. “I was trying to fill a you-sized hole when I had you in front of me the whole time.”

“So you still want me? Even after I was the idiot coward that kept fucking up?” The blue eyes were big and watery with small traces of fear as they held her gaze steady, foreheads knocked together.

“Of course I still want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Seb.”

__

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[ohheyitsokay]

spectators

part 8 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

paring: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.6k

warnings: strong language, kissing, enough fluff for a rich person chair

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the Frankie and you appease the people who have been invested in their relationship this whole time.

>>

Pope threw the ball straight up, and caught it.

Then he did it again – he was thinking.

Right hand, then left. Right, left. The ball was in the air less and less time, but the speed didn’t increase. Eventually he was just tossing it straight into his own palm, slowly, thoughtfully, his gaze fixed somewhere far away.

Frankie watched, not even nervous. Of all the reactions he could’ve predicted this was more or less what he expected.

“I’m proud of you,” this throw was for Catfish.

“Thanks.” He caught it.

“You’re fucking lucky,” Pope grinned.

“I know.” Frankie threw it back.

“When is the next date?” Benny plucked it out of the air, a strange look in his eyes. The rest of the team was already back in the locker rooms, but they had held Frankie back, curious. He had spent the morning practice practically glowing, playing well, but suspiciously distracted. Initially, there was an onslaught of teasing and questions and exaggerated berating, but now they had quieted, actually processing this, as friends. Will look satisfied, happy even, but Frankie kicked himself, remembering too late that Ben’s most recent romance hadn’t worked out.

“Tonight – she thinks the parties are bad news,” he said it carefully - Ironhead had been the one to start sharing their pasts with you, but it was really out there now, for you to take or leave. He moved past them towards the showers and he heard Tom snort, making an exaggerated whipping sound. The older man had listened to his abbreviated story with a stoic face, just raised eyebrows and his arms crossed. Frankie’s jaw clenched, wondering if he should retort, but he didn’t get the chance.

It was quiet, but Will added, “She’s not wrong,” in that even, reasonable tone of his. The tension fell, and then rose, sharply, a testament to the respect they all held for the first-baseman's opinion. Trudging through the hallway suddenly felt too fast, too dangerous, like the conversation should’ve stayed outside. A long moment filled only by footsteps as they all considered, before Ben spoke. 

“Can I come?” Frankie stopped walking, turning incredulously and Santi smacked the rookie on the back of his head. Benny glared, but without any real bite. “Ow, fuck you - I’d rather hang out than go to another one of those stupid parties, wouldn’t you?” He looked defiant, meeting each of their eyes and gesturing with both of his arms, goading them to answer him, to disagree.

No one did, not even Tom, who glowered, the leather of his glove folded into deep wrinkles. Will’s blue eyes met the brown of Santi’s, and his mouth hooked into a smile. Deep laughter went a long way to thawing tension when it was genuine, and it was.

“Ben, you can’t crash Fish's date, we can do something else,” Will took his own turn smacking his brother but it was a bit of a bold statement. There were days when it felt like they really couldn’t so anything else, like there wasn’t other options that felt real – but they should be able to.

Frankie dragged a hand over his face before groaning a muffled, “Wait,” and sighing. He cursed, not even aware of what language it was in, occupied by the thought of what you would say if you were here. It was ridiculous but it felt right, and it was an opportunity for him to slow down again. “Honestly she would probably love if you guys hung out.”

There was a beat, where they stared at him, before the debate began. It didn’t last long, hushing as they reached the locker room, but by the time they were clean and dried and settled, it was decided. There really wasn’t a downside to it and really, they were all figuring you out, too. The lure of your smiles and home cooked food far outweighed the temptation of loud music and sticky floors and girls too tipsy to talk with, at least this time.

In the lull between the practice and the game, Frankie tried not to jump whenever his phone made a noise. One date in, and he was already daydreaming about just driving to your house and just kissing you until one of you had somewhere better to be. But you had a job, and things to finish so you had time for his game that evening, and he was acutely aware that while you had let that incredible evening – yesterday? – happen, he would need to slow down. He had already told you, he wanted to do this right.

He confirmed the plans for the evening, smiling as you agreed to host all his friends, and then tossed his phone into his bag. Then put a jacket on top of the bag, folded twice so it balanced precariously. When it buzzed he made himself take a lap around the building, and wanted to bang his head against the wall when it was a random email.

And all evening the thought of you. The game rolled in, and he squatted bitterly, annoyed his position left his back to the crowd. It meant he couldn’t look for you, and James. Logically he knew, even if you had told him your exact seats, he wouldn’t be able to make you out unless you were close, but that didn’t stop him from wishful thinking. 

Catch, catch, walk, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat. 

The game built, and tensions were high as the scores stayed close and the crowd whispered about playoffs. It was the worst time for him to be batting, the pressure too high to be on the shoulders of a catcher, but it couldn’t be helped.

He walked out, listening to the blast of an old song too familiar to recognize, and the rumble of the announcer.

Frankie looked towards the crowd, knowing you were out there and fruitlessly wishing he could see you. He stopped at the plate, shifting on the balls of his feet, feeling the dirt under his cleats and trying to imagine your eyes on him. His hands tightened, loosened, tightened again, the wrap on the handle of the bat protested the movement, and he tried to hear you whispering his name.

You were cheering for him, right?

The ball hit his bat with a satisfying crack, and he didn’t watch where it went before he ran.

-

James was stalling.

You were supposed to drive him home, as always, but after spending most of the game filling him in about you and Francisco, there was no convincing him to move faster.

He wanted to see the man who had kissed his granddaughter – more than once! – and look him over again. The sweet, elderly man could be quite determined, especially when it involved two of his favorite people in the whole world. It meant waiting until the crowds fled and dodging staff who would no doubt shoo you away, but the eagerness on his little, wrinkled face made him impossible to deny.

“Jimbo, you’ve already met him,” you tried again, listening to the shrieks of a fangirl. After the surprising home run, the catcher was in high demand, and it made your stomach twist.

You had woken up this morning still shy and baffled at what you were to him, what was happening. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, and you talked a lot, but not about... you, together. But James was certain, this was it, and he wanted to look Francisco in the eyes before he gave you his blessing.

His hand was in your elbow and you tugged, again, before withering under his look. He began lecturing you, about this being his job and you offered a compromise. This time, you weren’t invited, but you guided him towards the lobby where friends and family met the players, and when they let you in, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

Santiago found you first, and both of you got big hugs from him and the Miller boys, as they told you animatedly about how much hell they gave Frankie for bringing you home the first date. You barely got a word in, but you grinned as James joined their indignation.

In truth, your eyes were looking for Frankie, and you chided yourself at how much you ached for him, as always.

After a few minutes, Will pushed you towards the locker room, and you shot him a grateful smile. All the other players were clear, he told you, Frankie was being a baby about facing the fans. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, confirming that he was at loathe to run into anyone but you. They kept your grandfather occupied, and you knew they were in good hands as he was insisting he was hosting game night, that night.

Ducking into the hall, you followed the tile and the gaudy decorations, and found him.

Frankie, your Francisco was freshly showered, tshirt and jeans marked with drips from his curls, fiddling with his phone like he was waiting for you to text back. When he saw you, he dropped it into his bag, and your arms and eyes were suddenly full of him.

It was a crushing hug, he was eager and almost bursting with pride. You made a noise, you know you did, when only your toes were touching the ground, but he didn’t spin you around before he set you down.

He tried to pull away, he really did, but he couldn’t help but stay close, and you could’ve sworn his cheeks were flushed as you congratulated him, telling him admiringly about how exciting his home run was.

Feeling him against you again was surreal. Mere weeks ago you had been watching him from a distance, and then burying ridiculous daydreams under the rug in your mind. And yet here he was, looking at you with the same softness as he had the night before, without regret, and like reality was better than a dream.

When he asked why and how you were here – not that he was complaining, you told him and explained about James. He only smiled, shifting closer to you again, telling you after all you put up with yesterday, he could certainly do this for you.

There was a pause, the air both clear and thick at the same time, and his head tilted, hands shifting on your hips. Thoughts of your family and friends and food slipped from your mind as his face drew closer, the tip of his nose tapping yours.

Brown eyes, searching your face, you almost felt like you could count his eye lashes. Frankie had little freckles, faint, spattered across the tan skin of his neck and face, and there were sweet little sparse patches in his beard.

“You know, we wont get any time alone, tonight.”

His tone was thoughtful, but he said it like he almost didn’t hear himself, and you could feel the edges of the words against your lips.

The hand on your hip slid up. Up and up, until it settled on the back of your head and he was pressing into you. Frankie’s kisses were deep and slow, like he couldn’t believe last night was not a figment of his imagination, and you wound your arms around him before you got lost in them. There were words in them, distant proclamations and promises and you pulled him into you, yearning to hear them clearly.

It could’ve been a minute or half an hour, between that moment and when he pulled away. With shock, you realized you had been pushed against the locker with his name on it, and his palm was cushioning your head.

There was a clatter of aluminum against the floor, and you jumped like caught teenagers. Then you were firmly planted on the ground again, and Frankie was turned around, shielding you like it was already instinct. Neither of you saw anyone, and his laughter was bashful and sweet. When he said you should probably go, and took your hand, you heard a genuine roughness in his voice.

Behind another row of lockers, Molly whispered into Tom’s neck, “Do you need to go, too? There’s that party tonight.” And he shrugged.

-

The environment at James' home was completely different than last time they were there. Things were less clean, there was less food, and everyone was twice as comfortable. 

It was strange, what really knowing them did - they teased you more, and breathed easier, as if they had never met someone who hadn’t minded it all. 

“Juice packets?” Will asked, confused at the drink selection, and you smiled when Santi winked at you. Tom hadn’t come but you thought it would be best to play it safe. It was important to you, that if they were choosing this over a party that it was lighthearted, sincere and simple.

“I just thought it would be fun,” you gave as your only explanation and he didn’t question it further. He did drink them three at a time, though, and when you laughed, you swore you saw his smile lines.

Benny was on your team, yelling and by far the most competitive, Santi and Will’s luck encouraging it every step of the way. They bickered like kids, bellowing laughter and rambunctious celebrations included. You made an extra rule – anyone who hit you with a pillow or playing piece had to buy you ice cream, next time the opportunity came up.

If should’ve been distracting, how James had pulled Frankie to the side to talk, but it warmed your heart. You didn’t need to swoop in and rescue him – they were talking like old friends, like Frankie was genuinely interested and invested in your beloved grandfather.

Every once in awhile, he would look up and meet your eyes, watching you with his friends with one corner of his mouth pulling higher. Once, you blew him a kiss and he scrunched his nose, like it hit him between the eyes.

Later, you scooted over to them, trying to steal him back, James leaned over and ruffled your hair before sternly, adorably telling you to let him have his turn with Frankie. When Frankie joined him, jokingly telling you to back off, you thought if it didn’t work out with him, Jimbo would adopt him. 

The night stretched beautifully late, before your grandfather lectured them on the importance of sleep and Benny spun you around in victory. There were stars in the sky, and you listened to their chatter fade as they piled into their cars, surprised at how affectionate you felt for all of them, after so little time and such unlikely circumstances. 

Frankie had stayed back, accepting goodbye hugs, and leaning against your car as you waved the other’s off. Of course, you asked, but��he didn’t tell you what they talked about and he didn’t linger as long as you had hoped he would. 

His kiss was sweet and chaste, like he knew he had all the time in the world.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin @sarahjkl82-blog @pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @pjkimrn @dobbyjen @stuckontheceiling

[philliamwrites]

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.5]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.4k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Chapter 05: Born to Trouble

Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.

[Hiob 5:7]

    A breeze picks up loose leaves and carries them over a steep hill. The sun, directly above your heads, emits no blazing head and still, wearing light armour and carrying weapons leaves a layer of perspiration on your forehead. Every minute marching towards where the Eagle House students and their astute professor are waiting builds worry and the desire to turn around and put as much distance as possible between you and them but the rope tying you to the task called obligation makes it impossible to sate it.

    A slight pull makes you pause and scratch the thin skin under your eye, the feeling so strange as if someone is tugging your mind in the complete opposite direction. Now that is a new sensation, and you’re careful to remember that when answering the onslaught of questions Hanneman will surely prepare once he’s back. Feeling no pain, you write it off as exhaustion for now, already looking forward to relax in the sauna later and wind down.

    “Is something the matter, Herald?” Dimitri asks. Save for a few scratches and a smudged cheek, he looks fine and appears to be in great spirits. You want to lick your thumb and wipe off the dirt but smearing spit on the heir of a kingdom might not be a great idea in front of his future subjects.

    “Everything is fine,” you, the Liar, say with as much conviction as your conscience allows, which is surprisingly easy. Maybe you were a performer before your amnesia, acting on a stage for an audience that celebrated you switching roles with an ease like changing clothes. Dimitri as well trusts your words, though he could as well be playing the role just to lessen your worry.

    The last possibility to stall the unavoidable confrontation vanishes. They are waiting for you near the stronghold just beyond the forest from which you emerge after another painful, tense march. The remaining Black Eagle students are positioned in a triangle around Byleth. At its tip stands Edelgard, strong and tall, her axe ready to strike whoever stands between her and victory. Flanking her are ever-brooding Hubert and—

    “Linhardt?” you gasp, freezing on the spot which makes everyone sticking to your heels walk right into you. Sylvain only saves himself from falling because he quickly holds onto Dedue who tolerates it like a friendly bear allowing a little bird to sit on his back.

    “Is he doing something?” he asks, tiptoeing to get a better look. “What’s going on?”

    You point a finger at the Black Eagle student. “No one told me it was allowed to bring students back from the sidelines.”

    “Because it isn’t,” Dimitri says, patiently pulling a twig out of his hair. “Those who have lost cannot re-enter the mock battle.”

    You stare at everyone separately, hoping it carries enough weight for them to understand your problem—rather why is no one questioning the obvious? They consider you with as much confusion though, at least something you have in common.

    “Then why is Linhardt participating again?”

    They share worried glances.

    “Herald, what are you talking about?” asks Dimitri with a crease between his eyebrows.

    It is enough to make your next protest come out more desperate. “An hour ago, Felix and I dealt with Ferdinand and Linhardt. I told you!”

    “But—” Sylvain’s face goes blank with surprise. “Didn’t you say you guys got Ferdinand and Dorothea?”

    “Dorothea?” You didn’t even know she participated. “No, I swear, we— Why would I claim something different?” They lack the answer to that just as you and any minute pondering it longer is stolen by a vicious MiasmaΔ that splits a tree behind you in two.

    “Hey!” Sylvain shakes a fist at Hubert. “Use magic only in moderation!”

    His answer is another MiasmaΔ that nearly knocks Sylvain off his feet. Before you can form words, Edelgard takes a swing at you. The hit would have undoubtedly leave you with a concussion were it not for Dimitri’s quick intervention. He deflects her blow though his lance gives a worrying crack.

    “Dimitri.” Edelgard’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s time. We can finally settle the question of who’s stronger.”

    “Very well.” Dimitri’s stance doesn’t falter even as sweat gathers at his temples. “I accept your challenge. With you as my opponent, I won’t hold anything back.”

    Edelgard’s mouth twitches. Dimitri demands with a sharp jut of his chin for you to get out of the way. You don’t argue. Not with the rest from the Eagle house approaching. Dedue, reading your mind, or rather the frantic look in your eyes, charges towards Byleth, leaving Linhardt and Hubert to Sylvain and you.

    You focus on Linhardt, mouth burning to question, “What spell did you use to switch places with Dorothea?”

    He is so baffled by that, you move without thinking—a swift strike, the sword turned midway so the blunt end smashes into his nose. He stumbles back with a sharp cry, a hand flying up to stop the blood running in rivers down his uniform. There is no time feeling bad for catching him off guard like that. A picture flashes before your eyes. You throw yourself to the ground and feel the lance swipe over your head not a second too soon. You roll back up on your feet, glaring at Hubert. He simply raises a brow in challenge. Sure, you accept, fully aware there is only one way to win against him.

    “Edelgard!” you gasp in horror. Hubert’s head twitches but he doesn’t fall for your scheme.

    “Really, Herald? I know Her Highness can take care of herself. You need a better trick than that.”

    “Really? Then how about this trick?”

    This time, Hubert whirls around and is greeted by Sylvain’s fist to his jaw. Combined with your MiasmaΔ, he doesn’t stand a chance. That victory is only short lived though. Out of nowhere, Byleth appears and knocks Sylvain out, not batting an eyelash. She towers like a vengeful spirit, arriving to seek retribution. Trying to move around her, you don’t leave her out of sight for once, your mouth dry and your heart beating so fast your ribcage hurts. The tension is thick enough your swords could cut right through it. It is so tense, in fact, you only manage a dry, “Hey.”

    Byleth raises her sword. “Hello.”

    “Great day to … you know.” You mirror her movement. “Clobber each other with wooden swords.”

    “Less talking, more fighting.” Byleth charges.

    You turn and run away.

    She immediately pursues like a wolf chasing after a deer. If you weren’t so focused on moving your legs as if your life depended on it and not tripping over something, you could swear someone from the sidelines is cheering for you. Someone sounding like Claude.

    “Herald, try a surprise attack! She’ll never expect you to stop and swing your sword at her!”

    No, no, no, he can come down here himself if he has a death wish. But another chance emerges before you, one waiting in the lush thicket that you disappear into in hope to lose her. That hope is quickly vanquished when twigs and dry leaves break right behind you shortly after you breach the edge of the forest. In your panic, you grab onto a branch and pull it with you until you’re sure the blow will at least make Byleth stagger to catch her breath. When you let go, she already knows what you’re up to. With a vicious blow, she breaks the branch and throws her sword at you when you try to run past her back to the field. The pain is unlike anything you’ve felt during training. It brings you to your knees, the stronghold in sight and yet so far away from the forest’s borders. The impact knocks all breath out of your lungs, making you unable to call out for help.

    Byleth stands before you, her sword back in her hand and risen to deliver righteous punishment—until it isn’t Byleth, it is a man, but you can’t see his face, his features hidden by dark shadows.

    Don’t, you think but your mouth forms “You don’t have it in you” instead and before you know it, you speak those words out loud. The picture disappears in a flash so bright, a paper bursting into flames, pain explodes in your head before everything zooms back into painfully sharp focus.

    Something changes in Byleth’s eyes, her hesitation a surprise immediately costing her gravely for Dimitri appears by your side, facing her and a desperate sound of relief escapes you because that means Edelgard is out of the game. It is only a battle of stamina at this point, the battle blurring as you stumble to your feet and help Dimitri to overpower Byleth even though your back is a medley of pain. Judging from how her reacting slower, you get a picture of who from the Black Eagles was fighting the most up until this point.

    Everything happens too fast. It takes one turn, one swipe of Dimitri’s lance, incredible luck that Byleth starts to get exhausted, and a second later, her knee gives in and she’s on the ground, a wooden edge to her throat. The silence is only disturbed by the second roar of trumpets signalling the end of the mock battle.

    You gasp.

    Dimitri gasps.

    Byleth blows a strand of hair out of her face, her face a blank slate.

    Screams and shouts erupt from where everyone else is waiting for you, drowning Jeralt declaring the Blue Lion’s win.

    “Herald.” Dimitri’s smile dazzles you more than the sun’s light, radiant and handsome. “We did it. We did it thanks to you.”

    “No, it was you—” A wave of fatigue washes over you from overusing your power. Exhaustion smothers you, so suddenly that your vision blurs around the edges. Your limbs are leaden; you feel as though you are sinking into mud. Before you hit the ground, Dimitri catches your arm and steadies you.

    It is the unpredictable comedic sort of timing were the cosmos decides it is the right timing for the rest of the students to catch up.

    Sylvain lets out a loud, suggestive whistle, appearing way too chipper for someone just brought back to consciousness thanks to white magic. “Who knew His Highness would decide to court someone wide out in the open like that? Did you invite our dear Herald to dinner first?”

    Ingrid pushes him hard. “His Highness isn’t like you,” she says at the same time Dimitri asks, “But I do plan to invite our Herald to dinner.” All eyes are on him. It is suddenly really hot even though his gauntlets around your arm are cold. “We all are invited to celebrate our victory with a feast in the dining hall.”

    “Aww, goddess help him,” Sylvain sighs, looking like he’s about to facepalm his hand through his forehead.

    Any response on your part is delayed by Rhea and Seteth reaching your group after congratulating each student who participated on their work.

    “Congratulations on winning the mock battle, Herald,” Rhea says, looking incredibly pleased. From the very beginning she’s probably expected nothing less and you wonder if her smile were as content had you failed. “You showed great leadership and trust in your students, who all did exceptionally well.” She’s smiling at every one of them like a proud mother. It leaves a warm, fuzzy feeling inside your chest, her contentment a beacon that banishes the last shadows of doubt in your heart. You could get addicted to this feeling.

    “Now, please return to the monastery,” Seteth advises the students. “We have a few matters to discuss with the faculty members.”

    As the students disperse, Dimitri quickly ducks his head in your direction. “We will speak more later.” He trails after his friends, falling into step with Dedue.

    “Look at them, being so excited. How adorable.” Manuela smiles, not showing any signs of anger about losing the fight or exhaustion flicking the students back together. “Good job leading them, Herald.”

    “And yet, I must advise you to participate more actively in the battle itself next time.” Seteth crosses his arms in front of his broad chest, not sharing Rhea’s idea on how a good job looks. “Professor Byleth showed great assistance and fighting spirit. You would do well to learn from her.”

    Byleth gives a little shrug when you glance at her. She doesn’t seem to care much for that.

    “Don’t be so stern, Seteth,” Rhea chastises him fondly. “There is still so much room to grow for all of them, our dear Herald, Professor Byleth and the students. For now, let us return and allow them a moment of respite. Their first real mission awaits them at the end of next month.”

    Seteth pulls a face as if he bit into a lemon but doesn’t object.

    “I have one concern myself,” you quickly throw in before tracking back, wondering how no one else mentions it. “When Linhardt and Dorothea—”

    “I would like a word,” Byleth suddenly says, grasping your wrist lightly in such an easy, familiar way you immediately shut up. They leave you two to it as you follow them a couple hundred feet behind, both silent though the voice in your mind doesn’t shut up about the dozen of questions bouncing back and forth. After what feels like hours, Byleth finally says, “You noticed it, didn’t you?”

