#mildly gory for a second right there be warned

[mossandfable]

Did I have a super gay dream a few days ago and turn it into a dime novel? Yes, yes I totally did.

Creative title of all time, I know I know.

I took tiny creative liberties for storytelling purposes, but the story starts and ends exactly where the dream did. I have no additional information as I personally was not present in my dream and only sort of?? Witnessed it?

(The plot twist in the end surprised me too which was what probably woke me up lmfao)

If you want to read it, it's 2K words right here under the cut!

[acertainmoshke]

Snippet (Part 1): Reputation

Ok so it didn't end up really gory in any sense of the word. But I like it anyway. And there will be a little blood in the next part, at least. No real content warnings except mildly ableist language and nongraphic mentions of injuries.

Fuck. Fuck it all. None of my usual ways of subtly getting out of this were about to work. I’d knelt to check on Lynn’s arm—definitely broken, and she was shaking, her crossbow forgotten on the floor—and so the wildlings hadn’t seen me. If they did, at first glance I would pass for a young human of uncertain gender (that had taken a lot of practice). But they were still busy looking at the children. Why was it always children?

Well. I say children. None of them were young like Cassie. Some of them might have even been 20, which for some of them meant they were 40. When I was their age, I was braving beyond the veil and adopting a kid.

But I hadn’t been ready for any of that. And they looked so young. Most of them had lost their weapons and had mild cuts and bruises. They stared at our captors. Our captors stared back, everyone floating in the momentarily calm eye of the storm.

One of the children nearest me—a changeling with tentacles circling her waist like a skirt—sniffed, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Lynn stopped shaking, took a breath, and tried to reach for her crossbow. She barely got halfway there before falling back with a half-stifled groan. She was trembling again, and when I reached out an arm to steady her, her skin felt hot.

The children weren’t up to fighting five grown wildlings. I needed to get Lynn back, now.

Oh, damn it all.

I tried to remember how it had felt, back then. The power rushing just under my skin. The confidence in knowing I was the scariest thing here. The looks on their faces when they realized I wasn’t going to let them run away.

I stood up, flipped my hair back and let it fall messily around my ears. Let my glamour slide away. I felt naked now without it, just as if I had torn off my skirt and sweater, but it had the desired effect. Their eyes flicked to me. I had to step around the children, shorter than almost everyone there, but the swagger it was much too easy to fall back into made me feel taller.

Even when I walked right up to the nearest wildling, who was tall like a tall human with floppy ears and mean-looking claws. Even when I looked straight up, right into his eyes, letting the pain of our gazes fuel the scorn in my voice.

“So you all are still picking on kids, then?”

More than one child bristled behind me, but none of them said anything.

“You have a problem with that, changeling?”

If I miscalculated, if none of them knew who I was, we were in trouble. I didn’t have an ice explosion in me tonight, after everything else I’d done. But surely, surely someone remembered. I couldn’t look that different, only with a few more wrinkles and somewhat fatter. The teeth and eyes were the important parts, and those remained the same.

“I do, yeah,” I hadn’t even planned to change my voice, which was already hard enough, but the old roughness slipped back into it, a hint of an accent I’d long since lost.

I grabbed his faded sweatshirt for good measure and pushed him, letting go and stepping back too fast for him to retaliate. His eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed and he started for me. Fine, then. Not ideal, but I could fight.

“Wait!” It was one of the other wildlings. He was thinner, with half-wing arms and a beak. “Just leave it. Let’s go, this isn’t worth it.”

The first wildling snorted in disbelief. “As if we don’t take on changelings all the time—”

“No. Not that one.” I chanced a glance and was relieved to see his eyes wide with real fear. “That one’s crazy.”

I let myself revel in the memories for a moment, the strength in pouncing off a roof and feeling the crack of ribs under my knees, of getting close enough for them to smell me and realize what I would do to win. My smile was slow and sharp.

“I don’t feel like fighting. You get one chance to leave.”

And they did. Even the skeptical one. Without so much as drawing the switchblade in my back pocket.

Lynn didn’t seem to fully understand what was going on, hunched over her injured arm, but the children backed away as I passed. Yeah, I remembered that feeling, too. But I ignored them; I had gotten them out of a much worse fate, what they thought of me didn’t really matter. So I picked up Lynn’s crossbow with one hand and convinced her to lean on my good shoulder and we headed back down the tunnel towards camp.

Tag list: @stesierra @amielbjacobs @ettawritesnstudies

[velvethana]

( — YELLOWJACKETS . ) CHAPTER ONE

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀“⠀⠀BIRDS OF A ⠀ FEATHER ⠀. ⠀”

warnings. ♱ (18+). lengthy series. gore. horror. cannibalism. cult activity. college au. swearing. vomit. humor. mildly suggestive. drug use. hallucinations and derealization. no smut. main character death. side character death.

chapter warnings. ♱ (18+) swearing. vomit mention. suggestive dialogue. drug use. slight derealization.

wk. 9.6k ♱

WILDERNESS (UNKNOWN)

The heart of winter beats still as the sound of hard breaths echo. Steady as he focuses, inhaling and exhaling to push himself to his limits.

The kind of darkness creeping that you only find thousands of miles from the warm, safe home you’re accustomed to. His eyes attempt to adjust as he’s hit repeatedly with the foliage he’s pushing through.

Light filters through boreal woods, giving him brief glimpses of the distance ahead.

Bare feet flying across snow-covered ground, branches lashing at filthy, blood-smeared arms and legs. A scream itches at the back of his throat but he lets nothing out.

Each gasp is a spectral apparition in the freezing air as screams of anguish and hunger echo through the woods.

Occasionally, a gust of wind sends a flurry of snowflakes against the crisp air and right into his face.

He bolts down an incline, when sudden he cries out, falling to his knees. A broken branch pierces his foot, nearly clean through to the other side.

Gritting his teeth, he rips it out and regains his footing, willing himself forward. Pushing through the pain.

Whatever you do— don’t let them catch you.

The woods abruptly give way to a large clearing surrounded by skeletal white birch. The boy halts to a stop at the edge of the glade, breath catching in his throat as he processes what he’s looking at.

Dozens of eyes carved into the surrounding trees. Around them, talismans hang from the branches, fashioned from bough and bone. Suddenly without warning, the overwhelming instinct to scream takes over as he lets out a strangled noise.

The air is filled with eerie, inhuman wails and as his own scream finally adds to the chorus of chaos— the woods fall completely silent.

Almost.

Somewhere behind him, a branch cracks, snapping him out of his terrified trance as he remembers where he is. Gritting his teeth and attempting to ignore the throbbing pain in his leg, he bolts.

And this time, they let him go.

His body pale in the fading light as he flies across the glade until suddenly— he disappears.

The snow-covered ground opening up beneath him, appearing to swallow him whole.

A figure in animal pelts emerges from the tree line, his face shrouded by the hood of his rough and matter coat. Breath haggard, he approaches the edge of the deep hole that was previously concealed by cover of snow.

A tiger trap.

As he kneels at the edge, peering down through the jagged maw of branches snapped by the runner’s fall, he stares down unmoving.

Splayed at the bottom of the pit. His limbs once swift were bent at terrible, unnatural angles, body imapled on thick wooden spikes.

The bloodied points protrude through his chest, his thigh, his face— now nothing but a gory mess from chin to brow. A small and familiar silver charm glints around her.

The hunter stands, seemingly satisfied. Then, as the furs of his coat part, revealing the tattered and torn soccer shirt.

INT. VICE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE (PRESENT)

“Would you say you were close with any of the students?”

The vice principal sits in front of Jongho, scribbling down on a journalists pad. The principal himself seems to be around his 60's, with a cultivated youthful zeal as he tents his fingers thoughtfully.

Jongho doesn’t believe in this fabricated cool in a second yet he allows him to ramble. “I would definitely not say that- not one of those kids gave a good goddamn about Trigonometry, I can tell you that much.”

“Do you keep in touch with any of the survivors?”

The man’s face shows a hint of sorrow— no it seems to lean closer towards the side of offense. “I mean, we're all survivors in a way, don't you think?”

Jongho raises an eyebrow, unmoving. The man must have sensed his distaste for that comment as he awkwardly shifts. “Then what do you think really happened out there?”

The vice principal frowns. “All I know is that what happened was a tragedy, a terrible tragedy.” He pauses for a moment, glancing at the closed door behind Jongho. A slip of vulnerability behind his eyes. Jongho flashes a coaxing smile.

“I probably shouldn't say this, but some of these kids? Eh, no big loss, if we're honest.” Jongho nods in understanding. He doesn’t understand in the slightest. “But those kids were special. They were champions.”

EXT. SKU HIGH FIELD (PAST)

The summer air is hot as the fields littered with various players: all curled lips and freckles with sweat swiped unthinkingly from cheeks and brows. Muscles tensed, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Suddenly there's a breakaway by the team in blue and gold.

The ball expertly moved upfield by their star mid-fielder Taehyun.

He negotiates one defender after another before sending the ball spinning in a long, perfectly-aimed pass.

The fullback and sweeper close in, desperate to intercept but it’s Yeonjun who connects instead, tapping the ball just past the goalie into the net.

Immediately, the other players erupt in high fives and childish butt slaps.

Yeonjun runs downfield and the other teammates give chase, grinning, before swarming him in ecstatic celebration.

Their hearts raced as the realization of the moment finally dawned on them— this was the moment that their team qualified for the National Championship.

Arms carelessly throw around each other, the group jumps up and down as a chorus of cheers rings out.

“BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!”

Team captain, coltish beauty and hero of the hour whether he deserves to be or not. Choi Yeonjun— 18 and right now, as always, he is a God and worshipped accordingly.

Yeonjun casually jogs back into position with a loose and triumphant joy.

EXT. YEONJUN’S HOME — NEXT MORNING

The city of Seoul is a concrete haven to those who lived there. A metropolis known for its vibrant blend of tradition and cutting-edge modernity. The heart of its’ country.

Living in the city is a mess of contradictions. Friends with lies bubbling just underneath the surface hidden with smiles.

Tiredly, Yeonjun stares at himself in the mirror. It’s early morning before he has to rush off back to school and he furiously brushes his teeth.

He spits and rinses, gaze unmoving.

His expression was impassive as he considers himself in the mirror, reaching up to absent-mindedly play with the delicate silver chain dangling just below the hollow of his throat.

Choi Soobin sits idle at the curb in his beat-to-shit Ford Festiva, quietly discontent as he scribbled in the journal in his lap.

He glances out the window at Yeonjun’s picturesque colonial. Red brick, shutters, perfectly manicured lawn. ‘The nice side of town’ it would be most accurately described as.

Out of the corner of his eye he spots movement and narrows his eyes, glancing over to Yeonjun’s window where he spots Chaewon climbing down from a second story window.

She hits the ground, glancing briefly in his direction like a deer in headlights before hopping the neighbor’s fence.

Finally, Yeonjun emerges from the front door, looking utterly perfect as usual. It’s almost irritating to Soobin in a way. Brushing the feeling aside, he quickly stashes the journal in his backpack as Yeonjun climbs in.

“We’re gonna be late.” Soobin says.

Yeonjun rolls his eyes as he kicks his feet on the dashboard as he’s done hundreds of times. “We’re gonna be fine, relax.”

Soobin gives him an annoyed look, glancing at his feet on the dash before deciding against arguing. When it came to Yeonjun, he found it was best to let him do what he wanted when it came to trivial matters.

Starting the car, Soobin pulls off of the curb and onto the empty residential street to make their way towards the school.

Glancing at Yeonjun, he mumbles.

“This is like the fifth time I'm missing homeroom this month...”

Yeonjun snickered. “Then I guess you better put the pedal to the metal. See what this shit-heap can really do.”

Soobin scoffs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“This shit-heap has a name, thank you very much. And that name is Caruto.”

Yeonjun grins, dropping his feet to lean forward and pat the dash harsh and affectionately.

“Sorry, Uzumaki.”

On the stereo there’s a droll alto of a woman singing some rather boorish lyrics. Yeonjun wrinkles his nose and jabs the button, silencing it.

An off putting pop punk song suddenly blares from the speakers about instead. Innocently, off Soobin’s irritated facial expression Yeonjun’s lips form a pout of realization.

“Oh, were you listening to that?”

Soobin glanced over, a playful look in his eyes as he raised his eyebrows.

“No, it fell into the tape deck and accidentally pressed play.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes but doesn't put the tape back on and hums along to the new song.

“I saw Chaewon…” Soobin paused, voice growing a bit timid afterward.

“What happened to no distractions before Nationals? "Ripping off the band-aid" and all that?” Yeonjun shrugged, rolling down the window to lean on as he began flipping through radio stations again.

“I've decided showing up to college a virgin is a mistake. No offense.” Soobin glares at him from the corner of his eye but lets him continue.

“Plus at this point we've been together for so long. If we’re each other’s firsts then she thinks we’ll be ‘linked forever’. It’s like, poetic, or something.” Soobin scoffed. “Very romantic.”

Flashing him a grin, Yeonjun continued seamlessly. “Oh, that reminds me. I decided on a color palette for our room next year. Blue and red, not too American though. More like midnight campfire under the stars… or something along those lines.”

Soobin glances at Yeonjun, a little uneasy. Avoiding the particular subject of college, something Yeonjun’s been pushing for, he decided to focus on the other topic of conversation at hand.

“Chaewon’s a virgin?”

Not that it was his business or he even particularly seemed to care, Yeonjun gave him a confused look at the unusual pry for information.

“We've been together since freshman year.” Yeonjun rationalized. “It’s the 21st century, it doesn’t matter whether she is or not but I don’t have any reason to believe she’d lie to me.”

Soobin tapped his finger against the steering wheel impatiently. “Yeah, but. I mean, you guys have broken up like… ten thousand times.”

Yeonjun threw the same carefree grin towards Soobin that he always did when it came to his concerns about their relationship. “Never long enough to count.”

Soobin continued driving for a while in silence, Yeonjun looking out the window as he picked at his nail polish.

Suddenly a sign catches Yeonjun’s attention as he glances up as they pass Bonny’s Pizza Pub. He glares at the roadside marquee reading: “We’re proud of our Varsity Baseball Team!”

“The hell is this bullshit?” He asks, scoffing as he waved his hands out the window frantically.

“Those assholes were under .500 all season—“ he pointed directly at it as he swung over the drivers seat, hitting Soobin on the shoulder.

“Soobin, honk at that thing!”

Dragging himself out of his thoughts, Soobin had a clueless look of confusion on his face.

“Huh— Why?”

Yeonjun pouted, reaching across Soobin to do it himself. As the harsh sound of the horn aired, his pout was soon replaced with a cheeky grin.

“So they know they're bullshit!” Soobin laughs as Yeonjun lays on the horn again. “They're just going to think you're like, saluting mediocre baseball.” Soobin argued.

Yeonjun shook his head, “Oh, they'll know. Here, take over.”

Yeonjun leaned out as they drove by, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Try undefeated, bitches! We're going to motherfucking NATIONALS!”

EXT. SCHOOL BACK ALLEYWAY

Beomgyu used all the muscles in his face in the moment trying hard to seem like he didn’t give a shit as he choked down a swig of something from a brown paper bag.

“Ugh.. What is that?”

His friends laugh as he pulls the bottle of Old Wren Scotch and inspects the label.

“And here I thought jocks were supposed to be able to party.” Yunjin teased. Beomgyu continued to cough as he passed her the bottle. “Eat me.”

As Yunjin takes a swig of her own, she enters a coughing fit and begins sputtering. “Oh— that is terrible.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, “Okay, you know what? You can both go suck a dick.”

Yunjin laughs, hitting him on the shoulder as he defensively snatches the bottle away from her. “And just maybe we will.”

Heeseung is smiling too before his phone goes off. His eyes light up as he checks the number. “Oh shit, it's my cousin...” curiously, Beomgyu tilts his head as he leans against the wall behind him.

“Did he get us the stuff?”

“Yeah, ton—” Before Heeseung can finish, an all too familiar voice calls out. “Hey, burnout! Show us your tits!” Yunjin narrows her eyes at the douchebag leaning out the passenger window of his idling car.

Beomgyu glances uneasily at Yunjin and she looks down, flushing with embarrassment. It wasn’t that she had done anything for this torment— it was the unfortunate experience of being a high school girl.

“C’mon, don't be shy...” sensing her unease, Heeseung nudged her in a comforting motion before passing the bottle to Yunjin.

“I mean, shit! If you really wanna see em!”

Heeseung grips the hem of his shirt with one hand. The guys in the car laugh as he starts to do a ‘sexy’ dance.

Seemingly satisfied, they start up the car to drive away.

Yunjin bites the inside of her cheek, making a decision. She tightens her grip on the bottle and chucks it at the receding car with all his strength.

The car slams on the brakes as the bottle smashes against its rear window. Suddenly screeching in reverse, Heeseung narrows his eyes at Yunjin. “The fuck, Yunjin? They're gonna kick our ass, not yours!”

Yunjin shrugs, crossing her arms. “Only if they catch you. Show them how fast the Yellowjackets can run!”

All three share a look before hauling ass as fast as they can. Beomgyu can’t help the laughs that come out, causing his friends to laugh along with him sprinting down the alley.

EXT. SKU HIGH HALLWAY

As students make their way to first period in a preponderance of unisex flannel, there’s a teacher on hall-duty. She's doing her best to look authoritative. Her results are middling.

“Slow it down, Mr. Kim. There are rules against running in the hall. I assume. I haven't seen any official documentation, but the other teachers seem pretty against it, so...” her voice trails off as she turns a corner to find Assistant Coach Choi San.

Early graduate and alumni, he landed a job as Assistant coach fairly easily. His good looks seem to have an obvious impact on her as he gives a friendly smile.

“Hey, Arin! Did you talk to Coach?”

“Who?” Arin pauses, tapping her chin. “Oh, Baekho. Yeah.”

San tilts his head to the smile, smile unmoving. He has a kind and calming presence that leaves her feeling unguarded, an effect he seems to have on mostly everyone.

“So... are you in?”

Arin laughs nervously, “Well, it's like I said, I don't really know anything about soccer.” San opens his mouth to counter but she raises her hand to stop him. “Like at all.”

“C’mon think of it as a paid vacation… we’ll have fun. Besides, we already qualified for Nationals. I think we're good on the soccer front.”

As if suddenly realizing Arin’s lips separate with a sigh of air.

“Oh, you’re going too?”

San raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. The uniform he’s wearing doesn’t help to hide his muscles much at all. He continues as if it’s obvious. “I'm the assistant coach. Wait… why do you think I dress like this?”

This is new information to Arin but considering how good looking he is, she supposes it makes sense. Finally, she gives into his pushing with a small smile.

“Well, I guess if it would make the school board happy to have a girl there. I mean.. woman. I-I mean.. go Jackets! Haha..”

San grins, raising his fist up teasingly to bump it against her own. “Buzz, buzz, buzz! That's great, really. Welcome aboard.”

She’s unclear if he’s purposely flirting and hopes that it’s just in his nature to act this way. “Thanks. Maybe you could teach me some of the basics? I probably should know some stuff…”

San nodded, the creases by his eyes irritatingly adorable. “Yeah, sure. Can you come to practice this afternoon?”

Arin frowns. “I have a make-up bio lab. Myung Jaehyun, the whole Lyme’s disease situation. But we could grab a drink tonight?”

A look of surprised crossed San’s features before he nodded in agreement. Clapping her hands together, Arin hummed. “It's a date! I mean, not a date, date. It's a plan. A friendly agreement.”

INT. COED SOCCER TEAM LOCKER ROOM

The locker room was irritating to say the least as the sound of doors slamming shut and idle chatter rang about.

Leehan stares miserably at the mirror as Yeonjun paints a bee on his cheek. Around them, there's a flurry of activity as the rest of the team changes into uniforms and applies face paint.

“Leehan. You okay?” The boy nods and Yeonjun gives him a brotherly smile.

“It’s just a pep rally. All we have to do is run in and then stand there looking good. Honestly, I think the whole point is just to give freshman something to fantasize about later.” Leehan frowns, giving Yeonjun a haughty look as he snickers.

“I'm not nervous.” Leehan begins. Before he can continue, Y/N peeks her head in through the door. “Yeonjun?”

They look over to see her leaning in the doorway. “Coach wants to see you in his office.”

As Yeonjun passes off the brush to one of his teammates, he gives Y/N a friendly smile as he gently moves past her. Leehan pouts as Kai, his terminally cheerful teammate finishes painting his bee.

“I'm the only freshman who got asked, you know. And now it doesn't even matter. It's so unfair.”

Leehan pouts, scandalized by the sheer injustice. At the other end of the mirrors, Taehyun rolls his eyes with Beomgyu and Soobin.

“My suit was gonna be amazing. I mean— I even bought us matching accessories.” Kai gave him a smile, voice almost diplomatic as he tried to lend him some empathy their other teammates weren’t extending.

“Well, at least you can wear it next year.” Leehan gives him a withering look before speaking with total sincerity.

“You don’t get it Kai, because nobody asked you.”

Kai nods, trying to look sympathetic. “You’re done.” Despite his attempt, there was a hint of annoyance in his sweet tone.

Leehan looked in the mirror and smiled before walking off. Y/N pushed herself off of the doorway as he walked out past her, groaning as she looked into the mirror to touch up her makeup.

“Jesus Christ. Maybe someone should tell Prince Charming over there to worry less about prom and more about not fucking up at Nationals.” Taehyun crossed his arms, watching as she fixed up her hair.

“If he plays like he did at States...” As Taehyun assessed Leehan in his mind, he shook his head. “That’s not gonna happen. I’ll handle it.” Raising an eyebrow at him through the mirror, Y/N smiled as she widened her eyes dramatically. “Ooh, scary.”

INT. COACH SIM’S OFFICE

Trophies and equipment were riddled within cinderblock walls of the Coach’s office. It was much less picturesque compared to the rest of the school.

On the desk a photo sat of him, his wife and his two sons. To Yeonjun, everything looks like it smells like coffee and cigarettes.

Coach Sim gestures to the chair in front of his desk. Lighting a Marlboro, he glances up at Yeonjun.

“I'm going to talk to you like an adult. Is that okay with you?”

Yeonjun gets the sense that it's a favorite question of his by the tone he took. Cautiously, he nods.

“Do you know why I made you team captain this year?”

Yeonjun tries to project an air of mature humility as he goes to answer but is cut off. “Obviously it isn't because you're our best player.”

Even though he knew that he agreed deep down, he bit his tongue as he waited for him to finish.

“Soobin’s faster, Kai’s got you on footwork by a mile, and Taehyun, well, he could have a real future in the sport, maybe.”

Letting out a sigh he wasn’t aware he had been keeping in, Yeonjun decided to pry. “Is this... a pep talk?”

“Yeonjun, you possess something nobody else on this team has: influence. When it gets tough out there, these kids are going to be looking for someone to guide them. Can you handle that?”

There’s a beat as Yeonjun considers. It’s a heavy duty to take on but as the oldest of his team, he decides that it should be him to shoulder the burden.

Yeonjun nods, the picture of determination. “Don't worry, Coach. I've got this.”

EXT. SKU GYM

The boys baseball team stands lined up behind the vice principal at a podium on the gym floor. “Alright, let's hear it for the boys! Let's give them a hand.”

The bleachers are packed with students, exhibiting the various levels of enthusiasm you'd expect from a mandatory pep rally. Supportive shouts from the other jocks, eye rolls from the burnouts and everything in between.

The principal sighs, “Thanks, guys. You did your best.”

At the edge of the court, Coach Sim stands with Assistant Coach San and Sunoo, the team’s equipment manager. “Now, our next act needs no introduction. Let’s all make some noise for your Soccer Champions!”

As music starts to blare from the speakers, the crowd goes— well, not wild, exactly. It is high school soccer. But it’s okay, because Sunoo is fired enough for everybody. Pumping his fist, WOO-ing for all he’s worth to motivate his friends.

Coach San glances at him, amused, as the team jogs onto the court. Each member exhuding all confidence and grace. Like storming gladiators in a way, Sunoo’s enthusiasm seems contagious as the applause builds, feet rumbling against wooden bleachers.

“BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!”

EXT. WILDERNESS (UNKNOWN)

Pink strains of dawn are just starting to peek through the dark silhouette of trees. There’s the sound of rope, pulled taught against wood, a rasping creak.

The runner’s corpse now hanging upside down by the rope binding his ankles. Snowflakes drift through the early light as the hunter and a new figure, the butcher, work to hoist the body from a tree branch.

After a beat of silence, another figure— the overseer— joins them. There’s a moment, before they nod their approval.

There’s splashes of blood hitting the snow, ruining its’ delicate state as the butcher slits the runner’s throat with a hunting knife. Bleeding him out like a prize buck.

EXT. SKU HIGH COURTYARD

As Soobin exits the school, he approaches Beomgyu, Y/N and Taehyun who seemed to be conferring in hushed tones on their way to practice.

“This is what we've been working for all season. You really want to take that chance?” Taehyun asked, kicking at the ground.

Beomgyu scoffed, “Yeah. 'Cause I'm not a fucking asshole.” Doe eyes wide and alert, Soobin pulled on the strap of his backpack. “What are you guys talking about?”

They all glance towards Leehan, messing around playfully with some other freshmen on the other side of the courtyard.

“Leehan.” Y/N says simply. Soobin’s lips press into a frown, “What about him?”

“Did you black out at States? He totally choked.” Taehyun says. Beomgyu sighed. Taehyun’s competitive nature for sport was no secret but he still couldn’t help but find his annoyance harsh.

“He’s a freshman, Tyun.” Taehyun just frowned. “He’s a liability.” Soobin glances in Yeonjun’s direction uncertainly. Talking with Chaewon and her friends, he seems completely oblivious to his own teams’ conspiring.

“What do you want to do about it?” Soobin asked wearily. Beomgyu gives Taehyun a look. “Go ahead. Tell him.”

“He can't screw up if he doesn't get the ball.” He said simply. Soobin frowns. “You want to freeze him out?”

Beomgyu scoffs, “We'd basically be a man down. At Nationals.” Although he’s trying to rationalize, it just seems to add more tension to the situation.

“At least we'd know what we're working with.” Taehyun says. “I don't know, Tyun. He kinda sucks, but... it doesn't feel right.” Y/N says, crossing her arms as she looks over toward Leehan.

Beomgyu scoffed, expecting more defense from her. “That's because it's bullshit.” Taehyun scoffs this time. What he wants to say is fuck you but rather than that, he decides to bite his tongue. “Oh yeah? What's your plan, then?”

Beomgyu shook his head, “I dunno, play like a fucking team and win? It's worked so far.”

The tension in the group was clear, Y/N picking at her nails with her eyes cast downward. Soobin seemed to pick up on her anxiety and offered her a squeeze on the shoulder.

Taehyun and Beomgyu didn’t butt heads as often as the rest of them but when they did, it was obvious to stay clear.

“Everything works until it doesn't.” Taehyun argued. “And for the record, you smell like a wino. Get your shit together Gyu.”

Beomgyu takes a step towards him and glances at Y/N, then changes his mind. “You know what? Fuck this.” Beomgyu stalks off, shoulder checking Taehyun as he leaves. Soobin lingers back fully considering what Taehyun was proposing.

“Yeonjun’s not gonna like it.” He said. Taehyun huffed. “Then we probably shouldn't tell him.” Soobin hesitates before nodding.

EXT. SKU HIGH SOCCER FIELD (PAST)

Students in various athletic— soccer track— tread lightly as they head out to their respective fields.

Taehyun, Soobin and Y/N arrive just behind Beomgyu as Yeonjun finishes leading the rest of the team through a series of stretches.

Coach San clapped his hands together to get their attention. “Okay, circle up!” There's a short whistle blast as Coach San jogs onto the field.

“JV's gonna help us out with a little scrimmage today. Coach Sim had to take care of a family thing, so grab a pinny from Sunoo and let's get started.”

“Excuse me, Coach San? Shouldn't we say the lords’ prayer?” Jungwon’s voice asked gently and Niki groaned, leaning back on the field with a ‘thud’.

It wasn’t that Jungwon was particularly annoying or pushy about his religion, he was just certainly pert and could get on your last nerve. A few members of the team roll their eyes and glance over as Coach San expectantly who just chuckles.

“It's.. just a scrimmage, Jungwon.” Off his insistent look, he sighs and nods towards him. “..Sure. Knock yourself out.”

The team reluctantly forms a circle, heads bowed, hands joined as Jungwon recited the lords’ prayer.

Regardless of what anyone on the team thought, these circles had became a tradition at this point due to his sheer persistence and belief in them.

The scrimmage began shortly thereafter and as it progresses, Soobin dribbles upfield, easily maneuvering around the JV defender.

Leehan races open on his left but Soobin ignores him, opting for a trickier pass to Kai. When Beomgyu darts in and redirects the ball to Leehan who fumbles, then panicking as the defense closes in, sending a wild pass out of bounds.

As Coach San’s whistle blows, Beomgyu throws Soobin and Taehyun a defiant look of disappointment.

Soobin and Taehyun work together to keep Leehan out of the play throughout the game as Beomgyu undermines their efforts every chance he gets. Yeonjun shoots Soobin a look as to ask ‘what the fuck is going on?’

Taehyun gestures for a time out and jogs over to Coach San. As hard as he focused, Beomgyu couldn’t hear their conference, but he got the gist when Taehyun strips off his red pinny. He hands it over to the JV sweeper playing against Leehan, switching sides and sticks his tongue out teasingly at Beomgyu.

“C'mon, Varsity. Your own defense wants to see you step it up. And frankly, that makes two of us.” San clapped his hands together encouragingly, “Let's see some hustle!”

San blows the whistle and JV kicks off, this time with Taehyun playing for the other side. He’s all over Leehan: crowding, holding and talking shit per usual.

There’s another pass to Leehan, when Taehyun slide tackles him hard. As the ball rolls out of bounds, and the whistle blows foul Yeonjun finally voices his irritation.

Jogging up to Taehyun, he grabs his shoulder. “What's your problem? Are you- okay? Did something happen?” Playing dumb, Taehyun jerks his shoulder out of his grip. “What?”

Confused, Yeonjun pouts. “Just… ease up on the kid.” Soobin watches the interaction, then works his way closer to Taehyun as the players get ready for the inbound throw.

“C'mon, Tyun. This isn't helping.” Taehyun shrugs. “If we can't freeze him out, he’s gonna have to learn to play under pressure.” He rationalizes.

Before Soobin can respond, the coach’s whistle blows and play resumes. Taehyun’s strategy is set in action as he stays on Leehan taking a beating, frustrated. Only the harder Taehyun goes, the more the team realizes his strategy is working.

Leehan grimaces in concentration, negotiating the ball around Taehyun with a slick cruyff turn. In the corner, Leehan shoulders Taehyun hard to clear space for a pass and he chuckles in disbelief.

Leehan sprints to get open, Taehyun hot on his heels. Soobin fires a long lofted pass. Leehan and Taehyun are both vying for the ball as it arcs high in the air when Leehan jumps for a header and Taehyun instinctively juts his foot out, catching his ankle as he comes back down.

There's a sickening, audible snap as Leehan’s leg seemingly collapses. Buckling and breaking in a compound fracture that is a total peversion of the human form.

There's a beat of silence— an eerie stillness— as Leehan collapses on the field. Jagged bone puncturing the skin, blood spreading, soaking into the grass as he screams before all hell breaks loose.

Y/N screams as someone else begins to cry— Kai covers his mouth to try and swallow the nausea that arose. Taehyun backs away, stunned, horrified, as Coach San rushes to Leehan’s side.

Despite the fact he should keep his cool, he lets it slip out of sheer disbelief of the situation. “Holy fuck.” Trying to keep his shit together, he takes a deep breath. “Just— We need an ambulance. There's a phone in the coach’s office. Sunoo! Go.”

Sunoo nods, like a soldier in battle for some reason, before taking off. San watches for a beat before pulling himself back to reality. “Shit. Just— keep him calm! Don’t move him.”

He takes off after Sunoo as Soobin approaches Leehan, hyperventilating on the ground. He looks around, trying to find Yeonjun. He finds him pale, wide-eyed, frozen in place.

Knowing he should do something but hesitating, unsure of what to do. As if one wrong move could shake the entire balance of the team.

“Yeonjun.”

Soobin calls for him but he doesn’t move. His eyes are shot as he stares, seemingly in a bit of shock. Steeling himself, Soobin gets down on the ground, trying not to look at the leg and all the blood. Taking Leehan’s hand he tried to muster up a comforting smile, though his face was contorted in discomfort.

“Hey, look at me, Leehan. You're going to be fine. I'm right here.”

Beomgyu quickly joined him on the ground, dropping to his knees. “We're all right here. Okay?”

Soobin glances at him, grateful. As Leehan looks up at them and nods, shaky, he was clearly in shock.

INT. COED SOCCER TEAM LOCKER ROOM

There’s near silence as the team changes. Everyone is still a little shell shocked from what happened. An edgy feeling. Something combustible in the air.

Taehyun is sitting by himself. Everyone else is avoiding eye contact except Beomgyu, who's giving him a death glare.

Yeonjun looks around at his team before taking a deep breath.

“I know we're all worried about Leehan. But… I really think we need to focus on the positive right now! It might not be as bad as it looks.”

Beomgyu scoffs at Yeonjun’s blind optimism.

“You could see his fucking bones, Yeonjun. I'm pretty sure it's exactly as bad as it looks!”

Kai covered his mouth and turned away, “Oh god. I think I'm gonna puke again...” Beomgyu put his hand on his back gently.

Yeonjun glares at Beomgyu, unused to his authority being questioned. Trying to recover the situation, he sighs.

“I mean we’re still a team. And we still have each other, okay? And…” Jungwon swallowed. “We have faith.”

Y/N groaned, rolling onto her side as she pushed herself to sit up on the bench. “This wasn't exactly a big win for the power of prayer, Wonnie.”

Jungwon gave a nervous smile, “the world works in mysterious wa-” There’s a loud bang as Beomgyu slams his locker, giving Soobin a particularly nasty look as he storms out.

“Okay… guess he’s not up for a theological discussion.” Yeonjun shoots Y/N a look and she simply shrugs.

INT. SOOBIN'S HOUSE

Soobin and Yeonjun sat in a cramped attic room in a ramshackle house. Faded wallpaper, and soccer trophies littering the shelves.

“I don't know, it feels weird to just go like nothing happened...” Soobin said. Yeonjun sat putting on concealer at a small light-up vanity. Admiring his reflection, he made sure it was blended perfectly to cover anything up.

Satisfied, his attention shifts to the photos on the desk— him and Soobin at various ages. A talent show. The beach. Halloween.

“I mean, it's not like skipping the party is going to un-fuck Leehan’s leg. Plus, it's tradition. And we're already missing prom...”

Yeonjun sits back, fingering the chain around his neck. Then, bored, he starts opening vanity drawers. He pulls out an old prayer card of the Virgin Mary, turning it over.

“Oh my god, remember when you tried to get your mom to let you become Catholic? What did you call it?” Soobin, still shaken from the afternoon ruffles his hair in the mirror as he fixes his shirt over his jeans.

“My ‘spiritual awakening.’” Yeonjun snickers, “You were such a weird kid. What were you, like, nine?” Then, Soobin walks out into the room. “Eleven. I liked the saints. They were all so tragic.”

Yeonjun gives the basic outfit a once-over. Shaking his head no. As Soobin heads back into the closet, Yeonjun begins. “Lucky you had me to save you from yourself... You know, Kazuha’s going to be at the party tonight.”

Soobin gave Yeonjun a confused look, “Um, okay..” Yeonjun hums. “She asked Chaewon to ask me if you were gonna be there...” Soobin reemerges in the same jeans with a new white button up.

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. “Definitely not.” Soobin crosses his arms. “Kazuha? Really?”

Yeonjun shrugs. “What? She’s basically Chaewon’s best friend. I just thought you might want to know she asked about you... plus she’s pretty quiet and respectable. Opposites attract or whatever.”

Soobin stares at himself in the mirror as Yeonjun begins to toss a stress ball up in the air, catching it and repeating. “So I’m not respectable?” Yeonjun snickers but Soobin just glares at himself in the mirror.

“I don’t need a girlfriend right now.” There’s a snap in his tone and Yeonjun looks over confused. “Jesus, I wasn’t saying you had to marry the girl.” Soobin doesn’t respond, trying to find another outfit that suites his friends’ standards.

“Whatever— are you ready, or what? C'mon, we're gonna be late...”

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

Deep in the woods. Moving towards the glow of a fire, somewhere amongst the trees was a gathering of students. Hundreds, maybe.

A souped-up 4runner barrels in, a dented keg secured in the back. Teenage boys jump out to heave the keg to the ground as several other cars pull up alongside.

Soobin huffed as he realized they’re at a typical teenage hang-out spot. More specifically, the site of Kim Chaewon's famous annual kegger.

Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun and Soobin stood red solo cups in hand hanging with Chaewon and her friends. Yeonjun hits a bong as the girls laugh, Chaewon leaning into him to playfully mess up his hair.

There’s a few jealous stares from unknown sources as Yeonjun holds court, putting on a show. He turns away from Chaewon and grabs Soobin’s hand to insist he takes a hit.

Resistant, Soobin instead chugs his beer. Heeseung makes his way past the scene, finding Beomgyu and Yunjin. “You guys. My cousin hooked us up.”

Beomgyu’s eyes light up with a sparkle. “You got it?” Heeseung grins, holding out his hand to reveal several tiny squares of paper.

“I have six words, my friend. Lucy. In. The. Sky. With. Diamonds.” Yunjin rolled her eyes, laughing. “That is, like, literally the least efficient way to say that.” As Beomgyu snatches one of the tabs from his palm, Yunjin grabbed his hand.

“Dude. Don't you guys leave for the Olympics or whatever tomorrow?” Beomgyu paused, swallowing the lump in his throat as he thought about leaving. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

“Yeah. We do.” He gave them both a look, daring either to say anything else. Yunjin shrugs as if it’s not her problem. Beomgyu takes the hit and Heeseung laughs.

Beomgyu closes his eyes for a moment, letting it dissolve as Heeseung’s arm finds a home on his shoulder.

“We are gonna ace that shit, my friend. We are champions.”

Somehow through the buzz of the party, Soobin found himself watching Yeonjun and Chaewon from a distance. A feeling of uneasiness and irritation at how easy it was for them to resume their relationship. His expression was unreadable.

Soobin rolls his eyes in disgust, then drains his cup. Heading for the keg to get another, he stumbles a bit only to find Taehyun already waiting for a beer.

Taehyun doesn’t notice him getting on line behind him at first but Soobin makes sure he does. “I admire your resilience, Tyun. It can't be easy knowing you fucking crippled someone today.”

Taehyun turned, eyes wide for a moment before realizing how completely shit-faced his friend was. Frowning for a moment, he hummed before giving him a forced smile.

“Cool. Good talk.” He starts to walk away, when Soobin shakes his head. “Just admit you did it on purpose.” Taehyun scoffs, turning toward him. “Excuse me?

Soobin pouted, stumbling to a halt as Taehyun walked back up to him. “You heard me.” Taehyun shook his head. “You know me, I wouldn’t have done that on purpose. I’m not heartless.”

Soobin threw his cup on the ground to emphasize his point. “You’re a fucking sociopath!” People started watching now, the argument garnering the attention of a few of their teammates as they head over.

Although the words hurt, Taehyun didn’t bother to argue back. The guilt lingering in him refused to let him defend himself. “You're wasted, Soobin.”

Kai makes his way over and puts a hand on Soobin’s shoulder, ready to lead him away. “Hey, Soobin, take it easy...” he shrugs it off.

“Good news, you guys. We don't have to worry about the Leehan problem anymore. Taehyun fixed it for us!” Jungwon’s eyes widened and he looked at Jay who shrugged, looking just as confused as he was.

“What's he talking about?”

Beomgyu walked over, jaw locked as he clenched his teeth. “He’s talking about Taehyun’s little plan.”

Taehyun scoffs, “Please. Since when do you give a shit anyway? Don't you have a bong to hit or a dick to suck, or something?”

Soobin jumped to Beomgyu’s defense. “Hey. Don't talk to him that way.” Beomgyu laughed. “Oh, fuck off, Soobin. I don't need you to defend me anymore. Last I checked, you were fine with the whole ‘freeze him out' strategy...”

Jungwon scratched his cheek, look of confusuon only worsening. “Seriously, what are you guys talking about?”

Soobin and Beomgyu’s voices boomed out in unison, “Shut the fuck up, Jungwon!”

Stepping forward, Niki chimed in. “Don’t talk to him like that, what the fuck?”

As the situation continues to escalate, Yeonjun finally seems to catch wind of the brewing fight. He frowns, heading off in the direction of the keg. Only to confront a full-on verbal barrage, everyone yelling at once.

Jungwon shot a glare at Kai. “Let me finish! LET ME-” Kai ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You interrupted me!” Soobin leaned into Taehyun’s face, pointing at him. “Go ahead and say that again, dickhead.”

An even bigger crowd gathered and Kazuha twirled a strand of hair around her finger, Chaewon standing idly by her. “Boys are so catty, aren’t they?” She hummed. “So aggro…”

Yeonjun storms in, taking in the situation at hand. “That’s it.” Thrusting himself into the middle of the maelstrom and extending his hands between Soobin and Taehyun, he shouted.

“Enough!”

Everyone stops as Yeonjun crosses his arms, glaring. Then, turning on his heels he motions for them to follow.

“Yellowjackets, WITH ME. NOW.”

The rest of them watch as he stomps off into the woods beyond the bonfire. Clearly expecting them to follow suit. There’s a beat of silence, before one after one, they do.

Soobin is the last to hold out. As he reluctantly follows the rest of the team. Yeonjun is pacing in front of his teammates like a body-glittered Patton. Sizing them up. A few look a little drunk. All of them look fucking miserable. Beomgyu, in particular, looks unsteady, as the acid starts to kick in.

“I don't know what the fuck that was, but I do know that it's over. We're about to go to Nationals, you guys. Nationals. And based on what I'm looking at right now, we might as well not even bother getting on that plane.”

He thinks for a second. “Alright, everybody line up… I'm fucking serious. LINE UP.” Almost as a reflex to his tone, they do. Then, a small smile playing on his lips, he continues. “I'm going to talk to you like adults. Is that okay with you?”

A few smile as they recognize the coach’s catchphrase. “Coach is always telling us that you can't win without three things. Talent. Trust. And respect.” Yeonjun taps his foot impatiently.

“I mean, Coach also talks a lot of bullshit, but I'm pretty sure he's right about that. So here’s what we’re gonna do. I want each of you to go down this line and say one nice- true- thing about every other person on this team.”

The others exchange looks. “Is he fucking serious?” Niki asked.

Dragging his feet into line, Jay threw the rest of them a confused look after having missed a majority of the argument.

“What is this, fucking Boy Scouts?” Yeonjun ignored the comment with a slight tsk before continuing, “Who wants to go first?”

Nobody makes eye contact before finally. “I’ll go, Yeonjun.” Solemnly, Jungwon steps out and walks to the end of the line. Starting with Taehyun.

“Taehyun, you are beautiful in the eyes of the lord.” Taehyun lets out an exasperated exhale before Jungwon steps over to Kai who gave him a smug smile.

“Kai, you are beautiful in the-” Y/N groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “Oh my god this kid…” Yeonjun sighed, clapping his hands together.

“He took one religious class for the grade point and they brainwashed him… free my man Jungwon.”