    You stare at the road, a yawning void in your head where just a second ago a cacophony of questions caused a headache, unable to put two and two together. When it finally clicks, you wipe your head so fast in her direction it pops in your neck. “It was you? How did you do it?”

    Byleth doesn’t answer immediately. Her gaze drifts over the treetops, calmly swaying from left to right. The battle has concluded half an hour ago, but it already feels like a lifetime has passed and the peace and quiet of nature around you is like a completely different world. The land surrounding the monastery is exceptionally beautiful, luscious and overgrown with flora that covers the ground in a colourful patchwork rug. How the rest of Fódlan must look like…

    “When we first met, you asked how I could trust you. It will sound strange but you and I, we are connected.” She’s still looking up ahead, now at the towering spires of the monastery piercing the sky.

    Your mouth is dry. “Connected how?”

    She stops now. When she turns and looks at you, again the thread that ties you two together strums in an ancient tune. You stop breathing for that second.

    “You control the flow of the future, and I control the flow of the past.”

    You still don’t understand. Byleth reads as much from your lack of response. “What I mean to say is, I rewind time. When you defeated Linhardt, I turned back time’s hands to have Dorothea walk his path instead to keep my healer. I just never expected anyone would notice. And no one did. Except you.”

    It’s like those words don’t reach you. They recoil from a waterfall that rushes through your ears, distorting the words. When your brain finally finishes freaking out about it, only one thing appears of importance. “You cheated!”

    Byleth wears an expression that clearly states, That’s rich coming from you.

    “I— That—” How can she remain so calm? This information tilts your world, turning every hour you spent lying awake at night in your chambers wondering if you’re the only one with a power like that into a painful memory. “Does that mean you have a Crest as well? If our powers are alike, surely there must be an answer to why we have it. If we talk to Hanneman about it—”

    “You won’t,” Byleth cuts you off, her tone as sharp as her sword. “You will share no word with anyone about what I just revealed, or I will strike you down.”

    The wind picks up, flickering your robes left and right and rocking trees that bow in humility to a force much greater than them—a feeling you can relate to. Cold sweat runs down the back of your neck. This isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.

    “You spend too much time with Hubert,” you manage with a trembling smile only held together when the tension dissipates from Byleth’s face.

    “Professor Hanneman is still studying my Crest,” she says, a tinge of sorrow in her voice that strikes you harder than any danger or threat, “but I can assure you my abilities are not tied to it. I’m sorry.”

    She must have felt what you so desperately wished for: a connection. The assurance that you are not alone in this world with this strange power.

    It makes the way back to the monastery like a march through mud, laden limbs walking towards a goal you don’t know will be worth all the exertion. When the silence becomes too unbearable, you build up the courage to ask, “What are we, Byleth?”

    She drops her gaze to the ground. It is the very first time you see uncertainty hover like a shadow over her face. “I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know.”

    The sky turns an orange canvas when you finally return to the monastery. The last villagers from the small town downhill start returning home, their tools laid to rest inside their carriages. You can’t wait to sink into a nice hot bath, washing away the dried sweat and grime from the battle and change into loose, comfortable evening robes. You don’t come further than past the entrance hall. Leaning against a high pillar, Dimitri is adjusting the loops on his gauntlets, blond strands falling into his face like golden strips of sunshine. Before you reach him, Byleth says with a light touch to your elbow, “Please see Professor Manuela about your wound, okay? You did great today.” You promise her you will and watch her until she disappears through a hall leading to her personal quarters.

    With your attention on him, Dimitri looks up and stands straighter. He grins at you, his smile sudden and jarring like a thunderclap.

    “I have been waiting for you, Herald,” he says and takes you by the wrist. The cold of his gauntlets bites at your skin, making you hiss. His hand immediately drops, and he turns around in panic. “Oh, apologies. It is difficult to control my strength sometimes and—”

    “No, no, that’s not it. I was just a little surprised.”

    He sighs in relief. “Still, I am sorry. I will try to refrain from doing that in the future.”

    “Dimitri.” You graze his clothed underarm with a finger, unsure if that was a wise decision when his eyes widen in surprise. How is it you only notice now how long his eyelashes are? “I think we have seen today I am not that fragile.”

    His eyes jump away, avoiding contact, the blush creeping up his neck clearly standing out against his pale skin. He clears his throat. “I just wanted to make sure you will join us for dinner. I was not joking earlier when I said we should all celebrate our victory.”

    “Are you guys sure? I’m not your teacher and in the end, I didn’t do all too much.”

    Dimitri shakes his head. “Nonsense. You fought with us and led us to victory. We would love to celebrate with you, and while you won’t be with us all the time, I’d love nothing more than to share our happiness with you. Joy can be so fleeting, after all, and I’m sure the rest of the class feels the very same.”

    “If it really is okay with you all…” You glimpse over at him. Why not. Why not enjoy some leisure time with the students. You could surely use it to get to know them better and distract your thoughts from Byleth’s revelation. “Just give me some time to get ready. I’ll see you in the dining hall.”

    “Actually, please come to our classroom,” Dimitri says. “I don’t know how Sylvain managed it, but the kitchen’s head lady allowed us to dine in the classroom.”

    Your brows fly to your hairline. Dimitri answers with a little, low chuckle. You both have a pretty good idea how he managed to pull that stunt.

    Back in your quarters, you wash away the dirt and pick a simple robe the colour of freshly pressed parchment. The water’s heat renders today’s injuries to a dull pain save for the scrapes on your knees that still burn but are clean now. Hunger quickly catches up as well, dispersing your last doubts of intruding the class’ celebration. After leaving your room, you stop by the infirmary where Manuela makes quick work of your remaining wounds with her magic, turning purple bruises into faded yellow spots you immediately forget once you step out and head to your destination.

    The tables are already laid, arranged into a formation that resembles a circle allowing conversations to flow easily. You expected them to be already stuffing their faces but when you step into the Blue Lion’s classroom, the only source of light is a dim candle flickering in the middle of some students huddled together. Only Mercedes’ soft voice is audible, not counting the little whimpers from Annette or Ashe shuffling as he tries to hide behind Dimitri who appears to be the only one invested in her story.

    “… no one knows how deep the tunnels underneath the monastery run. But once they reach where walls are built from skulls and bones, they turn and go back … or try to do so, for who knows what horror lurks behind every corner.”

    “Nooooooo,” Annette cries, clutching to Dimitri’s sleeve. “Why would anyone go somewhere like that?”

    “A-and who built it in the first place? Tunnels lined with bones…” Ashe shudders, still looking smaller than Dimitri even though he is the one sitting.

    “A fascinating idea.” Dimitri’s excitement, bright as a spark, doesn’t bounce over to his friends. “To imagine there could be a whole civilisation living right in plain sight like that.”

    “I can’t imagine we wouldn’t notice,” Ashe reasons. His conviction would be more credible, would he not still cling to a white tail of Dimitri’s shirt. Before you can join and see if you would fare better listening to stories about haunted and forgotten places, Sylvain steals past you, his voice making you jump. “Shouldn’t you guys be finished by now?”

    Seeing your sour expression, he simply winks and hurries inside, carrying a big steaming pot. Followed by the rest of the Lions, they carry plates with dried meat, slices of bread, vegetables and cheese, and place them on the tables for everyone to just pick whatever they want. With a flick of your wrist flames flicker to life inside both fireplaces and the candles on top of the chandelier above your heads. Everyone hurries to find a seat. The students have all changed out of their battle garments into the academy’s summer uniform, its fabric much lighter than the heavy embroidered regular uniform they wore upon your first meeting.

    “My dear friends.” Dimitri raises a cup, holding the thin stem between slender fingers. It would look more elegant were its contents not simply orange juice. “To our victory today and many more to follow.”

    They raise their cups to toast except for Felix who knocks his drink back as if it were strong liquor he desperately needed to sit through this evening gathering. He doesn’t look as pale as before. A quick check up by Manuela after the battle affirmed that he was alright and simply fatigued from countless sleepless nights spent at the Training Grounds.

    The other participants don’t look too bad either. Bruises that vividly blossomed hours ago have faded, swollen purple eyes already start to heal—all certainly thanks to Manuela’s quick work. Sylvain surely won’t be as successful chasing girls with a shiner that makes the prettiest violet jealous of his colour and Dimitri tries to hide it but you don’t miss him tensing from time to time or moving his hand towards his side; probably a bruised rib he doesn’t want anyone to know. He catches your stare and offers a slight, boyish grin under half-closed eyes that only whispers of a shared secret only meant for you two. It does a funny thing to your stomach, a flip or drop, a light twist like missing a step and the fear of falling only to meet solid ground a split second later. You quickly look away and focus on spreading curd on a loaf of bread, not trying to think too much about how the muscles strained under his clothes wielding his lance or the fierce determination colouring his eyes a shade brighter when victory is in palpable proximity.

    You feel a piercing gaze, hot like a solid touch on your skin. Quickly whipping your head around, you catch Felix’s glare from across the room, completely ignoring whatever Sylvain is telling him. It leaves you completely tense for the rest of the dinner, wondering what his problem is and why he is so hostile towards Dimitri specifically. You’ve heard from some students who have walked into an argument those two had, something about a massacre two years ago but details, as is their nature, grow hazy over time and distort until they evolve into something completely different and unrecognisable.

    Felix holds your gaze for a long second, and it is only later after you all clean the classroom from your festivities and decide to retire to bed that you catch him by himself. The monastery at night is a desolate, lonely place save for a couple stray souls wandering about, either on their way to their chamber or out for a quick, last evening prayer inside the chapel. Felix’s destination is none of those as he strides towards the Training Grounds and you call out to him. He slows but doesn’t stop his step until you catch up. “You’re on your way to training, right? Shouldn’t you call it a day? Especially after what happened—”

    “I’ve got no time sitting around and making smalltalk,” Felix snaps, and a month ago you would have thought he aimed his anger towards you but recently you’ve discovered he’s towards the whole world—always glaring, always hissing like a cornered, wounded animal. “There are more important matters like growing stronger—”

    “And suffering from overexertion, I suppose.”

    Felix pulls a grimace. “It was a mistake I don’t intend to repeat. You saw Professor Byleth’s strength. It took two of you to win, and even then, it was mostly luck. I just want to try out some moves Professor Byleth exerted today so I can surpass her strength next time I challenger her.”

    “Why is it that you seek to fight so much?” you ask, deciding forwardness to be a better approach than idle chatter with a person like Felix. He doesn’t give immediate response, not because he ignores you, as is your first assumption, but because he gives it some thought.

    “Why, hm… I learnt to thrust a sword before I learnt to write my name. This is how it is for all children in my country, the perfect environment where I could live free of stodgy values and virtues. Grow strong so you may live, and live to grow stronger. That’s what I was taught.”

    It is no secret Faerghus is the land of knights and chivalry, and still it is hard to imagine a small version of Felix wielding a sword even before he learnt how to use a quill, scraped knees instead of black inked fingertips. What a strange world.

    “As long as you don’t forget to take a break should it get too much. Everyone was worried today.”

    “Everyone should mind their own business. I’m not their problem, and they aren’t mine.”

    You’re too tired to argue relationships don’t work like that, any minute longer on your feet and they’ll simply give out. Wishing Felix a goodnight, you turn towards the chapel but don’t get very far.

    “Herald.” Felix is halfway through the door. “Let me give you one advice.”

    “That is?”

    “Don’t get too close to that damn boar.”

    You’re about to ask what he’s talking about, but he continues, “Beneath all that princely polish, he’s an animal, nothing more. He’s strong and skilled, sure. But don’t place your trust in him as a human being. Take care he doesn’t chew you up and spit you out.”

    Not waiting for a response, Felix moves on, leaving you with more questions than answers. Every creature with two eyes can see hostility between Dimitri and Felix crackling like lightning about to strike the ground and burn down forests and villages. But to go this far and say these words about his future king … Words that couldn’t be more contrary to the impression he’s left on you.

    Whatever Felix wanted to accomplish, his words succeed to remain in your head the whole night, driving off any sleep you direly needed after that day. But even without that, your mind is occupied with questions. It is like stumbling into a spider web, sticky tangles everywhere with no way out.

    Who is that man you remembered? It was such a brief, yet striking memory, of what moment you cannot recall. His hostility was evident in his stance, sharp sword high up to drive down with enough force to cut your head from your shoulders. And yet here you are.

    And your words, You don’t have it in you. If you were familiar enough with that person to know this, who was he to you, and what had stopped him? Did he have a change of heart and instead used the blunt end, giving you a concussion and amnesia instead? Where is he now? And would he return to finish his work?

    Since that day, you look out for anyone fitting that built: tall and lean, visible even through robes with a design completely different from anything you’ve seen around the monastery. Asking Rhea or Seteth could be an option, but strangely enough, you don’t want to reveal it to anyone yet, not until you’ve found an answer yourself first.

    That is how your first moon at the monastery passes. Now there are more questions than before, more secrets to carry with no clear goal in sight. Lessons continue, you attend seminars and life unfolds in Garreg Mach, surprising you how easy it is growing accustomed and familiar with the place and its people—some more so than others.

    Byleth still invites you to her obligatory weekend-tea time sessions, rarely accepting no for an answer even though tea isn’t really what you consume to wind down. She’s acting like your talk after the mock battle has never happened and you do your best to mimic her even though you’d love nothing more than to see her power in battle. That opportunity shows at the end of the following month when Byleth and her class are tasked to deal with bandits the knights cornered in Zanado, the Red Canyon, but Rhea has different plans and instead sends you with the Golden Deer House to the village at the foot of the mountain to help clear debris a flooding left on one of the main roads leading to Alliance territory. It takes two days until the stench from the muddy riverbank is completely washed out of your hair.

    There is still no sight of the man from your memory, even though word about the Herald’s return has reached every corner of Fódlan by now. It makes you wonder if it’s less a matter of if and rather when he sets food inside the monastery. No additional memory has resurfaced, no sudden epiphany provides explanation and you doubt that will change even though Seteth drags you inside the chapel to pray for the goddess’ help whenever his time allows. Mostly, you use those occasions to ask her to make Raphael and Ingrid leave some Nirvana Cake for you.

    Then there is your other little secret of course. After another month of waking to an indistinguishable voice calling out to you every once in a while, you’ve grown used to it, finding a strange comfort in someone or something looking over you. Maybe it is the goddess. Maybe she is trying to reach out to tell you something important, to give divine insight and reach out to her followers. You just hope once she comes through to you, her words won’t proclaim hardships and sorrow.

[chosenkeepersworld]

The Unexpected Meeting

Original Work

Word Count: 1645 words

Date Posted: June 30, 2021

Author’s Note: Wanted to write something new this month, I haven't written anything for these characters for a while and thought to give them some love. Unbeta’d but I hope you guys still like it and as always I love hearing your thoughts about my work so comments are always appreciated.

Bright green eyes blinked and the small boy pursed his lips upon landing on the docks. He took in the people walking and chatting up on the shore. He felt a hand ruffle his hair, causing him to look up and see his father grinning down at him.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s go.” the older man urged with a tilt of his head.

Jas sighed and followed. This was the agreement his parents decided on. ‘For Jas’ sake’ they had claimed. Not that they ever asked him what he wanted.

It never took long for them to reach the house where the rest of the family was waiting. It was amazing that a house of only five people could make so much noise. When they entered his father immediately called out to them. The first person to come and greet him was his cousin, Concordia.

She was the only one he actually liked being around, after all they were similar.

“Janos!” she yelled out enthusiastically as she ran to hug him.

He patted her back and shot her a grin which she returned.

His cousin began to ramble about what had been going on since he left. It had only been a year but a lot tended to happen at that time. It was the arrangement. He would visit his father’s side of the family every year, his parents would often argue that it would be good for him to spend time outside his Homeworld.

And it was only fair that he spent time with his father since it was difficult to make regular visits.

Concordia dragged him into the kitchen where the rest of the family was working on lunch. His older sisters seemed to be putting the final touches to the afternoon meal, their grandmother, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Good. Seeing the old bat makes my head hurt” the voice inside his head whispered darkly.

The young boy ignored it and gave a timid smile to his sisters when they turned to greet him. They have always been nice to him when he was around but they’ve never made any effort to do more. Not that Jas could blame them, their age difference made it difficult for them to connect.

His father sat him down at the kitchen island while his sisters and cousin finished setting the table. They then moved to the dining table, The twins and their father sat on one side of the table while Jas and Concordia sat on the other. The seat at the head of the table was empty, still waiting for the head of the family.

It didn’t take long for the Matriarch to enter the kitchen. She didn’t look like much with her short stature and thin frame but upon meeting her it was easy to feel her power. The old woman sat and motioned for them to begin.

A little while later the Matriarch finally addressed her grandson “How was your trip, Janos?”

The dark haired boy swallowed “It was fine, Grandmother. Nothing really happened.” The entire time he’d travel and stay on the island there was never anything that caught his attention. He’d spend most of the time on his own when he wasn’t at his grandmother’s house or with his cousin.

He’d tell himself he wasn’t interested in being here and he’d rather just be back home with his mother and grandfather, learning how to control his powers and have fun at home. If he tried having fun here, his grandmother wouldn’t be very happy with him.

“That’s good.” was all she responded with, she didn’t speak to him again during the meal. It was obvious who the least favorite was among her grandchildren.

He couldn’t really blame his grandmother either, he was just as disinterested in her as she was of him. There were many times throughout his parents' arrangement when his mother would rage about his grandmother, constantly angry about the old woman especially after Jas was born.

The boy was left to his own devices most of the time when he was visiting family. Once he’d helped wash the dishes, Concordia helped him bring his things to the guest room.

“Can you handle things from here?”

Jas was surprised at the question. Concordia was never obligated to help him get settled, she always voluntarily helped him, claiming that it was a bonding experience. The young boy never argued when she was so determined to be of assistance, he didn’t argue either when she wanted to help the next time he came or the time after that. It became their little ritual and he began to enjoy it too.

“Oh” was all he could say, he tried not to look disappointed but it was obvious.

“Jas I would love to help but grandmother wants me to start with afternoon training as soon as possible after lunch”

And there it was.

“It’s fine” he waved her off before turning back to his things “If she wants you down there, there isn’t really anything I can do about it” he said with a shrug.

“Cousin…”

He turned to face her again, a reassuring smile on his face “It really is all right, Cordia. I can handle it from here. We’ll have fun later, after you’re done training. I’m sure I can find something to do until then”

She smiled for a moment and reached over to hug him, her dark hair swinging above her shoulders at the movement. “I promise we’ll do something after training.”

When his cousin closed the door, the young boy collapsed on the bed. He could feel the pull of the darkness, feel the shadows inching closer from their corners, could feel the other side of him emerging…

“Quit it.” he said, brows furrowing in annoyance “We made an agreement for when you come out, remember?”

“Just for a moment. I won’t cause any trouble” he promised, but Jas could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m not falling for that again” Jas grumbled. He could still remember the screams and shouts of angry citizens the last time Jas had let his other self free. He hadn’t heard the end of it from his mother and grandfather, scolding him for weeks.

“You’ll stay in there until the agreed upon time or unless we’re in danger and I can’t do anything. Anyway, this is the last place we want to cause chaos to”

There were brief moments where he caught glimpses of his other self, normally when he wanted to be seen. His other self was sticking his tongue out in response but otherwise left him to unpack his things.

The island was fairly large and was mostly of nature. There was only one town on the island but trees, bushes and other greenery had grown on the path between the eastern and western side of town. His father never let the child go further than the easter side, the side where their family lived on.

It was much too dangerous for a child to go off galavanting in the forest. Jas scoffed at that then headed downstairs after taking another calming breath. There was no one downstairs, but he could see his cousin and grandmother outside from the kitchen window. Considering the time, his father must have returned to work but he was unsure of where his sisters may be.

Jas made his way to the gardens. Cordia was practicing her manifestation abilities with their grandmother supervising her. The older woman paused upon seeing him then instructed the young girl to continue before walking towards him.

“Janos, is there something wrong?”

He shook his head “I was just letting you know that I’ll be going around town for a bit.”

She nodded “Very well. Make sure to be home before dinner.”

The young boy nodded, his dark hair bouncing at the movement.

“All right. Off with you then”

Without any more encouragement, Jas practically flew to the front of the house and down the steps, heading to the path to town. It was a narrow, dirt path that branched off to the woods between the east and west sides of town.

He was reaching the cross road when he heard a voice yelling...

“Hey! Get back here!”

Before something smashed into his side, causing him to fall. He vaguely heard more yelling and what sounded like squealing. Groaning, Jas rolled to his stomach with a gasp. His body hurt and so did his head, everything was blurry when he opened his eyes. In front of him was what looked like a young girl, a year or two younger than him from the looks of it.

He wasn’t sure if it was the bodily injury that caused him to see it but did she have ears on top of her head?

She turned her head to look at him when he made a noise. Her light brown eyes almost looked golden in the light, she tilted her head to one side as the ears on her head twitched.

The odd girl took one step toward him but when she did so, the animal she was chasing noticed his predator’s attention was captivated by something else. It backed away slowly then once it deemed it was far enough away, it turned tail tail and ran, squealing all the way.

That got the stranger’s attention, she turned her back to him shouting angrily as the small animal got farther and farther away. She took a step forward, ready to chase after the creature. But then her body relaxed, in an almost defeated manner. She faced Jas again, an annoyed look on her face. She quickly reached down to lift his torso, grabbing him under his arms.

“Wait a minute” Jas started to say, panic rising in him. She was bringing him into the woods.

“Where are you taking me? Hey!”

@original-writing

[grandmother-goblin]

Hangman’s Mercy

Chapter 1

Summary: After the war, Levi remembers how he fell in love with the executioner.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Canon-typical Violence, Decapitation, Suggestive Themes, Language, Period-typical Sexism.

On a summer morning, outside an oceanfront cafe, Levi longed for the executioner's embrace. Seagulls cawed on the distant beach and the gentle ocean breeze blew salty air over his steaming cup of tea. Chamomile; the executioner's favorite. Especially with a little honey after a stressful day. They spent countless nights together, sitting across a candlelit table when neither of them could sleep or in each other’s arms, with a hot pot of chamomile tea between them. God, he missed those days. 