“Jungwon, fall back!” Jungwon falls back into line between Jay and Niki as Yeonjun puts his hands on his hips, foot tapping impatiently.

“Fuck. Fine, I'll go first.” He walks over to Taehyun and looks him directly in the eye. “Kang Taehyun, you have more fight in you than anyone I've ever known. I’m inspired by your determination and hard work.”

He then steps over to Kai.

“Huening Kai, your smile makes me feel happy, every time I see it. You’re the undeniable force that holds us all together.”

Next, Jungwon.

“Jungwon, I truly admire your faith and kindness. You’re insanely skilled for your age and I can’t wait to see you take over this team.”

Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek, pulling at the skin inside anxiously as his head spins, the acid worsening the effects. “Beomgyu, I love that you don't care what anybody else thinks. You're more completely yourself than anyone else I know and you are incredibly warm, even if you don’t think so.”

Glancing down the line, Yeonjun’s heart swells. “Y/N. Your ambition inspires me. I have no doubt you're gonna take over the world some day.”

Kai snickered, “She's also deadly at beer pong.”

Yeonjun clapped his hands together, jumping excitedly at the comment. “Well, go ahead then. Tell her. C'mon, guys. If we do this one at a time, we'll be here all night...”

Rolling their eyes with affection, the members shyly start to turn to each other. Turning to Jungwon, Kai tapped his elbow with his finger. “Jungwon, you... have really shiny hair?” Raising an eyebrow, Jungwon gave him a confused smile.

Beomgyu swallowed down the dryness in his throat, clearing it quickly before looking Y/N in the eyes. “Y/N L/N, you never talk shit unless someone really deserves it.“ he paused for a moment, eyes traveling to the top of her head before he chuckled. “I… also really like your pilgrim hat.”

Y/N who was— definitely not wearing a hat— had a look of confusion before shaking her head, deciding to accept the strange compliments and move on. “Um… Okay..?”

Then, as Soobin approaches Taehyun, he takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry for what I said before. About you-”

Taehyun shakes his head, nudging Soobin. The two grew apart in recent months but there was still the remnants of a connection.

“I didn't, you know. Mean to hurt him.” Soobin isn’t sure if he believes him but he could tell that, if nothing else, Taehyun wanted it to be true.

Soobin nods when Yeonjun approaches. “Hey guys. Are we cool?” Soobin looks at him and shrugs. “I dunno. You still haven't said anything nice about me.”

Taehyun chuckles as he goes over to Kai who was waving him over. Yeonjun rolls his eyes, voice laced with sarcasm. “Choi Soobin, you're a fucking laugh riot.”

The smile on his face falters slightly at Soobin’s pout, shaking his head. “Okay, fine.” Yeonjun grabs Soobin’s hand.

“You're a clumsy dancer, you've got seriously questionable taste in music, and you can't hold your liquor for shit... but you’re also the smartest person I know and the only one who's always been there for me. You're the best friend I've ever had.”

His voice was laced with sincerity, “You know that, right?”

Quietly, Soobin agreed. “Yeah. I know.”

“And you should have told me about Taehyun and Leehan.” Soobin nods, he knows that too. Or at least, doesn't want to fight about it. The fight's gone out of him for now.

“Now, c'mon. Let's get you home.”

Yeonjun tugs on Soobin’s hand, wishing it felt better than it did. It felt off compared to any other time he had, it felt colder.

As the party winds down. Empty cups and beer cans remain, a few holdout couples still making out. The bonfire is burned down to embers now as Beomgyu continued tripping balls.

Looking around at his friends and classmates, their faces strange, distorted. Wrong. He turns away, afraid. Suddenly spotting Y/N standing alone amongst the trees, at the edge of darkness. Watching.

“Y/N?” His voice comes out hushed, confused.

Y/N’s face also begins to shift and warp. Beomgyu squeezes his eyes shut, regretting putting himself in a bad trip. When he reopens them, Y/N is gone off somewhere. He focuses his eyes onto the dying flames of the fire.

EXT. WILDERNESS (UNKNOWN)

Another bonfire, in another place, at another time. Meat is roasting over makeshift spit, fat hissing as it drips into the flames... a set of hands works on a hatchet and hunting knife over flesh and bone.

There’s the sound of faint humming, the person lost in the task at hand. High and clear.

A naggingly familiar, haunting melody.

'It seems no one can help me now, I'm in too deep, there's no way out. This time I have really lead myself astray...'

EXT. BACKSTREETS (PAST)

As Soobin rides in the front alone, Yeonjun sits with Chaewon in the back, leaning her forehead against the cool pane of the window. They ride in silence, as the radio plays.

“Turn on here, it's faster.” Soobin glances back in the rearview mirror, annoyed. “Chaewon’s house is on the way.” Yeonjun groaned, kicking the back of his seat. “C'mon. I'm past curfew.”

Chaewon chuckled. “I have a curfew too, you know.” Yeonjun gave her a sheepish smile, “Yeah, but. I mean, you know what my parents are like.”

Soobin sighs, there's no point in arguing. Yeonjun gets what Yeonjun wants. As Chaewon rolls down her window, letting the cool night air wash over her face, she sighs.

Soobin cuts the headlights and pulls quietly up to the curb, watching as Yeonjun and Chaewon climb out and exchange a quick hug before Chaewon gets in the front— an end of night ritual they've repeated countless times.

As they pull away, Chaewon gives a quick wave from the window flashing that patented, easy the-world-is-ours grin, for a moment, still and beautiful and perfect in the moonlight.

Soobin and Chaewon- now in front- drive alone down a dark two-lane road in a remote, wooded part of town.

“Pull over.” Chaewon says.

“Are you gonna puke? Don't puke in my car, Chaewon.” Soobin’s voice is laced with disgust and Chaewon rolls her eyes.

“Just pull over. Here.”

Soobin turns down an access road. As the car rolls to a stop, there’s a beat as the two both sit, staring out the windshield in silence.

“I thought we weren't doing this again.” Soobin said, breaking the silence. Chaewon frowns, “I’m not. Clearly.”

Soobin gives her a confused look and she rolls her eyes. “I just wanted to talk about it. It was a mistake. You know that right?”

Soobin scoffed at the insinuation that it— he was a mistake. “Yeah. Chaewon, I know.” She frowns. “I don’t want it to ruin our friendship— or yours. We both just slipped up, you know?”

Soobin shook his head, leaning into the palm of his hand. “We don’t need to talk about it.” He said, starting the car again.

VARIOUS LOCATIONS - NIGHT

Yeonjun folds his clothes peefectly, tucking them away into his suitcase.

Soobin holds a piece of paper, an official letterhead from his university of choice. Shaking his head, he stuffs the letter in a desk drawer. Then, picking up his suitcase, he takes one look at his childhood bedroom. As though sensing he’s leaving something— some part of him— behind.

Taehyun waits by himself as a taxi pulls into his driveway, struggling to load his own luggages.

Beomgyu sighs, smoking a joint out of the window of his cramped bedroom.

Kai finished packing away his clothes, his younger sister helping him zip up the suitcase. His older sister leaned against the door frame teasing him about having grown up.

Y/N sat staring at the table as her family maid served her breakfast. The chef’s kitchen was enormous her eyes trained on all marble and stainless steel. As the maid pointedly hands her a bottle of loxipene, she watches carefully like a hawk Y/N shakes out a pill and swallows it with juice.

Heeseung looks at himself in the mirror, pulling at his dilated eyes and snickering slightly before shaking his head. Suitcase all prepped and pre-ready, he flicks the bathroom light off.

Jay tiredly tosses his suitcase by his door, throwing himself down onto his bed with an exhausted heave.

Coach Sim loads the trunk of his station wagon with luggage as his two sons, Jake and Sunghoon climb in the back to go.

Sunoo sits at the edge of his pool, kicking his feet in the water with an impassive expression.

Jungwon sat on his knees, saying one last prayer to the small painting on his bedroom wall.

Niki goes into his living room to find his mom passed out on the couch, a bottle of scotch on the coffee table. Rolling his eyes, he grabs the car keys as she starts to awake.

INT. CHARTERED PLANE

The team are together now as they make their way onboard.

The students excitement is palpable as they take in the interior of the plane. It looks pretty much like any other plane except this time: it only belongs to them.

Beomgyu laughed in disbelief, “Wicked.”

Kai leaned toward Y/N excitedly, “I can't believe your Dad paid for a private plane!”

Y/N shrugged, “It's pretty much his only form of parenting, but I guess I'll take it.”

Jay and Heeseung chuckled before chiming in together in a sing-song tone. “Thank you, Mr. L/N!”

Coach Sim shakes his head, making his way down the aisle. “Alright, hustle up and take a seat. We've got a long flight.”

San stands helping Sunoo and Jungwon load their carry-ons into the overhead compartment. Assiduously pretending he doesn't see Arin approaching down the aisle, looking hungover. She gives him a sheepish smile before squeezing past and heading down the aisle.

A few rows back, Soobin and Yeonjun settled into adjoining seats. Soobin looked pale.

Yeonjun nudged him, eyes holding a look of concern. “You alright? They probably have a puke bag, if you need it.”

Soobin nodded, though he didn’t respond. He didn’t necessarily have a fear of flying but for some reason— this particular flight left him uneasy. He chalked it up to the tension building up to their game.

As he glances around the cabin nervously, Yeonjun smiles, rummages in his bag. Pulling out a balled-up tissue tucked deep into one of the inner pockets, he holds it out.

Soobin gives him a confused look.

“Remember when you came with my family to Jeju in second grade? You cried the whole flight.”

Soobin scoffed. “In my defense I was like 8, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun opens the tissue, revealing two pale blue valium pills. “I swiped these from my mom's medicine cabinet. She didn’t even notice.”

Soobin didn’t answer as he gently took the pills in his hand. “I know, I’m the best. And here.”

Yeonjun takes off his chain, linking it around Soobin’s neck instead. “It's a good luck charm. Now nothing can touch you.”

Soobin shakes his head as he swallows the pills, giving Yeonjun a look of genuine appreciation.

The team continues laughing, gossiping and singing. They’re all too swept up in their excitement over the adventure ahead.

As the sound of the plane getting ready to take off gets louder, Soobin’s nails dig into the arm rest of his seat. Yeonjun glances at him, leaning his head on his shoulder in comfort.

There’s a few playful shrieks as the plane lifts off. Soobin’s eyes grow heavy as the sounds of his teammates begin to warp and fade, growing dim as the Valium kicks in.

EXT. WILDERNESS (UNKNOWN)

The fur-clad butcher carries a steaming wooden plank— a makeshift platter— towards the overseer and a ring of acolytes waiting silently in the moonlight.

The overseer turns towards a strange, masked and horned figure: the shaman. Some unspoken agreement passes between them.

The culmination of a strange ceremony begins to unfold. Then, as he gestures to the congregation— they descend, ravenous, coven-like, on the feast. Grease-smeared faces as their teeth hungrily begin to rip and tear meat from its’ bone.

The overseer of the feast pulls back his hood to reveal his face, eyes dim and exhausted. The wreckage of the plane is weathered by sun and rain, grown over with dead winter vines.

INT. CHARTERED PLANE (PAST)

Soobin gasps awake to find himself in a cabin now eerily dark. The engines strain, a deep, terrifying roar. Somewhere behind him, someone screams.

He can’t quite place who it is or what’s happening, all he does is turn to Yeonjun. He shook him, heart racing. He doesn’t move. Across the aisle, Jungwon quietly mutters a desperate prayer.

Frantic, Soobin tries to get his bearings, to make sense of the nightmarish scene. Beside him, Yeonjun remains slumped, his unused oxygen mask dangling limply overhead from the initial loss of cabin pressure.

Soobin yanks up the window shade to see the silhouette of mountains, close and getting closer. The ground rushing up as they glide over a vast forest. Then— one final and deafening BANG!

[aviiarie]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ LOST & FOUND platonic arlecchino & reader !

synopsis. hell hath no fury like a parent whose child has been taken from them. contents. PLATONIC. description of blood and injury (mildly graphic but not gory), violence, mentions of kidnapping, swearing (like once), implied murder. house of the hearth!reader. angst & slight hurt/comfort. 2.5k words. notes. LAST REPOST!! my house of the hearth series is all moved here now :'D

It had been fifty-eight hours, and twenty-seven minutes since [Name] had vanished.

Freminet sat curled up in a velvet armchair that dwarfed his small frame, with Pers on his lap and his brother and sister flanking each side. They had both refused Father’s offer of a seat, which showed the severity of the situation more than words ever could.

No one ever refused Father. Even she had raised an eyebrow at their sudden rebellion.

“Lyney, Lynette. Defiance will not make [Name] come home faster. Take a seat.” Father sipped her tea, poised as ever. Even with that impassive mask, Freminet still noticed the tension in her shoulders.

He always noticed.

“There’s no need,” Lyney said shortly, adding on a respectful “Father.” as an afterthought.

“What my brother means—” Lynette cut in smoothly. “—Is that we do not want to draw this conversation out any longer than necessary. We only came to get permission to postpone our current assignment and search for [Name]. I’m sure you can see the circumstances are dire enough to warrant such action.”

“I’m afraid I do not, Lynette.” Father placed her cup down and folded her hands over her lap. “They are a very skilled agent, and this mission was hardly out of their ability. No need to compromise your current—and very important, I might add—mission, for trivial matters.”

“It isn’t trivial, it’s our sibling!” Lyney burst out, causing Freminet to flinch. He reached out a hand blindly to settle on Freminet’s shoulder, squeezing it quickly in both a comfort and apology for startling him.

“I would be mindful of your place within this household, Lyney.” Father said mildly, the warning clear. “I have given you a direct order, and you will follow it. Do not stray from your assigned mission. [Name] will be fine.” She paused for a beat. “You are dismissed.”

“That’s it?” Lyney hissed. “So, you’re going to just leave them to die?”

It sounded like less of a question and more of an accusation. Freminet winced, feeling Lynette stiffen beside him as well as they waited for the consequences of Lyney’s bluntness.

Arlecchino rose from her seat, the tension in the air thick enough to choke all three of the siblings.

“I never said that. [Name] will be home in due time.” Her gaze shifted from the left to the right side of the armchair. “Lynette, you will have tea with me later, won’t you?” Father asked, causing the girl to freeze.

She bit her lip, answering carefully. “I may. Maybe if [Name] returns, we can all have tea together.”

“A good plan,” Father agreed, ignoring the quiet angry undertone of her words. “When I see them, I shall invite them.”

“It had better be soon; it’s getting late.” Lynette countered. Freminet’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. Lynette was always better at matching Father’s games. Freminet crumbled under the weight of her gaze, and Lyney wasn’t any better at handling the pressure without his emotions causing him to crack and splinter.

“Lynette, Freminet. Let’s go.” Lyney said sharply.

Throughout the entire exchange, Lyney’s hand had not moved from where it was planted firmly on Freminet’s shoulder, as if he was refusing to let another of his siblings out of his grasp. Freminet might have remarked that Lynette was handling her worry better, but he noticed how her tail kept curling around his leg when they walked into Father’s office. Neither of the three was willing to part with the others for even a second; not when one of their own had gone missing by doing just that.

As he drew back his hand and moved away, Freminet caught his arm.  

“Just… a moment, please. Wait outside, I’ll join you soon.” Freminet murmured, letting go. Lyney pursed his lips.

“Be quick.”

The twins vanished through the doorway, leaving Freminet alone with his Father.

“Freminet dear. You’re hesitating.” Father raised an eyebrow. “Are you waiting for something? Do you want me to give Pers a kiss on the head before I leave?”

Freminet flushed at the memories of holding the toy up to Father when he was young, insisting the penguin deserved a proper goodbye too. “Ahem. I’m not a child anymore… Father.”

“No? Then why are you still here?”

He swallowed awkwardly, forcing himself to look her in the eyes. He met her stare

“I know you’re just as worried as I am.” He said bluntly.

Father’s expression was almost impossible to read, but Freminet managed to catch a hint of surprise at his words. “I see. How did you come to that conclusion?”

It wasn’t denial, nor was it defensiveness. That was a good sign. Freminet continued, “There is a pinch between your eyebrows that you keep trying to smooth over. You’re gripping your teacup much tighter than usual. Your shoulders are tense. And you were far too quick to dismiss the twins’ concerns. You of all people would know that the situation is severe enough to allow a brief pause to their investigation, but you were swift in making sure they were kept as far away from the situation as possible.”

Arlecchino stared back at Freminet silently. She always had that unsettling way of watching him, as if she was picking apart the cogs and wheels spinning in his mind to know exactly what he was thinking.

“Observant as always, Freminet.” Freminet stood up straighter, pink touching his cheeks. “So, tell me this: what am I to do next?”

“You’re… going to find them yourself?” He asked slowly.

“That is correct. I will be.” Father agreed, and something inside him swelled. If only Lyney was still in the room, he would have collapsed with relief. “And what will you be doing?”

“Helping.” Freminet said without a thought.

“Incorrect. You are going to return to your room, go to sleep, and not say a word to your siblings.”

“But—”

“No. You are not involved here.” Arlecchino turned her back on him, looking out the window with her arms folded behind her.

“Father—”

“Do not forget that if you or your sibling’s interference costs me my mission, [Name]’s blood will be on your hands.”

Freminet recoiled sharply, as if she had struck him across the face. Arlecchino refused to lay a hand on any of them, but her words were more than enough to wound them.

“I—”

“I’m not looking for an argument, Freminet.”

Freminet shut his mouth with a click, lowering his head. He forced back the wave of emotions sweeping across him, sinking them so far into the depths of his mind that not even a champion diver like himself would be able to reach them.

“I am looking for an answer.” Father raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Father.” He said quietly.

“Good child,” She murmured, laying a gentle hand on the top of his head. “You are dismissed.”

-----

Arlecchino made her move at the stroke of sundown.

It was disgustingly easy to track them down, and the sheer incompetence only fuelled her rage until it burned brighter than the flames that curled beneath her skin. The assailants were sloppy, leaving plenty of traces for her to find, as if they were waiting for her to find them.

One of her agents had returned with a slip of paper that evening—a ransom note, crudely explaining that they had captured a House of the Hearth agent, and demanding a hefty sum in exchange for their safe return. She had chuckled at that last part. They would be lucky for her to leave them with their lives after what they have done, let alone a reward.

Their hideout was located in a quiet cave near the ocean, with an entrance half-hidden behind a curtain of vines. It was a quaint spot, a cosy place to sit back and watch the sun set over the water. She was sure the view behind her was breathtaking, but she made no move to take a glance for herself.

The vines made way for a long, narrow tunnel, ending with a wooden door. Arlecchino quietly turned the handle, scoffing under her breath when it turned without a key being inserted, and slipped through without making a single sound.

Six were scattered around the dingy room; one woman, five men. Seeming to be aged between their mid-twenties at the youngest, and early-forties at the oldest.

“Have we got a response yet?” The woman muttered impatiently, tapping her foot against the floor.

“How should I know?” One of the men grunted. “We left the note. Eventually it’s gotta make it’s way to the boss herself, and we’ll get the reward.”

“Just gotta be patient,” Another murmured. “Gotta be patient.”

Slightly past them was a wooden cage, secured with a metal lock.

They were in a heap on the floor of the cage, breathing weakly—Arlecchino quietly thanked the Tsaritsa that they were breathing at all—and looked to be passed out.

The fire inside her sang, and she could hardly breathe under the heat of it all.

“How long is this woman gonna take?” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Arlecchino chuckled, causing all of the six to jump. “Oh, then allow me to assure you that you won’t have to wait much longer at all.”

Instantly they were on their feet, grabbing whatever weapon was closest. Their expressions ranged from outright fear, to an egregious amount of confidence for how weak they were in comparison to her.

“Knave,” the closest man grinned crookedly. “How kind of you to join us. I’m assuming you’re here for—” he jerked his head towards the figure still unmoving. “—that one?”

“‘That one’?” Arlecchino repeated slowly, drawing her scythe to her side. “I am here for my child.”

Two of the men—the ones closest to the cage—looked at each other nervously. Arlecchino smiled. It was a pity the rest of the group didn’t share the sense to fear her, but they would learn soon enough.

“Well you see, we’ll be happy to hand them over—” the man’s grin widened. “For a price, of course.”

“A price, you say?” She mused. “How about this. You step aside, I retrieve my child, and offer you a quick death. I would say that is more than fair, considering what you have cost me.”

The smile dropped off the man’s face. “That ain’t an option, lady.”

“Then I think you misunderstand.” She took a step towards him, then another, eyes glinting dangerously in the low light. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Boss—” one of the men tried to say.

“Shut it.” the first man hissed, bringing his shovel up in a defensive position. It was almost laughable, how he thought that would protect him.

“You made four mistakes tonight,” Arlecchino said smoothly. The tip of her scythe brushed the floor, sending a loud scraping sound across the walls. All of the people inside the room winced at the sound, but Arlecchino was unfazed as she continued prowling towards them.

“One… you failed to cover your tracks, making it remarkably easy to track you down.” In one swift motion, she lunged. The group barely had time to blink, before her scythe sliced across the chest of the closest one.

There was silence, before the man made a low gasp, bright crimson blood spilling down his shirt. He collapsed forward onto the ground with a thud, and the room erupted into chaos. A scream tore from the throat of the woman, and she dropped to her knees at his side, desperately clutching his shoulders. Arlecchino aimed a quick strike at her back, and she fell against the man heavily.

“Two, you left the door unlocked.” A pair charged towards her, hammers and shovels swinging. She knocked the weapons from their hands with one hit, and knocked them down with a second.

“Three—” One snuck up from behind, quickly tossing a string of rope over her head and around her neck, pulling harshly to cut off her breathing. An elbow in his ribs winded him enough to loosen his grip, and a knock to the head with the hilt of her scythe sent him to the floor. “You brought far too few people to last in a fight against me.”

The final man stumbled backwards until he hit the wall, shrinking against the bricks. Arlecchino walked with slow steps, stalking towards him like an animal cornering their pray. He shielded his face with his hands, in a desperate attempt to protect himself. Once she was about a foot away, she stopped, leaning in close.

“And four.” Arlecchino grasped the man by the throat, digging her nails into his skin hard enough to draw blood. “You hurt my fucking child.”

She tossed his body to the side, watching him hit the wall with a thud and collapse to the ground like a ragdoll.

“Pathetic.” She scoffed under her breath, stepping over his limp body. Her anger wasn’t nearly quelled—an inferno is not easily cooled, after all—but seeing them all lying lifelessly across the floor of their own base at least brought some vindication. She turned her back to the man, looking over at her child.

They were curled up in the cage like a trapped animal, rattling breaths ringing through the bars. Arlecchino gritted her teeth at the sight, making sure to step on the nearest captor’s fingers as she walked over. She swung her scythe against the lock, shattering it into bits of metal.

Her hands were gentle in reaching into the cage, hooking a hand under their knees and cradling their back with the other. They made a pained cry, and Arlecchino hurried to pull them out. She held them close to her chest, letting their cheek rest where her heartbeat pounded against her chest. Her face didn’t falter from that stony expression, but inside she was burning with fury.

“My child,” She murmured, more to herself than the shivering form in her arms. There was something dangerous in her tone, a note of warning to the assailants still conscious enough to hear her voice. She kissed their forehead, a tender gesture out of place among the bloodshed. “Didn’t I promise you that while you’re with me, no one can hurt you?”

“F-Father…?” A broken whisper slipped through their lips, followed by a sob, first sinking Arlecchino’s heart then shattering it into two.

“Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay, darling, I’m here.” She crooned, carrying them out of the room and through the tunnel. All throughout the journey through the tunnel and back onto the beach, she didn’t stop murmuring comforts and pressing kisses to their head in the most maternal way she’d ever remembered acting.

“I’m sorry, Father…” they mumbled, cheek pressed against her chest.

“Darling…” Arlecchino hummed, even as the smouldering ashes in her chest began to spark and flicker. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

The night was cold, but her child was a warm weight in her arms. She revelled in the warmth, a gentle reminder that they were still alive.

“We’ll be home soon,” Arlecchino promised, even though they were barely conscious enough to hear her. “Soon.”

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

[barnesafterglow]

505

summary: love can only last so long for two highly trained assassins

pairing: assassin!bucky x assassin!reader

word count: 6k

warnings: mentions of reading being "physically fit" due to training but no other body description, use of hard drugs/overdose, described murder, weapons, mentions of torture (this does get mildly graphic but not like... gory idk), smut (MINORS DNI), use of fake names, a lot of reader's background comes from the show scandal

a/n: i know the warnings make this sound super hardcore but it's really not terrible, but do heed them if you're sensitive to anything mentioned (and if you have any specific questions feel free to message me about it!!). i actually really enjoyed writing this even though it took me about two weeks of going back and forth. also loosely inspired by 505 by the arctic monkeys. always thankful for @pellucid-constellations who tells me whenever my writing is shit xoxo

505. Exactly where you needed to be. In less than 30 seconds, you had the lock picked and stepped silently into the room. It was a pretty typical target: son of a politician, kept entertained by money, drugs, and women. From the drug you had slipped into his drink at the bar downstairs, you suspected he should already be sedated in the room. However, you didn’t expect to see him already tied up, body slumped over in a chair. Just as quickly as you realized, you had your gun pulled from your thigh holster, pointed at the figure across the room.

With your guns trained on one another, he stepped out of the shadows. Another thing you hadn’t been prepared for: your unexpected guest was also the most beautiful man you had ever seen. You both slowly circled the room, sizing each other up.

“Who the hell are you?” Your voice was strong and commanding, and obviously seemed to have taken him aback. A small surge of pride was over you as his composure cracked, for a brief second, before hardening back to his impassive expression.

“Who the hell are you?” The nerve of this man, as if you would tell him. Well, the shoe’s on the other foot and all that. The most important question here was why. Why did he have your target tied up? Why was another organization able to get their hands on your intel? Why hadn’t you made a move yet?

At this point, you weren’t entirely interested in digging for information you likely wouldn’t get from this man, or the one on the chair. You just wanted to take out the mark and get back to your own hotel. You could see your feelings mirrored in your competitor, and decided you might as well press your luck.

“Let’s make a deal. I won’t kill you, you won’t kill me, and we can both kill this target. Whatever information you're looking for I’ll be able to keep to myself and then we can both be on our merry way. I’m not in the mood for a fight tonight, and you’re way too pretty for what I would do to you.”

This time, he couldn't mask the surprise on his face, or the quirk of his mouth as he contemplated your offer. Finally, he nodded, gesturing at your gun to call a truce. You both lowered your weapons before taking a few steps to meet in the middle of the room.

“James Grant, pleasure to meet you.” He let out a small huff of laughter at your narrowed eyes, holding his hand out for you to take. “I’d like to at least know what to call the beautiful woman I’ll be working with.”

Reaching to give him a dainty handshake you answered, “Elizabeth Hart. Though that’s not what my friends call me.” If you were never going to see this guy again, might as well have a little fun right?

“Oh, is that right? And when do I get the pleasure of being considered your friend?” Wanting to match his demeanor, you informed him that after this was finished you might give him a little more. At this point, you were practically nose to nose, his breath hot on your cheek. Just as he made the tilt of his head towards your mouth, you stepped back.

“Oh James, I know you're smarter than that. Let’s get a move on here. What was your plan? He’s too young for potassium chloride, they’d never believe a heart attack - I personally have some coke laced with fentanyl. Figured with a 21 year old playboy who frequents parties just like tonight’s, it’d be automatically ruled an overdose. Thoughts?”

(Bucky's thoughts were that he might already be in love, not that he would ever tell another soul that bit of information, least of all her.)

“I figured pills, but I like your idea better.” He immediately wanted to wipe the smug look off your face. “Don’t get too flattered, sweetheart, I really-” He was cut off by the groan of… what was his name again? John or Josh or something of the like. Though you had just been talking about the details of his death, you nearly forgot he was even there.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. It’s time we all have a little chat.” You had mastered the sickly sweet and condescending tone, it just made it all the more fun. He started begging to be released, bribing you with money, the typical responses you usually got. Instead of listening to his pleas, you and James started a fun little game. One of you would ask a question, he would refuse to answer, the other would force a line up his nose, then discuss your favorite techniques, weapons, etc. until he finally gave in. Once he started babbling and dribbling vomit, you set your stage. While James unreleased him from the satin restraints (perfect if you didn’t want to leave any obvious marks), you set up some lines of coke, adding the finishing touch of a streak right under his nose. Looking up from your handiwork, James had an expression akin to awe on his face.

“As much as I adore that look you’re giving me, I think it might be time to get out of here.” You fully expected to get out of this hotel and part ways, and never see each other again; but apparently James had other plans. The second the elevator doors closed, he had you pushed against the wall, lips on yours like his life depended on it. He wasted no time kissing down your neck and the deep slope of your dress, until the elevator dinged, signaling that you had arrived at the lobby. The both of you exited with perfectly blank expressions, as if you were total strangers, but once you stepped out onto the sidewalk, you turned your head just enough for him to hear you.

“My hotel is two blocks away. Be smart about it.”

--

You’d had a lot of sex, and you had no shame about it, but James was irrefutably the best you’d ever had. His head was buried between your thighs as he pulled your third - fourth? - orgasm out of you. He hadn’t even fucked you yet, and you already knew he was the best. By the time he let his lips trail back up your body, you were begging for more.

“Be patient, Liz, I’ll give you exactly what you need.” With that he pinned your hands above your head, and took the moment of surprise to bury himself in you. The feel of him stretching your walls was an incredible euphoria you didn’t think you could ever describe with words. His precise movements had him grazing your sweet spot with every thrust, and you were a whining mess beneath him. “Go ahead, baby, make a mess all over me.” Determined to edge you on, he put all his effort into sucking new marks across your neck and collarbones, until the coil winding in your stomach finally snapped.

As your high crashed over you, he took the opportunity to change positions, pulling you into his lap for you to ride him. This new angle pushed him even deeper into you, and you didn’t think it could get any better until he lifted his hips to push into you even more, causing him to bury his cock so far into you, you thought he might very well have bruised your cervix.

The throbbing pulse of you wrapped around him as you came down from your orgasm had him crying out and sputtering a string of expletives as you felt him get closer to his edge.

“You gonna let me fill this pussy up, pretty girl? You look so good on top of me like this. Wanna stuff you so full I’m leakin’ out of ya for days, that way you never forget who fucked you this fuckin’ good.” The nodding of your head was so urgent and pleading he had to close his eyes as his hips finally stuttered, keeping his promise of stuffing you full. As they finally fluttered open, he was graced with the sight of you with your hands splayed across his chest, barely able to hold yourself up. He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you in for another searing kiss before gently lifting you off his lap and beside him in the bed.

For as physically fit as your training had made you, it took an almost embarrassingly long time for you to catch your breath. Once your chest finally began to fall into an even pattern, you glanced over to James, who was already staring at you. The skip in your heartbeat had you slipping out of the bed and heading for the bathroom to gather yourself. By the time you came out, you fully expected him to be dressed and ready to go, but instead he was resting with his back against the headboard, hands tucked behind his head, clad only in his boxers.

“I promise I won’t kill you if you let me stay the night.” His lazy smile somehow made you give him all the trust in the world. It shouldn’t, considering you were both highly trained assassins, but you figured if you were gonna die you might as well do it sexually satisfied.

“Fine, but I’m not spooning you.” You giggled, actually giggled, as he tugged you flush against his body. And either by exhaustion or comfort, you slept better than you had in years.

The sound of the door shutting early the next morning had you sitting straight up, the gun you had hidden beside the bed already cocked and aimed. It took you about 10 seconds of disorientation before you realized it was James sneaking out. Holding onto the fond memories of last night, it took you a moment to notice the scrawl across the hotel notepad beside the bed.

hope i see you again soon.

ps, i wanted to give you a little hint: buchanan

Below there was also a crude drawing you couldn’t quite make sense of. Resigned to just figure it out on your plane ride home, you slipped it into the side pocket of your bag before gathering the rest of your things.

One last look around your hotel room cemented the rush of memories from your heated night with James. Wherever he was, you hoped he would think about you just as much as you would him.

--

Back in D.C., you were still staring at the note James had left you, until your boss knocked on your office door. Olivia waited all of 5 seconds before turning the handle, barely giving you enough time to stuff the note underneath a stack of case files.

“Good morning, Y/N. You’re glowing; did you get lucky on this mission?” She already knew - Olivia knew everything before it even happened. But your power nearly rivaled hers, so what she didn’t know was who it had been. Although you supposed you really didn’t know either. “Don’t answer, of course you did. You brought Quinn coffee this morning and you don’t do that unless you’re in a really good mood. And seeing as you only got back yesterday, you haven’t really had time to do anything other than get laid.” Damn her, genius woman. “Oh, and you didn’t do a very good job of covering those hickies.” Choking on your own spit, you looked up to see the ridiculously smug look on her face. You were lucky she was your best friend or you would be fucked. People rarely came out unscathed when they got on the wrong side of Olivia Pope.

“Yes, fine, I had the best sex of my life. That’s all you need to know for now. So, you’re here on a Monday morning instead of The White House, what’s going on?” Olivia, along with you and two other amazing women, ran OPA by day and B613 by night. So on your average day, when there was no one needing to be questioned or killed, the three of you worked as a team to mitigate the crises of Washington D.C.’s politicians and elite. By night, you managed a covert government agency known as B613. Well, you managed the field agents while Olivia took care of the rest.

“I just got a call from Nicholas Fury. He has a problem that he believes we can help with.” Nicholas Fury, like, the Nick Fury, director of SHIELD? What the hell was going on? “He’s sending two partners,” she meant government assassins, “to us right now. Their plane from New York lands in two hours, do you think you could pick them up?”

This was an odd situation. While SHIELD held a reputation, albeit disguised under a legitimate government corporation, you all preferred to keep under the radar. And by under the radar, you meant only the only people outside of OPA that knew B613 existed was the president and the head of the CIA. So why were you suddenly teaming up with SHIELD? It didn’t make sense, so you asked her as much.

“Let me rephrase; he needs help from OPA. There’s been an issue with one of their own that they need handled discreetly.” She paused to take in the look on your face. “No more questions, you’ll know the rest when they get here.”

--

Senator Alexander Pierce. Of course. Best friend of Nick Fury and certified scumbag, had been made aware of the more… intense work that SHIELD did. Fury wanted you all to uncover something career-ending on Pierce before he could take his news public. Simple enough. Your personal approach here was to torture him for information, scare him enough that you most likely would never have to use it, and be on your way. Of course, you couldn’t let these two agents - you had learned their names were Steve and Natasha - know your plan. Instead, you exchanged a look with Olivia, who ushered them into her office.

You turned towards your friends with a pleasant, almost eerie smile. “Okay, ladies, let’s do this. Abby, start digging. Quinn, come with me.” Abby headed to her office to dive headfirst into her slew of confidential files, while you started explaining your plan to Quinn, who was more than happy to be of help.

By the time Natasha and Steve were stepping out of the office, you already had the entire plan put together.

Abby had found some interesting paper trails regarding Pierce’s involvement with exclusive escorts. While this was a good start, it was nowhere near the catastrophic level needed in this case. But it was posed in such a way that the SHIELD agents wanted to be involved in this part of the investigation directly. So while Abby held them with tracking down his tricks and forming a timeline, Quinn would keep surveillance outside Pierce’s house while you made your way inside to interrogate. Olivia would return to her usual Capitol duties, more so to keep her name out of the news than anything, unless she was needed in a detrimental situation. Once you had the information you needed, Abby would create some fake documents to back up your findings, and Fury would be satisfied. The plan was so simple, so easily executable that not even Quinn in her first week at the firm could have screwed it up.

But of course, your life was never easy.

--

About a week later, you sat happily humming to the song that had caught your ear on the radio, debating your next move with Pierce. It was a very methodical routine you had: cause a little pain, remove the duct tape from his mouth, press record. If he gave you information, you gave him a break. If he refused, you would start all over. You had been going at it for a little over an hour now, the sun long set, when you heard the creak of a floorboard by the back door. Feeling an overwhelming sense of deja vu, you were on your feet, gun trained on the dark figure. The sight of James made your knees nearly buckle. What the hell is he doing here?

“You,” the viciousness in your voice clearly unnerved him, because he lowered his gun in surrender. But you were on the defense now, deep suspicion creeping into the back of your mind. You didn’t believe in coincidences, especially not in this line of work. He had to have been following you, maybe even before you met in that hotel room. Considering the fact that you were halfway around the world that last time only added to your substantial misgivings. With each step toward him - gun still aimed - he took one back, until he was against the wall. You trailed a hand down his jaw, then lower to grip his throat, just to watch him shiver. “Hey, pretty boy. Wanna tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?” Another chill ran through him at the deep, sultry tone of your voice.

“Yes, yes, let me explain. Not here, you know that, but I’ll explain.” His extreme willingness also made you weary, but maybe he was just stupid. Regardless, you still had a job to do.

“Are you going to kill me?” He shook his head. “Okay, well now that that’s settled, either help me or sit there and shut up. Or if you would like to give me a little hint about our talk later, I promise he’s in no position to repeat anything right now.”

“I’m here for him,” he gestured toward Pierce’s paling body. “That’s all I can say for now.”

It shouldn’t have shocked you, really it shouldn’t have. But it did and now all you wanted was to know more. But you still have a job to do. Your conscience was very dedicated to her work, obviously. So James sat beside you on the floor while you finished, watching you more than anything else.

You spent another two or so hours slowly dragging the information out, with James occasionally lending a hand. When you were done, you cleaned his visible wounds and packed up your bag of goodies, leaning down to whisper one last threat as you turned toward the back door, gesturing for James to follow you.

On the way out the back door, you made sure to wipe any evidence of your being there and re-enabled his security system, as well as shooting Quinn a message of “all clear”, and waited to hear the surveillance van pull off. Turning to James, you nodded toward the road, and he quickly fell in step behind you. The four block journey to your car was absolutely silent, bordering on tense, yet not quite. For some reason, your suspicion had subsided, and that caused you to make an incredibly stupid, possibly catastrophic, decision as you approached the vehicle. James stood fidgeting on the sidewalk, waiting for your next move. You sighed, knowing you were about to seal your fate.

“Get in, we’re going to my place.”

--

As soon as the two of you stepped into your loft, you had your gun pressed into James’ back.

“Sit down and start talking.” You gave him a push towards the couch and took a seat across from him in your chair. You didn’t want to let on that you had a sense of trust in him, or that you already had feelings that were more than a heated one night stand. He looked you in the eyes, and you tried to keep them emotionless, before taking a deep breath.

“I work for SHIELD-” He can’t get any further because you let out a gasp and drop your gun onto your living room rug. Your eyes flashback to that stupid drawing on his note - a shield. You want to say so many things, but you need more answers, so you just nod and let him continue. “Nat and Steve, they’re my best friends, we all work at SHIELD. They were supposed to come down here to get dirt on Pierce while I - well, while I took care of him. But then I saw you, and it felt like my heart got ripped out of my chest. There was always a rumor in our unit that OPA was somehow involved, but I didn’t expect for it to actually be B613. And you, no wonder you’re so goddamn good at what you do. Do you know they call you the Night Witch? Most people think you’re just a ghost story - like the Winter Soldier. But here you are, and I know you could and probably will kill me, but I’m begging you not to. We can work together. I want to, I want everything for you.”

You stared at him, for far too long, trying to decide what to do. You had never been in any situation like this before, and that said a lot considering your jobs. While all logic seemed to fail you,your instinct never lied. So even though your brain was screaming at you to stop, you lurched forward and crashed your lips to James’, desperate for another night like you had just a week ago - had it really only been a week? As you moved to straddle him, he grabbed your hands and held them to your chest, whispering something so low you could barely hear. “Bucky.”

You cock your head to the side, staring at him with wide eyes.

“James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky. That’s my real name.”

You pressed your lips to his again, foreheads resting together, and told him your full name. The thought of revealing your true identity, your true double life, with someone you barely knew had you both terrified and giddy. Pushing away your fear of tomorrow, you pull him from the couch and into your bedroom, not wasting a minute before you’re both wrapped in bliss.

--

You don’t think Olivia had ever been more mad at you. Once you arrived the next morning, she dragged you into her office before you could get a word in. The look in her eyes said nothing but speak, so what else could you do? When you finished, she proceeded to let you know what an idiot you were, how she wouldn’t hesitate to have you taken out if you  threatened the security of B613, and also that she loved you despite all that.

“When you came back from that mission, that was the happiest I had seen you since-” You cut her off with an ice cold glare. “It’s the happiest I had seen you in a long time. Even now, I can tell something’s different. So just- just be smart, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt in any way.”

As far as Olivia Pope goes, this was as close to a blessing as you would ever get. You weren’t going to take it for granted.

By the end of the week, Natasha and Steve seemed to be satisfied with the amount of information you had collectively gathered. Along with making no public appearances - you may be a little proud of your handiwork - they assumed all way clear for the time being. On your way to drop them off at the airport, you wanted to ask about Bucky, learn more about him, more than just what was shared over takeout and long nights in your bed. Obviously, you knew you couldn’t, but you wanted something real with Bucky. Even with Peter, you had never felt this before.

Peter Quill, the man you thought was with you till the end. Also the same man who tried to kill you and everyone you loved. You had let him into your life and he betrayed you at the first opportunity. You were forced to kill the man you thought you would marry to protect OPA. You couldn’t handle that heartbreak again.

All you could do was hope that Bucky was different.

--

This was your favorite part. Sauntering up to the bar, you leaned over to get the attention of the bartender. Once you had ordered your drink, you glanced to your right to see Clint Barton looking directly down the front of your dress - go figure. You gave a flirty wink, planting the bait. He attempted to chat you up while you waited for your drink, and a hand slipped to your lower back. He was so close to your mouth you could smell the whiskey and cigars on his breath. Right as he tried to close the distance between you two, Bucky was at your side, giving him a slight push backwards.

“Woah, dude, what’s your problem?” Clint’s words slurred, and it only makes this plan even sweeter.

“I’m her husband, and who the hell are you?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you.

“I’m Clint Barton, baby, and your wife here is one hot piece of ass. It’d be a shame if you didn’t share.” You can tell in his mind that he thought that was a smooth line, but if it had been anyone else on the receiving end, he would have been laid out right in the middle of the bar floor. Unfortunately for him, you and Bucky weren’t just ‘anyone else’ and he was in for a hell of a night.

“You know what, I think you’re right.” Bucky nodded to you, knowing your confirmation will officially seal the deal.

“Yeah, honey, James here doesn’t mind sharing. Meet us up in our room in 10 minutes. Room 218, don’t be late.” With that, you reached over to grab your glass from the bartender, and Clint was too busy staring at your chest again to notice you slip something into his drink. As you turn, Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist to lead you out of the bar, and you gave Clint one final wink before disappearing.

That was how you and Bucky spent the next few months, helping each other on missions that were meant to be solo, and making them even more fun. In such a short time you had fallen so deeply in love with each other. The weeks you spent away from each other broke your heart, him in New York and you in D.C. But every chance you could get away, mission or otherwise, you were attached at the hip. No one knew but Olivia - and Steve, Bucky needed a cover - and she had become surprisingly supportive. After the third weekend in a row you disappeared, she demanded to meet him. The two of them together in your apartment started with incredible tension, but by the time Olivia left you could feel the mutual respect.

You started to let yourself dream a little; dream about a normal life, stepping down from B613, just staying at OPA for Olivia’s sake, and maybe even moving out of the city and settling down eventually. And you wanted that all with Bucky. Each time you saw one another, it felt like it was another step closer to being possible.