The chamomile tea at the Marelean cafe did not taste as sweet, even with honey. Maybe that was just because of the company. Not that Levi minded the overzealous journalist scribbling in his journal across from him. After all, he paid well, and it wasn’t like Levi had much to do after the war. Despite the massive loss of life, humanity trudged towards a new sense of normalcy only weeks later. Businesses had to continue, people needed a new sense of purpose or just a moment of peace, and society was never one to stay still. Levi still had to make a living in a world without titans, so when a fast-talking kid with a fire in his eyes offered to pay him for interviews he took the opportunity.

The young man, Marty Chase, tapped his pen against a pile of notes with a nervous energy. Levi took a few days to get to know Marty’s work before he agreed to a biography, and the kid checked out. Marty co-authored three bestsellers before the age of thirty, all biographies of Marelean warriors. Levi did not know any of the subjects, but he felt like he did after a few chapters into his works. How he wove together someone’s life with just interviews and notes, Levi did not know. Some sort of creative witchcraft he would never understand. 

Marty flipped to a fresh page in his notebook and clicked his pen. “When I was listening back to our last session, you mentioned an executioner a couple of times. Tell me about that.”

“What about her?”

“Her?” Marty made a note and underlined the fact the executioner was a woman several times. He flipped back through his notes, finding some highlighted passages in the ink. “How did you know her?”

Steam rose from his teacup, and Levi watched as it disappeared into the wind. He hadn’t realized he mentioned the executioner enough during his interviews for Marty to take notice. In fact, he tried to leave the executioner out of it as much as he could. Those who read his biography wouldn’t give a damn about that. Why would they? They wanted to know about his military experience, his title of Humanity’s Strongest, about Eren Jaeger, the military coup, what he saw, and what he experienced. They wanted to know what his comrades could no longer share. Without bringing her into it, they could know all of that. Would she even want them to know? 

Levi tasted the chamomile on his tongue and closed his eyes, wishing it was as sweet as he remembered on her lips. He could not ask her permission to share her part of the story. It was impossible. Levi turned the warm teacup in his hands and sighed.

“I almost asked her to marry me.”

The incessant pen clicking stopped. Marty stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape like a fish out of water. Marty dove into the fat briefcase he lugged around and retrieved that stupid little recording device. It was slightly bigger than a deck of cards with black casing and a roll of tape inside. “And you thought you could just leave out that teensy-weensy, tiny, detail?”

Levi shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d care about that.”

Marty rolled his eyes, as if Levi said something ridiculous, like cats could be herded or the moon didn’t exist. “This stuff is the heart of a good story, no pun intended,” he said. “You’re pretty extraordinary, Mr. Ackerman, no two ways about that. But, people like you seem so far out of reach to an average guy like me. What we need is something to reel you back in. Something to tell our audience, ‘hey, this guy is as human as he is amazing’, and what’s more human than romantic love?”

“Taking a shit?” 

Marty set his pen on the table and eyed him like a disappointed teacher looking at the class clown. “If you really don’t think she’s important, you don’t have to tell me about her.”

“Don’t give me the guilt trip shit, Marty.” Levi finished his tea and set the empty cup at the edge of the iron bistro table. “You have plans today?”

“Not if you have a story to tell me.”

“Then get me another cup of tea. Lavender and bergamot, no sweetener.”

Marty beamed like Levi had offered a pot of gold instead of a day's worth of work. Though to Marty, those two were likely one and the same. His book about Reiner’s time in Paradis sold out in some of the biggest shops Marley offered. Well, Levi hoped the paycheck would be worth both of their time. 

After Marty returned with the tea and a heart-attack inducing amount of coffee, he pressed the little red button on the side of his recording device. He leaned in close to the speaker and rattled off his typical prelude to the recording. “Levi Ackerman. Tape thirty-two. Who is the executioner?”

Levi sipped his fresh cup of tea, thankful for the bit of caffeine because he knew he’d be needing it. “Don’t turn my biography into a romance novel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Ackerman,” Marty answered without missing a beat. He clicked his pen and tapped it against the first line in his notebook. “Now, tell me how you first met the executioner.”

Levi held his cup of tea just above the table, not sure if he was going to set it down or take another sip. He guessed he had nothing to lose by sharing their story. “Twenty-five years ago, I saw my first beheading. I was still just a kid scraping by in the Underground…”

Levi, a tiny, twelve-year-old piece of garbage, had only been on his own for a few weeks. Kenny taught him just enough to take care of himself and drop-kicked him from the relative safety of the nest to the dogs. With Kenny, awful as he was, Levi at least felt a sense of safety with an adult around. Once that was ripped from under him, it took him a while to regain his bearings. 

The Sunday market was the perfect place to pick pockets and swipe valuables, whether they were from a vendor or a customer. The place was so crowded, a small kid like him could disappear in an instant. He just needed to find the right target. Ideally, someone who looked like they didn’t belong Underground. Someone who would be unused to the dim lighting, the stale air thick with the smell of smoke, and the echoing chatter of thousands of people crammed into one place. Few people from above ground went to the Sunday market, but there were enough to make them easy pickings. 

On the outskirts of the market, right outside a general store where Kenny used to buy his liquor, sat a young girl atop some supply crates. One look at her, and Levi knew she was the perfect target. Clean clothes? Check. Shiny hair? Check. Dirt-free face? Check? Alone? Also check. The pretty, sun-kissed face was also a dead giveaway. The brown leather satchel on her lap, scratch-free with shiny copper buckles, would be a great steal. He just had to get a hold of it.

Levi smoothed his ratty, moth-bitten coat and checked his hair in a dusty shop window. Well, he did not look so bad that the girl would run away from him screaming. At least he hoped he didn’t. Not that he cared. Normally, he would go for a more covert approach, one where his target would never know he was there, but there was no way he could take the bag right off of her lap. He’d have to get her to put it down. 

With his heart beating faster than a bat's wings, he approached the girl. When she smiled at him, his breath caught in his throat. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. He focused on the bag. Even if there was nothing good in there, the bag itself would be worth something, whether it be money or for his own use. 

Unable to keep eye contact, he swallowed and looked at his shoes, restless fingers pulling at a loose thread in his pocket. “Hey,” he said, his voice breaking in a way that it hadn’t before. He cleared his throat and willed the heat from his face. What was wrong with him?

The girl leaned on her bag. “Hi,” she said with a pretty, white smile. “I like your haircut.”

His eyes widened at the unexpected compliment and the blush he swallowed before heat rushed right back to his face. Thank the walls the Underground was dark, because he was certain she would have laughed if she saw the color on his face. “Thanks, uhh—” he toyed with the thread in his pocket. “I, uh, like your face.” Stupid. Idiot. Maybe if he ran away right now, she would forget about the whole thing.

She covered her mouth when she giggled. It was the cutest thing he had ever heard. What the hell? Was this what Kenny meant when told Levi that girls would stop being gross one day? What a joke. A terrible, awful joke.

He needed to act fast. Plan A: get the girl to stand. Maybe she would put the bag down for a second, long enough for him to grab it and run. He scratched the back of his neck and eyed the crate she was sitting on. “I need to get to that box.” 

“Oh.” The girl straightened, one hand still on her bag. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get in the way,” she said and pushed herself off the crates, her long green skirt billowing behind her. Unfortunately, she looped the handle around her forearm, keeping it close.

Well, that did not work. Time for Plan B. Levi looked over the crate and found a serial number. He pretended to examine it for a second before he turned back to the girl. “Can you help me move this?” he asked. “I think I need the one below it.”

Still smiling, the girl set her bag down and dusted her hands off on her skirt. “Sure. What should I do?”

Perfect. “Grab that side.” He pointed to the side of the crate furthest away from her bag. Without question, she tucked her fingers under one side of the crate while Levi lifted the other. Sure, he could have just snatched the bag while she had her back turned, but that was too risky. He wanted a little more of a head start before she followed him. 

Levi lifted the top crate well off of the bottom one, and the little girl followed, shuffling her feet against the cobblestone. Her skinny arms strained and her cheeks colored with exertion. There was his chance. 

His fingers released, and Levi’s end of the crate crashed into the ground. The girl faltered and Levi acted before the girl could even let go of her half of the crate. His deft hands swiped the bag as he darted past. Too easy. Way too easy. Levi couldn’t help but smile to himself as he swung the bag over his shoulder and the girl shouted after him. Levi circled around the edge of the market to put some distance between him and the girl before he ducked into the thick of the crowd. 

In the bustling marketplace, Levi swung the bag onto his shoulder and blended in among the other patrons. No one gave him a second look, like he was just there for a bit of shopping, like everyone else. Easy, he thought to himself. Even if the bag had little in it, the bag itself was nice. Sturdy, with lots of pockets and a comfortable strap. Maybe he’d even keep it for himself instead of pawning it off. 

When Levi ducked through a small crowd near a pastry stand, he felt a sudden tug at the back of his jacket. His collar caught his throat as he was yanked back, and a hand the size of his head gripped his shoulder like a vice. 

“Say, my daughter has a bag just like that,” said a deep, gravelly voice as the grip on his shoulder tightened. 

Levi felt like his heart had stopped. No. What were the fucking chances. The surrounding people started to take notice of the altercation and backed away. People in the Underground knew Levi through reputation alone, and he had taken on men twice his size more times than he could count. Too late not to cause a scene. 

Levi grasped his knife and struck behind him, the blade making contact with the man’s flesh. The man groaned and Levi felt another hand on him as he was spun around. Levi’s heart jumped to his throat. This man wasn’t twice his size, he was even bigger. If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought a titan had made it Underground. 

Under a bushy red beard that surrounded his face like a lion’s mane, he smiled, a gold tooth front and center of his grin. Levi briefly wondered how much the tooth was worth before he felt his knife plucked from his hand. 

“Get him, Ivor!” yelled someone in the crowd. 

Another man shouted. “Teach that shit a lesson, hangman!”

The hangman. The fucking hangman. Levi felt his blood run cold as he stared up at the monstrous man. So he was the man Kenny would talk about when he got drunk. The one man that Kenny actually seemed to fear. Not because he thought Ivor would hunt him down, but because Ivor would be the one to carry out his sentence if he was ever tried for his crimes. Remembering the way Kenny described how the hangman would torture his victims before the execution made Levi’s stomach turn.

“I’m not going to fight a child,” Ivor called back to the crowd. “Piss off. You’re not getting a damn show, you buzzards.”

The crowd did not disperse as more insults and jeers were thrown the hangman’s way. 

Ivor ignored the taunts. Instead, the hangman focused his pale blue eyes into Levi’s gray ones. “I made that bag for my daughter,” he said. “All it has in it is tea and bad handwritten poetry. I’d tell you to see for yourself, but she’d kill me if I let a stranger read her poems,” he added with a light chuckle. 

“Let go of me.”

One hand tightened its grip while the other let go, giving Levi what was supposed to be a friendly pat. “Aye, can’t do that until I get that bag back, son.” 

Levi tossed the bag on the ground. Whatever. He knew when to cut his losses. “Take it.” 

Still not letting go of him, Ivor placed a boot on the bag strap, keeping it secure. “Thank you, my boy,” he boomed and ruffled Levi’s hair. Ivor knelt as close to Levi’s level as he could, his trench coat made of thick hide bunching up at his feet. He smelled of bergamot and lemon, like he had doused himself in perfumes. Something about Ivor contradicted all of Levi’s expectations: respected and ridiculed, fearsome and jovial, a killer with kind eyes. Despite the iron grip on his shoulder, the hangman seemed… almost nice? Much more tolerant than most of the folks Levi came across, and definitely more so than the ones who felt they were wronged. Blood soaked through Ivor’s pant leg where Levi had slashed his knife, but Ivor did not acknowledge it.

“Take this, boy,” he said in a rough voice barely above a whisper. Ivor reached into his pocket and pressed a small, yet heavy, bag of coins into Levi’s hands, doing his best to shield the transaction from the crowd. “Stay out of trouble. If you don’t, you’ll be seeing me again, boy. And next time, I won’t be so nice.” 

Ivor picked up his daughter’s bag and finally released his hold on Levi, patting him on his certainly bruised shoulder. Levi stumbled back, reaching for the knife that was no longer there. Right. The hangman had tossed it aside. Levi pocketed the coins and stood his ground, waiting for an opening to grab his knife again. 

Around them, the crowd booed. They hurled words not even Kenny would have used the hangman’s way, and he stood tall and proud, stoic as a statue. When a piece of rotten vegetable pelted Ivor’s coat, he brushed off with a laugh as people in the crowd continued to taunt and jeer. The hangman turned to look at Levi once more, before giving a subtle nod towards a break in the crowd. Levi swore he saw the man mouth the word ‘go’ from behind his massive beard.

“Thought you were going to give us a show, hangman!” a shrill woman shouted.

Ivor tossed the bag over his shoulder. “You’ll be getting a show tomorrow.” He spread his arms with all the showmanship of a magician. “Now stop gawking and do something with your miserable lives, you scabs!”

With a slight limp, Ivor turned into the crowd. Not really thinking, Levi picked his knife off the ground and ran the opposite direction. He did not know where he was going, just that he needed to get out of the marketplace and away from anyone who saw Ivor give him money. Maybe that was the man’s true intention: to put a target on Levi’s back with the cash rather than true altruism. Why else would he give a kid who just stabbed him a satchel full of coins?

The woman’s voice rang in his head. Give us a show, hangman! He was the fucking hangman, and Levi had robbed the hangman’s kid. Levi never felt so stupid in his life. The human embodiment of Death had Levi in his grip, at his mercy, and let him live. 

With that gift, Levi ran and did not stop until he reached his lodgings. Levi locked the door behind him and slid to the floor to catch his breath. 

When his breathing settled, he pulled the bag of coins out and counted them. More than he expected. A lot more. Enough to get him food for an entire month, or even longer if he planned right. Levi closed his eyes and let his head rest against the wooden door behind him. What the hell kind of person gave a piece of shit like him such a gift? Maybe Ivor had something wrong with him.

Despite how Levi never wanted to see the executioner again, Levi found himself drawn to the town square the following afternoon. He never watched an execution before, but he knew where they took place. The crowd made for good pickings, as those who came to watch were distracted by the morbid spectacle and alcohol. Levi always took his pickings and left before the cart with the condemned even made it to the podium.

There were no gallows for hanging, just a raised platform with a block of wood at the center. People gathered a healthy distance away from the platform. Out of the splash zone, as one man said. Levi did not want to think about how that distance was determined, and stood behind two larger men as a human shield. He could see the podium well enough between them, so long as they stood relatively still. It would have been so easy to swipe something right out of their pockets, but he resisted. It was a day for observation, and observation only. He didn’t know why, but he needed to see the executioner in action. He needed to know it was, in fact, the same man he met the day before. 

Nothing he knew of the man, the little he did know, made any sense. Obviously respected, yet despised. A brute who didn’t flinch at a knife slicing his thigh and laughed off a jeering crowd. A man who made bags for his daughter, gave coins to a kid who stabbed him, and went off to kill a person the next day.

One man in front of him, with a stocky build and a mustache that looked like a push broom, puffed at his cigarette. “Any idea what this one did?”

His friend, a taller man with a ponytail, replied, “I heard she killed a few of her customers from the whore house. Poor bastards. Thought they were paying for a good time, then they’d get home and drop dead. Took them ages to find out why.”

“How many did she get?” 

“At least twelve, from what I’ve heard.”

“Shit.” The mustached man tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boots. “Executioner will let us know.” 

The man with a ponytail cocked his chin towards the main road. “Speak of the devil and he will come,” he said. 

Far down the end of the main road, a draft horse pulled a rickety wagon fixed with a rusty iron cage. The giant, red-haired hangman sat at the front of the cart, his boxy gloved hands gripping the reins as he shouted at people to get out of the way. Beside him was the little girl from yesterday, hugging her precious bag.

“Can’t believe he’s training her,” Mustache Man muttered.

Ponytail shrugged. “Not like she has many other prospects,” he said. “Being the hangman’s kid, it’s not like men will be lining up for her. Hell, I don’t know if a whore house would take her.”

Mustache Man hummed thoughtfully and lit up another cigarette. “Poor kid.” 

The wagon reached the podium and Ivor hauled himself down from the rider seat, the wagon creaking with the sudden loss of weight. Levi would not have been surprised if the ground shook when those massive boots hit the pavement like a fallen powder keg. Ivor turned back to the cart and gingerly lifted his daughter and set her down beside him. Without a word, the girl dug into her bag and passed a vial to her father before she went to the edge of the podium.

A man in a Military Police uniform lingered nearby. Probably acting as some sort of bailiff, Levi figured, judging by the official-looking documents clutched between his fingers. He ascended to the podium and shouted something to Ivor, who went to the back of the wagon. 

A desperate wail echoed over the crowd when Ivor swung open the metal bars. A frail woman with her hands tied behind her back scrambled to the back of the wagon, sobbing and pleading. Her hair had been cut short, but Levi recognized her from the brothel as a woman his mother would sometimes talk to. Her name was Ada, if he remembered correctly, and she was almost unrecognizable between the haphazardly chopped hair and tear-stained face. Kicking at his meaty hands, squirming away from his vice-like grip, Ivor pulled her from the cart despite her best efforts. 

Turning her away from the crowd, Ivor pinched her jaw and dumped the vial down her throat. He held her mouth shut until she swallowed as he whispered something in her ear. Sobbing, tears leaving salty streaks on her face and snot dripping from her nose, she stopped fighting him. Her shoulders slumped and her head hung like a rag doll, as if she had finally accepted what was coming to her. Guiding her by the back of the neck, Ivor led Ada up four wooden steps to the chopping block, his blocky hand grasping her arm when she tripped. 

The crowd booed and jeered as Ivor pushed Ada to her knees in front of the block. She stared ahead, her eyes already dead and her body slumping to the side. Ivor righted her long enough to tie a blindfold over her eyes before she slumped over again. The man from the Military Police rang a bell to quiet the crowd. When the chatter and yelling subsided, he read the charges brought before Ada. Like the gentlemen in front of him had said, she had confessed to poisoning at least a dozen men, all of whom were prior customers of the brothel. 

Once the charges had been read, Ivor pushed the woman down. With one massive hand on the back of her skull, he guided her neck, so it rested across the chopping block. The moment he let go, her head lolled to the side.

Releasing Ada to pick up the ax, Ivor watched as she slipped off the block completely. Her body curled up into itself like a frightened child, wetness seeping through her blindfold. He set the ax down on its head, holding it upright with one hand and motioning for his daughter with the other. The crowd grew quiet as the little girl joined him on the podium.

“Shit,” Ponytail drawled with more pity than Levi ever thought could fit into a curse word. 

“Yeah,” Mustache Man agreed, forgetting the cigarette that burned between his finger tips.

Levi could not hear what Ivor said, but the girl nodded and knelt in front of Ada. Her small hands lifted Ada from beneath her jaw and pulled her back onto the chopping block. With Ada’s neck in place, the girl walked back on her knees as far away from the block as she could manage without letting go of Ada’s hair.

Ivor wrapped his bulking hands around the long handle of the ax and poised himself beside the block, waiting.

When the man from the Military Police gave the signal, Ivor hoisted the ax into the air and brought it down. Once, then once again, each strike accompanied by the thud of metal against flesh, wet plops of blood, and gasps of horror and cheers from the crowd. At least two people vomited at the sight and one man in the front row fainted. 

Pale in the face and speckled with blood, the little girl detangled her fingers from Ada’s hair. Ada’s head rolled a few inches from where the girl had dropped it, blood staining the wooden podium in its path. The girl did not move until Ivor yanked her to her feet. Deaf to the audience, the little girl walked back to the cart as though she were drawn by a string and not of her own accord. 

The man from the Military Police pronounced Ada dead as Ivor held up the still dripping head to the crowd. Levi’s stomach turned. For a moment, he thought he might join the people who lost their lunch at the sight, but he swallowed thickly and turned away. If he never saw either of them again, it would be too soon. 

Twenty-five years later, and he still remembered that afternoon more clearly than he would have liked. It was not the most brutal death Levi had witnessed. Titans were plenty worse. Something else stood out about that one in particular, but Levi did not really know what. Even as he recounted the story to Marty, he could not say why the memory stuck with him so strongly. 

Marty poured creamer into his coffee and paused the recording device. Quietly, he wrote a few notes while Levi finished his cup of tea. Even though Marty had listened to the very worst of Levi’s stories, it seemed the story about a little girl holding a severed head and struck him differently. The change in disposition only lasted long enough for Marty to finish writing his notes, the gears in his brain seemed to turn as he did so. Marty checked his recording device and looked up at Levi, intrigue written across his face.

Levi picked up one of the cranberry scones Marty ordered almost twenty minutes ago. “You’ve got questions.”

Marty tapped his pen. “I do,” he said. “But first, I want to hear what happened next.”

[redstainedsocks]

“Your hands are so warm.”

For @whumpthisway who replied to a prompt list and requested this. They deserve only good things, so good and fluffy things I shall give them! It was supposed to be a short snapshot into three different times in Kit’s story but... it grew legs and ran away with me and now it’s almost 2k long...

Warnings: Mostly fluff, light angst, referenced pet whump, box boy universe, implied past noncon touching, recovery whump, sick fic

It was fall, and Kit was still in his tank-top uniform—arms bare and liable to shiver under the harsh air conditioning that blasted the store with cool waves of air to keep everything fresh. The wind blew in fits and bursts outside, and the door opening sent a flurry of cold air blowing through the room, passing over his exposed skin in a way that set him trembling.

Libby walked in bundled up in a coat and scarf, a woolly hat pulled low on her head. “Hi! Good to see you Kit.” 

“And you,” he replied. He meant it too, she was the only person he knew he could look forward to seeing without the threat of any nasty surprises.

She beamed at Kit as she dropped her bag, yanked off the hat and started to wrestle with her coat. Always ready to anticipate someone else’s needs, he moved forward and offered his hands to hold her belongings. She smiled, and handed over her keys and hat, and then tugged out of her coat one handed while holding her take-away coffee cup.

She hung up her coat. “Big day ahead?”

“I don’t know.”

“Has it been a good week?” She asked, a hint of worry in her voice that warmed Kit more than any clothes ever would or could.

“Not much has happened,” he said with a shrug and handed over her things. His fingers brushed hers briefly and he stilled. She paused, watching his reaction. He pressed his fingers to her palm. “Your hands are so warm.”

She smiled, chuckled a little. “It’s the coffee!”

Tilting his head in question he watched as she stuffed her scarf and keys into the bag. 

“Keeps my hands warm. Here hold it.”

She pushed the reusable cup into his hands and he closed his fingers around it. Warmth spread through his palms and he smiled. He broke out in gooseflesh across his exposed skin as his body adjusted to the change in temperature.

“There, see, much better.” She pressed her warm hands to his face and he raised his eyebrows and then grinned as the heat spread across his cheeks, starting to warm his chilled nose, while her hot coffee heated his hands.

“I’m the one coming in from outside and you’re the one with the chills.” She clucked her tongue. “Unacceptable.”

She turned away, briefly, only to surprise him by yanking her hat onto his head, squashing his unruly hair down into his eyes. “Perfect.”

He laughed, “I can’t see.”

“Don’t drop my coffee then, I’m still thirsty.”

He gripped harder, not wanting to waste a drop. She turned him on the spot, guiding him through to the shop floor where she parked him on a stool. “My little cup holder. This is your new duty, every time I come in.”

“Okay Libby.”

There was a pause. “I was joking, Kit.”

He pushed the hat up, enough to see her properly. “I know. But I’ll do anything for you.”

She put her warm palm to his cheek again, looking almost sad, but then she shook herself and winked. “Then I demand you get warm.”

They both knew it would only last until Emile made a reappearance, and then Libby would grab the hat and put it out of sight, and Kit would pretend he’d never stopped working. But it was enough, and it was nice, it was safe.

*  *   *

He’d been working in the garden for almost an hour, digging and churning up the soil for new growth to come through, and pulling out weeds just the way he’d been taught, doing everything to the letter. It felt good, to be moving, to be active. The sky was overcast with clouds threatening rain but he wasn’t cold, working up a sweat and keeping warm with the movement of his body. 

The yard wasn’t big, a dozen or so feet in width and just over twice as long. He could keep it all in sight if he stood just right and angled his head so he could whip his eyes back and forth. He was aware in his peripheral of the back door opening. He smiled to himself at the flash of light hair. She liked to keep an eye on him, always checking where he was the moment she realised he was out of sight.

When he turned to go in, he found her huddled on the drab, wooden patio furniture. A riot of colour in a dull world, her knees pulled up to her chest and her long hair straying out from the ponytail she’d tied most of it in.

She smiled.“Hey.”

“You’re back already?”

“Lecture ended early. Thought I’d help out around here for the rest of the day. Check up on my favourite guy.”

He wiped dirt off his hands and reached to help her up. She smiled with her hand in his. “Your hands are warm.”

“Mmhmm.” He hesitated. Instigating touch was hard. They were always very sure to tell him he had to be certain; certain that he wanted it, that it was safe, that it was appropriate. He didn’t know how he was supposed to know any of those things. All he knew was that Libby was a friend, she was safe. Was that good enough?

He stepped forward, held her hands between both of his. “The yard work warms me up.” He rubbed her cold hands back and forth between his own.

“I like you being warm.”

He hesitated again. He was allowed to like things now. Allowed to say it, to want it, to appreciate his own feelings. “Me too,” he said quietly.

*    *    *

He was laid, sort of flopped where he’d fallen on the floor. Slumped halfway down the wall, he tried to shuffle towards the doorway. He didn’t want to be on the ground, in the hallway. He got dizzy moving, let his head fall back and closed his eyes just until the waves of disorientation passed.

Time slipped like water down a stream, flowing and swift and deep and bright and he groaned at the thoughts that moved too fast and the body that moved too slow. He groaned again when he heard footsteps.

“Kit? Oh my god, Kit.” Libby was too loud. Too loud and rushing and everywhere, like the stream that just wouldn’t stop. Go away, he thought, please go away. Not wanting her near was a sensation he was only just starting to get used to, but this was different, this wasn’t about her, he just didn’t want to be fussed over, or jolted, or made to do things. He just wanted to float away with currents until it didn’t hurt anymore.

She touched his arm, his shoulder, tapped on his chest. “Kit? What’s wrong?”

He batted at her and she caught his hands. “Open your eyes for me, please?”

He did, cracked them open and winced at the light that streamed through the windows. 

“Your hands are so warm.” She reached up and touched his forehead. “You're burning up.”

“M’sorry.”

“No no, don’t be sorry. You’re alright, you’re just sick. I’m going to get you up, okay? Can you do that for me?” She tugged on his arm and he tried to follow, he really did. But it hurt, and he was scared.

“No doctors. Don’t… no doctors.” He cringed, hiding his face behind his hair. 

She pushed it gently out of his eyes and her fingertips skittered over his brow. “No doctors. You don’t need a doctor. You just need to rest, and sleep it off, and plenty of fluids. If you can get up with me, I’ve got my car… can I take you home?”

He pressed his lips together. Yes. Home was good. Home was… home was where he should be. “Yes, please.”

She pulled him up to sitting, and then helped him stand, frowning in worry and concern and supporting as much of his weight as she could. “Just a few more steps, just a little further.”

“I don’t want to be ill,” he said quietly, after they were both in the car with the doors closed, the engine thrumming to life.

“I know. We’ll get you cooled down, and then you’ll feel a little better.” 

She turned on the air, let it blast over his face until he sighed in relief. The rapids in his mind started to slow down, becoming less frenzied, calmer. The cool on his skin was so welcome, and invigorating, his eyes slipped closed in relief, glad to block out the sunlight assaulting him through the car windows.

“Thanks Li—thanks Claire.”

She touched his hand, a fleeting motion so light that he wondered if he’d imagined it. “You’re welcome.”

Tagging the rest of the Kit squad: @haro-whumps @theycomeinthrees @samanddeaninpanties @teachunks @draganies @pepperonyscience @whump-it @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @untilthepainstarts @galaxywhump @kiretto-laorentze (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[harringtonheartache]

Daybreak | Part Eight

Part Nine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part eight of this fic. Let the search commence.

Word Count: 2,400 +

Warning(s): Mild cussing, mentions of blood

A/N: Heyo! I’m really excited to be posting again (-: I hope everyone enjoys, and thank you so much for your kind words!  💕

Three pairs of footsteps followed one another, imprinted in the dirt made soft by rainwater. The smallest pair fell back a ways, and the two in the front held the eye of the following child. He was not going to get lost. The sky was empty. There were no stars out, and the moon seemed to reside somewhere out of view, lingering behind clouds, otherwise completely gone from the atmosphere. Since the sky was no aid in providing light, two flashlights casted beams across the trees.

The third hung lazily at Steve’s side, its light dragging across the ground without intent. 

He spoke with his unoccupied hand gesturing to his chest. “I mean, I can’t believe how hard of a fall he took,” Steve laughed, going on about some miscellaneous story he had recalled to occupy the time. 

“Hey, this isn’t a date, okay? Can you pay attention, Steve? I don’t exactly know what I am supposed to be looking for,” Dustin interrupted with no problem doing so. 

“I-” Steve started his defense statement. He peaked backwards at the follower. “None of us know exactly what we’re looking for, Dustin.”

The child’s sneakers now dragged heavy streaks in the dirt.

Steve, perhaps realizing that his tone was a bit more harsh than he had intended, stopped in his tracks. Dustin kept walking a few strides before realizing, landing at Steve’s side. The flashlight that had dangled by Steve’s pant leg was swung upward by it’s string and landed steadily in his hand. He casted the light upward, illuminating the underside of his face. “C’mon we’re looking for clues. Pick up the pace, you’re the team leader anyway. ” he said, bringing his left hand to the brim of Dustin’s hat and flicking it. 

Dustin’s voice came out incredulous. “I am not the team-” 

“Yes you are, man! You are the one who brought us three together, and this whole plan was constructed at your house. Team leader.” Steve was insistent, even if just to mend the sourness between the two that derived from Dustin feeling left out. The yellow light was redirected, now pointing at Dustin’s face, a little higher than it had been on Steve’s. “Ow, I can’t see. Stop that-” he squirmed in the light, squinting in an attempt to salvage his vision. He started batting at Steve’s hand. “You’re going to blind me, cut that out!” 

The light was drawn back to Steve’s face, and Dustin blinked rapidly to restore his sight. “Team. Leader.” the illuminated face spoke strongly. 

Unsure if he should blame his lack of proper eyesight or not, Dustin looked around almost frantically. The third member of their team did not stop alongside them. 

“Calm down, man. You’re fine-” Steve started, oblivious. 

“Nine, Steve. Where is Nine?!”

Registering the alert, Steve pulled a puzzled expression and looked around as Dustin had done. “Shit,” he muttered. To the kid, yes, but mostly to himself. He finally uses his flashlight for it’s intended purpose as he flashes it across the trees. “Nine?” He does a 360, checking to see if she had circled around them.

“Shit,” he spoke again, almost quiet but not trying hard enough to be. “Nine!” He started in the direction they had intended to walk together, the tips of his shoes sinking into the soft mud on his takeoff. “Shit, wait for me!” Dustin, slow to react, followed behind, just as he had been doing before. 

Nine’s name continued bouncing off the trees, two voices shouting it out into the void. It sounded similar to how Will’s name had a few days earlier. Steve’s panic grew with every call, the severity of his own voice’s volume adding to the chaos of shuffling feet. The flashlight in his hand had never been gripped tighter, and he almost wanted to blame the tool for being of no aid. She seemed to have vanished out of thin air, like the moon also appeared to have done this evening. Dustin, close behind and panting, jogged to meet Steve. His hand smacked lightly against the taller boy’s jacket sleeve. “Hey, dude.” He redirected Steve’s attention to the ground, his flashlight reflecting gently off of the wet surface of the bloodied dirt. A few footprint-sized puddles of blood, dark and rich in red color. 

A feeling in the back of Steve’s throat, a dry spot that forewarned tears. He swallowed to make it go away, but the action failed him. He shouted her name again, as it was the only thought left in his head. It left his mouth strained, cracking as it reached its peak amplification. He looked around in the dark, begging his eyes to make out a human figure in the distance. Somewhere his voice perhaps couldn’t reach. Dustin only watched, unsure of himself and deeply regretful of his new title of “team leader”. Steve kept checking over the treeline, refusing the idea of looking back down at the blood. A second call of her name, just as strained as the first, but perhaps hinted with more pleading. This time they were met with a response. 

“Guys!” 

Almost choking on the word he had not even said himself, Steve turned in the direction of the third voice. He took off, once again leaving Dustin to scramble to his own run. “Over here!” Nine spoke again, and by the time she had finished the two had almost reached her. Steve threw aside a tree branch with his hands, almost crashing into it face first. He stumbled through some foliage, colliding himself with Nine who stood in front of it. She staggered backwards and he grabbed onto her arm for stability. He did not let go once he found his footing, though, and instead gripped it with more intention. 

“Holy shit, Nine. Oh my god,” he breathed heavily. Her eyes beamed across his face, easily picking up on his distress despite her personal confusion. Steve’s free arm drifted from his side to hang in the air, but he didn’t let it go any further. Yearning but not quite brave enough. Startled from his violent entry and rapid breath, Nine was breathing sharply now too. She took notice of his open stance, realizing how he had frozen himself to stop from acting on his desire. She moved slowly, lifting her arms to position them under Steve’s, reaching towards his waist with hesitance. Invitation received, he acted with quickness, enveloping her in a strong hug and exhaling with his entire chest. 

His head was bent down, resting on her shoulder and almost causing his words to be swallowed completely by the fabric of her borrowed jacket. “Please don’t wander off like that, you scared me”. 

Nine nodded, and he could feel the movement against his own head. “I’m sorry,” she said faintly. It was an unfamiliar sensation to her. She understood the feeling of importance, but not like this. At the lab she was important, but it came through greed and malice. Ill intent swallowed up that significance, and she was unable to feel the love that was supposed to come along with mattering to another person. Right now, squeezed tightly between Steve’s chest and arms in a place of warmth, she understood what it felt like when that burning necessity derived from pure affection. 

“Oh thank fuck,” Dustin finally arrived to the scene. Too relieved to even crack a joke about the two bundled up together in front of him, he put his hands to his knees and let himself breathe. Steve subsequently let go of Nine’s body and stepped back slightly to put both hands on either side of her arms. He leaned down a little to get a better look at her. “Are you okay? Like, completely?” She nodded again, and this time he could see her do so. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she nearly whispered, adding a light smile. 

She turned her head to the right, pointing with her flashlight at the reason she had called them over from so far. Dustin groaned at the sight, and Steve made a face of displeasure. The corpse of a deer laid mutilated, blood leaking from its body onto the ground below at its final resting place. “That’s where the blood came from,” Steve said lowly, and Dustin turned away from the scene altogether. 

“Why are we looking at a dead deer?” he spoke up louder than Steve, unwilling to face the situation behind him. “It was attacked,” Nine said, “but I don’t think by an animal”. Claw marks decorated it’s body, the work of something non-human for sure. “What do you mean?” Dustin asked. He turned back to face them but avoided looking to the deer still lit up by the flashlight.

“A creature, from the upside down. I think it escaped the lab the same night I did.”

“Wait, how do we know this wasn’t just, like, a bear or something?” Dustin still lead the conversation, holding onto a desire for normality to take back over their night. 

The light casted across the deer’s corpse flickered, and the two at the boys’ sides did the same. Nine’s heart rate sped up without warning, and the two who accompanied her stood confused yet unaware. “We- we have to go,” she choked timidly. 

“Wha-” Steve started his question, but an animalistic shriek cut him off. Now all three’s hearts matched one another’s quickened paces, and Steve and Nine held each other's panicked stares. His feet instinctively turned to run, but Nine, frozen like Steve had been earlier, did not move. He grabbed onto her arm again, this time tugging her forwards. “Come on,” he said emphatically, still holding her eye. 

The three took off in the direction they could most accurately assume that they came from. In a turn of events, Dustin now lead the way. Steve kept a steady grip on Nine’s arm with his left hand, and batted away branches and leaves with his right. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” their leader screeched, throwing himself under low-hanging foliage but refusing to slow his pace. It wasn’t hard to sense the movement behind them, screaming just how close the monster followed behind. How far they had ventured off into the forest was becoming foggy, and Steve was unsure just where his car was parked outside of the treeline. 

Feet now splashed in the dampened mud puddles. The darkness was no aid in determining just what was ahead, and had it been daylight, maybe Steve would have seen the large log a few strides in front of him. His shin slammed into the wood, and he fell forwards over the fallen, rotting tree. Nine had made it a foot or two past him before she was yanked backwards by his hand that was still wrapped around her wrist. He let go immediately upon her fall, and used his freed hands to push himself upward. He had not even brought himself to stand fully before he was pulled backward just as she had been, only the hold was on his ankle. The figure preventing him from continuing on with his run was tall, most likely hitting nine feet had they stopped to measure. It had Steve’s foot in its clasp, and dragged him backwards on his front side. Nine had landed backwards, and turned herself around with her palms quickly to take in what was happening so rapidly. 

Without thought, she raised her muddied hands with vigor. She sat up on her knees now, sinking into the wet ground as she did so with force. Another scream found the air, and it didn’t belong to the creature this time. She cried out, maybe louder than it had, and within seconds Steve was dropped to the grass. The beast plummeted backwards, not coming to a stop until it hit a tall tree with a thud. Nine’s hands didn’t leave the air for another moment or two, but when they did, they met the ground as she leaned forwards to steady her lungs. 

Steve had turned himself over by now, and back-peddled (with one foot) from the monster to land himself next to Nine. Both of the two were breathing too quickly to speak. Sitting up a bit, she wiped the stubborn mud from her palms on her already dirtied pant leg. Her hands then found Steve’s shoulders as she twisted to face him. A tear tracked its way through the dirt on her cheek, and she couldn’t help the ones that followed. She was still silent though, her brisk breath still taking up any room left for words. 

“I-” Steve started to talk, but stuttered over his words when she let go of his shoulders and pulled him in close for their second hug. She let out a deep breath, a cold shutter he felt on his neck. He hugged her back firmly, gripping onto the fabric of her clothing and letting himself have the moment. Swallowing to clear his throat as best as he could, he tried whispering this time, just to her. “I’m okay, I promise”. 

She pulled away from him, still teary-eyed and worried for his condition. Her eyes traveled down to his leg, and she shuffled forwards to get a better look at it. He wore an anklet of blood, puncture wounds evident through the holes in his jeans. Dustin, who had stopped upon hearing the shouts from behind him, advanced towards the two still on the ground. “Holy shit! Steve are you okay? What just happened?” 

“We have to go.” Nine said, voice strained and still taking in the state of Steve’s wound. “Help me get him up,” she turned to Dustin, and he scrambled to Steve’s unoccupied side. 

“I- I’m good I can stand up,” he said, but gave in fully to the help he was offered.

The three staggered back to the car, and Dustin - finding the keys in Steve’s jacket pocket - tossed them to Nine once they had laid the wounded in the back seat to stretch his leg in the larger space. He sat up promptly, both hands on either shoulder of the front seats. “Woah, woah, woah, no. She can’t drive? What are you doing?” he asked Dustin who had settled in shotgun. “Well neither can I and neither can you, so out of all of us, I vote her most qualified right now.” Nine opened the door of the driver’s side and sat down for the first time in front of the wheel. She turned around to face Steve and join the conversation. “I…” she held the car key forward shyly. “How does this work?”.  

---

Tag List: @ggclarissa @hyp-oh-critical @orchideax @we-are-band-sexuals @cpt-lamby @l0ve-0f-my-life @girlyisthatweirdkid  @easyvtohat @ireallylikerugby @used-avocado​ @kwyloz​

[escargoon-sandwich]

marx attempts to ruin a chatfic - scrapped chapter

there is a reason why this isn’t going on ao3. simply put, i’m not satisfied with it.

11:50 pm

Zan Parthenon: @everyone

Zan Parthenon: HELP

Zan Parthenon: MARX JUST RAN BACK TO CAMP WITH A BUNCH OF THE SKULL GANG FOLLOWING HIM

Big D: I’m already on my way.

Zan Parthenon:  please tell me you’re bringing kirby

Gryll: AAAAAA

Gryll pressed their back to Zan’s, sucking their breath in. “Man, this sucks! Big time!” 

“Understatement of the year, my friend.” Zan stated flatly as she charged her drums. Gryll had managed to build up a small wall to hide behind, but the blocks they’d made crumbled easily - it wouldn’t hold off the Skull Gang forever. 

Something glittering hovered above their heads, and Gryll glanced up to see Marx barely clearing the wall. “Yo Zan! Mind lighting me up?”

“Sure. Just stand in front of me.” Zan ordered as she jumped up to the top.

“Oh come on, that’s gonna suck…” Marx whined.

“Think of it as payback for when you sprayed me with febreeze earlier.”

“Okay but you asked for that-”

“BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE DRINKING KOOL-AID!”

“WHY WOULD I DRINK KOOL-AID OUT OF A FEBREEZE BOTTLE-”

The inane argument was interrupted by a particularly large skully barreling through the wall, showering Gryll in brick fragments. Gryll cried out and swung their broom forward, borrowing some techniques they’d seen some Broom Hatters do. The skully tumbled away, just in time for Marx to body slam it. “Hey, Gryll!” he shouted, twirling on his toetip. “Go find Dedede and Kirby!”

“I - okay!” Gryll hopped on their broom and booked it out of there, weaving through the trees. Beneath them, they felt the broom sort of sputter - which was to be expected. The enchantment was beginning to wear thin - they probably should have refreshed it before coming to the islands.

As the sound of battle faded behind them, Gryll bit their lip. They really, really wanted to help, but they were more of a hedgewitch - someone who did spells meant for everyday life, not for the battlefield. 

Whatever. Finding Kirby was helping too.

The broom fell suddenly, about five feet - it couldn’t last much longer. Gryll groaned, knowing they’d have to continue their search on foot. Quietly, they landed and leaned against a large tree, trying to listen to their surroundings…

Okay, there was the fight going on, and that kind of drowned things out. Oh, how Gryll longed to have nice big ears like Daroach, then maybe they would have better hearing! Above them, the branches rustled, and then something dropped on them - Oh, Lord.

They swung their broom wildly, batting at whatever had chomped down onto their face. They sucked in air, choking on the downright rancid breath, then filled their lungs again. “LET! GO!” they howled at the top of their lungs. “I’LL TASTE AWFUL, SO LET -”

Suddenly they were free, and they gasped for air. The thing was now howling in pain, and Gryll cautiously looked over to see something brown and furry mauling their attacker - a skull gang member. They’d been followed! “Shit…” they breathed. “I gotta find the others quick…”

“Wait!” The furry thing turned, and - oh lord, if that wasn’t the cutest thing Gryll had ever seen! Kirby was wearing some sort of animal costume - it was probably a copy ability! “Gryll, it’s me!”

“Yeah, I can see that now. Sorry, I thought you were like… some sort of raccoon…” they muttered. “Where’s Dedede?”

“Over here!” The king crashed through a bush and faceplanted in the dirt. He scrambled to his feet quickly, just in time for Escargoon to slam into his back, with Gooey close behind him. He stumbled forward, but caught himself before he could body-slam Kirby. “Okay. Okay, I’m good. Um.” He smiled sheepishly at Gryll. “Where’s the circus?”

“The circus? Oh, you mean Marx!” A crack of thunder roared through the forest, and Gryll pointed in that direction. “I’d say they’re over there.”

“Thanks.” Without missing a beat, Dedede charged forward. “Escargoon, you stay with Gryll!”

“But Sire -”

“No buts! I don’t want those freaks anywhere near you!” Dedede turned away and disappeared through the brush, and Kirby and Gooey soon vanished after him.

“No, wait!” Gryll cried, only to be drowned out by another crack of thunder. “... Damn. Okay.” They turned to Escargoon, who was tugging at his beard. “We can’t stay here. I don’t care what Dedede said, it’s not safe. There might be more of those guys around.”

“Are you kidding me? Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Escargoon growled, waving his arms in the air.

“I would have, but they ran off before I could - wait.” Gryll’s eyes narrowed as they heard more rustling in the branches above. “... Hey. Weird question. If you were surrounded by, say… five or six dudes who wanted you dead, how likely do you think you’d be able to survive?”