Until around the eight month mark, you stopped hearing from him. He stopped answering your calls and eventually his number became disconnected. When two weeks passed and Olivia hadn’t heard from you, she showed up to your apartment to find you curled on the couch. You hadn’t moved in eight days, except to use the bathroom and grab crackers from the kitchen. You stared at the TV crying, and when you could cry anymore, you just stared. Olivia wanted to be mad, and she was, but more than that she was heartbroken to see her best friend in such an awful state. You hadn’t even been this bad after Peter. Bucky had taken your heart with him wherever he disappeared to. Olivia left and was back within an hour with groceries. After she put food in the oven, she cleaned your bed sheets and put them in the washer, then coaxed you to the shower to clean up. After you had eaten a few bites of dinner, she put you in bed and held you until your tears lulled you to sleep.

She did this for another few weeks, gradually getting you back out into the world, whether it be to grab coffee, walk in the park, and eventually spending time in the office not even working, just to be there. At the two month mark, you begged her for a mission - anything to take your mind off Bucky.

You threw yourself back into your work, acting like you had never even met him. You knew this would come back to bite you in the ass, but the only thing on your mind was not having him on your mind.

Every mission you were a little more reckless, doing whatever necessary to finish the job, even if it wasn’t the safest. What was the point, right?

The point, it seemed, was to face your demons. You just didn’t know that yet.

--

You were in Berlin when it all fell apart.

Olivia didn’t want you to go solo, wanted Quinn at your side just in case, but you insisted. Against her better judgement, she allowed it; she was doing a lot just to keep you sane these days.

That’s how you ended up in the back room of this seedy club, perched on the lap of the most notorious gang leader, Jonas Remmo, in Northern Berlin. You weren’t even there to take him out, just get a little information to kickstart Olivia’s investigation. So you were whoring yourself out for the night; it wasn’t the first time and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. As you listened to Jonas talk about business you had no interest in, you noticed a guard of his by the closest door was particularly fidgety. Getting suspicious, you leaned down to whisper in Jonas’ ear that you would be right back, and he waved you off. Before you were fully in the bathroom, someone had shoved you in and slammed the door closed, pushing your back flat against it. Your gun clattered across the tiles, and wide eyes looked up into familiar blue ones.

You felt the blood drain from your body, and all of a sudden you were back on your couch, wallowing in your heartbreak.

“What the ever loving fuck are you doing?” You hissed, body going rigid with anger. This couldn’t be real life, it just couldn’t. This is the kind of shit that only happens to main characters in a TV show. “I could kill you right now, I hope you know that. I have more knives strapped to my body than you could ever guess, and no reason not to do it. Now tell me what the fuck you’re doing.”

“Baby, let me explain, please. It just-”

“Don’t fucking call me baby.”

He took a step back, then two more. He was walking on thin ice and he knew it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I could give you any more words to express how sorry I am. Fury sent me off the grid, to Siberia. I didn’t have time to tell you, or anyone for that matter. I think he was catching on to us; he thinks I can’t do my job if I’m ‘distracted’. And normally I would say he was wrong, but I haven’t thought of anything but for months; I would do anything for you. I would leave this all behind for you without hesitation. I just want a second chance, even a chance at a second chance. Please.”

“You want me to forgive you? And expect you’ll want to give all this up? We’re in this till we die, Buck. You know that as well as I do; there’s no getting out. I don’t want to hear pretty promises you can’t deliver on.”

“Baby. Sorry, just please. Give me the chance to prove myself. I’m all in for you. I-” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I love you.”

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and you thought he might be about to drop to his knees to beg. He brought your walls down, and you didn’t make good decisions. You needed to think this through on your own.

The breath you took in was more of a rasp, and Bucky’s heart dropped. “I’m sorry, you need to leave. I just- I can’t give you an answer right now, and I have a job to do. If you still feel like this when I’m done, you’ll know where to find me. But this isn’t the time or place.”

All he could do was hang his head, knowing you wouldn’t change your mind - but he didn’t know how desperately you wanted to pull him into you. Instead, you both walked out the door, and you headed back to your mark. As you opened the curtain, you gave one last glance back at Bucky, who stood still in the crowd of people, looking at nothing but you.

The rest of the night could be described as one of the worst missions in your entire career. You were spaced out, and didn’t get any of the information you needed from this asshole. And once you stopped even responding to his advances, he pushed you off and told you to get out of his club. As much as you wanted to gut him for calling you useless, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Calling Olivia to update her on your failure, you step out into the night and find Bucky still outside, leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. The second he spotted you, he stomped it out and rushed over.

“I know you told me to get lost but I won’t be able to even sleep until I-” You didn’t let him finish before you were grabbing his face and smashing your lips to his. Any feeling was better than this empty, aching hole in your heart. After a second of shock, he grabbed you by the hips, pulling your body closer to his. It felt like everything was right in the world again, but your moment of bliss was cut off by Liv calling you back. You pushed yourself off Bucky before grabbing your phone, turning away from him. He grabbed your hand, but you simply pulled away from him, tears already streaming down your face.

Bucky watched you disappear into the crowds of downtown Berlin, his heart shattering along the sidewalk cracks, when he noticed you had slipped something into his sleeve. He looked down at the crumbled piece of paper, and he thought he might be able to sweep those shards of his heart from the ground.

Hotel MANI. Ask for Mrs. Barnes.

20 minutes later, Bucky was staring at the hotel door. Room 505, it felt like a sign. Hands shaking just a bit, he inserted the key and pushed open the door. Everything was dark, except for a soft glow from the bedroom. He carefully made his way across the room, and when he finally saw you, laid out in the bed, his heart all but stopped.

You were waiting for him, smile as bright as he had ever seen it, and he felt whole again.

“James Buchanan Barnes. I would do anything for you, too. Maybe I’m an idiot, maybe I should be stronger, but I don’t want to. Not when it comes to you. You’re everything I never knew I wanted, and I can’t pass up the opportunity when I feel like this. Now stop looking at me with your mouth hanging open and get over here.”

Bucky was on the bed, kneeling in front of you, in less than a second; he took your face in his hands so gently it made you tear up. The kiss you shared was so full of love and intensity it was blinding, and everything felt right as you pulled him into you.

tagging fwens *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@lovinggbarnes @artisancowbells @comfortbucky @starrysebastians @starbuckie @calisamcro @buckys-darling @angrythingstarlight @asgardwinter @gray-reads @igotnoname4thisblog @signofthebarnes @cupidsbarnes @belouva @holylulusworld @buckydaddy

[starlocked01]

Toddlers Scare the Living Shit Out of Me

AO3 Link

Dukexiety Week Day 4- Parents

WC: 3k

Summary: Virgil is very surprised when he's brought home by a fascinating stranger at the bar. A kid wasn't exactly what he agreed to in a one-night stand. Nor did he expect a relationship.

Content Warnings: Alcohol Use, Talk of divorce, Swearing, Mild gory language

@dukexietyweek

(also thank you @suchaswearemads for their OC Teddy 🧡)

Virgil was mildly aware that he might regret this if he lived until morning. His roommate would probably have a statistic at the ready about criminals luring victims away from clubs with whispered promises of sex or drugs, and how often they target gay men. Virgil snorted a laugh to himself. Poor Lo would kill him himself if he knew what Virgil was up to. This guy even looked the part of an unhinged surprise organ donation scheduler, all covered in spikes and tattoos of anatomical cross-sections all over his visible skin. If Virgil were any drunker, he'd probably mistake him for a skeleton or half dissected cadaver.

He really didn't care. He was drunk and Remus said pretty words that made him feel wanted. He'd follow the cadaver man halfway around the world like this. Exactly proving Logan right that he shouldn't go out drinking alone. He giggled and stumbled and giggled because he stumbled and the ground was spinning under his feet.

"What’s so funny, Dr. Gloom 'n' Giggles?" Remus caught Virgil and pulled him back upright, even as his brain fought to stay closer to the ground and made the whole damn world lurch in protest.

"Hey! 'M fine. Yourrr gonna kill me, bad man mad man. Fuuuuuuuck I had way too- didya spike 'e?" Virgil struggled to form a single, coherent sentence, feeling the alcohol's effects acutely and in increasing measure with each step towards doom and destruction.

Remus laughed, "ya caught me. Why don't I call you a taxi home?"

"Nooo! I sssaaid I'd come home withya- ssooo I am," Virgil shook his head and tried to stand and remain upright. His attempt lasted all of a second before Remus had to catch him again.

"Look, I don’t need you trying to puke all over my dick or something. I'm calling you a fucking cab," Remus tried to reason but Virgil heard none of it as he yanked himself away to hurl in the bushes.

"'M fine. Commmmming down," Virgil panted, trying desperately to steady himself. After several deep breaths and false starts, he managed to stay upright and reach for a steadying hand. Whatever had knocked him on his ass so quickly was also fading just as fast, "shiitt, did you spike my drink?"

"Nah, man. Come on, we're almost there."

---

Remus stared at this drunk little catch from the bar and was glad he was the one who'd picked him up. Someone must have tried something funny with his drink. Bad enough news for everyone else still at the club but at least this one was safe.

Remus shook his head and checked his phone to call a cab only to find the phone dead already. Shit. No way to warn Roman now. Remus waited for Virgil to finish puking his guts out on the neighbor's lawn, pretty dead set on getting this guy help as soon as they got home and he convinced Ro he needed a favor.

Slowly, he helped Virgil towards his front door, surprised at how fast the intoxication seemed to be turning around as Virgil got steadier on his own feet. Remus winced when he couldn’t find his keys and cursed when Virgil reached out and rang the doorbell.

"Stop! It's way too late for that!" Remus hissed as the door quickly opened to a very pissed-off looking Roman.

"Are you crazy! Pat's asleep- oh… oh who the fuck is this?" Roman asked, stepping outside and shutting the door behind him, "Remus, you promised tonight!"

"Ro, calm down. This is Virgil. Yes, I promised, but do you think you could take-"

"No!" Roman exclaimed furiously, "I have work tomorrow! I can't take Pat. Send Virgil home and be a grown-up for once!" Roman grumbled and turned abruptly back inside.

"Roman! Someone tried to spike him-" Remus hissed, pulling Virgil inside with him "-and before it hit, he was the best guy I've met in my life."

"Oh you mean just like Mr. Wonderful?" Roman snarked back in a low voice as he gathered his belongings. Remus winced at the reminder.

"Don't be a dick, brother dearest. That's my job. Please, I promise this time will be the last-"

"I can't! Teddy is already worried that I'm out this late. We love Patton but we're not raising him for you. You're not a kid anymore, Rem. Learn to date like an adult because we're not babysitting while you go out clubbing like this again," Roman huffed and stormed toward the door, "sorry to meet you like this, Virgil. I hope you feel better soon."

Virgil barely lifted his hand to wave as Roman left and shut the door with a dreadful finality. Remus slumped and sat at the foot of the couch Virgil had sprawled on.

"Sorry about him. How ya doing, Virgie?" Remus asked quietly.

Virgil groaned, "head hurts. Still tipsy. What the fuck did you do to my drink?"

"I didn't do anything but save you from whoever did," Remus shook his head and stood, "I'll get you some water. Or gatorade. Or milk. Fuck what do I even-"

Remus was suddenly cut off by clattering dishes and a small whimpering coming from the kitchen. In a few swift steps, he entered the kitchen and flicked on the lights to find a plate toppled from the counter to the floor, the fridge cracked open, and a toddler trying very hard to hide behind the trash can.

"Pattycake! What are you doing sneaking around in the dark?" Remus slapped on a grin and swooped the child into his arms with a grunt, "oh big boy. Getting too old to pick up like this."

Patton squeaked in his father's arms as he was lifted up, "got loud, Papa. Unkie Ro promised me a second cookie before bed."

"He did now?" Remus asked, eyebrows raised in mock shock.

"Mhmm. Said Unkie Teddy'd bring it. Where's Unkie Teddy?"

"Oh no! Ro was gonna call the cookie monster himself to get ya?" Remus gasped as he shifted his hold on the child and nudged the plate under the sink to take care of in the morning, "Uncle Ro promised you a cookie monster and didn't show up? That fiend!" Remus giggled with Patton as he grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge, shutting the door with his hip.

"Unkie Monsta!" Patton giggled, clinging to Remus’s neck.

"Mhmm. It's really late buddy. You should get back to bed," Remus cooed as he dropped one of the water bottles on Virgil’s chest.

"What the hell-?" Virgil tried to sit up, utterly confused who Remus was talking to now.

"Hey! You don't get to cuss in front of my kid until date five!" Remus snapped, holding Patton close. Virgil blinked at the baby blue eyes, curly blonde hair and the overwhelming amount of freckles as the child stared back at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

"Papa, who's that? He looks spiky," Patton whimpered, quickly hiding his face from Virgil.

"Baby, I'm spiky. I like spiky people," Remus carefully soothed, running a hand through soft curls, "he's one of Papa's new friends."

Virgil watched, unamused, "you didn't say that you have a kid. What, were you planning on bringing me back here with a toddler who could walk in and see anything?"

"Look, I was trying to ask my brother to babysit him overnight. You're hella cute but I didn't expect to make this introduction so quickly," Remus huffed, "Pattybear, be nice and say hi and then you best be headed back to bed, mister."

Patton peeked one eye out to appraise the stranger in his spot on the couch. After a long moment, he waved and barely audibly whispered a small, "hi."

Virgil smiled at the typical child response to his neon purple hair and uncountable piercings, but Remus laughed loudly, startling both the drunk man and the child, "oh Come on! That was weak shit, Pat-Pat. Say it like you mean it!"

"That's not necess-"

"HI!" the tiny voice bellowed over his protests. Father and son laughed together as Virgil sputtered.

"Now that's what I'm talking about, my little monster! Alright, enough fun. Back to bed, you rascal. Papa has to take care of the baby who drank too much apple juice," Remus beamed and set Patton down on the ground, waving as the child sped off back to his room.

"Cute kid. You didn’t mention a kid earlier," Virgil groaned and laid back down on the couch, head swimming.

"Yeah well, kids are chick magnets," Remus replied, not meeting Virgil’s eyes.

"Okay?"

"I'm into dudes…"

"And? It's not like a kid is gonna send good guys running," Virgil shrugged, very much regretting his choice of drinks that night.

"Yeah, you haven't run yet. But that was a very tired out and pacified little scamp you just met. You'll see in the morning- unless you wanted me to call you a cab now?" Remus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't wanna move," Virgil murmured, "but I would like kissesss."

"Direct. I like it," Remus smirked and slid down to kneel next to the couch, "but that would be taking advantage of your weakened defenses. Sleep it off and ask me in the morning."

Virgil whined and pouted at the denial, "please? I came all this way."

"Well, if you insist," Remus grinned and leaned in close. Virgil smirked and pulled Remus forward that last inch. Virgil tried hard to enjoy the kiss but the fact of the not yet sleeping child in another room tempered his desires greatly. After a minute, Remus pulled back and grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch.

"To be continued, Dr. Love."

"Fine. Good night," Virgil sighed and watched Remus stand and leave the living room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

---

Virgil awoke the next morning to a warm palm pressed against his cheek. He slowly blinked his eyes open to find bright blue eyes framed with thin black wire-rimmed glasses. Squinting out the light to protect himself from the impending headache, Virgil finally recognized the child from the night before.

"Hey, Patton-"

"Angels sing and demons cry, but we can't tell the difference," Patton stated sweetly, head tilted to one side.

"Hey Kiddo, breakfast time!" Remus called from the kitchen, "is Virgil up yet?"

Virgil felt a chill run down his spine as the child giggled, patted his face, and called back, "yes Papa! We're coming!"

Virgil groaned and sat up slowly, sore from sleeping on the couch with his piercings still in. How he'd managed to fall asleep in skinny jeans absolutely baffled him, almost as much as the peculiar little kid staring at him expectantly.

"What d'ya want, kid?"

"A kitty!"

"I don't have a kitty."

Patton’s eyes immediately brimmed with tears and his lip quivered before the child ran screaming back to the kitchen.

Virgil was sorely tempted to roll back over and hope he woke up somewhere quieter, but the smell of bacon and the temptation of seeing Remus in the daylight pushed him to his feet.

The guy he'd met in the bar had practically disappeared once Patton showed up. Remus had been flirty and suggestive and very interested in Virgil all night but nothing in his behavior would have ever led Virgil to suspect he had a kid and was capable of acting so.. fatherly. The man’s duality was almost unsettling.

Virgil walked over and stood in the door of the kitchen, silently watching Remus encouraging the weeping little boy to sit down and eat toast. He still wasn't sure why Patton had thought he would have a cat with him, but the disappointment had surely gotten to the little fella.

Remus looked up and gave Virgil a tired grin, "heya, sleeping beauty. How's your head?"

"Threatening to disown me. I didn’t touch him. He asked if I had a cat," Virgil nodded to Patton, hoping that Remus didn't think he'd purposefully hurt the kid.

"Oh don't worry. He asks everyone. His dad promised him one and well, do you see a litter box?" Remus rolled his eyes, standing and guiding Patton to the table, "you'd think after so many empty promises, the kid would know better, right?"

"Wait… you're his dad, right?" Virgil frowned.

"Nope!" Patton giggled, twirling his spoon between his fingers, "Dada lives in the big house!"

"Patton, eat your breakfast!" Remus barked, not unkindly before turning back to Virgil with a sigh, "no offense, but Patton’s dad is not exactly first date story material. Neither is Patton but well, that can't be helped now."

Virgil bit his lip, "right. None of my business… Except I shouldn't be here if you're married."

"I'm not married, sweetheart," Remus held up his hand to show off the lack of a ring.

"And this mystery father isn't… ya know," Virgil drew a finger across his throat in a wordless question.

"I fucking wish! Look, it's none of your damn business, Virgil. You want breakfast or the door?" Remus snapped, turning back to the food on the stove.

Virgil sighed and sat down next to Patton at the table, idly arranging shaped blocks in a haphazard pattern, "I'm sorry. I just don’t want to get in the middle of something complicated without knowing that's what's up. Yo, got another triangle for me, Pat?"

Patton grinned and grabbed a triangle from the table before shoving it somewhat painfully into Virgil’s palm. Remus watched the interaction and sighed overly dramatically.

"Hey, baby, why don't you go get dressed and pick out a movie?" Remus ruffled Patton’s hair, "no horror movies today though."

"Awwwww but I love the scary ones," Patton moped but obediently left the table.

Remus waited until Patton was out of sight before replying, "look, I don't have any secrets. I got nothing to hide. The only complicated thing right now is custody. My ex and I are separated and don't talk. Hell, I try to get him to pick Pattom up from Roman and Teddy's every chance I get. I love the little tyke but his dad pisses me off."

Virgil bit his lip, "that does not sound ideal."

Remus shook his head, "it's not. Like one day you're planning a wedding and processing an adoption, then before you know it you're divorced and fighting with the man you love for custody of the child he said made him sick to look at." Remus gritted his teeth, "Pat deserves so much better…"

Virgil nodded along with Remus’s story, "so why go out clubbing during your time with Patton? He doesn't need two absent fathers."

Remus chuckled, "don't freak out, but the first one of us who remarries has a huge advantage in getting full custody. Because neither of us is biologically related to Pat-Pat, it's become way too much of a battle.

"I'm sorry," Virgil whispered, studying the grain of the wood in the table.

"It's alright," Remus shrugged, "you're alright, Virge. Can I get that number now?"

Virgil laughed and took the offered phone, "yeah, call me when you've got some free time and Patton is with his dad."

Remus grinned and pocketed the phone, "oh you'll see how this works, sweetheart."

---

Patton was nearly a constant whenever Virgil met with Remus, but at least Roman had been mollified by Remus having a steady date so he and Teddy resumed babysitting during more adult dates. The Remus he'd met at the bar never quite resurfaced in the same way, sometimes the actual image of the tatted-up punk caring for a sweet little angelic-looking demon spawn of a kid took Virgil by surprise, and sometimes he was shocked with the things this man would say to his kid. Teddy constantly questioned Virgil why he had stayed even after learning more about the whole situation.

Virgil wasn't certain why. Patton had definitely tried to scare him off a few times. The kid was terrifying when he wanted to be.

But this little family was so very compelling, and Virgil was more and more certain with each date that he wanted a place in it.

"So, sugar…"

"Yeah, Rem?"

"I have a modest proposal for you-"

"Nope. Not gonna eat babies."

"Wha-?"

"Oh, shoot I thought for sure you were talking about the satirical essay. What's up, babe?" Virgil winced and turned to face Remus.

"How would you… like to start the process to become one of Patton’s legal guardians?"

"You're asking your boyfriend to adopt your kid who already has two dads?"

"Well yeah, because-"

"Because then the paperwork is ready to sign right after the wedding," Virgil interrupted with a grin, "you sneaky son of a biscuit!"

Remus laughed, "please, baby?"

"Not my call, sweetheart," Virgil smirked, "hey, Pattycake!"

Little feet pounded down the hallway, Patton skidding to a halt in the kitchen, "yeah? Prince Sparkles is in danger so this better be important!"

"You can save the Prince soon enough, kid. How would you feel-" Virgil suddenly felt very nervous as the gravity of the question finally hit him, "-how would you like… another dad?"

"Umm.. do I have to meet him?" Patton looked disappointed and confused.

"No, Pat-attack, Virgil is asking if he can be your dad too," Remus explained gently.

"You aren't already? I demand you be my dad this instant!" Patton bellowed at Virgil, pouting with the most betrayed expression he could muster.

Virgil laughed, "don't worry kid, this is just gonna be the paperwork that makes it official. You know I got you."

"Yay! New Dad! New Dad!" Patton beamed and ran around the table to dive into Virgil’s arms. Virgil caught him with a grunt and leaned into Remus.

"I think that's a yes from me," Virgil murmured

"Most excellent. Now I've got both my boys!" Remus grinned and wrapped both in a bear hug to seal the deal.