Escargoon was peering at the canopy now, quivering. “H-honestly? I’d give it like, a twenty percent chance?”

“Okay then. Let’s run.” 

----

12:39 AM

Kirby: you know i’m glad those guys don’t get stronger at midnight

Big D: @Marx did you find Gryll and Escargoon yet? Or DMK?

Marx: i found the first two and got a broom shaped bruise on my face

Kirby: ouch, did gryll get you? they hit pretty hard sometimes…

Marx: no it was escargoon lol

Marx: gryll got one of those tears to the face, so i think goonie grabbed the broom to defend himself

Big D: Shit, are they hurt?

Marx: nah, they’re in pretty good shape

Marx: gryll is now under a bunch of leaves, we made them a little blanket so they could stay worm

Marx: … i meant to say warm but you know

Marx: i guess that fits too? since they’re under some leaves

Marx: anyway dedede come get yo mans

Big D: I have absolutely no idea what that means, Marx.

Marx: oh, you know

Marx: ;dauhnjffff

Kirby: MARX????

Marx: You know that massive downed tree? We’re near that.

Kirby: yeah i do know it, but what happened?

Marx: A stupid clown nearly played a nasty prank.

Zan Parthenon: Who is this?

Marx: This is Escargoon. I grabbed Marx’s phone before he could do something dumb.

Zan Parthenon: He was going to send the winky face, wasn’t he?

Gryll: nooo, that’s our inside jooooke

Kirby: oh hey, welcome back gryll!

Gryll: right i need to debrief everyone, maybe in the morning? i need access to my dream journal even though this wasn’t really a dream it’s a good idea to write it down

Zan Parthenon: I got it, and I’ll bring it over.

Gryll: thanks

----

8:14 AM

Gryll: alright, i wrote down what i saw in the doc you guys have going for that sort of thing

Daddyroach: Alright, I’ll take a look.

Gryll: the good news is that i did find a good tree, finally, while i was writing everything down

Gryll: so i’ll be re-enchanting my broom and making a new one

Gryll: … actually, wait

Gryll: @Escargoon do you want to borrow one?

Big D: He’s still sleeping.

Gryll: oh, okay

Gryll: i’ll try later then

Big D: Any reason why you want to give him one?

Gryll: because last night, i lent him it

Gryll: well, he took it from me actually, and he was like, “if you want to get rid of a pest you sweep like THIS” and then did the windy thing

Big D: The windy thing?

Gryll: kirby knows the windy thing! the thing the broom hatters do

Big D: ooooh, i get it

Gryll: but he seemed to like it, he was cackling

Daddyroach: Okay so, uh.

Daddyroach: My dad got sacrificed to Necrodeus. 

Gryll: the guy who was PROBABLY your dad

Daddyroach: Most likely my dad.

Daddyroach: Considering that you said my mom confessed to being pregnant at the time.

Gryll: well no necrodouche kind of forced the confession out of her because he grabbed her and…

Gryll: uhm.

Gryll: he tried ripping you and your siblings out of her

Gryll: i think he wanted to eat you

Daddyroach: … thank god dedede’s dad was there.

Gryll: yeah

Kirby: we still haven’t found any sign of DMK anywhere…

Taranza: Come back to the hotel, Kirby. Ribbon, Adeleine and I are gonna go look next.

Kirby: okay

Borb: Do you need me there?

Big D: You know, not to sound rude, but I’d rather you be at the castle right now.

Big D: If we have a group of people back at the castle, it’s… something. 

Big D: In case something bad happens.

Borb: … I see.

B. Dee: I’ll do my best, your majesty!

Big D: Thank you.

Tiff: something happened

Big D: Tiff? Are you okay?

Tiff: no

Tiff: dmk came back here and took my mom

Tiff: she went out to the balcony and he grabbed her

Gryll: oh shit, oh SHIT

Daddyroach: This lines up too well.

Daddyroach:  I’m going to try to find her.

Tiff: she’s where you guys are?

Daddyroach: Yeah, and she’s in immediate danger.

---

Normally, Daroach would be happy to have a target that broadcast its location. When that target was a woman who was five months pregnant, though, things got intense.

Lady Like was kicking up one hell of a fuss, though, and it made tracking her down easy. "Yo! Marx!"

The jester crashed out of the canopy, faceplanting into a puddle. He coughed out some mud and grinned at Daroach. "I meant to do that."

"Sure you did. Now listen." Daroach pointed in the direction of the screaming. "Go up ahead for me, okay? We'll try a pincer attack."

"Oh, good idea!" Marx took to the air, then visually screeched to a halt. "Did you tell Kirby and Adeline too?"

"Yeah." Daroach readied the Triple Star, listening for the sounds of struggle. "We're close. Just a little farther…"

"Right. See ya!" Marx flew off, and Daroach zoned in on where he heard the fighting. He soon found himself in a small clearing, where he caught Dark Meta Knight getting a square kick to the face, delivered by one Lady Like.

Daroach couldn't help it. He laughed and clapped as he made his presence known. "Good job, idiot, you're getting your ass handed to you by a pregnant woman."

"A woman with a black belt," Lady Like corrected, pouting.

 Dark Meta whirled and drew his sword, brandishing it towards his poor victim. "Listen here, both of you!" he growled. "I don't have time for this horseshit, nor the patience." He was shaking slightly. "All I want is for one thing to go right for me!"

"Yeah, and I'd like some goddamn peace and quiet. But life isn't fair and we don't always get what we want." Daroach shrugged. "You'd think you'd have learned that by now."

"Bold words from a thief." Dark Meta hissed, prodding Lady Like's belly with the tip of his sword. "Now. I have a gift to deliver to my master, and I'm willing to rip it out of her if need be."

Daroach felt like his stomach was turning to ice, and he lowered the brim of his hat to hide his panic. "... Master, huh? You rebounded kinda fast, huh?" 

Dark Meta's wings twitched, as Daroach heard rustling in the nearby undergrowth. "What do you mean, rebound?"

"I'm just saying… you hopped on the Necrodeus train pretty damn quick." Out of the corner of his eye, Daroach saw Kirby peek out of some tall grass. He wished he had a way to signal to him to wait. "You got a thing for toxic men, don't you?"

Oooh, the sword tip was wavering now, and it was quickly pointed in Daroach's direction. "I hope you realize what you are implying."

"'Course I do." Daroach flicked the brim of his hat up and grinned. "You, my friend, are a slut."

Dark Meta Knight roared and flung himself towards Daroach, who gasped as he felt the serrated blade sink into his gut. Lady Like stumbled away from the two, and Daroach saw a waiting Adeline reach for her hand and drag her out of the area. “You do not get to impose that judgement on me!”

Daroach smirked, then coughed up blood. “Well. At least I set out what I meant to do here,” he muttered as he pressed the Triple Star against Dark Meta’s mask, and blasted him away. “Go and run back to your new sugar daddy!”

There, he fell to the ground, where he wrapped his cloak around himself as his opponent scanned the treeline. One of Daroach’s ears twitched as he heard Marx yelling hysterically - he must have found the two escapees. 

“Hmph. The child’s not worth getting in a fight with the jester over.” Dark Meta sheathed his sword and turned, leaving Daroach in the dirt. “My master will be back soon anyway.” With that, the sound of shattering glass filled the air as he teleported away, and Kirby darted out from the bushes. 

“Are you okay?” Kirby squealed, while pressing a few leaves into Daroach’s wound. Daroach yelled in pain, and Kirby almost looked a little sick. “Ooh, guess not…”

---

12:12 pm

Daddyroach: Alright, so maybe calling him a slut wasn’t the best idea.

Kirby: !!!! you’re up!!!

Tiff: is my mom okay?

Kirby: yeah!!! she kicked him a lot!!!

Adeleine: I’m pretty sure I saw some dents in that mask, your mom’s a straight-up badass. 

Adeleine: Are you okay though, dad?

Daddyroach: No.

Daddyroach: He got me bad, but Doc’s taking care of the stab wound.

Adeleine: i should have stayed?

Daddyroach: Absolutely not. You could have gotten stabbed.

Adeleine: … yeah, you’re right.

Gooey: tiiiiiiiiff

Gooey: yourmoooomisssniccccce

Marx: so uh daroach

Marx: why’d you call him a slut?

Tiff: what’s that word mean?

Marx: you’ll find out when you’re older.

Tiff: what if i want to know now, marx?

Marx: i’d have to say too bad because your mom would probably kill me

Tiff: oh it’s a swear word?

Marx: yeah lol

Escargoon: Speaking of your mom, Tiff…

Escargoon: Should I go talk to her?

Tiff: is there a reason why you think you shouldn’t?

Escargoon: We weren’t always on good terms.

Escargoon: Scratch that, we were never on good terms, up until I left.

Tiff: i think she knows you’re trying to change for the better

Tiff: i don’t think it’ll hurt to see her

Dedede: Can you like, keep her company while I’m out dealing with some shenanigans?

Dedede: There’s something going on to the north, and I’m going to go investigate.

Escargoon: I can do that.

----

Escargoon stared at the door handle way longer then he probably should have. One of the Waddle Dees that worked for the hotel was giving him a curious look. He knew the worst things Lady Like could do - he’d seen her beat the shit out of those guys who’d stalked her daughter. If she didn’t want to see him, well… he probably deserved whatever she dished out.

He finally decided to just knock. “Oh, who is it?” Lady Like’s voice rang out loud and clear, and Escargoon swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

“It’s, um. It’s me.” There was a brief pause, and he added. “Can I come in?”

“Yes. Yes you may.” Oh boy, that response was rather terse...

Escargoon took a deep breath and entered the room. Technically, it was the one in his name, but with the… thing with Dedede, that was up in the air. Lady Like was here, now, nestled in a pile of pillows, one hand resting on her belly while the other one picked at a piece of bread. She looked like she’d been woken up in the middle of the night - in fact, she probably had been. “So! I’d ask you how things have been, but. Yeah.”

Like gave him a look so sour it could curdle milk. " I have had one of the worst mornings of my life. Are you certain you are happier here?"

"Huh?" Escargoon blinked in confusion. "Of course I am! Why, instead of getting hit all the time, I get hit on -" Lady Like had instantly raised an eyebrow. "Oops."

Well, her mood seemed to have improved. "Escargoon," she said with a conspiratorial smirk, "I have the inkling that you have a thing with the king!"

Escargoon felt his cheeks heat up, and he turned away. "What gave you that idea?" 

“Well…” Like tilted her head and winked. “I heard you were sleeping with him...”

“T-that was only last night!” he spluttered. “A-and it was platonic, okay. No shenanigans happened!”

“Yes, and I only married my husband platonically.”

“Look, he hasn’t even kissed me yet, okay?” Escargoon crossed his arms. “And I doubt it counts as a thing if he hasn’t even asked me out yet.”

“But there is a potential of a thing, yes?” Like smirked at him. “I’m sure your mother will be happy to know her little snail has a sweetie!”

“Oh, no, no, you are NOT telling her before I do!” He began to pace a bit. “Great, now I forgot what I even came here for in the first -”

Escargoon was interrupted by a wet “thump” on the balcony, and he jumped and whirled to face the sliding glass door, now plastered with Gooey’s face. He sighed in relief as he went to open it, but as Gooey rolled in, he realized that the little slimeball did not seem happy at all. “Hey little guy, what’s up?” Gooey wiggled around, a look of distress on his face. “Listen, Gooey, I know you’re upset, but you’re going to have to use your words, okay?”

Gooey paused for a moment, then opened his mouth and shouted one word. “FUCK!”

Lady Like gasped in horror. "Was this where Tiff learned that word?"

"Nah, that was probably Marx." After a look of confusion from Like, he continued. "Y'know, little jester guy, kicked Dedede in the junk?"

"Ah, him." She rose from the bed, smoothing her hand over her stomach. "Oh, my! Escargoon, look!"

"Huh?" A massive thundercloud was beginning to form on the horizon, but something was off. Mainly, it seemed like it was pouring out of the ocean. "That's not good..."

Gooey was beginning to buzz loudly. "Is he supposed to be doing that?" Lady Like asked, then cringed in disgust as Gooey spat out his phone. "Oh…"

Escargoon, however, noticed something else. Something that looked like a shockwave of sorts… and it was heading towards them, fast. He shoved Lady Like aside, away from the glass door, then grabbed Gooey and ducked into his shell.

[sunflowersteves]

The price of Freedom

Modern Mob!AU

3/11 Natasha Romanoff

Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Author: @cap-n-stuff​

Chapter summary: Steve has agreed to help you escape the treacherous Russian mob. Now, you’ll need Sam’s help to escape. What happens when the Council figures out your plan? [Heavily based on John Wick]

Ба́ба-Яга́ means the boogeyman.

Song for Chapter: Algorhythm by Childish Gambino

Word Count: 3.7K

Author’s Note: Sorry this has taken me so long. I thought I would’ve updated sooner but with everything going on, it’s a bit harder to. I also think my updating may be even sparser since I’ll be starting online school on monday but I will still update! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Warnings: angst, some fluff, swearing, mentions of murder and illegal activities, character death, mentions of violence and blood, SMUT!! vaginal sex, dirty talk,[if you are not 18+ do not read] 

Main Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Steve sat in his motel room, running through his thoughts. He cursed at himself for acting like he didn’t care. Even if I do have resentment towards you, I don’t hate you. I would never put you in danger. I owe you that. That just repeated in his head over and over again. He never thought that he was just doing this because he owed you, not once. He was so stupid for letting you think that. He knew the quip was formulated from the pent up resentment but how could he say something like that? 

Despite the pain, he’s still in love with you. He’s so helplessly in love with you that he literally dropped everything all together to help you get out. After years of zero contact, he’s still putting you first. You will always be first. Having you by his side for the last 24 hours has helped him see that.

Ever since you left, he hasn’t been happy. He slept around constantly so he could forget about you. Even Sam and his best friend were a bit worried about him in his constant endeavors of other women. He had changed. He became this womanizer that had leftover panties lounging around the room. When you left, he thought he couldn’t love again. So, he slept with any woman that would sleep with him. 

But who is he to fool himself greatly? He wanted a family. Back then, he had always told you that family was never a priority. Despite being in love, he just didn’t give a fuck. Everything was so easy to lose and his family was rough around the edges so why would he ever want anything like that?

Now, losing you had made him realize that he wanted little feet padding across the floor while his arm was around you as the two of you relaxed on the couch. He wanted to wake up to a little body crashing on top of his to wake him up but you pulled them in, snuggling together as a family. He wanted to go to the park with your child on your shoulders and run around getting dirt on yourselves.

He wanted you. He wanted your legs to slightly kick him while you slept. He wanted to come home and prepare dinner for you as you sat on the kitchen counter, sipping a glass of wine and watching him intently. He wanted to have a family dinner with you by his side and your little one playing with the food. He was a fucking idiot to not see what was right in front of him. He’s so much an idiot that you’re finally here again, right in front of his face and the only words that come out of his mouth “I owe you so that’s why I’m here.”

He guessed you left because you can’t have a family, at least with him. If you wanted out, then why would you be in a family from the life you’re directly getting away from?

But he still never knew exactly why. What didn’t help was that even when he asked others in Tarasov, they would always respond with “It’s classified.” The only thing he could do was guess. He knew you always wanted a family but you always convinced yourself that you weren’t worthy of having one. He knew that in this world, having a family is a difficult task and with you already protecting your niece and sister, it would be damn hard to protect Steve and a little one as well. 

What was crushing him at the moment was the idea that someone else was going to have a family with you. Sure, he valued your happiness above all and he would give up anything for you but the thought of you being with someone else made his heart shatter. Someone wrapped around you? Someone fucking you into a mattress? Someone waking up to your smile every day? He could throw up just thinking about it.

Being held with his thoughts in a cramped space made him feel uneasy. So, he rushed out of the room and went to the dusty soda machine, putting a dollar inside. He picked which soda he wanted and pressed the numbers that corresponded. He paused, hearing a snap of a twig in the deep woods next to him. He whipped around and squinted, trying to look past the tall thick trees. He gulped and hoped that it was just an animal. He also really wished he had his gun on him right now.

The two of you were huge targets for The Council since no one just ‘escapes.’ He continued to watch the wooded area, eyes darting over anything that moves. He was then drawn back to reality as the thump of his soda hit the bottom of the machine. Without batting an eye, he bent down and quickly grabbed the soda. He didn’t want to waste any time, wanting to be right back in his room. He looked over one last time, making sure that no one was there and then walked towards his room. Before he could open the door, he paused. What if he saw you? There could be the danger after all. He then slowly turned to look over at your hotel door, thinking about apologizing. 

Before his brain could catch up with his body, his fist went ahead and pounded on the door. He waited for a little but his spine ran cold as he never heard you move. Were you okay? He continued to knock, only louder this time. He really hoped you were okay. Still, no answer and he swears this door was going to be broken if-

You swing the food open and relief washed through his whole body, “Steve…” He sees the Glock in your hand as you rest it on the table near the door. His eyes widened a little as all you’re in was a bathrobe. His gruff voice startles you a bit. “Hey...Can we talk?” You nod and open the door more, indicating for him to come inside. He puts the half-empty soda on the table and strides to the left, trying to be as far away as possible and making sure to not make any eye contact with you. After closing the door, you just stood to wonder why he was here, near the doorway of the bathroom. You feel Steve’s eyes on yours while you lean in the bathroom door. You suddenly became flustered, realizing that you’re not even in any clothes. 

Steve just stands frozen, mentally tries to get his shit together. He can’t let himself get distracted by you but it’s damn hard. He’s here for a purpose. But all he could think of was your naked body under that robe, squeaky clean and glistening skin and-

He shook his head but then blinked as he saw the blood seeping into your thin white robe. “Y/N…” You look over at the wound on your shoulder, from where that woman had seeped a knife in. “You’re bleeding.” You wave it off, trying to mask the pain that suddenly seeped over you. How did you not notice you were bleeding? You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t even feel it. “I’m fine, Steve. What did you come here to talk about?” You definitely didn’t realize how big this knife wound was and your breath hitched. Losing this much blood was not looking good for you. 

He just shook his head, not even bothering to answer your question. His body came forward and you were about to stop him, telling him again that you were fine but he grabbed your hand and led you to the bathroom. Steve then grabs your hips and lifts you on top of the bathroom sink. You just shut up and let him, knowing how protective he is over you. Even though you are the most feared assassin globally, Steve has always been super protective.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” You tell him where and he went to go fetch it. You peeled back part of your robe where the wound is, hissing at the cold air made contact. Steve arrives back into the bathroom shortly and spreads out what he needs on the other side of the sink. 

He stands right next to you, making sure that the only thing touching you was his hand that was about to clean the wound. He takes alcohol swabs and starts cleaning the blood around the wound, watching as discomfort takes the place of your features. You moan in pain as he swipes over the wound. And he just looks at you with guilty eyes as you wave him off and slug down the glass of whiskey that happened to be next to you.

He then grabs a needle and stitches and turns towards you. He gulps after realizing that the best angle was right between your legs. He slowly walked in between your legs,  feeling his hot breath fan across your face and he stared right into your eyes. He couldn’t help but just stand there for a minute, gazing at the face he’s missed too much. His eyes trickled from your eyes to the shape of your nose, and finally your lips. You just stiffened. If there wasn’t an open wound on your shoulder you would definitely make out with him right now. 

He got his mind back on track and slowly started to stitch your wound. You gasped and subconsciously gripped his arm, nail digging into his skin. He blushed from the feeling of your gaze on his figure but he masked it, continuing to stitch the wound. After he was done, he made sure nothing was wrong and he went to clean the needle but he stopped. He felt your eyes on him and he couldn’t help but look back at your gorgeous face. He stood there, placing the needle down in the sink and leaning even closer to your body.

“Steve…” You trailed off, your noses barely touching each other. He was too irresistible. Here you were, trying to protect him and yourself from doing anything rash but his mouth just looks so kissable. You silently said “fuck it” and quickly attached your lips to his. He swallowed your mouth, lips folding together. His hands came up to grab the back of your neck, pulling you into him even further. 

Your lips touch with fervor, desperately trying to get closer and closer to each other. He pulls back, panting but he quickly starts kissing the nape of your neck. God, it had been so long. Too long.  His large hands lower, massaging your breasts and pinching his fingers on the hardened nub. You whine at the overwhelming sensations and the feeling of him on you. You were already so wet, a pool starting to dampen the robe. 

No words were shared as his large hands moved up to caress your shoulder, just underneath the wound. His lips sucked and bit on your neck, making you whimper at the feeling of his lips touching your body again. You tried to slow your pounding heart but it was pointless. You can’t believe you left, Senegal was definitely not worth missing the feeling of his lips attacking your neck. His tongue swiping over your sweet spot and you gasp. He smirked and concentrated his sucking there, your toes curled as the bathroom was filled with your moans.

You quickly jump into his arms and he catches you, hands securely holding you up from your legs. Your legs wrap around his back, you could feel his hard cock through his jeans. You shove your lips back onto his, fingers pulling at his blonde locks making him groan on your lips. He starts to walk to the bed, the heated, desperate kiss never breaking.

He felt so good, your hot bodies caressing against one another. You really, really missed him. You missed those red lips and his broad chest against yours. You missed those hands, large and delicate. His lips tasted like sugary soda, and your teeth clashed with one another. He set you down for one second and started taking off his clothes which prompted you to quickly take off your robe.

He then laid you on the bed, hands gripping your hips. “Fuck, doll, you’re already so wet for me.” He lowered his head and swiped his tongue along your wet pussy. You withered at the sensation, completely enamored by him and only him. He practically smacked his lips together, savoring your taste. “Oh, how I’ve missed the taste of you, doll.” You yelped as he grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer to him, and with no warning, he started to pound into you. He chuckles at your cry, “Can’t help it, baby, it’s been too long.” He takes one hand and starts to massage your breast, relishing in the feeling of it against his hands.

All you could do was whimper and moan with your head leaned back. The sound of skin slapping against each other was loud and sinful. “Fuck I’ve missed that cunt, doll. So good for me.” You felt so tight around his hard cock that made him moan. And you really missed the feeling of his cock inside of you, the slight sting from his stretching to his rapid pounding inside of you. His thrusts fogged your mind, your mouth barely able to spout out words. “F-Fuck, S-steve.. Steve… Shit.” 

His grunts skated across the room as he pounded harder and your hands cling onto the fabric of the bed, leaving you a moaning mess. That knot in your stomach started to coil and Steve came down to give you sloppy kisses that started down from your breasts to your face. “F-Fuck, Steve.” He licks his lips, “You’re so fucking perfect, taking my cock like that.” Your hips start to buck, and he pounds even harder and faster. “I know you’re close, baby.” 

You lower your hand and start messaging your clit while Steve cursed. “Oh, baby, that’s it. Play with yourself. Fuck.” You gasp and your jaw practically hits the floor, his moans stopping him from completing a whole sentence. “Come around me, doll. Shit… I wanna feel you... Oh fuck.” Your back arched as you came all over his cock, your walls squeezing him so. You struggled to breathe as gasps continued to fill the room, your eyes fluttered close as Steve rode out your high. He couldn’t take it any longer from your cunt continuing to squeeze his cock. He growled, still pounding into you as he released his cum that filled you up. All he could do was stare in awe as it leaked out of your pretty cunt.

You two clean yourselves up and go back to bed, wrapping yourselves up in the blankets and snuggling up against each other. His hand starts tracing patterns on your side, a goofy smile never leaving him. He then looks over with concern, “I completely forgot about the wound, are you okay?” You laugh, looking over to inspect it. “It doesn’t hurt very much. Nothing a swig of whiskey won’t hurt.” He chuckled, moving a piece of hair out of your eyes. 

“You know, I initially came in here to just talk to you.” You playfully roll your eyes and turn your head, “Oh really?” He nodded, staring back at the ceiling with a small lopsided smile on his face. “I-” Someone started wiggling the door handle and the two of you just stared at each other. 

Steve runs into the bathroom to grab his gun while you run to the table you left it on as well. You two were so dumb and wrapped with the sensation of each other that you didn’t even hear anyone try and break-in. Well, until now. Steve, only in his boxers, throw you the robe and you quickly put it on. 

You both aim the gun at the door and the door bursts open to a blonde woman holding an assault rifle. Steve lowers his gun a tad bit, confusion taking over his features. But the woman continues to point it at the two of you and cocks it back.

“What do you want, Sharon?” She smirks at the two of you clearly naked before she came in and the smell of sex filling her nose. “He’s good, isn't he?” You look over at Steve and his head is hung low. “He’s really good when he-” “That’s enough, Sharon.” She smirks and steps a bit closer. You knew that you had a clear shot right now but you have a pistol and she has an assault rifle, you have to be a bit smarter than just aiming a gun and shooting.

“You know, Stevie, I didn’t want to do this because you’re a pretty good fuck but oh well, good things have to come to an end.” She points the gun at him and presses on the trigger. You yell, trying to jump in front of him but Sharon abruptly falls on the floor. Both your heads snap up to see the red-headed woman from earlier.

You and Steve quickly aim again but she shoves her hands up in the air. “I come with no harm.” You and Steve share a look and don’t seem to trust her. She can definitely tell so she continues, “Look, I know it was bad earlier but I promise you, I’m no longer going to harm you.” She sets her gun down on the ground and slides it over to the two of you. You and the red-headed woman stare back at each other.“You don’t remember me, do you?” You shook your head as Steve took your gun and put it on the table. He then goes into the bathroom to get a shirt. “I’m Natasha.” You nod, still not ringing any bells.

“Ты спас меня, баба Яга” [you saved me] Steve walks back into the room and leans on the wall, watching the two of you. “I did?” She nods. “I was new to the Tarasov at the time, probably around 15. I was sent on my first mission and was told to kill ten people but what they didn’t tell me was that I didn’t have any bullets.” Your eyes flashed over to hers, remembering the scared little girl that was about to die from corrupt men. “I was about to die, two men had caught me and were about to shoot me in the head but you came in and slit their throats. You then gave me a gun, with real bullets, and stalked off while I shot the rest of the men.” Steve raises an eyebrow a small smirk dancing on his face, “You really like saving people.” You give them a small smile but turn your attention back on Natasha. “Then why are you here?” 

She reaches into her pocket and gives you a small piece of paper. “I realized that the Tarasov can’t tell me what to do all the time. The Council doesn’t dictate me either so I want to help you, regardless of a debt that has now been repaid.” You take the piece of paper and Steve shrugs over at Sharon. “What about her?” Natasha walks over to her and slightly lifts her up. “I’ve got her. You two go ahead and get some rest.” She then takes Sharon over her soldiers and walks out of the motel room. “Why don’t we go to my room? The lock isn’t broken.” You nod and Steve helps you get your things and takes it to his room.

There's indefinite silence, you’re both laying on the bed, trying to sleep but all you could do was stare at each other. Steve is trying to formulate words to tell you how much Sharon didn’t mean to him and how much he wants to be with you but it feels like there’s a frog being lodged in his throat. You were trying to do the same but trying to get the courage to tell him that he shouldn’t be ashamed of Sharon.

“Look, y/n, I-” You shook your head and closed your eyes shut. “You don’t need to wait for me, Steve.” His heart plummets all the way down to his feet. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s moved on. He didn’t want you to think that he never pictured you underneath him when it was just some random girl. He didn’t want you to think that he didn’t still love you.

He grabs your wrist, scared that you were going to close yourself off. “I still want you. Sure, I tried to move on. Tried to forget you but… I can’t.” Your heart beats rapidly as you just stare at Steve in surprise. But you quickly try to mask yourself as that blank assassin. You can’t let him get to you. Not when you can protect him from the truth.

Steve then stares directly at you, looking into your gorgeous eyes as he tries to explain himself. “I want you to know that I’m sorry for earlier. Not just for Sharon, which she definitely never meant anything but also for saying that I’m just doing this to repay a debt. You don’t owe anything. I’m doing this because… I still love you.” He looked at you with wide eyes as your face turned into a full frown.

“Steve.. Stop.” His eyebrows furrowed and you sit up a bit more, “What do you mean? It’s the truth.” You just shook your head again. You really didn’t want to talk about this, especially not with him. He can’t know what you’ve done. He can’t know why they sent you to Senegal.

“Steve, you can’t love me.” His grip on your wrist tightens but you don’t fail to have a blank face.“What? Why?” You shook your head, “You just can’t.” This time he’s directly in front of you, eyes darting around your face. “y/n whatever it is you can tell me.” His pleading eyes never leave you and you can slowly feel yourself sinking in.

“Steve… Please... don’t.” He cupped your cheek, moving the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “Y/n. You can tell me anything… Please.” You paused, watching as his soft eyes trailed yours. All you could do was try to swallow the big lump that was forming in your throat. 

“That night that I left for Senegal? I was assigned to kill your father.”

Next Chapter

[inkribbon796]

What He Holds Dear Ch. 2

Summary: Word around the city tends to spread like wildfire. Everyone knows Illinois keeps a lot of secrets. Up until now his lack of a constant weakness has kept those secrets under lock and key. But now he has a fiancé. The Host is a foreboding force in the city with many of the Author’s enemies looking to get revenge. And word spreads fast that the Host is dating a doctor.

A/N: It’s Valentine’s Day. Instead of doing an all-couples event like I did last year I’ll focus on just two of them.

Warning for kidnapping, and a very scared Eric.

Chapters: 1, 2

Chapter 2: Disaster Date Night

Eric was having a normal day. It was Valentine’s Day and Illinois had promised Eric an amazing dinner.

Which to Eric. Illinois could have taken him to a fast food restaurant in sweats and Eric would have thought it was the most fancy thing in the world.

But he’d been given a suit, one that didn’t quite fit him but he had put it on. Illinois took him to a really nice Mexican restaurant and Eric felt so nervous and out of place, and thought that Illinois looked so amazingly handsome.

Currently his only real problem was that he was so enamored by Illinois just being there that all he was contributing to the conversation was smiling and nodding.

But eventually he slipped off to go to the bathroom. A combination of actually needing to go and the anxious claustrophobia of other people in the room.

So he walked into the bathroom and while he was washing his hands, noticing that some dirt had gotten into his nail, he was hit in the back of the head by some force and in an instant he was out.

The next time Eric came to, he had a minor headache blooming in his head. He felt disoriented and scared. Everything was black and in that fear, his hands started making little explosions. Since they were tied behind the chair he was sitting on, his arms and back bloomed with pain.

And he wasn’t the only one.

“Fuck! Fuck! Stop!” In Eric’s panic he didn’t recognize the voice. It was Dr. Iplier. He was tied back-to-back with Eric. The young man’s hands almost on top of the Doctor’s arms. Iplier’s eyes were similarly blindfolded.

A strong smell was placed almost right underneath Eric’s nose and as he inhaled the substance it calmed him down, magically drugging him so he stopped freaking out.

“Hey kid,” Iplier tried to help. “It’s me, Iplier, you okay?”

“Hmmmm,” was Eric’s only response.

Iplier gently tapped Eric’s hands before gently taking it. Eric’s hand felt dangerously warm. But he was calmer — by force — he couldn’t keep hurting the doctor.

“Who’s there?” Iplier demanded. “I know someone’s there! What did you do to him?”

“He’s merely calmed with a very mild sedative,” a voice told him. “You’re welcome.”

Iplier tried to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. It sounded distorted.

“Look, I hate the Author but this is dangerous, you fuckers are all crazy. If we don’t clear out fast enough.” One of the voices, a deeper one, sounded angry.

“All we need is information,” another voice, slightly lighter but no less determined. “That’s the important part.”

“I’m not saving you if this goes tits up,” the mobster grumbled and walked over to Dr. Iplier. A smile on his face.

“Okay lover boy, let’s make this easier for all of us,” the mobster grinned and grabbed Iplier by the hair roughly, craning his head up. “We’ve got some questions. You’re the old bastard fucking that freak of nature aren’t you?”

“That’s none of your business,” Iplier spat.

Iplier got punched in the face for that, making Eric whimper in fear at the sound of Iplier getting hurt. He was trying to fight the haze over his mind but it felt like a weighted blanket he couldn’t kick off.

“Don’t be a smartass,” the mobster snarled. “Everyone knows who you are. You’ve shacked up with that sadistic freak.”

“He’s not who you think he is,” Iplier insisted.

“Yeah I bet he’s a real sweetheart,” the mobster patronized. “A Libra who likes to take long walks on the beach.”

Iplier gritted his teeth and fought the urge to sarcastically remark that Host wasn’t a Libra.

“If you could ask the real questions, we would appreciate it,” the second voice ordered.

“I could shoot you and I would probably get away with it,” the mobster snapped.

“We outnumber you right now, don’t try it.”

At that comment, Iplier tried to listen for another person but there were no signs to let him know if the person was bluffing or not.

“Fine,” the mobster snapped. “To hell with you and your stupid questions. Is the Entity’s body dead?”

“What?” Iplier asked.

He was punched in the face again, this time breaking his nose and making him scream in pain and anger.

“The Entity,” the mobster growled. “Is he dead?”

“How should I know?” Iplier snapped. “I’m not that asshole’s doctor.”

The mobster opened his mouth to speak, which is precisely when an aluminum bat made contact with the back of his skull. Cracking the man’s skull and killing him instantly.

Then the Host glared at the only other occupant in the room, a demon hunter in a mask. The hunter took a fearful step back at the sight of the blood running down from the Host’s face and the narrations that left them as metaphorically bare as a newborn, and felt the muzzle of a handgun pressed against the back of their head.

“Our turn for questions, asshat,” Illinois threatened.

“Ills?” Eric was semi-roused from his haze.

Illinois glanced at him, “Just taking out the trash, dulcito.”

“Illy,” Eric pleaded, starting to cry and limply started to struggle in his chair.

“Illinois should tend to his fiancé,” the Host told him and with a signal from the Host the Entity dragged the hunter through and into the Void for a nice, long interrogation. The hunter’s scream echoing in the room as they were violently and painfully dragged in.

Illinois raced over to Eric, waiting for the Host to thoroughly clean up the blood and evidence of death from the mobster before lifting his blindfold. “Eric, dulcito, honey. I’m here now. Don’t worry I’m here.

With a few, careful words the blindfolds and binding disappeared and Iplier blinked in disorientation.

As delicately the Host could he used his words to reset the doctor’s nose, setting it back to normal. Then with a few more words all the people in the room disappeared from it and suddenly appeared on the back balcony of the Manor.

Eric and Iplier were sitting on the comfiest seats as their partners stood in front of them. Illinois rushed back in to comfort Eric as the Host hovered around Dr. Iplier.

“I’m so sorry I let them take you dulcito, can you ever forgive me?” Illinois begged desperately as he frantically kissed Eric’s hands, almost begging wordlessly for permission to move further up his arm. “Did any of them touch you?”

“I-I’m fine,” Eric was hiccupping through his sobs.

“Does the Host’s doctor have any other injuries?” The Host asked. “The Host regrets not being able to remove the assailants sooner.”

“I,” Dr. Iplier paused. He knew that the two of them had killed his assailants. Iplier knew it, and the Host knew it. “I’m fine.”

“Is the Host’s doctor sure?” The Host asked.

Unsure of what would actually leave his mouth, he nodded.

The seer let out a controlled sigh, “The Host could not bear it if his doctor was grievously hurt for something the Author had done.”

Iplier planned to say something reassuring, that killing people who meant to do him and Eric serious harm didn’t exactly qualify as a heinous act. That it was self defense. But at that exact moment Dark stepped through, his ringing shrill and his usually greyed out effect even more saturated.

“I have some more names, we’ll discuss the details later,” Dark promised and pulled out a small wooden case and passed it to Illinois. “I have business to attend to, I’ll be with Google if anyone needs to speak with me.”

“Alright,” Illinois said, noticing that Eric was curing protectively into him.

Then Dark was gone, heading through the balcony door and disappearing into the house. Leaving Illinois and Host with their partners.

Illinois sat next to Eric and popped open the box to find two little pins inside. Both of them were silver quill pins.

The adventurer took one of them out and offered it, pleading, “Eric, I’m going to make sure no one can hurt you again.”

Eric nodded, but Iplier spoke up. “What are those? What do they do? And why should we put on anything Dark gives us?”

Looking conflicted, Eric stared at the quill, and then at Illinois. Illinois looked back at Iplier. “They’re the same as our trackers except Host and I can track them. I guess yours is mostly cosmetic, Ip.”

“And that has your aura?” Iplier questioned. “Won’t that allow Dark to teleport to us?”

“Ours allow him to know where we are, his aura does the rest,” Illinois admitted. “If he feels one of us going through an anti-magic barrier like that one you all have down at the station, he’ll go to the other side of the field and figure out how badly he needs to intervene. In your base, I think the two of you should be safe. No intervention needed.”

“O-Okay,” Eric allowed, uncertain. He let Illinois replace the little star he usually wore with the quill. The adventurer held the star out to the Host.

The star disappeared without the Host needing to take it. Only taking a couple words to accomplish. Illinois delicately kissed Eric on the cheek. “I thought for a bit that when we’d find you again, my luck would have run out. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“The Host can return Dr. Iplier to his hospital, or would he rather the Host take him back home?”

“The hospital, everyone’s probably worried about where I went,” Iplier sighed.

“As the doctor wishes,” the Host’s eyes bled a bit more and the case Dark had given Illinois in the seer’s hand. The two men gone from the balcony.

It left Illinois and Eric cuddled up together on the balcony. Eric was happy to see Illinois again, and Illinois happy to just have Eric alive. That he was still holding someone who was breathing and their heart was beating.

They wound up on the couch in the living room. Illinois calming down to the gentle sound of Eric’s still beating heart.

[tropicalfreckles]

Friends Again CH 4

MASTER LIST found here

B**TLEB*BES DNI

Summary:  Lydia always wondered how everything worked with the ghost-born demon, including how he was able to leave the house without being sandworm chow.

WARNINGS: Spiders, Body Horror, Ommetaphobia

"Adam, Barbara, I'm telling you that this crystal would just bring such positive energy to the room!" Delia exclaimed while throwing her arms into the air in dramatic fashion. Barbara followed close on Delia's heels as the younger, deceased woman clasped her hands together.

"Delia I understand you're having another one of your 'inspiration episodes'. How about we just decorate the top of the fireplace with some of the crystals. Instead of having a giant one placed in the middle of the room?" A strained smile creased Barbara's lips as she tried to compromise with her friend. Adam gave a short nod to his wife's idea.

"I agree with Barbara. It would look a lot more balanced than just having it in the middle of the room." Adam motioned to the whole room as he gave a small smile to Delia. She looked them both over then peered to the fireplace.

"You know, I think you're right Barbara! It probably would get tedious walking around the crystal every time we need to sit on the couch. I'll need to look into which crystals I want to put up there." Delia rubbed her chin in thought. Barbara and Adam exhaled a breath neither needed to hold. Charles had been sitting off to the side and gave the two a subtle thumbs up. The older man's attention turned to the creaking footsteps of the familiar combat boots that came from upstairs. A soft smile crept upon him as he gave Lydia a nod.

"Did you need something, Lydia?" Charles set down the book that was in his hand as he stood up from the chair he had been in. Lydia jumped down the last two steps then looked up to her father.

"I just wanted to go on a walk around the neighborhood. I'll be back." Lydia began heading to the door after giving him a short wave. Charles briefly gazed down to his watch before turning fully to look back to her.

"You have your phone on you, right?" He inquired.

"Yes, dad. Don't worry so much." Lydia waved him off. The young teen gave her goodbyes to the others then made her way out the door. That was easier than she thought it would be. Well, it wasn't like she was going across town. Her dad had been a bit more protective of her ever since the events that followed their move to their new house. Always making sure she had her phone on her in case anything happened. She began to tread down the steps of their front porch. She made sure to be careful of her footing across the unruly grass that needed to be tended to. A gust of wind blew by as she felt the pressure whip around her back. Lydia shuddered while gripping onto her arms.

"Chuck must be the trusting type, huh?" Beetlejuice chuckled. The demon hovered nearby her and gave her a thumbs up.

"I mean telling my family I'm going out for a walk isn't really that suspicious." Lydia shrugged. "So.. about that stuff from earlier." Beetlejuice gave her a hum in response as the two slowly walked down the hill. "Did you actually go look for your dad? Or were you just being dramatic?" Beetlejuice wrinkled his nose.

"Well, yeah. I just wanted to make you feel guilty. Getting sent back to the Netherworld right now is not on my to-do list. Why the hell would I even go look for that deadbeat?" He grunted then kicked his feet to the ground to float away from it. Lydia jumped over a big rock jutting out of the dirt as she watched him.

"So what exactly were you doing there? Did you get in trouble at all for the stuff we did months ago?" Lydia asked. The demon crossed his arms, his eyes traveling away from her.

"They had me holed up in some shithole for two months in 'breather time' I guess. Time works a helluva lot differently in the Netherworld. It dragged the fuck on when they put me on paperwork duty. It was a temp job to keep me there for whatever reason. That's what I was up to for the last couple of months. I don't want to talk about it." He grumbled. Small streaks of reds, blues, and yellows bled into his green hair. Lydia decided it was best not to push the moody demon for now. She was curious why he seemed to be cutting her so short on details yet knew she had to let him open upon it in his own time. Lydia still found it odd to even herself she wanted to work things out with him. Like being around him at all. She figured it was just still wanting real closure with him. Would she keep up hanging out with him like this? She wasn't sure. It was just somewhere to start at least. Lydia moved to playfully punch at the older man's arm.

"Fine, fine. At least you're not stuck there anymore." She waved him off. "Now you get to hear that beautiful sound again." Lydia gave him a wicked smile, Beetlejuice lighting up to her words.

"Now you're talking. Let's go scare the shit out of some chumps!" He gave a sharp-toothed grin then shortly after moved behind her. Wrapping his arms under her armpits he then lifted her up into the air. He flew down to the bottom of the hill after making sure there weren't any breathers that would notice them. Lydia let out a small yelp followed after with a shriek of laughter.

"Don't you dare drop me!" She clung to his arms and gave a kick of her legs. Beetlejuice snorted.

"Please, you weigh practically nothing, Lyds. Thought you wanted to try that trusting crap out more. This is a good trust exercise if you ask me!" He snickered as he flew them over to the closest house then landed them both down at the side of it behind some bushes. Lydia gave him a small scowl when she turned to him as she fixed her dress.

"Give me a heads up next time at least. Asshole." Lydia scolded. She turned to look at the house next to them. Thoughts of what kind of scare they should go with began to run through her head. Should they just wing it? Or come up with a solid plan. Last time they scared together it all just kind of happened naturally. Maybe they should just go with their guts. It would be nice to blow some steam off doing this for an hour or two after. Therapy helped her with more things than she thought it would after slowly opening up. Though this was a thrill that really helped her let loose. Especially with the stress of school, she was going through at the moment. Beetlejuice seemed to notice her overthinking it since he gave her a hardy slap on the back. She grunted then shot him a glare.

"Don't overthink it, kid! Let's just see if the old bat is home first." He smirked at her. Giving her a signal with a wave of his hand the two approached the windows quietly. Beetlejuice phased his head through it then scanned the room. A light was on upstairs so that must be where she was. It would take a good minute or two for her to answer the door if they decided to get Lydia inside the more legal way. He couldn't exactly phase her through the wall as he could. If she was dead that would be another story. However, he wasn't planning on letting her join him on the side of the deceased any time soon. He could always just teleport her inside as well. He was so engrossed with his thoughts he hadn't even hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. He noticed last second when they echoed louder down the steps and made himself invisible once more. Phasing out he pushed Lydia's head down below the window so she wouldn't be seen.

"Hey!" She frowned then swatted his hand away. He hushed her as he narrowed his eyes. Shit, maybe it was the wrong house? Coming down the stairs instead was a man who was definitely younger than the old lady he saw here just yesterday. Either way, they could still scare him. He looked like one of those overly paranoid and religious types. An obvious comb-over on a very pale head. Khakis that made even the ones Adam wear look like they were in fashion. A pale-blue plaid shirt. This man was probably the dullest breather he ever laid eyes on. Which was saying quite a bit. Beetlejuice ducked below after taking note of which direction in the house he moved to.

"Alright, new plan. Either the old bag has another breather living with her or this is someone else's house. We can still work with this. Old bastard looks like one of those old testament fans." He snorted. Lydia crossed her arms.