[diabeticlichen-thropy]

Story with diabetic OC

I’m actually terrified to post this, so if it stays up for more than 48 hours that will be an achievement but here is my WIP. I got incredibly frustrated by the lack of accurate diabetes representation in fiction, and coupled with my current Criminal Minds obsession, this came into existence. Thanks @diabets for helping me with proofreading. If anyone has title ideas please LMK. Chapter 1 below the cut

Part 2:

https://diabeticlichen-thropy.tumblr.com/post/646031442020859904/resolution-through-dialogue-and-fists-if-needed

@diabadass-vs-the-world

Chapter I

Theo walked through the atrium and jogged up a flight of stairs, down a corridor, left, right and then knocked on a door. She walked through without waiting for an answer and proceeded to dump a pile of files on a desk before collapsing into a chair causing it to spin. A man sitting at the next-door desk chuckled under his breath at Theo’s dramatics causing her to turn and face him. 

“What crawled under your skin Wilson?” He asked 

“I’m back from the field and you know what that means” she said, dropping her head to the desk

“Paperwork” the two agents said in unison, although Theo’s was distorted by her arms

Penzias laughed at Theo as he pulled a short stack of files from his desk drawer, “Why is your pile so tiny?” Theo whined 

“I do paperwork as I go, you know on the flight back or whatever? You should try it sometime”

Theo rolled her eyes at her friend, “but paperwork is the worst”, she pulled pile after pile of files from her drawers and up off the floor under her desk. Penzias’ jaw dropped watching his friend almost disappear under the pile of work she had to do. “That’s going to take more than one day to catch up on Theo” he warned her,

“That’s what I have this for!” Theo exclaimed happily pulling out a coffee the size of her head, “a triple shot cappuccino” she took a sip before suddenly swearing under her breath and pulling a small device out of her pocket, pressing a few buttons she relaxed back in her chair and swigged from her coffee. 

“Theodora Wilson, you’d think after however many decades this has been you’d remember with your unholy coffee addiction”

Theo just rolled her eyes at Daniel and slammed open her first file sighing dramatically and clicking her pen repeatedly as she read. The information in the file brought back memories of her case and she lost herself in the details. She filled out the forms for weapon use, use of force, and other accountability checks with one hand while turning the pages with her other. She and Daniel worked in silence the only sounds, the turn of a page, scratch of a pen or sip of coffee as the hours ticked by. 

The comfortable silence was interrupted by a beeping from Theo’s hip. She pulled the device out again, checked the screen and put it away, going back to to work. The quiet rhythm had been broken though and Daniel stretched loudly. His pile had dwindled to one, and although Theo had powered through a significant number of files she still had two large piles on her desk. “I’m gonna go grab some lunch, want anything?” Daniel asked

“Nah, I’ve got a sandwich somewhere” Theo responded looking up from her work. “Thanks though” 

The door swung shut with a click behind Daniel and the space was once again quiet, thanks to the empty bullpen in which their desks were situated. Their unit had been given a few days of leave after a particularly difficult case but their Unit Chief had told Theo to get her paperwork done or she’d be grounded from field work. This was a recurring theme throughout Theo’s career but her work in and off the field (minus her paperwork) was stellar and even her paperwork eventually got done to an appropriate standard. She was mildly irritated that she was in the mostly-empty office on a weekend but with the high-intensity work with long and irregular hours it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to be. At least in the office she was being productive. She looked back down at the case open in front of her. The photos were gory but after five years in the job she’d achieved the necessary levels of desensitisation, enough that she could cope but she had enough empathy to feel the importance of what she did. She picked up her pen and began to write as the door opened “you’re back from lunch quickly” she remarked, assuming Daniel had returned. Instead, it was the voice of her boss, Unit Chief Lucas Secman that sounded throughout the empty office. “How’s that paperwork coming along Wilson?” He asked. The grin was audible in his voice, he knew just how much she hated it and although Theo was often a source of exasperation, they had a good relationship. Some might even call them friends although neither of them would ever admit to it. “How do you think?” Theo retorted, rolling her eyes and turning her chair to meet her boss face to face. He returned the gesture as he surveyed the piles of folders and paper on her desk, “how long have you been putting this off again?” he asked, slightly astonished at the sheer amount in front of him. “You should know sir, you’re the reason I’m here” she responded lifting her coffee cup, she tilted it to see if there was any left. “How many of those have you had today?” Secman asked, “based on your handwriting I’d say too many”. Theo thought for a second “We talking shots or coffees?” 

“Wrong answer” Secman responded, he turned to face the door as Daniel walked through “Penzias, your new mission is to prevent Wilson from drinking any more coffee, one more shot of espresso and her handwriting will be even more illegible than it already is” 

“Yes sir” Daniel responded, grinning at Theo as she groaned, her head thudding on her desk. 

“You two are the worst” 

“Sorry for keeping you alive Wilson” Daniel grinned at her, suddenly checking his watch “speaking of your absolute lack of self-preservation, when did you last eat?” Theo groaned again, only lifting her head when the rustle of a paper bag sounded. “I grabbed you lunch, its pasta from that place down the road you love” 

“Marry me” Theo said, opening the bag and smelling the warm food. A cough sounded from behind her, Secman was slightly flushed, “marriage proposals after paperwork is done Wilson, I’ll be in my office if you need anything” 

“Yes sir” the two agents said in unison watching their boss’ back until the door to his office closed. Theo pulled the cutlery out of the lunch bag, quickly eyeballing her food and typing the carb count for the lunch into her insulin pump before beginning eating with a moan. “You’re an angel Daniel”, Daniel just chuckled under his breath, sitting in his own chair and opening the final case file. Theo switched her pen for a fork and twirled the spaghetti getting lost in her work yet again. 

When she finally finished, hours after Daniel left, it was well and truly night outside the windows of the office and the only light came from her desk light, and through the blinds of Secman’s office facing into the bullpen. She stood up, wincing as her muscles stretched and joints cracked after hours hunched over her desk. She picked up the first pile of now-completed cases and walked over to Secman’s door, loosening up further with each step. She knocked quietly, waiting for permission from the Head Agent before entering. After the signal had been given she cracked open the door, “I have a gift for you” she announced walking in and dumping the pile in front of her boss. “The first of many” she threw over her shoulder walking back to her desk and grabbing another stack. Soon the pile on Secman’s desk was too tall and precarious so she began stacking them on the floor instead. After six such trips back and forth, a significant portion of Secman’s floor was now hidden underneath piles of papers and folders, her boss sat in his desk chair, full body laughs shook his body as he marvelled at the mess she had made. Theo’s eyes met his and suddenly she too was giggling, sitting on the carpet as the two of them laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. Wiping his eyes, Secman remarked “this is the last time I let you go this long without doing your paperwork Wilson” 

“If you say so sir” Theo responded, lying back on the floor, “what time is it?” Secman checked his watch, “just after nine”. Theo made a noise of disgust, 

“I should eat something”

“Want to go grab something for dinner? That new diner opened just down the block” 

“Sure, why not? I’m always down to try something new”

The two of them stood up and stretched, Secman grabbed his jacket of the back of his chair, slipping his phone into the pocket. He held the door open for Theo, before locking it as they walked over to her desk. She quickly tidied up her desk, swiping her pens into a drawer, the takeout container from lunch and coffee cups into the trash. She shrugged her jacket on and picked her backpack up from under her desk, “let’s go” she turned to Secman, shoving her hands in her pockets. He let Theo through the door first and then followed, the door automatically locked behind them. The high security of the building was necessary after an attempted break in of multiple intelligence agencies worldwide almost a decade ago. The two agents walked out of the building and into the cold night air, the noise and lights of the city wrapped around Theo like a blanket. This time, Secman led the way down the road. True to his word, only a few minutes walk away he held open the door to a well lit diner with a few people inside. They were greeted at the door by a girl who showed them to a booth. Both agents sat on the same side of the booth, their backs against the wall and facing the door. Secman handed her a menu from where the waitress had placed them on the table and the two of them proceeded to read them, Theo was scanning the room, a hold over from years in the field and she knew that Secman was doing the same. Once she was sure that the room was safe, but keeping one eye on the door, she took the time to actually check out the meal options. The food was typical diner fare but she was in the mood for some salt and grease tonight after the long day she’d had. The room held a few other people, a couple sat in a booth diagonally across from Theo and Secman. Judging by their mannerisms and the food, it was a first date. Theo noted the neat meal the woman had ordered while the man was eating wings with his fingers, it was highly unlikely the date would result in a second. Closer to the door there was a college student, Theo suspected a late-night deadline, paying attention to the multiple empty coffee mugs and the knee bouncing that betrayed the student’s stress. All of the diner’s occupants were similarly non-threatening and Theo relaxed as the waitress approached. 

“What can I get started for you guys tonight?” She asked them. Secman ordered nachos and Theo, a chicken burger with mozzarella sticks. The Head Agent glared at her when she tried to order coffee so she switched it out for a diet soda, emphasis on the diet. Once their orders were placed and the waitress had left the table, the two settled into easy conversation. Topics ranged from Theo’s current reading material, to Secman (call me Lucas, we’re not at work)’s cat, to who in the unit would be most likely to start a cult. Their food arrived relatively quickly and both agents continued to talk for over an hour after their meals were complete. As they left, Theo made sure to ask the waitress to give compliments to the chef, the simple diner food had been done incredibly well. The night air was cool and Theo wrapped her jacket tighter around her. They walked back to the office and parted with a slightly awkward handshake as Secman drove off in his government issued SUV. Theo on the other hand walked over to her pride and joy, a black 1962 Chevy Corvette. The car had been parked under a street light in the lot and Theo unlocked it. She revved the engine, smiling to herself before she drove off into the night. 

Fifteen-or-so minutes later Theo’s car pulled up to a small house in a quiet street. The lights in the house were on as she cut the engine and the front door swung open as she walked up the front steps. A tall man greeted Theo with a kiss and the two of them walked into the house together. 

“How was work honey?” Chris, Theo’s husband of five years, asked

“You know how paper work days are” she responded, “sorry I’m home late, Lucas asked me to go grab dinner at a new diner” 

“It’s all good, I saw your text. Fork and I had takeout” Chris responded, gesturing to the cat sitting on the kitchen counter next to a couple of empty Chinese takeout containers. 

“Awww” Theo cooed, walking over and lifting the rather grumpy cat into her arms, Chris chuckled at his indignant meow. “How is Lucas?” 

“Eh, Secman is Secman, same old. Penzias bought me lunch though” 

“That was nice of him, we should have him around for dinner again sometime” Chris told her, moving to clean up some of the mess

“We really should, I think he’s got a new girl, Kylie or something?” Theo said, stroking Fork. 

Chris grinned at that, Penzias had a reputation for having a new girl every other month, not out of anything malicious, he just didn’t have longterm relationships. “How was your day?” 

“It was pretty quiet, I got some gardening and lesson prep done”. Chris was a botany professor at the local community college. He adored his job and Theo loved hearing his rants about various interest plant facts he would discover through his research, or about the weird emails his students sent him (there were lots of those). “How are those new waterlilies doing?” Theo asked her husband, smiling softly as he proceeded to update her on the progress his various plants. 

She woke on Monday to the smell of coffee and Chris climbing back into bed, two steaming mugs in his hands, “Good morning sweetheart” he said handing her a mug and settling back against the pillows. “Thanks sweet pea”, she sat up and began to sip at the coffee, scrolling through the news for the morning. “What time do you have to be in the office today?” Chris asked. “Secman wants us to be in by nine” Theo informed him “he got tired of Daniel showing up forty-five minutes late with coffee”. Chris grinned at the image,

“I don’t have a class until ten so I can drop you at work if you like?”

Theo kissed her husband on the cheek, thanking him as she rolled out of bed to shower. Once she was showered and dressed in a pair of black slacks and a cropped woollen blazer, she joined Chris in the kitchen for breakfast. He slid a plate of waffles in her direction, “there’s fifty grams in that, I used the new sugar-free syrup you picked up the other day”, Theo gave herself her insulin and then dug into her food. 

The ride into her office was quiet except for the couple’s shared playlist playing quietly in the background. The SUV pulled into the parking lot of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, “I’ll text you when I finish? If it’s going to be late I’ll get a lift with Penzias” 

“Sounds good, if Daniel does bring you home, send me a text and I’ll make enough dinner for the three of us”

“He’ll love that” Theo laughed “I don’t think he’s eaten anything except takeout since the last time he came for dinner” 

“Have a good day sweetheart” Chris kissed her forehead as she climbed out of the car

“You too honey” 

The door shut and Chris watched his wife head through the sliding doors into the atrium.

[hermannsthumb]

ooh haunted house and hayride? or maybe... haunted hayride? is that even a thing haha

3. Haunted House + 25. Hayride

from autumn fic prompts here

i am in SUCH a fall/halloween mood!!!! it’s getting chilly already where i am baby, im ready. this is loosely based on a haunted hayride attraction that was popular back in my hometown (thought it might actually be more widespread). unfortunately i was too much of a wimp to ever do it so im going off of my 15 year old sister’s account of it :/

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

“If you get scared, you can hold my hand,” Newton says.

He extends his right hand out to Hermann and wriggles his fingers. Hermann turns away with a snort, tucking one of his own mittened hands into the pocket of his parka. “Mm. I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“I’m just saying,” Newton says. “I’m here if you need me.”

Hermann wonders whether Newton is being facetious, or if he’s managed to completely delude himself into thinking he’s the braver of the two of them. Because, arguably, he’s not—at least not in anything beyond the real world. (Hermann will begrudgingly admit many of Newton’s actions during the final days of the war, though incredibly foolish, were also quite brave.) Newton cowers behind his popcorn bucket when he drags Hermann to see horror films at the cinema; he shrieks at jumpscares, ghostly faces in windows, slasher killers stalking their victims; once, he watched a YouTube playthrough of some zombie video game, and showed up at Hermann’s bedroom five out of seven nights the following week to ask him to check to make sure the front door was locked, or if he heard that noise, or if Hermann was the one who left that hall light on and not an undead intruder who was probably hiding in the linen closet waiting to massacre them… “I’ll keep that in mind,” Hermann says, sarcastically.

The problem is that Newton hates being afraid of things. As a result, he feels the constant need to reaffirm to Hermann—and probably himself—that he’s not afraid of anything. It’s why the small octopus-shaped bowl on the entranceway bookcase in their flat is overflowing with movie ticket stubs from horror movies, and currently, why they’re in line for a Haunted Hayride.

“Do you realize we’re the only people above twenty years old here?” Hermann says.

“Young people know how to have fun,” Newton says with a smile. Hermann’s idea of a fun Friday night is taking a bath with a mystery novel and a glass of wine. He does not consider standing in the cold around a bunch of hormone-fueled and PDA-happy teenagers to be very fun. Newton’s added presence isn’t really helping much. “You know I worked a part time job at a haunted house when I was a teenager?”

“Did you scare people?” Hermann says.

“Nah,” Newton says. “I worked the fog machine. Hey, look, we’re up next.”

The line for the hayride has wound them through a Styrofoam-tombstone cemetery, “The Field of Terror” (dead corn stalks and angry-looking scarecrows swaying in the breeze), and now finally a small pumpkin patch. It’s too dark to see ahead where their ride will take them. “Tickets, please?” a vampire asks them in a hokey Transylvanian accent.

“Sick costume, man,” Newton says. He holds out his ticket, which has a little Jack-O-Lantern grinning away on it. Hermann does the same.

“You may…enter,” the vampire says, and steps aside with a whoosh of his cape.

“I should be a vampire for Halloween this year,” Newton says, as he helps Hermann up a few rickety wooden stairs to the tractor hitch they’ll be riding on, and then over to a terribly uncomfortable bale of hay. “But like, a cool vampire. Not a dumb Dracula one. Like Lost Boys. Did I make you watch Lost Boys?”

“Yes, Newton,” Hermann sighs. “You made me watch Lost Boys. And Lost Boys 2. And Lost Boys 3.”

“It’s insane how uncultured you were before I met you,” Newton says.

“I don’t want to talk about Lost Boys anymore,” Hermann says.

“Fine,” Newton says. He turns and begins squinting into the field ahead of them. “I wonder how this is going to go down? Like, are people going to try and drag us off? No, I don’t think that’s legal. Or maybe—”

Someone in an intensely gory zombie costume, holding a bloodstained, bladeless chainsaw, suddenly leaps out from below at Newton; Newton shrieks and lands on the wooden bed of the hitch. A group of teenagers seated a little further down from them begin laughing. “That is so uncool,” Newton says, as the zombie continues to gleefully wave their chainsaw around. “I could’ve, like, fallen off or something. I could’ve really hurt myself.”

“Get up off the bloody floor already,” Hermann sighs, and raps his cane against Newton’s boot.

Newton, to his surprise, stares at him in something like genuine hurt. Hermann feels a pang of guilt. He quickly puts on a show of rolling his eyes to offset it. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Are you alright?”

Newton dusts hay off his pumpkin-patterned sweater and sits back next to Hermann with an affronted sniff, though he does shoot a wary glance back down below. Looking for more zombies, Hermann presumes. “I’m fine,” he says. “It’s cool.”

The ride is jerky, uncomfortable, and—more likely than not—not very structurally sound. They pass through the rest of the pumpkin patch, where more scarecrows (these, animated) stalk them, and wave scythes; a large, fog-shrouded tunnel where hidden speakers play clattering chains and wails, and the occasional ghostly white hand grabs onto the edge of the tractor hitch; more zombies, more vampires, even a mad scientist’s lab, which does manage to rouse a burst of laughter from Hermann. He could imagine Newton being very much at home in it—in fact, it very nearly does resemble his half of their old Hong Kong laboratory. “I rather feel like I’m having deja-vu,” he whispers to Newton, watching a short man in a white lab coat plug wires into a monster on his dissection table.

Newton nearly jumps a mile into the air the second Hermann opens his mouth. “Gimme a warning next time!”

“Before I speak?”

“I wasn’t expecting it, okay?” Newton says.

Newton is jumpy the entire car-ride home, eyes continuously darting up into the rear view mirror, to the backseat, over at Hermann, and when they make it back to their flat, he locks the deadbolt and the chain on their front door. “Who do you think followed us?” Hermann says. “Frankenstein’s bloody monster?”

“Just taking precautions,” Newton says. He darts over to the window by their couch and peers out of it, then checks the lock on that, too.

“We live on the fourth floor,” Hermann reminds him. “Frankly, if someone manages to climb in through that, I’d be impressed. Oh, come on, Newton—” he starts, when Newton doesn’t so much as crack a smile, “Let’s put something on the telly. Whatever you’d like. We could watch one of those cooking programs you—”

“I think I’m just gonna brush my teeth and go to bed,” Newton says.

This, it turns out, is a lie. Hardly an hour later, while Hermann relaxes in bed with the mystery novel Newton so cruelly kept him from enjoying in the bath this evening, there’s a little knock on his door; in slips Newton, wearing green boxers and an oversized TU Berlin sweatshirt.

“I was wondering where that went,” Hermann remarks mildly. “Can I help you?’

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” Newton says, in a very, very small voice.

Hermann smiles, and slips off his glasses. “If you’d like,” he says.

Newton shuts the light off while Hermann makes room for him. He takes happily to the left side of the bed, and even more happily to pillowing himself against Hermann’s chest, eyes fluttering shut almost immediately. “Just for tonight,” he mumbles, as Hermann strokes back his unruly hair. “I’m not scared, though. That’s not why.”

“Of course you’re not,” Hermann tells him kindly. Truthfully, this is why Hermann can put up with the annoyances of double-checking the locks, shutting linen closet lights off, assuring Newton at four in the morning he hasn’t heard a thing: it almost always ends with Newton in his bed, which Hermann doesn’t think can be termed an annoyance in any universe.

“I just thought you might be,” Newton says.

“How terribly considerate of you,” Hermann says.

[themilky-way]

the motive {loki odinson}

gif credit: astouract

pairing: loki odinson x female! reader

summary: he takes pleasure in the way you react to his words. it’s a fun game up until you’ve had enough, and everything he’s wanted is sitting before him. based on the morning by the weeknd.

warnings: was supposed to be hella implied nsfw but i guess i got soft halfway through BUT i redeemed myself so ha 😼. anyways, minor nsfw themes and language, so caution. tiny, TINY angst oops. we kinky in dis one 

author’s note: i started school again so getting more works done will take a bit longer but i’ll try to write as much as i can! anyways hope this satisfies y’all 😌

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it had started out as a joke. a fun little game that would bring him some sort of entertainment during his stay on earth. and while it did work fairly well during the first few weeks, he never thought it would transition into this-whatever the hell this was.

loki was cunning and devious; it was part of his nature that would never cease to exist within him. he enjoyed causing some trouble here and there if it meant he kept a molecule of sanity. so when thor suggested he stay with him at the avengers tower, he thought he might explode. living in a humongous multi billionaire house with the people who wanted him dead? it was a set up. it had to be.

for loki, the first few weeks had been tolerable. he’d wake up in his assigned bedroom, fix himself a mediocre breakfast once the kitchen was empty, and then scurry up to a quiet place. he discovered that he could do as he pleased whenever the compound was free of residents, and since the avengers had much bigger threats now, he didn’t have to worry about them spying on him. it was false freedom, but he could live with it.

when he’d have such luxury, he would sometimes walk down to the common room to settle with a good book. sure, it may appear to be a boring pastime, but it wasn’t as if loki was going to throw an exuberant ball without tony’s permission. not that he was a man- dare he say god-of seeking approval, but it was common courtesy, for odin’s sake! he had morals he needed to follow, thus requiring him to partake in hobbies that would not get him in trouble.

however, when he came across a particular mortal one night, the values he sought after vanished. it’s as if they never existed at all, and once again the laws of time and space defied him. you were there, taking up his entire field of vision in just an oversized t-shirt. could it be your partner’s? loki questioned. it most likely was, yet he found himself hoping it wasn’t. in that moment, it didn’t help that his mind had stopped functioning. when you stepped into the kitchen, the shirt hiking up slightly with every step, his body didn’t allow him to look away. his novel was discarded far away on the couch, and his hands searched for some type of cloth to grip. it was here, with your body bent over and curiously searching through the refrigerator, that his carnal instincts heightened. then, his knuckles turned white when you finally noticed him.