"I don't remember him living here. I could've sworn it was an old lady, too. I remember dad talking to her more than once this year." Lydia looked up at the window then sighed. "I mean, it doesn't matter either way I guess. I want to scare someone today. Alright. So how do we get me in there?" She swung her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the front of the house. Beetlejuice stroked his chin.

"That's what I was mulling over. I could dress you up to look creepy. Go with the ol' ghost kid scare, teleport you in." Lydia's expression brightened at this new revelation.

"Wait you can teleport yourself places?" Lydia questioned. She couldn't help but let her curiosity peak through.

"Within reason, yeah. I still can't exactly go much further than this damn neighborhood at the moment when I'm summoned. Since the only graveyard around is the one on the other side of your house. I'd need to be invisible to look for another one to go through." He explained while periodically peering through the window. Lydia was intrigued by what limitations his powers held. Lydia tapped her hand on her thigh in thought.

"That why you didn't just up and leave for good? You're stuck here?" Lydia questioned, giving a tilt of her head. Beetlejuice clicked his tongue while his fingers flexed into the palms of his hands as he fidgeted in place.

"Listen if you want a rundown of how I work I'll give you the short version. When I'm summoned directly from the Netherworld I'm stuck with the breather that did it until I can get another sap to summon me. It's some complicated bullshit that goes along with my little shtick." He rambled on. Lydia crossed her legs while sitting on the ground now.

"I remember you saying before ghosts couldn't leave the houses they stay in. How the hell were you able to leave after I summoned you a week ago? Thought sandworms would be waiting out there for you. I actually wondered that when I woke up for my nap." She rested her cheek against her hand. Beetlejuice groaned. Why were kids so fucking nosy. He rubbed his hands over his face as he thought over his next few words.

"Yes, okay, yeah. Typically I can't leave the damn house. The normal way at least. I'm not really housebound as much as ghosts are since demons work on a different set of rules. If I walk out a door I'd be worm chow. If I however can see a graveyard within distance, or if there is one at least sort-of-nearby I can just fly out the window. It's like a way station for demons. I can travel through more when I'm not summoned. Invisible. I also can travel further distances when summoned if I left the Netherworld the way I usually do. However since you summoned me straight out of it; I'm stuck with you until once again, someone else says my name." He was standing now, pacing back and forth as he went listing off how things worked. "Once I leave the graveyard I can also go around to the houses in the area freely without worrying about those worms. I can't leave the neighborhood itself though." Beetlejuice huffed as his gaze traveled back down to Lydia.

"Sooo. What if someone who summons you after me says your name three times again. Do you just become invisible once more or go back to the Netherworld?" Lydia got back up to her feet. Beetlejuice frowned a bit.

"Honestly. Not too sure. I think I just become invisible again. What, you planning on getting Chuck or Delia to do that?" His face scrunched up as he got defensive again. Lydia shook her head with an annoyed sigh.

"No, I told you I wouldn't do that. I promised. So long as you don't try murdering me or my family then we're good." Lydia tapped a finger to her chin. "Okay. One last question then we figure out how to scare this guy. You said you can make me look all creepy. How do we do that?" Beetlejuice rubbed the palms of his hands together as he let out a wicked cackle.

"Leave that to me." A snap of his fingers and Lydia's dress appeared more weathered and tattered, her hair becoming disheveled. He gave another snap as a makeup kit appeared in his hands. He gently grabbed her face with one hand, as another arm grew out of his back to start applying the makeup while his other hand held the case. Lydia stared at the third arm growing out of his back. "Little makeup here, there. Make you paler. Gotta put more bags under your eyes annnd... few scars here." His tongue stuck out of the corner of his lips as he concentrated on his work.

"Done!"

Lydia pulled from him when his hands moved away. With a flick of his wrist, the makeup box was replaced with a mirror he promptly showed to Lydia. She moved the pads of her fingers over her cheek while gazing into it. She definitely looked a lot more dead. He somehow made her eyes look sunken in as well. He was pretty good with makeup to her surprise. She kind of wished he made her look more gruesome and mangled. Oh well, maybe for the next scare. She was getting as antsy as he probably was and wanted to jump into it already. Speaking of Beetlejuice, he seemed to be staring at her as if expecting something. Oh.

"It looks pretty good, Beej. I look creepy." Lydia grinned. Beetlejuice puffed out his chest with pride then held out his hand for her. She grimaced a little. He definitely hadn't washed his hands in ever. Definitely the same gross, creepy old guy she first met. Lydia could grin and bare this. Taking his hand she gave him a nod. He pulled her close.

"So I've never actually teleported a breather before. It might be a little overwhelming...even if it's just literally inside the house next to us." He gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Oh well. Let's just jump into it!" He turned to look inside of the window. Lydia was starting to have second thoughts about this. Too late, however, she felt a wind pressure engulf her as her other hand clung to his arm. In a flash of blinding light she felt weightless. Dizziness washed over Lydia for a moment as she closed her eyes tightly. A second later she felt a hand gently patting her shoulder followed by a quiet voice.

"Hey. Kid. You good?" Beetlejuice muttered. Lydia let go of him then grabbed at her head.

"Yeah. You were right. It was kind of overwhelming. I'm fine, though." She reassured him. Her eyes traveled around the room. They really were inside of the house. The teen couldn't help the rush of excitement bubble inside of her. She didn't feel like she could be in danger since having a demon as her partner was guaranteed her safety. Especially since he's saved her life once before. Though at the same time the thought of getting caught was kind of exhilarating as much as it was worrying. She gently patted the back of her hand against his arm.

"So what now?" Lydia asked in a hushed tone. She was smart enough to not let the person or possibly multiple people living there know of their presence quite yet.

Beetlejuice studied the house. The sun was starting to set more in the sky. Good, this could work for him. He quietly motioned for her to stay low and follow him as best she could. He moved to peer around the corner. First, he figured it would be good to start to get rid of the other lights. With a clap of his hand, the lights all began to dim and flicker. He had to make a good show of it to set the unease in for the occupants of the home. Then all of the light bulbs on the first floor burnt out. A surprised grunt followed by a short string of cursing followed suit. Lydia tried not to snicker while Beetlejuice giddily bounced in place. He rolled his shoulders then looked over to Lydia.

"Okay. I got him warmed up. I think he's the only one in here. So he doesn't think you're an intruder, I'll do some classic shadow scares to get him on edge before you come out. Do whatever comes naturally for ya." Beetlejuice turned to place his hands against the walls. Lydia took a step back to watch in awe as shadows shot out from under them. They bled up into the walls then scattered to the living room down the hall. Some peeled off of the wall to make inhuman long strides around. They were all shaped like him as well. As dusk began to set in all around the house the shadows became more inhuman in form then all slithered out of view. Lydia watched until the last one was out of sight. She then slowly started creeping down the hallway as quietly as she could. Beetlejuice had already phased through a wall off ahead of her. She could hear the pounding of her own heart. Her breath stilled. A panicked shuffling could be heard followed by some clattering of items in the other room. The man was worked up. Perfect for her. Lydia changed her expression the best she could to something eerier than slid her fingers along the corner of the doorway in front of her. Slowly she crept around the corner while jerking her body and making a low moan that echoed into a clicking sound.

"What in the name of Christ-!!" A terrified older man stood before her, a lamp in his hand that he gripped close to his chest. His eyes were wide as he trembled in place. Unable to make a move to even attempt an attack on her Lydia seized this opportunity to scream at the top of her lungs at him while dragging one of her feet behind her. The guy let out the loudest, blood-curdling scream he could muster then slammed the lamp on the ground. He started to run around to the other exit of the room only to body slam straight into Beetlejuice. Who appeared to have made himself noticeably quite larger. Spider legs were growing out of his back and he had multiple eyes opening over every visible bit of skin on his undead body. The man had fallen back onto his rear as he tried backing up from the demon while Beetlejuice dislocated his arms and made a swing at him. The guy just barely managed to dodge him before scurrying on all fours underneath a hovering Beetlejuice. Within seconds the two heard the front door slam as he screamed all the way out of the house. Lydia and Beetlejuice moments later both erupted in a gleeful fit of laughter.

"Holy crap! That was so much fun!" Lydia grabbed at her stomach as she cackled. Beetlejuice shifted his body back to normal as he wiped at a faux-tear.

"I think he legit pissed himself when you came around the corner and made those noises at him! It was great!" Beetlejuice held up his hand to give her a high-five, Lydia surprising even herself, reciprocated it. Both of them grinned wide at the other. "Ahhh shit. We should do some more!" Beetlejuice clapped his hands together. Before Lydia could respond, a repetitive pinging sound erupted from the pocket of her dress. Lydia heaved a sigh then pulled it out.

"I'd love to, however, looks like dad's telling me to come home." Lydia gave an annoyed huff. Beetlejuice frowned as he gave her a 'tsk'. He hovered over to the hallway then looked straight out to the front door.

"Well, looks like guy high-tailed it out of here. Think you can walk out the door. Sure you can't just skip curfew and act like a true rebellious teen?" He peered over his shoulder to her. Lydia considered this for a moment then gave a shake of her head.

"No can do. Normally I would, just... I don't want to get grounded and miss out on more scaring this week." Lydia shrugged as she walked towards the front door. Beetlejuice perked up a little.

"Scare more?" He smirked.

"Yeah, I only got a little taste of scaring again today. I want more." Lydia playfully shoved him then wiped the makeup off her face. "Oh. Could you change my dress back? I actually like this one." The teen grabbed at the edge of her dress and picked it up for emphasis. Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, the dress glowing then shortly after returned to how it once was.

"Alright. So. Same time tomorrow?" He grinned at her. "I'll skulk nearby to check in on you earlier in the day so we don't have to cut it short."

"Yeah, sounds like a plan. Tomorrow I don't have school either so it works." Lydia gave him a nod. She closed the door behind them when she walked out after making sure no one would notice her. "I'll meet you outside tomorrow. I don't want the Maitlands to see you on the roof." She held out her hand for him. Beetlejuice took it then gave it a shake.

"Deal!"

[cocastyle]

Family

Pairing - Steve Harrington x platonic!reader

Word Count - 5,997

Warning - none

A/N - this is my first request and I couldn’t be more excited about writing it! if anyone would like to request something, I write for so many different fandoms that can all be found under my master list! some that I write for haven’t even been added yet so always feel free to ask! for this request I have decided to explore a Steve and Y/N brother/sister bond much like the one seen in my In-Between series (this is in no way connected to the series though and will showcase a little Dustin Henderson x reader) anyways, I really hope everyone likes this!

Request - I love the fact that Steve and Y/N have a brother sister relationship in the In-Between and I was wondering if you could do something on that like him being protective of the reader during the tunnels scene in ST2 @nerdy-collector-festival

Steve Harrington and Y/N L/N didn't have the best parents in the world. With neither one of their parents ever home and an empty house most of the time, the two were often left to fend for themselves and it had been like that from a young age.

The only source of comfort either of them had was each other. Y/N and Steve's parents had been best friends since college, so since the day Y/N was born Steve was always by her side. Neither of them even minded the five year age gap between them and still considered the other to be their best friend and the person they hung out the most with.

Or that was how it used to be before the events of 1983 where the two witnessed some horrific events that were sure to be in their nightmares for the rest of their lives. It was that night when Y/N was fighting to save one of her other best friends Will Byers and Steve was trying to protect Y/N from a demogorgon that the two realized just how much the other meant to them.

And that realization was almost too much for either of them to handle. After having practically no family for their whole lives and then realizing that their best friend, the person who they cared about most in the world, was their family was enough to make them both take a step back and away from each other.

They didn't know how to handle this new realization and neither wanted to harm their friendship, even if by the two pulling away it meant exactly that.

So the year after the events of 1983 was tough for the two. It's not that they never hung out with each other cause they did, but their normal hangouts just weren't as frequent, the two finding new people to hang around more often. For Steve that was Nancy Wheeler, his girlfriend who he put all of his time and love into. For Y/N that was the members of the Party or more specifically Dustin Henderson who she had grown to develop a small crush on over the past year.

But then Halloween in 1984 hit and the two were thrust back into each other's lives, both of them realizing how stupid and ignorant they had been over the past year but still knowing that nothing had changed. Steve was still the protective brother — or mom as Y/N liked to say — that he was and Y/N was still just as loving and protective as any other sister.

However, the year they spent semi-away from each other made Y/N realize just how much she had depended on Steve. She had expected him to keep her steady when she needed it most, to protect her from everything bad, and to cheer her up whenever she felt down. It annoyed her when she thought about it and she felt guilty and ashamed for having put such a big responsibility on Steve for all of these years, wondering if all he had ever seen her as was just that—a responsibility.

So when the Party had all decided to head to the tunnels that connected to the Mind Flayer, the latest antagonist who currently had control of Will and who Eleven was trying to defeat, Y/N knew that Steve was only tagging along to make sure that she was safe and to keep her out of trouble. This was enough to make her frustrated and even upset, especially when she saw Steve get beat up by Billy Hargrove just because of her.

"Guys," Steve's voice rang through her ears causing the young girl to snap out of her thoughts as she continued to get supplies out of the back of the car, the others all roaming around her as they too got ready to enter the tunnels down below. "Oh, no. Guys."

"Hey, where do you think you're going? What are you, deaf? Hello? We are not going down there right now," Steve yelled almost deliriously as he looked around at the kids. His eyes flickered over to Y/N and Dustin who were busy putting goggles on and bandanas over their faces. He gave them a pointed look and said, "I made myself clear."

Y/N rolled her eyes and continued to struggle putting her goggles on while Steve babbled on beside them, slowly coming more and more to his senses as he managed to pull himself up onto his feet.

"Hey, there's no chance we're going to that hole, all right? This ends right now!" Steve yelled in frustration, but everyone continued to ignore him.

Dustin told his eyes at the boy and turned to Y/N, gently grabbing her goggles and fixing them on her face as he looked back at Steve.

"Steve, you're upset, I get it. But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance," Dustin said, not noticing the small blush on Y/N's face as he finished fixing her goggles and gave her a small smile.

Y/N quickly cleared her throat and looked to the older boy who furrowed his eyebrows slightly at the two before shaking his head and locking eyes with her. "Listen, Harrington, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe," Y/N said as she grabbed a backpack that had Steve's bat poking out of it. She shoved it into his hands a little roughly before saying, "So man the fuck up and do your job."

She then gave the boy a sickly sweet smile and pulled her bandana over half of her face and grabbed a crowbar and a container of fuel before walking away without another word. Dustin smiled after her before noticing Steve looking at him. "She's amazing," Dustin said almost dreamily before he hurried along after the girl leaving Steve frowning and mumbling to himself.

Y/N didn't hesitate to jump down into the tunnel, the others surrounding her as they looked down the dirt tunnel that had floating pieces of decay in the air. The young girl grimaced before someone landing beside her had her turning to see Steve standing there. His head moved towards her and they both stared at each other for a moment before she nodded her head at him, the boy returning it almost instantly.

Steve then looked away before letting his eyes flicker over the scenery around him. "Holy shit," he breathed out, the fact that the decaying place they were in was supposed to be the ground underneath a pumpkin farm seeming totally wrong.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's this way," Mike called out as he glanced up from the map he was looking at, an X marking the spot that they had determined to be the best place to set up their trap.

"You're pretty sure, or you're certain?" Dustin called out from where he was looking just a little ways away.

"I'm 100% sure!" Mike replied. "Just follow me and you'll know."

Y/N glanced at Dustin and the two shrugged before beginning to walk after Mike who had started down one of the paths. Steve looked at them as if they were crazy, which was hard for them to see because of the mask, and he quickly stopped Mike before saying, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, hey, hey. I don't think so."

"What?" Y/N asked annoyed as she turned to look at the boy.

"Any of you little shits die down here, I'm getting the blame," Steve explained. "Got it, dipshit? From here on out, I'm leading the way. L/N, you stick by my side, okay? Come on, let's go."

Steve began to walk forward, but didn't go far because Y/N wasn't by his side. He threw his head back in her direction as if to give her a pointed look and Y/N huffed before reluctantly leaving Dustin's side to go walk beside Steve.

It was only when she was by his side that the boy began to walk forward, knowing that if she was by his side he would be able to see if anything was going to happen to her. Steve glanced back at the others and gestured in front of him as if to tell them to hurry up.

"Come on. Hey, a little hustle."

- - -

The further the group got into the back of the tunnels, the grosser it became. Y/N felt as if she were going to puke by the time they reached these decaying flower looking things, the way they moved and the sound it made making her stomach churn.

"God," she muttered as she held a hand to her stomach.

Steve instantly glanced over at her. "You okay? Do you need us to head back?" he asked worriedly, the action making Y/N groan inwardly as she was once again reminded by how much of a burden and responsibility she was.

"I'm fine," she grumbled, but that seemed to be enough for Steve who looked back ahead as he led the group forward.

"What is this place?" Max questioned, her nose crinkling up underneath her bandana.

Steve ignored the girl seeing as he didn't know the answer to her question and just said, "Guys, come on. Keep moving."

The kids all shared a look before following after the older boy, none of them noticing Dustin who had paused to look up at one of the pulsing flower buds above him. "What the hell?" he muttered, but the words had barely left his mouth before the thing was suddenly shooting something through the air at him, the decay and dust hitting Dustin right in the face and causing the boy to scream.

Y/N was the first to hear Dustin scream and she instantly perked up before turning and realizing that the boy was no longer with them. "Dustin!" she cried out before running back in the direction they came.

"Y/N!" Steve yelled as he tried to grab her, but the girl was already gone.

"Shit! Help! Help! Help!" Dustin yelled as Y/N turned a corner to find the boy stumbling in her direction. His body collided with hers almost instantly and he gripped onto her arms while she tried to steady him.

"Dustin," she breathed out as her eyes scanned him for any injuries, but it was hard for her to tell when he was moving around frantically  and still screaming slightly out of terror.

"Shit!" Dustin screamed.

"Dustin!" Lucas, Max, Mike, and Steve exclaimed as they came running back over to them.

"What happened?" Y/N asked worriedly as she gripped onto the boy.

Dustin whimpered slightly before saying, "It's in my mouth! Some got on my mouth! Shit!" The boy pulled away from Y/N to have a coughing attack all while the five of them stared at him worriedly. Y/N backed into Steve slightly in fright, the older boy placing a hand on her shoulder to tell her that he was there.

Dustin continued to cough for a bit longer and even pulled his bandana down before he suddenly went quiet, his body freezing before he turned his head to them and said in a totally normal voice, "I'm okay."

"You serious?" Max asked as the group all relaxed, Dustin just staring up at them through his goggles as he gave them a nervous smile.

"Very funny, man. Nice. Very nice," Steve muttered before he turned and began to walk away. "Jesus, what an idiot."

Everyone began to walk away except for Y/N who just stared at Dustin with her arms crossed in front of her body. Dustin stared at her in silence before whispering out a questioning, "I'm sorry?"

Y/N couldn't stop herself from chuckling softly as she went over and held a hand out for the boy. Dustin quickly took it and she helped him up onto his feet, the boy stumbling slightly into her so that they stood face to face.

"You idiot," she muttered as she stared at her, her eyes flickering over his face while he just gave her a small smile. "I thought you were about to die before my eyes or something."

"I would never," Dustin replied making Y/N chuckle before she pulled her bandana down and leaned forward to press a small kiss to his cheek.

Dustin's smile instantly fell, his whole face being covered by an expression of shock while Y/N put her bandana back over her face. "Good," she said all while Dustin looked to her and let a goofy grin appear on his face.

"Y/N L/N, why is there any empty spot by my side?" Steve's voice echoed through the tunnels making Y/N groan and lean her head against Dustin's shoulder for a moment.

"I'm coming! Don't get your panties in a twist," Y/N yelled back before she chuckled and held a hand out for Dustin, the boy smiling at her and taking her hand before the two ran to catch up with the others.

- - -

"Alright, Wheeler," Steve said as he looked at the room around them that had multiple tunnels attaching to it, "I think we found your hub."

"Let's drench it," Mike announced as he looked to the Party, the kids all nodding in response. Y/N picked up her container of fuel and was about to start dumping out its contents when Steve stopped her.

"Yeah, you and flammable liquid? Not a good idea," Steve muttered as he took the container from the girl's hand and shoved it towards Max who took it, but not without giving Y/N an apologetic look.

"Steve," Y/N sighed in frustration, her eyes flickering up to the boy who she knew was just trying to protect her. "I can help."

"I'm just trying to keep you safe. That's why I'm here, isn't it?" Steve questioned as he glanced at the girl. He noticed Y/N's shoulders slump and sighed before squeezing her shoulder. "I know you can help, squirt. But right now, it's my responsibility to make sure you're safe."

Then the boy walked away to make sure the other kids weren't being idiots, leaving Y/N staring after him practically shaking in anger.

A presence beside her had the girl turning to see Dustin standing there with his head tilted to the side. "You okay?" he asked, his voice soft and laced with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just frustrated is all," Y/N replied as she glanced back over at Steve. "I'm not just some responsibility of his, you know?"

"Y/N, Steve doesn't think of you as just some responsibility. You're-" Dustin began, but the girl shook her head.

"Sorry, Dustin. I just. . .I need to be alone for a couple of minutes," she muttered before walking away, obviously still upset and frustrated much to Dustin's dismay.

Dustin sighed and went back to drenching the area around him, the others all working silently as they could practically feel the tension radiating off of Y/N towards the unsuspecting Steve.

They drenched every inch of that place while Y/N watched from the side, her scowl hidden by the bandana over her face. It was only when the place was covered that they joined the girl at the edge of the tunnel they had come down a couple of minutes before.

Y/N shook off her anger and reached into her pocket for the small lighter, a smile beginning to grow on her face as she realized maybe she wasn't going to be completely helpless.

"You ready?" Steve asked, his eyes staring at the place before him, still not having noticed Y/N holding the lighter.

"Yeah."

"Ready."

"Ready."

Dustin glanced at Y/N and gave her a small nod before saying, "Light her up."

Y/N smirked under her mask before opening her lighter, a flame instantly becoming visible and finally drawing Steve's attention. The boy's eyes widened and he was quick to reach out and try and stop the girl.

"Yeah, no. Someone else is doing this, not you," Steve demanded as he tried to grab for the lighter, but Y/N was quick and held her hand away, making the others back away from the flame in her hand.