“oh fuck, hi,” you gasped. the glass bottle you were holding dropped, but it knew better than to actually hit the floor. seconds after catching it, you turned to look at the stranger in front of you. “didn’t see ya there.”

loki tried-really tried-to think of a good reason not to bend you over again, on that lovely kitchen counter your fingertips were dancing on, and take you right then and there. perhaps it might seem a tad bit rude? would such an action be impolite? the right answer was yes: it was absolutely all of the above. a first date is necessary to win the heart of a lady, and then a couple more to build a friendship. the relationship would come naturally, with given time, of course. in his head, the god was scoffing at how eager he was to win this clumsy, beautiful creature. he was one who took what he wanted-whenever he wanted-and didn’t look back. but loki was confined to the dull walls of the compound, and apparently so were you. he needn’t worry, for time had joined his side once more; he’d get to know how sweet you could taste, how your mouth would mindlessly shudder out his name, and the man couldn’t be more thrilled.

“are you able to speak?”

the simple question reached him, and when he searched for the source, he came face to face with you. you were standing in front of him, in all your delicious glory, and it almost broke him. still, he was deceitful; you couldn’t know that. “of course i speak, you fool,” loki shot back.

“okay, well, you didn’t answer me back there,” you pointed out. your hands were neatly clasped behind you, excitedly rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet, when you extended a hand for introduction. your name confidently slipped out, giving loki the most tender smile anyone could offer him. “pleased to meet you, sir.”

sir. the name stirred something up inside him, and he wasn’t able to tell if he’d accidentally let out a moan upon hearing it. did you know how innocent you sounded? how ravishing you appeared right now-with the soft skin of your thighs drawing out the patterns he so wished to kiss, or how the outline of your bosom prominently showed itself through your clothes. he stopped himself, though, before he could cross the line between observant and creepy. the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable, having had the same dreadful feeling for far too long during his lifetime.

“don’t call me that.” the hand you were holding out was covered by his own. the handshake was quick, not too harsh or loose, but just adequate. he said his name, and he found himself missing the feeling of your skin against his.

“why?”

“because it’s not for you to say.” a lie. a very well calculated one, at that. he may be properly forged in the art of deception, but right now he wasn’t quite sure he passed the test. if he could grant permission to any woman to use the term of endearment, it’d sure as hell be you.

“alright then,” you mildly laughed. “i’ll just have to find a name i can call you.”

after that, loki realized that his source of happiness ultimately came from you. he enjoyed the unlikely bond you both had, one that formed because of the god’s inability to keep it in his pants. it was awkward at first-with everything you did or said locked in his mind wherever he’d go-but the confidence he always carried with him returned at one point.

today, loki never forgot to let you know what you did to him. this was it. the game he sought after since his inherent arrival at the tower. this was the adrenaline, the crazed connection he’d been hunting for centuries. it ignited something-between the two of you-whenever loki’s mouth would hover over your earlobe, whispering just how agonizingly slow he could take you. he never mentioned how he’d go about doing it, leaving you to wonder which part of him would fulfill the deed. oftentimes, loki didn’t even have to say anything. if he was feeling particularly shy that evening, and the team was all there, all loki would do was pat his knee. if you want to, if you really need to, you can finish on my leg. the simple image of it would have your hand between your legs that night.

“loki, what the hell.” you found him inside your dorm one particularly rainy night, lighting the candles you kept on either of your nightstands. “i keep my door locked for a reason, y’know. and stop wasting my candles.”

“i can’t help myself, darling. they smell quite lovely,” loki smiled. it was sincere, adoring even, and the way he took comfort in your tiny space brought a light tug to your stomach. you stayed still as you watched his tall form stride over to you. a small breath caught in your throat when loki peered down at you, and he caught it. he knew what he did to you, and he gained a new sense of pride at just how quickly he could make your knees go weak. his thumb and index fingers suddenly-gently-lifted your chin higher so your eyes could lock together. his own searched for something as if to look for the answer to his next question.

“you’re aware this isn’t just strictly physical, right?”

quite frankly, you were not in the loop even a little bit. “what?”

the tiny whisper made him want to carve out your lips with his own, slow, and taunting, and hard. he refrained for the time being. “think hard on it. there’s no rush.”

“no, i get what you meant. it’s just” you shook your head, prompting loki to let go of his grip. “i dunno. i thought you didn’t catch feelings, let alone for me.” loki let out a hearty laugh which forced a goofy grin onto your face. you liked seeing him like this. happy.

“i’m not stone cold, darling. you’re the only one i’ve ever had an infatuation with, though. well done, you seem to have captured my heart,” he joked. you giggled with him as you lightly shoved his chest, but loki caught your wrist before you could take it back. the kiss he brought to the inside of it had you swooning. a childish, girly feeling, yet you couldn’t care less. the both of you stayed there for a while and casually chatted until it was time for loki to head out. that night, you hardly got any sleep.

-------

ever since then, loki acted as if he didn’t remember it. he went back to his cocky self, not that you minded, but some simple recognition would’ve been nice. the days lapsed as they did before: loki doing everything in his divine power to make you ache for him. it worked, no matter how hard you avoided it, but soon you stopped trying. your body demanded for loki to touch you. to give you more than a simple brush of his lips to your wrist, yet he gave you anything but. and so you set out to change that.

it was the late hours of the night, with your team comfortably dispersed amongst the common room. movie night was in full effect, and no one had the intention of looking away from the gory film that was currently playing. you were seated next to wanda, the man you wanted painfully too far away from your reach. he didn’t have any clue you were angry with him, nor were you going to tell him. he was a thoughtful man, he’d figure it out.

you blinked away only to be met with his gaze. it was sharp, hungry. he looked you over as his tongue dipped out to run along his lip, biting it once he finally saw what he wanted. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t arouse you. of course it did; the poor man would rail you straight into this couch right now if he got the chance to.

you looked away, fearing vulnerability, and somehow managed to make it to the end of the marathon. you all said your farewell’s and deparated to your designated corridors, and just when you were about to close your door, a hand stopped it.

he pushed himself inside without much resistance from your own part. you stepped back and allowed him to close it, suddenly feeling a bit small. he looked at you then, the hunger replaced by confusion.

“is everything alright?” he inquired. no it’s not. you won’t shove two fingers into my mouth and tell me how good i’ve been.

“is everything alright-” you scoffed, “no it’s fucking not, loki.” you ran your hands through your hair and looked down, finding the decorative tiles on your floor quite intriguing.

“hey, woah, look at me. tell me what’s wrong, sweet.”

“that. that’s what’s wrong, loki. it’s the way you can tease me whenever you want, and call me sweet names and expect me not to react. you give me nothing to work with, for fuck’s sake!” a couple tears ran down your cheeks unbeknownst to you, but loki was quick to hold your face in his hands. his thumb wiped the drops in quick, tender-like motions and he crumbled at the way you focused on him.

“i’m sorry, darling. my intentions were never meant to bring you harm, much less sorrow. how can i fix this?”

“i need you to, fuck i-” you took a couple of breaths. “i need-want-you to touch me. to make me feel good, in all the ways you know how.”

loki chuckled quietly, a proud, defiant smirk curving along his lips. “is that what this is about? why, you could’ve just asked. no need for a tantrum.”

rolling your eyes, you tried to look away from him, but his hands began traveling to the curve of your neck, a lonely thumb parting your lips. he pried your mouth open and slipped it inside, letting the noise hidden in the back of his throat escape when your tongue wrapped around him. “is this what you wanted?”

your own luscious moan filled the room, and you felt his thumb push harder against your tongue.

“use your words, angel.”

an enticing gasp. “yes, sir.”

[devourer--of--books]

tagatha dating simulator au

- It’s sunday night and local college student, Agatha, hasn’t sleep in two days, practically glued to her chair at the library, trying to absorb the maximum of information she possibly could before finals on monday morning.

- Sitting across from her is her roommate and best friend, Sophie, who doesn’t seem nearly as concerned, playing a game on her phone. Mostly because she already failed half of her courses and is considering dropping out of college to pursue a modeling career, why try at this point-

- Agatha appreciates that Sophie is keeping her company, she really does, but even if her friend was using headphones, Agatha can still hear the background music and the voice actors very clearly. That on its own was distracting enough, but it was always the same lines, with the background music looping as Sophie restarted the game prologue over and over again.

- Around the fifth time she hears the app-staring-exclamation ‘milady!’ her eye starts twitching.

- By the twelfth she slams her book shut, earning herself a glare from all the remaining students in the library.

- “How terrible do you have to be at a game to not be able to get through the prologue?” she whisper-shouts, taking the sit beside Sophie, looking at the screen.

- “That’s not the problem,” her friend defends, proceeding to explain the game.

- Trial by Tale is a recently released dating simulator that has managed to gather a cult-like following. The game was praised for its diverse range of LIs, well-written routes, stellar voice acting, high-quality art style and a beautiful soundtrack. It was apparently highly addicting as well, as Agatha had never seen Sophie be that invested in... any game... like, ever.

- Basically, the main character was transported inside a fairytale-fantasy-like world, where they were introduced as a ‘reader’ to compete in the ‘trial by tale’, a inter-worldly tournament, set up by a mysterious entity (a magical pen known as ‘the storian’), in which the winner would be granted an unconditional wish.

- “Original,” Agatha snorts.

- “Can you just shut up and listen?”

- During the prologue, the main character meets most of the main LIs and according to the player’s decisions, the game would put them into a specific route, based on affection levels with each datatable character.

- There were about thirty bad endings for the casual route (where the player either made stupid choices or didn’t gather enough affection with any LI), ranging from mildly sad to terribly gory. Then, each route had five early bad endings, that could happen during the trial, resulting in the main character’s death. 

- If the player managed to win the tournament with the LI, bargaining with the storian for the survival of two competitors, then two new endings would be unlocked: a normal ending, in which the reader would wish to go home and a happy ending, in which the reader wished to remain forever in the fairytale world living happily ever after with their partner.

- “And that’s where it gets weird,” Sophie pauses, opening up the Trial By Tale wiki page. “Every single LI has a walkthrough and seven possible endings.”

- She shows Agatha a bunch of characters, offering some commentary on their personalities and backstories. Then, she pauses at the last. "All but one." The character is the prettiest, if not a bit too perfect. ‘Tedros of Camelot’, it says on the top of his page, his basic info and biography listed to the side, but it’s full of gaps, blanks and ‘???’s. It was mentioned that he was a dateable character, yet no  walkthrough was provided.

- “Why doesn’t it say anything? Has he not been released?”

- “No one has managed to get his route so far, but according to the game developers, it’s possible. We don’t even know what his voice sounds like.”

- “And you think you will because…?”

- “I’m me. I’m getting Tedros’ route even if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”

- Agatha decides to leave her be, going back to the books, while asking for her to at least lower the volume.

- An hour or so goes by until Sophie grows hungry and decides to leave the library, going back to the dorm. After that, Agatha finally manages to concentrate, and time goes by in a flash.

- In fact, it passes so quickly that she’s not even sure what time it was. When did everyone leave?

- Her phone is dead and the clock on the wall is frozen at midnight. Probably broken, Agatha decides. It couldn’t be midnight, the lights were still on, the library closed at 10:30pm sharp and no one came to kick her out. She was tired, but she wasn’t deaf. She calls for the librarian.

- All the lights turn off at once. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t freak her out a bit.

- Then, she notices a blue glow from under the table. Please don’t let it be a demon.

- It’s a smartphone, with a bedazzled case, a loading blue screen emitting the light. Trial By Tale’s soundtrack starts to play and soon enough the words appear. Touch anywhere to start. That was Sophie’s phone. Which would be fine and normal and okay if Agatha wasn’t pretty sure Sophie left with it. 

- The music starts to loop, and Agatha uses the light to guide her to the entrance, only to find it locked. Every other exit was blocked as well. Ha. Funny.

- Eventually, she surrenders, clicking on the screen, trying to close the app. The last thing she hears is ‘milady!’ and everything turns black as she feels the floor disappear from under her feet, her consciousness fading as she fell into an abyss of darkness.

- She wakes up lying on grass, near a gate, the words Trial By Tale engraved on top of it.

- She pinches herself, feeling it sting as she stared at the gate, pinching harder and harder to the point she nearly screamed in pain. The gate was still there. Agatha focus on her senses. She’s never able to smell things on her dreams.

- This place smells like dirt, pines, dried blood and iron. 

- It’s a dream, she tries to convince herself. Very vivid dream, but it’s a dream.

- A bunch of floating text appears in front of her: Welcome, competitors!

- The storian tells Agatha everything Sophie already told her: it’s a tournament, in which 40 teens from different fairytale kingdoms, including the reader world, must compete amongst themselves for survival during 24 hours. You could pair up with someone, forming an alliance, but there could only be one winner. Then, the world froze, turning black and white, three options appearing in thin air:

A: I’m a boy 

B: I’m a girl 

C: I’m neither/both/something else.

- Agatha experiments. The text didn’t respond to her voice or gestures; she had to touch it. B. They disappeared up in smoke, being replaced by a new choice:

A: climb over the gate early 

B: go in as soon as the gong goes off

C: run into the woods

- All of those sound horrible, she’ll hang around here, thank you very much.

- Agatha decides to pick B, because it sounded the least likely to get her killed. Tapping the option, color returns and more texts appears, telling her the rest of the rules. Apparently, all forms of magic and weapons were allowed, as it was a tournament to the death.

- Well, she had neither a weapon nor any magic, geez, things were certainly looking up.

- A gong can be heard and Agatha waits for her legs to magically move according to her choice. 

- They don’t.

- She debates on staying put for a few minutes, maybe way too many, but then she remembers: casual route endings vary from mildly sad to terribly gory. Agatha doesn’t wanna find out which one she’d get by sticking around.

- Her future now depends on her romancing one of these pieces of code. Thankfully, it was just a dream, right?

- Inside the arena (?), she gets some other choices, which Agatha uses to her advantage, trying to figure out which LI she was going for and how to win them over.

- Hort, according to her friend, was the easiest to please and the most boring of them all. Nicola was efficient and Sophie had managed to unlock her happy ending without a walkthrough. Aric was a psycho, and so was Japeth. Don’t pick Rhian, her friend had warned. Anadil was a hard one to guess without the walkthough, Hester was super hot and Agatha’s type but that could go very wrong (clearly her type wasn’t working out, as she was painfully single) and-

- Is that Japeth or Rhian? She can’t tell, but he’s coming her way.

A: introduce yourself

B: try to kill him

C: hide behind the rock

- She chooses C, but climbs a tree instead, because he surely would be able to see her behind the rock, was he blind or something?

- “You sure are taking your time choosing,” a voice whispers from the branch above her, nearly giving her a heart attack, “...first time player maybe? Or just dumb?”

- Tedros, the mysterious character, was looking down at her, resting on a higher branch. 

- Agatha glares at him before blurting: “You’re shorter than you look on your CG.”

- He chokes. “You can hear me?” 

- “Why are you british?” she notices the accent, given how different it sounded from all the other voice actors. 

- “I’m bi,” he frowns at her in offended confusion.

- (The himbo energy in this bus is astronomical.)

- They bicker a bit and Japeth grows suspicious of the hushed conversation, nearing the tree. Tedros asks for her help taking him down. Agatha is like, sure, whatever at this point, just trying to forget that Tedros broke the fourth wall. It’s a dream, don’t overthink too much.

- She distracts Japeth, and Tedros tries to ambush him, but it backfires horribly, resulting in Tedros now being a few seconds away from dying a very very painful death.

A: run away

B: ally yourself with Japeth

- Agatha hesitates over option A, convincing herself that Tedros wasn’t a real person. He was a just a character in a game. But while the entire world is black and white waiting for her answer, she swears his eyes remain icy blue. 

- Trick of the light?

- She presses A but throws herself towards Japeth, colliding with him. Agatha ends up being stabbed in the arm, but otherwise fine, which is more than Japeth can say, as he fell into a conveniently located black hole. That hurt like a bitch, how is this a dream?

- Tedros is shook.

- “What did you do? How did you even-” he eyes the blood in her arm. “You’re bleeding!” Tedros rips his shirt to wrap it around the wound, and Agatha does her best not to stare at him while he tends to the wound.

- A blue ribbon in the sky tells Agatha she is now on Tedros’ route. A ribbon they can both read.

- “That’s… troublesome.”

- “What, is your route cursed or something?”

- “...”

- “It’s totally cursed, isn’t it?”

- They argue a bunch and Agatha tries to ditch him but ends up almost dying twice. Tedros saves her, and insists that since he accidentally gave her his route, he’ll help her stay alive for as long as he can. 

- Together they figure out that Agatha’s ability to disobey the game choices might be able to uncurse his route, hopefully sending her home by the end and resetting the game as it was meant to be, allowing people play his route.

- Agatha is pretty sure Tedros is not telling her something, but she kinda does owns him her life now (“2x1, sucks to suck, reader.”) and he offered to share some of his food and hiding spot with her. Doesn’t hurt that he clearly knew how to fight and had a big sword, while Agatha had.... free will and nothing else apparently???

- They end up talking over fruits and water (we love a healthy king) in a cave and Agatha finds out basically every other character’s backstory, learning a ton about the context of these trials as well as what the game felt like for the characters.

- According to Tedros, every other character was doomed to repeat the same route and actions following the reader’s choices, only to lose all memories by the end, as the game reseted. They were all blissfully ignorant of the fact that this was, in fact, a dating simulator. All of them but Tedros. When Agatha asks him why, he closes off:

- “Every single character has a core wish they want fulfilled. It can be the same wish every time, or it can change once your route resets. My original wish contradicted the memory reset, so no one has been able to play my route at all. And if no one plays, I can’t reset. If you go home and the game resets, I’ll make a different wish and my route should be fixed for good.”

- Agatha doesn’t ask what he wished for and he doesn’t tell her either; it feels like way too personal of a question for strangers eating berries in a cave.

- She does ask him what his new wish will be, though.

 - “I’ll restore my kingdom back to its former glory,” he starts, a certain sadness in his eyes. ���They deserve a prince who doesn’t waste time wishing for-” Tedros interrupts himself, telling her about his kingdom instead.

- Agatha knows he’s related to King Arthur due to his name on the Trial By Tale wiki, but she’s surprised that he actually gives her that info willingly. He is indeed the prince of Camelot, but his mother abandoned the palace when he was nine and then his father died a few years later, sending the kingdom into despair and disgrace. 

- (“That’s rough, buddy.”)

- To lighten the mood, she decides to tell him about ‘the reader world’. 

- “To exist in your world might be something then,” he smiles, “I mean, beats hanging around here. You said you have a machine that can play music anytime you want?”

 - Tedros is fascinated with everything and asks her about all sorts of stuff, like about politics, lgbtqa+ rights, tik tok, food, the economy, school and fashion trends. Also, memes, lots of memes.

- They spend like 8 hours straight hidden in a cave, just talking, bickering and actually having a lot of fun. The lack of choices even makes her forget she was still in a game.

- Tedros notices how tired she looks and offers to keep watch while she sleeps.

A: say no as a joke

B: outright refuse

- Agatha taps A.

- “Sure, do you mind if I lean on you though?”

- Is this like a date or are we like doing my route and you’re sleeping on my arm platonically? Tedros is shook, part 2.

- Agatha tries not to fall asleep, but she does take a nap, leaning on his shoulder. Surprisingly enough, an hour later she’s still alive, but her head was now on his lap and he was petting her hair.

- “Hi.”

- “Hi.”

A: get up

B: kiss him

- She doesn’t wanna get up, but she doesn’t really feel like kissing him would be appropriate for the moment. She presses B, yet remains still for next few minutes. Tedros looks a bit disappointed, as if he was waiting for her.

- “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

- “Do you want me to?”

- He doesn’t reply immediately, running his fingers through her hair. “Everyone wants to kiss me. I’m hot, I’m a prince and I’m rich.”

- “You’re gonna need to do better than that to get me to kiss you,” Agatha tells him. “If we survive this I’ll kiss you once, just before we unlock your normal ending and I go home. For a CG.”

- “But then I won’t remember it at all.”

- The comment makes her nervous. Once this is over and Tedros gets his route unlocked, he’s gonna be just another character. He’ll say things like that to everyone. Agatha has to chastise herself for growing attached to a video game character. He’s not real. He wasn’t yours to begin with, you’ve known him for less than a day. Get a grip.

- They stay in silence until another gong goes off, the storian’s text showing up in the air: “12 hours left. Only 10 competitors remain.”

A: stay in the cave

B: leave

- Agatha chooses B and they head out of the cave to see who else was alive, just in time to not be crushed under heavy rocks. Strangely they don’t bump into anyone. What they do run into, though, is a bunch of traps and creatures meant to randomly eliminate competitors. Great.

- Somehow, Agatha always chooses the right option and alters her actions just enough to save them at the last minute. Is she a pro-gamer? One can only marvel at how lucky she’s been getting in this game. No, but like, really, is she? Tedros is impressed.

- At the 6 hour mark, there’s 4 people left, including the two of them. He’s been eyeing Agatha weirdly and she doesn’t know what to think of it because she liked hanging out with him, but at the same time, he is a piece of code.

- There’s like, a dramatic confrontation with the other two competitors, which turn out to be Aric and Hester, not as a pair, but as individuals, and it ends up working out in Tedros and Agatha’s favor, as those two end up murdering each othe while Tedros and Agatha have the advantage of teamwork. It’s a great action sequence, but if you’ve read this far, I’m pretty sure you’re not here for the action.