"What? Why?" Y/N asked in a panicked voice.

"Cause I don't want you getting hurt, you got that?" Steve muttered angrily as he tried to reach for the lighter again. "Y/N."

"Can you stop worrying about me for one second and let me help out?" Y/N asked a tad bit aggressively. "Since we've gotten down here all you've done is baby me! I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

Steve's eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows even though no one could tell. They did see him cross his arms, however, and heard him say, "See, this is where you're wrong. All I'm trying to do is protect you."

Y/N scoffed and Steve tried to reach for the lighter again. "I'm trying to keep your ass from getting hurt, got that? I've been taking care of you since day one, L/N! You've gotten into so much shit that I can't even count it anymore!" Steve groaned in frustration.

Y/N froze slightly before turning to the boy in anger, her eyes blazing with a fire more intense than the one in her hand. "Well, quit taking care of me! If I'm such a burden then why don't you just leave me the hell alone, huh? You didn't even have to come here, asshole!" she yelled.

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You know I did," he said.

"No, you didn't. I'm not your fucking responsibility! So quit acting like that's all I am," Y/N hissed, her eyes pricking with tears and making Steve freeze.

A silence fell among the group and Steve was frozen for a second longer before he glanced at the others who had all looked away. It was then that he realized that Y/N actually did believe she was nothing more than a responsibility to him. This made the boy frown and he went to place a hand on her shoulder as he whispered, "Y/N, you're not-"

Y/N was quick to shove the boy away, a determined look on her face as she turned back to the tunnel. "Not right now, Harrington. It's time to light this motherfucker up," she muttered before tossing the lighter into the pit.

The room instantly went up in flames and their eyes widened before Y/N began to whack Mike and Dustin who were closest to her. "Go, go, go!" she yelled as a loud shrieking sound filled the air, the ground popping up and flailing around them, finally exposing the parts of the Mind Flayer.

Y/N stumbled slightly as she tried to get up, but Steve didn't hesitate to grab ahold of her jacket and pull her onto her feet. Y/N glanced back at him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes as he shoved her forward and in front of him, the fire beginning to make its way towards them as he yelled, "Let's go, let's go!"

Y/N felt a feeling of guilt wash over her and she frowned slightly as she realized that she might have been a little harsh on Steve. However, the boy didn't give her time to do or say anything before he was shoving her again and yelling, "Move, Y/N!"

The girl nodded and began to rush forward along with the others, Steve right behind them. All Y/N could hear as they ran was the shrieking coming from the small cave and Dustin beside her yelling, "Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"

It was only when they were a little over halfway of the way back to where they had come in that something grabbed ahold of Y/N's foot, instantly yanking the girl to the ground while the others all ran forward.

A scream escaped her lips, her arms outstretched as she yelled, "Help! Help!" Steve was the first to react and it was like his instincts kicked in making him run faster than he ever had before. Steve was back by the girl's side within seconds, his bat raised in the air before he began hitting the slimy tentacle that was wrapped around Y/N's leg.

"Steve!" Y/N cried out in a panic as the thing began to drag her, but then Mike and Lucas were behind her and pulling her back while Steve continued to whack the tentacle.

It took a few more hits before the tentacle thing broke in half, instantly letting go of the girl. Y/N was screaming at this point, the part still attached to her leg squeezing her ankle so hard it felt like it was cutting off the circulation. Steve had the thing off of her leg in a matter of seconds before he quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her up onto her feet.

Y/N gripped onto the boy's arm frantically while he stared at her with wide eyes. "Are you okay? Y/N, are you okay?" he asked as he tried to calm the shaking girl down. All Y/N could do was bury her face into the boy's side while Steve just held her tightly.

"Guys, we gotta go! We gotta go now!" Dustin exclaimed as he tried to shove the group forward, but a growl suddenly had the group freezing in place.

Standing behind them, in the direction that they needed to go was a demodog. However, this one seemed to be a little different than the others.

"Dart," Dustin breathed out as he took a step towards the creature, an action that had Y/N quickly reaching out for the boy and patching onto his arm before pulling him back to her.

"Dustin, get back!" Y/N exclaimed as she held the boy close to her, her body leaning against Steve for support while the group all looked at the boy like he was crazy.

The demodog made some sort of noise that sounded like chatter and Dustin stared at him for a minute before glancing at Y/N. "It's okay, Y/N. Trust me," he whispered. Y/N was wide eyed as she stared at Dustin, but she eventually let her hold on him drop as she put all of her trust into the boy.

Dustin nodded slightly at Y/N as if to say thanks and to assure her that he would be fine before he turned and took a step closer to the demodog. "Hey. It's me, it's me. It's just your friend, it's Dustin. It's Dustin, all right?" he said as he pulled the goggles up onto his forehead and the bandana down from his face. He smiled softly at the creature before kneeling down in front of it. "You remember me? Will you let us pass?"

Dart suddenly snarled in Dustin's face, its own face opening up like a flower to showcase its teeth making the group all jump back and Y/N gasp in fright. Dustin didn't seem fazed and just sighed, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douchey thing to do. You hungry? Yeah?"

The group watched as Dustin began to take his backpack off with the intention of pulling food out of it for the demodog. Lucas raised his eyebrows and muttered, "He's insane."

"Shut up," Y/N and Steve hissed at the boy making Lucas hold his hands up in surrender.

"I've got our favorite," Dustin announced as he pulled a small candy bar out of his backpack. "See? Nougat." Dart grunted in reply and Dustin took that as a good sign before breaking off a piece and tossing it onto the ground. Dart leaned forward and sniffed the candy before slowly beginning to eat it which made Dustin smile.

"Look at that. Yummy. Here, all right? Eat up, buddy," Dustin said before tossing the rest of the candy onto the ground. He then stood up and glanced back at his friends before nodding at them to go ahead.

"Come on. Come on," Steve whispered as he began to walk forward, his hand intertwined with Y/N who wouldn't let go. "Let's go."

The group slowly snuck by Dart and watched as Dustin smiled at the creature, "There's plenty. I've got more." Dustin threw one more bar onto the ground before staring down at the demodog. He smiled sadly before whispering, "Goodbye, buddy."

He then turned and his eyes locked with Y/N who merely held a hand out for him. Dustin took it and the group began to move forward again, leaving Dart behind to eat his nougat while Steve's voice echoed in the air.

"Let's go, let's go!"

- - -

The group hadn't been walking for long before they soon realized that the demodogs were after them, the roaring behind them being enough evidence to prove the fact. Steve was pulling Y/N along at this point, the other kids all stumbling behind them as they ran through the tunnel.

"Run! Run! Let's go! Let's go!"

"There!" Y/N yelled as she pointed a little ways ahead of them where the rope they had used to get down into the tunnels could be seen hanging in the hole.

The group picked up their speed and made it to the rope where Max instantly began to climb up with the help of Steve. Lucas went next and then Mike before Dustin quickly followed.

That left Steve and Y/N, the later shoving the boy towards the rope and saying, "It's easier if you go up and then pull me up from there! Now move!" Steve didn't have time to yell back because the growling was only getting closer and the kids were all yelling at him to hurry up.

"Come on! Let's go. Go, go, go! Let's go! Come on! Come on!" Lucas and Mike yelled as they struggled to help the boy up. Y/N felt herself relax once she saw that Steve made it, but as soon as he had turned to help pull her up, the growling had reached them and Y/N could see the demodogs barreling towards her.

It was like everything moved in slow motion at that point, her head moving so that her eyes locked with Steve's, a panicked look on her face as she screamed out, "Steve!"

"No!" Steve yelled, but it was too late, the demodogs were there. Y/N gripped onto the rope and squeezed her eyes shut, wanting nothing more than a peaceful and quick death, but before she knew what was happening, there was a soft thud in front of her before two arms wrapped around her.

Y/N blinked her eyes open before gasping at the sight of Steve holding her protectively as he held his body like a shield for the girl. Y/N knew it wouldn't do much to keep the demodogs away, but she didn't think too much of it as she just gripped onto the boy and dug her face into his side.

The demodogs pounced at them, but to their surprise, they only seemed to move around them, their destination being something behind them. The two pulled away from each other to watch the demodogs rush by, both of them confused as to what was going on before they heard Mike whisper from above, "Eleven."

It was when the demodogs were gone that Y/N finally allowed herself to look to Steve, her eyes wide with surprise at the fact that he had just tossed himself in front of her to protect her. Steve was breathing heavy and he pulled the bandana off of his face before tossing the goggles off and letting his eyes lock with the girl.

A heavy silence fell among the two and all Steve could do was stare at the girl who was staring back at him with teary eyes filled with confusion.

"You're not just my responsibility," Steve finally said, his eyes flickering over the girl's face as he watched her inhale sharply. "I've known you since you were just a baby, L/N. I care about you more than I care about anyone else in this shitty town."

He paused for a moment before whispering, "You're my family, Y/N." The words were enough to make her breath catch in her throat, a few tears rolling down her cheeks as she just stared at the boy in surprise.

Steve gulped and ran a hand through his hair as he gave her a nervous smile, "And it's my responsibility to keep my family safe."

Y/N's mouth fell open slightly as if she were about to say something, but nothing came out. Luckily for her, she was saved by Max yelling out, "Guys, come on!"

Steve nodded and quickly picked Y/N up before pushing her up so that she could grab onto the hands of her friends. She was instantly pulled into Dustin's arms, the boy gripping onto her tightly as the others all joined in on hugging the girl who they thought had been a goner only moments before.

While this happened, Steve managed to climb his way out of the hole, letting out a small grunt as he pulled himself up onto his feet. He took in a deep breath before turning his head, his eyes instantly locking with Y/N who gave him a small smile.

Steve couldn't help but smile back before he nodded at the girl and began walking back towards the car. And all Y/N could do was stare after him with unspoken words on the tip of her tongue.

You're my family too.

- - -

"Holy shit, aren't you looking gorgeous tonight," Steve teased as he leaned against his car, his eyes on Y/N who was walking towards his car in a navy dress, her hair back in a messy braid while her navy converse squeaked against the ground.

Y/N blushed and tugged at her dress slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable and wanting nothing more than to be in her favorite pair of sweatpants right at that moment. "Shut up," she muttered, her cheeks heating up even more when Steve let out a small laugh.

"Oh, come on. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I can't compliment you?" Steve questioned, his eyebrows raising as he stared at the girl with a small sparkle in his eyes, his smile so wide that his cheeks had begun to hurt.

He couldn't help but feel like a proud older brother in that moment as he stared at the girl before him. It felt like only yesterday she was still learning to tie her shoes and now here she was all dressed up and about to attend the big dance at school with a boy.

"No, I just. . .I don't know. I feel weird," Y/N muttered as she stared down at her feet.

"Don't be. You look beautiful and I'm sure Dustin is going to love it," Steve teased, the girl blushing even more at the mention of the boy who had asked her to the Snowball dance only a couple days prior. It had taken him two weeks to build up the courage to ask her and, with the help of Steve, the two were now going to be attending the dance together with Steve being their chauffeur.

"Speaking of Dustin, we need to go pick him up," Steve muttered as he glanced at the time on his watch. He pushed himself off of his car before opening up the door for the girl and smiling at her. "Come on, Princess. Let's go pick up your Prince Charming."

"Steve!" Y/N complained, but all the boy could do was chuckle in response as the girl hopped into the car.

The two sang along to their favorite songs all the way to Dustin's house, but by the time they reached the place and were waiting on said boy to come out, a silence had fallen among the two that made them both shift uncomfortably in their seats.

The two hadn't spoken about what Steve had said that day in the tunnels, neither of them knowing how to address it or what to even say. Their friendship was finally back on track, now with the exception of Y/N spending some more time with her other friends and allowing the two to have the necessary space away from each other that they needed in order for their relationship to grow.

But something was different and it mostly had to do with what had happened in the tunnels. Y/N knew she needed to address the situation, but she was still unsure on how to bring it up. Luckily for her, her nerves from having to see Dustin in a couple of minutes had her blurting out her feelings on the spot, making her predicament a whole lot easier.

"I think of you as family too, you know."

The words falling from her lips were enough to make both Steve and Y/N freeze almost instantly. Steve was the first to move and he let his eyes flicker over to the girl who blushed and looked down at her hands as she shrugged.

"You're all I've ever had since day one," she whispered as if it were obvious. "You're the only family I really know. I don't even care that we aren't blood related. You're more of a family to me than my own parents and sometimes I don't always show it. And I just. . ." Y/N paused before looking to the boy. "I really am thankful for you, you know?"

Steve was silent as he stared at her and Y/N couldn't help but feel like time was ticking by at an excruciatingly slow pace as she awaited some sort of response. But finally, a smile appeared on the boy's face and he softened slightly as he looked at her before he whispered, "I'm thankful for you too, squirt. I love you."

Y/N smiled almost instantly and whispered, "I love you too."

Steve chuckled and reached out to ruffle the girl's hair. "Hey!" Y/N cried in protest and she quickly tried to fix her hair, however, that was the moment that Dustin decided to walk out and she let out a small scream before smoothing out her hair the best she could. This only seemed to make Steve laugh louder and Y/N glared playfully at the boy before she quickly got out of the car to go and meet Dustin.

Steve sat there for a moment with a smile on his face before finally letting himself watch Y/N as she walked over to Dustin who had paused in his front yard, his eyes locked on the girl who was walking towards him as a look of shock crossed his face.

Steve couldn't help but smile as he watched the girl, his heart swelling with pride for the person who was his sister even if not by blood. And when she began to wall back to the car with her hand intertwined with Dustin, her eyes locked with his and she gave him a small smile.

It was in that moment that the two both realized just how blessed they were to have each other. They really were like family. They were the brother and sister that the other never had.

Steve and Y/N may not have the best parents in the world, but with each other as family, they couldn't have been luckier.

* * *

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@marvelismylifffe

[ravenforce]

Begin Again Pt. 1

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x OC!Daughter x Surprise!Character

Word Count: 1827

Warning/s:  Nothing? Except this will be a multi-chapter because this part is long AF, as per usual. LOL. 

A/N: Hey loves, I’m sorry for being MIA for a long time. I bled my heart and soul in this fic, and I guess I’m not really ready to end this journey. This fic is an alternative ending to See You in A minute, meaning Stardust didn’t happen. I hope you’ll like it. If you haven’t read the whole installation, I’ll put the links below. xx

Series: See You In A Minute | I’ll Never Love Again | Stardust

Alt. Ending: Begin Again Pt. 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

It’s quiet hilarious to see a room full of super powered being clamouring to have little Asya on their arms, cooing soft words of love and affirmation to the little miracle that is your daughter but it’s also reassuring. Seeing the Avengers, literally assembled for your daughter’s birth grounds Natasha in a way that she hasn’t felt in a long time since you passed. Seeing her family around your daughter gives her the strength and confidence that she can, indeed, do this because she’s not alone, not really.

***

Raising Asya as a single mother was overwhelming for Natasha. She wasn’t ready, not really. She thinks its infinitely better if you were there waking up at the middle of the night to a wailing child after putting her down only half an hour ago.

There were so many days where she imagines you in Tony’s place, offering to take over Asya so she can catch more than a few minutes of sleep. There were so many days where she wishes it’s you that’s making your daughter laugh instead of Thor. There were so many nights after she put Asya down to sleep where she breaks down and cries because she misses you.

She misses your light, your warmth, your arms around her, your steadfast belief in her ability to be good and your constant reassurance that she’s enough. She misses your undying support that even though she can do everything she puts her mind into, she doesn’t have to because she has you. You stood by her, you fought alongside her, you loved her, you carried half of her burden and God does she wish to have you back in her arms if only the world’s a wish-granting machine.

But Natasha knew a long time ago that the world is cruel. So she allowed herself to break down at nights but come morning, Natasha resolves to be the best version of herself to be the mother Asya deserves.

***

Three

Toddlers are a handful, except Asya’s not like any other kid who yells and wails and pulls a tantrum to get what they want. No, Asya is very diplomatic. Ever since she learned her words, Asya has been a very good communicator since.

How she’s talking way too straight for a three years old was beyond all of them. Except for Tony and the pediatrician and child psychologist Bruce brought in, with Natasha’s approval of course, believe that Asya may be speaking straighter than most kids her age because of the stimulus around her. Asya lives with three adults and an eleven-year-old, no one talks to her like she’s a baby. So she doesn’t talk like one either.

At three, Asya and Natasha have developed a very close bond. Even though they live and share common spaces with the Starks, she’s closest to her mother. She loves following Nat around, and Nat doesn’t complain about it. She’s a brilliant, radiant child and Nat loves being with her because Asya, amidst not meeting you, carries on so much of you in her; not just your eyes, and it makes Nat feel like she has her best friend back.

***

Nat and Asya have established a fairly good routine by now. Every morning, Nat takes her on her morning hike around the property where they sweat and soak up some sun. Asya loves hiking with Nat, where halfway she asked her mother to give her a piggyback ride. Nat doesn’t complain, Asya practically weights anything. Asya also uses this time to ask Nat questions about anything and everything under the sun. Sometimes she makes Nat tell her stories about you and Nat talks her head off until they get back to the house.

After hiking, they would shower and then have some breakfast, mostly with the Starks. Nat's lucky that Asya’s not a picky eater. Breakfast is always a joy, the Starks loves Asya especially Morgan who treats her like a baby sister. Sometimes, Peter would swing by to catch up with Iron Dad, and his adoptive siblings.

***

After breakfast, everyone breaks off to do their stuff. Nat goes to S.H.I.E.L.D three times a week to help Deputy Director Hill on things. It has been a careful deliberation and discussion with her family before everyone agreed that not being coop up in the house is good for Nat. Tony only agreed after Nat promises that she'll do solely HQ work, no mission of any kind whatsoever.

Nat brings Asya along with her. At first, Nat was hesitant but Asya knows how to behave especially when she’s in public. She stays at her mother’s side or Auntie Maria when Nat has to step away for a minute.

After Asya’s first visit, S.H.I.E.L.D gave her an official ID that allows her to enter the premises. On her second visit, Maria gave her a tailored S.H.I.E.L.D uniform with ‘Romanova-Y/L/N' embroidered on it, which she insisted on wearing every time they go to work. Asya strutting around the HQ in her uniform gave her power over all agents on duty, Director Fury included. Nat rolls her eyes lovingly every time Asya bats her long eyelashes to get everyone to scram and procure whatever she wants.

“She is truly both yours and Y/N's daughter,” Maria commented after sitting next to Nat on the command center and watching Asya interact with the other agents.

“I’m scared that she’s this good at three,” Nat said chuckling.  

***

Maria never asks Nat to stay in the HQ all day, and in the event does she does, Maria always takes them to dinner. Nat and Maria maintained a very professional relationship between them in the past but without you and before Asya, Nat became more reclusive which worried her family. So Maria took a chance at friendship the moment she heard about Asya. Nat was surprised when Maria herself, without Nick, came down with flowers to congratulate her. They’ve become really good friends since then.

If Nat's dismissed from HQ early, Nat always brings Asya to Stardust Diner – your favorite - either before or after they go to a museums, library and/or the aquarium. Asya’s sense of wonder came from you, which only makes Nat fall in love with your little miracle more.

***

At night, a part of their nightly rituals is either Nat reading one of your books or showing her the scrapbook the team made to Asya. It’s a collection of photos with you that they’re able to unearth on their camera rolls. Most of them are hilarious, especially those photos of you goofing around with the boys. Some of them are downright sweet, like the photo of you and Wanda cuddling one movie night or the photo of you on Thor's back when you sprained your ankle after a recon mission. Looking at the photos always reminds Nat that she’s not grieving alone, the whole team, the whole family lost you too.

Sometimes it’ll be overwhelming for Nat, and Asya - bless her attentiveness and empathy - would close the scrapbook herself and cuddle her mother. On nights like this, Asya always ends up sleeping over in Nat’s room.

“It’s okay mama, I miss mom too,” Asya would murmur half asleep as she lay on Nat’s chest.

Even though it still hurts, Asya’s presence never fails to soothe her aching heart and soul. With Asya secure in her arms, Nat still sleeps with some semblance of peace.

***

Five

Life will keep moving forward whether you get on it or not but life was put on hold one morning after everyone received Thor’s request for an emergency meeting at HQ. The tension in the room is so thick, one can cut it with a plastic spoon. Tony’s pacing the room, Carol’s bouncing her leg on her seat, even Bucky’s tapping his fingers on the table.

“Relax. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Nat tried to assure the team.

“I don’t know how to relax. The last time we were all in the same room the world was ending,” Tony whispered through gritted teeth. Pepper put a hand on his shoulder and he instantly stopped moving and sighed.

“Maybe I should go check on Thor?” Carol asked as she rises from her chair, unable to sit still any longer. She’s nervous too, Tony’s right the last time they were all gathered together they lost you and Vision.

Just as Carol changed into her Captain Marvel uniform, an alarm sounded in the room; signaling Thor’s spaceship landing in the compound. Their collective hearts hammered as strong as the engines of the spacecraft.

“Finally,” Scott sighed.

***

It took a couple of more minutes before the engines died down. By the time, its entrance opened the whole team has gathered at its mouth. Director Fury and Deputy Director Hill are standing a little further, watching the whole scene.

“What’s happening Nick?” Maria asked.

Nick just shook his head. “Wait for it,” he said.

Rocket was the first to board off, he is still salty as per usual. Everyone gave him high fives. When he got to Nat and Asya, he smiled. Asya ruffled his head, everyone’s shock Rocket didn’t make a fuss.

“You’re in for a surprise, kid,” he said as he handed Asya a space rock. Asya and Morgan's growing a collection, most of them are from Carol. Asya thanked his furry little uncle before turning her attention to the rock.

Before Nat could say anything, Loki and Thor walked out of ship together. Nat tried to read the Asgardians but they’re not giving themselves away. The moment Thor set foot on dirt, there’s a cacophony of greetings and questions.

“Woah! Woah! Take a breathe people, there is no threat,” Thor said.

“If there’s no threat then why haul everyone here? Even T'Challa left Wakanda for this,” Sam said a little frustrated.

Before Thor can say anything else, everyone turned at the sound of another footstep inside the ship. When the person whose said footsteps belong to emerged, every single one of them lost their breath and their tether to earth and sanity.

***

Stepping off the spaceship was none other than you.

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