- Anyway, the storian appears, but unlike the other routes, instead of giving Agatha the opportunity to bargain for them both to survive, her options are:

A: kill Tedros

B: kill Tedros

- Agatha doesn’t tap either. She stays still, glaring at the pen while the world remained black and white.

- Then, the entire arena starts to shake, the game glitching as Tedros moves, his colors fading in and out, his expression tortured, as if just smiling at her was painful, his eyes glowing unnaturally blue. “Let’s get you home,” he mouths, before stabbing himself with his own sword, falling to the floor as the colors returned for good.

- Agatha couldn’t breathe, kneeling beside him.

- “To meet someone who’d love me for me,” he admits, bleeding out into the ground, a single tear running down his face. “That was my original wish. And then I met you.”

- She kisses him on the lips, and as you know, true love’s kiss breaks every spell, heals every wound and transcends the limits of storytelling.

- Tedros’ chest is slowly healing, but just as he gets stronger, Agatha grows weaker, starting to disappear through his fingers in rays of lights, back to the reader’s world, leaving a lonely prince by himself in a bloody arena with a magical pen.

- “Unconditional wish for the winner, hm?”

- Back at the library, Agatha wakes up with a snap, falling off her chair.

- The clock on the wall reads 10pm and the few students left at the library glare at her. She hurries to gather her things in her arms, going back to her dorm trying to make sense of what just happened. It was all a dream. It had to be because her arm is intact. She has been running on too much caffeine, finals start the next morning, she was stressed, that’s all.

- Sophie is still playing the game once Agatha arrives at the dorm, and as soon as she walks in, her friend tells her the news:

- “See, darling, I told you I’d get Chaddick’s route eventually!”

- Chaddick’s route?

- Agatha doesn’t even reply, going straight to bed, still haunted. That night, she has no dreams of handsome boys in caves, neither does she dream of blue-eyed princes bleeding out.

- Monday afternoon, though, a distracted Agatha is walking back to her dorm after taking her exams, when she bumps into someone, nearly knocking her over. She is about to yell at the stranger when her voice gets caught on her throat.

- “To exist in your world might be something,” the familiar stranger smiles at her, “I mean, I’m Tedros Pendragon, nice to meet you.”

[sometimes-i-right]

Was digging through my notes and found this discarded scene from Mand’alor bal Kaysh Vod’ika. Obi-Wan’s verd’goten was originally a single chapter featuring a hunt on Mandalore, but I scrapped that in favor of the Xanatos hunt published on AO3. Of course that decision was made after I had already written 3k words, so enjoy the scrapped scene after the break. (The original arc also involved a completely original mission where Obi-Wan crossed paths with Luminara and her master. I may use bits and pieces of that mission in a future arc.)

This chapter originally had another 500 or so words where Obi-Wan is adopted by a strill puppy. I think those words got deleted, since the only evidence is a pro/con list and the single “protect” emotion from the strill parent.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure what he expected Mandalore to look like, but it wasn't this. Large swathes of the southern hemisphere had been bombarded from space, leaving enormous puckered black scars across a golden desert. The desert was relatively new, or so Jango said, a result of the bombardment destroying the natural ecosystem and leaving the area uninhabitable without sophisticated environmental domes.

The northern hemisphere had been miraculously spared - and that alone had probably kept the planet capable of supporting humanoid life - leaving a glimpse of the Mandalore of old. Forests and mountains blanketed the area, making it difficult to carve out enough space for a single clan, let alone a city or proper landing pad.

Jango guided Jaster's Legacy in for a lopsided landing between an evergreen forest and the start of yet another mountain range, a feat Obi-Wan was glad he didn't have to perform. "Wayii," he exclaimed softly upon exiting the ship, eyebrows rising in awe at the way the Legacy was perched atop three boulders like a giant bird of prey.

"It just takes practice," Jango assured, voice modulator hiding most of the amusement Obi-Wan could feel from him. "Now, your verd'goten," he started and Obi-Wan snapped his attention over. "Traditionally, the two of us would disappear into the wilderness while the rest of Clan Fett tried to catch and defeat you. Seeing as that's not an option, we'll have to test your warrior skills another way."

Obi-Wan swallowed his nerves and nodded seriously.

"In these forests are a number of dangerous predators. Your task is to hunt a strill," he stated and Obi-Wan tilted his head in question. "They're an apex predator native to these forests. Highly intelligent, mammalian, with an unmistakable stench and six legs. Tend to pounce from high trees," he warned, grinning when Obi-Wan nervously glanced at the tree line.

Those were some very tall trees.

"I'll be with you to make sure you don't die, but this is your hunt," Jango finished. "Be sure to take whatever you need from the ship."

"I don't suppose there's a strill tracker?" Obi-Wan quipped before studying the forest. He had taken the basic survival courses all Initiates took. He had the Force. If things went to absolute bathashit, he had Jango.

He could do this.

He set off into the forest with a light pack, a single blaster, and a survival knife. He had contemplated grabbing more supplies - enough provisions for a week, more weapons, a full temporary shelter and bedroll - but had ultimately decided against it. This was a test. He wouldn't take the easy way out.

The forest was eerie and peaceful at the same time. Insects chirped and screamed all around him, blocking out the softer padding sounds of small prey animals and his own two feet. Branches snapped and shook from the breeze and various creatures going about their lives. The scent of pine and rotting foliage sat heavy in his lungs.

He trudged on.

The sun filtered through the sturdy veshok trees and warmed patches of undergrowth. Obi-Wan paused in one, absorbing the heat and breathing out his tension. Breathed in peace, and exhaled his uncertainty. Inhaled fresh air and exhaled his nerves.

He stretched out his senses.

Jango stopped fifty yards away, preternaturally still in the way all predators were. He was calm, patient, warm, but ready to spring into action at the slightest signal. His own senses - and likely his sensors - were on high alert, searching for any indication that Obi-Wan needed his help.

Obi-Wan would not need his help. Not for this. He would make Jango proud.

A rapid heartbeat and softly padding feet off to one side, a flicker of life just as wary and alert as Obi-Wan was. He brushed against that dim light, identifying it as a small herbivore. A prey animal, calculating in its own simple way whether it wanted to flee or continue munching the sweet vorpan berries.

Another flicker of life overhead, this one sleeping. A good thing, too, since there was an aura of danger and barely leashed violence tucked behind those brown wings. Obi-Wan would not put it past this particular creature to attack, and possibly kill, humans if it felt the desire. He sent a soft sleep suggestion to it and warily turned his attention elsewhere, though part of him kept it firmly in mind.

Something nudged his arm, and Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open. A cold black nose attached to a long triangular face nudged his arm again, and Obi-Wan huffed a soft laugh. He slowly, carefully reached up to pet the shatual's head and scratch the base of the wide antlers, gaze flickering over the herd that had decided to come meet him.

"Hello there," he greeted quietly, belatedly realizing he had been projecting peace into the Force in his attempts to keep the predator bird overhead asleep. No wonder the herd had come up to him. "You're a brave little fellow, aren't you?"

Jango shifted, and the shatual herd stiffened, heads all swiveling to stare at the Mandalorian. Obi-Wan jerked back to avoid getting clocked by his new friend's bony crown.

The largest shatual made a guttural sound, and Obi-Wan scrambled away as the herd abruptly fled.

A mix of exasperation, disbelief, and humor prompted Obi-Wan to turn, a bemused if chiding look on his face. "Thanks for that," he snarked, staring pointedly at the blaster Jango had drawn.

"This happen a lot?" Jango asked evenly as he stowed the weapon.

"Not generally. I think I was projecting and they got curious," Obi-Wan admitted. "We should move on. I think that's a shriek-hawk overhead, which means a strill wouldn't be welcome here."

There was a brief pause as Jango consulted his HUD. "Good eye," he confirmed.

Obi-Wan smiled as he wandered deeper into the woods, the Force guiding his steps.

 They stalked through the forest for hours, Obi-Wan picking out what plants he thought were safe for foraging and Jango verifying their safety. Whether that was cheating, Obi-Wan didn't care to examine too closely. He knew how to test whether a plant was edible. Using Jango's knowledge simply kept the man from worrying at Obi-Wan's naturally small appetite.

There were no repeats of the shatual herd incident, though Obi-Wan may have used a small Force suggestion to lure a rabbit for latemeal. He only felt mildly guilty about using the Force in such a way as Jango helped him field dress and roast the animal.

Camp was a simple affair; a pile of dry leaves, a small fire, and a blanket to keep the morning dew off. Jango didn't even bother with the blanket, relying instead on his beskar'gam to keep him warm and dry. Part of Obi-Wan was jealous, the rest of him knew he would get his own suit soon.

The next day came bright and early, complete with Obi-Wan gasping from a half-forgotten nightmare and Jango groaning about a night on the hard ground. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and would have thrown a pillow if he had one; the ground was not that much harder than the shared blanket pile they were experimenting with on the Legacy.

They wandered onwards, Obi-Wan following the vague currents of the Force as best he could. It was difficult to tell where exactly he was meant to go. The Living Force had never been his strong suit, and the Force felt especially elusive in this old, scarred forest. This was a place teeming with life tempered by a looming expectation of danger; these were survivors, determined to eke out a living among the jagged rocks and scraggly trees and the heavy weight of death.

He shivered as he crested another boulder.

The vague feeling of alarm and the sound of rustling trees alerted him to animals fleeing something. He turned, stretching his senses out.

A breeze ruffled his hair, and Obi-Wan nearly gagged at the stench it carried. Like rotting meat and Vos's training tunics and unwashed bodies all mixed together. He hastily switched to breathing through his mouth, and nearly gagged again as he realized he could taste the stink.

He glanced back at Jango, a disgusted look on his face. 'Is that what I think it is?'

Amusement spiked, and Jango inclined his head. 'Yes.'

Obi-Wan scowled and crept towards the strill, drawing both his vibroblade and blaster. He reached out with the Force, recognizing a spark of animal intelligence just ahead, mind bright with happiness and victory at a successful kill.

The strill was just as ugly as it smelled. Short gray fur bristled across its flappy skin as it tore into the downed shatual. Its front four legs held the shatual in place as it systemically tore the beast into shreds, blood and viscera spreading from the corpse in a gory puddle.

Obi-Wan swallowed roughly and raised his blaster.

Something - the wind, maybe - alerted the predator of his presence as its head snapped up, snarling. The Force barely had time to flare in warning before the strill pounced, fangs and claws extended.

Obi-Wan shouted in surprise and thrust one hand out, catching the strill with the Force, pushing it back, and buying him precious seconds to scramble to his feet.

The strill snarled as it landed, prowling around him in a wide arc. Obi-Wan raised his blaster and aimed for the creature's center of mass, Force at the ready for any unexpected surprises. The Force trilled right as the strill leapt, and Obi-Wan twisted to one side, blaster landing a fiery score across the loose skin of the strill's underbelly.

He cursed under his breath. That would only make the animal angrier.

The strill snarled as it landed and immediately bounded up a nearby tree. Obi-Wan shifted closer to the shatual body, tracking the strill as it jumped from tree to tree around him.

He dove to one side as the strill fell almost on top of him, blaster snapping out three quick bolts. The strill whimpered as it landed, and Obi-Wan frowned as he realized he had only caught one of the six legs instead of the animal's vulnerable chest.

It would hurt, but it wouldn't incapacitate.

Apparently it hurt enough, as the strill picked up its injured leg and fled into the forest. Obi-Wan grit his teeth and followed, eyes scanning everywhere for disturbed foliage and blood.

Despite the injury, the strill was fast, quickly disappearing among the veshok trees. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, searching for that combination of intelligence and anger/hurt/fear/hunger that was the strill among similar animal minds.

He scowled as he felt the strill escape to the edge of his awareness. If he were better with the Force - if he were a real Jedi - he would be able to feel it out from across the planet. He picked up the pace, using the Force to vault himself over a downed tree and enhance his speed.

But it was no good. The strill was clever and knew the forest better than Obi-Wan did. He drew to a stop, panting, as he recognized that his target had escaped.

As he caught his breath, he realized Jango was nowhere to be seen. He frowned, reaching out with the Force for the familiar presence, but only finding the relatively dull glimmers of animals instead. He reached for his commlink and paused.

He wasn't asking for help. He wouldn't. Not for this.

He could do this. Jango thought he could do this, so he could do this. He would not let Jango down.

He flipped a switch on the device allowing it to broadcast his location, and tucked it back in his belt pouch. Whether Jango needed the tracking signal or not, it settled something deep inside knowing Jango would absolutely be able to find him.

And if the strill did kill him, at least Jango would be able to find his corpse.

With that cheery thought, Obi-Wan carefully examined his surroundings. There, off to the side and high in the trees, were what looked like claw marks, and lower on the trunk were a few spatters of blood.

He followed those signs for some distance, trusting the Force to keep him mostly pointed in the right direction and his own eyes the rest of the way, and emerged in a small rocky clearing. He scoured the lichen covered rock for the telltale blood spots he had been following, and headed back into the forest.

As he came upon a small rocky clearing, he was forced to admit the strill was far more clever than he had given credit. He drew his knife, marked the false trail, and tried a different path.

The third time he entered the small rocky clearing, Jango was waiting for him.

"Not a word," Obi-Wan demanded, finally locating what he hoped was the real trail.

Jango didn't move, but he also didn't say a word, so Obi-Wan counted that as a win. He determinedly ignored whatever emotions Jango was bleeding into the Force.

The third path led him into the foothills of a mountain and down into a shallow stream. He scowled at the cheery water feature, just knowing the strill had used that to well and truly lose him.

"Do you have a plan?" Jango asked as he drew close.

Obi-Wan sighed, releasing his frustration to the Force, and took a seat on a conveniently flat rock. "We weren't taught more than basic tracking skills," Obi-Wan admitted, "but I did spend a lot of time hiding from and chasing down my friends in the creche. Whenever someone got really good at hiding, we could generally locate them if we meditated and really focused, so I'm going to give that a shot."

"Does that work for anyone?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "The better you know who you're searching for, the easier it gets. I got a decent feel for the strill while we were fighting, so with some luck I should be able to find it. At least, I should, as long as it hasn't gone too far away," which they both knew was unlikely given the strill's injury.

Jango didn't have anything to say to that, so Obi-Wan closed his eyes and drew the Force around him. Energy swelled, and Obi-Wan concentrated, dragging his attention away from Jango's bright light to pick through the dimmer threads surrounding them.

His attention slid to a knot of threads vaguely resembling his target and a herd of shatuale. The strill-thread watched closely, its focus on the runt-thread at the back of the herd with the gimp leg, as the herd gathered at a sizeable bush. The runt dropped its head to gather some berries, and the strill pounced, air catching the gliding skin between its legs and depositing the predator's claws on the shatual's neck.

The shatuale-threads panicked, bolted, and fled, leaving the strill-thread and the dying shatual-thread behind but not forgotten. As Obi-Wan watched, the shatual-thread frayed and split, the pieces carried away on some indiscernible breeze to tangle themselves with the shatuale herd and the strill ripping strips out of an empty shell.

And those scattered threads suddenly contracted, bright and solid and demanding, dragging the herd and the strill-thread, now frayed in places, together. He watched as the mess of threads collided and tangled, forming some knotted mess he could hardly pick apart before it suddenly dispersed, leaving only a few frayed remains behind.

He frowned at the unhelpful vision. Something - the Force? - frowned right back.

He prodded at the frayed remains and felt a flash of very animal alarm/protect/hunt in return.

He kept that thread firmly in mind as he carefully eased himself from the Force.

"Find something?" Jango asked evenly, though after his latest deep meditation the man might as well have been screaming his worry, curiosity, and fascination to the galaxy for all he was masking the emotions.

"I think so," Obi-Wan answered, rising to his feet and nearly tumbling to the ground as his vision temporarily blacked out. "Whoa. How long was I out?"

"Four hours," Jango answered, stowing the blaster he had been cleaning. He fished a nutribar from one of his numerous pouches and threw it at Obi-Wan. "Eat and drink. The water is safe."

Obi-Wan scowled but obediently bit down on the dry bar before chasing it with water and venturing back into the forest. The strill-thread felt different outside that plane of deep meditation, but he had a direction to follow and he wasn't about to let it slip away again.

He almost wished he had waited to finish the nutribar before chasing the strill. His mouth felt sandy, and he hadn't thought to fill a canteen before leaving the stream behind.

The strill-thread remained steady in his mind, and he couldn't help the slight increase in pace as he caught the first pungent whiff of the beast. He cloaked himself in the Force as if he were hiding from Quin and approached slowly, senses straining for any sign the strill knew he was approaching.

He heard growling and an answering whuff just ahead. He ducked down, drawing his blaster and checking the Force. Jango was still several meters away, and it felt like the strill was distracted by a sizeable herd of angry shatuale.

Angry herbivores. That was not something he would have expected.

The lead shatual ducked its head, antlers pointed straight at the strill, and whuffed another warning. The strill growled and darted forwards, forward paws raised to slash.

Obi-Wan could only watch as the shatual charged, caught the strill in the points of its antlers, and tossed it aside like trash. The other shatuale dropped their heads and followed suit, hooves trampling the strill into the dirt. The lead shatual stopped long enough to study its target, whuffed and pawed at the ground, and tossed its head in victory as the strill whined pathetically.

He sat stunned for a moment, not sure what he was supposed to do as the shatuale proudly left the area. He was supposed to hunt the strill, but a herd of prey animals came and did the deed for him. Did it count if he tracked it, fought it, and ultimately didn't kill it?

But no, the poor animal wasn't dead yet.

He could feel the creature's pain, see how it struggled to breathe around a crushed ribcage. Its limbs were shattered in multiple locations, the grey fur already matted with blood where its thick skin had burst. The shatuale hadn't killed the strill, but there was no way the strill would survive much longer.

He felt a swell of pity for the thing as he approached. There was no way he could help it; even if he had enough bacta on him (which he definitely didn't), the creature would sooner kill him than let him approach.

He met the animal's gold eyes, unfocused and cloudy though they were, and tried to press peace and comfort on its mind. Something stirred and weakly nudged against his mind, leaving an impression of pain/sad/hungry.

The strill released a wet whine and blood burbled past its lips. Obi-Wan closed his eyes in mourning, pressed a suggestion to sleep on the rapidly weakening creature, and shot it clean between the eyes.

It really was a mercy this time.

He rose to his feet as he heard Jango approach. "I killed it, but a herd of shatuale did most of the work first," he blurted out, stowing his blaster.

Jango came to stop next to him, staring down at the corpse before turning his helmeted face towards him. "That's okay," Jango said. "I told you before, the verd'goten is traditionally a hunt between clan members. This was a test to see how advanced your survival and fighting skills were, and based on what I've seen, you're more than skilled enough." He smiled behind the helmet, one hand resting proudly on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Congratulations, verd."

Verd. Soldier. Warrior.

Jango's smile became tender as he squeezed Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, vod."

Obi-Wan beamed.

[ibijau]

Oh, if you are still looking for prompts (sorry you're bored at work, though!) could you write a fic where Huaisang finds out somehow (at or before Cloud Recesses, I think) that Meng Yao is the one who would kill NMJ? I love the intensity of NHS' love for NMJ in 'I am what I am...' but that one's so tragic. I'd love to see NHS scheming to actually save him!

so. Uh. You’re like ‘oh that was tragic’ and then I did this and. I think. It’s worse??? 

So yeah. Here’s an AU for ‘I am what I am’ where I things went more along my original plan (and story canon), with LXC still struggling to believe jgy really could have killed nmj, and thus being very shocked when nhs pushes him to stab jgy, leading to lxc going to seclusion in Cloud Recesses. And then... welp, just read I guess. It’s not happy for nhs but I’m mildly tempted to add to it in the future ahah orz

warning for mentions of suicide except not... exactly? and mentions of animal death

Huaisang had found the book among the belongings of Mo Xuanyu. Something he had stolen from Carp Tower before leaving, and which in turn his cousin had stolen from him. Huaisang had only wanted to make sure Mo Xuanyu had left nothing that would compromise him, nothing that Wei Wuxian could use to prove his implication, should the mood strike him.

That book contained a number of dangerous rituals from ages past, curses, and all manners of demonic cultivation of the worst sort. Not something that interested Huaisang, but too dangerous to be left where anyone might find it. He’d brought it back to the Unclean Realm, and forgotten it for a few months. He’d been busy. Without Lan Xichen to help him, running his sect had become a much harder task. But his husband was in Cloud Recesses, hiding in seclusion to atone for his role in Jin Guangyao’s death and… Huaisang held no illusions. He knew Lan Xichen would not come back to him.

That was fine. He’d had years to get used to the idea. What they had shared for a while had been pleasant, yes, but… Huaisang knew what sort of a man he was. He did not deserve happiness, no more than Jin Guangyao had.

He did not miss Lan Xichen, because he had no right to miss him. Not after making him a murderer. Not after destroying the only truly good person he’d ever met.

It was boredom that led him back to Mo Xuanyu’s book, as well as some degree of curiosity. He’d never held much interest in cultivation, let alone in that of the unlawful sort but… it was winter. Things were slow in the Unclean Realm, and everywhere he looked, he saw reminders of what he should never have had in the first place. Compared to the loneliness of a cold bed, a book of curses felt almost pleasant.

That was how he found one particular ritual. One that promised to give a chance to correct mistakes of the past, if one was willing to make the necessary sacrifices. The requirements were rather gory, several animals needed to die and so would the caster but the promised reward was enticing: to send one’s consciousness back in time and inhabit once more the body of their youth.

Ridiculous.

And yet, night after night, Huaisang found himself coming back to the book, to that page. The things that ritual demanded would make him a full monster, one beyond redemption… although perhaps he’d crossed that line already. But if it worked, if it were real, it could save Mingjue. If he could prevent his brother from taking Meng Yao as his second… or perhaps not that, since that line of event had helped toward a shorter war. Then, at least, if he could stop Meng Yao from provoking that Qi deviation… then Mingjue could live.

A fanciful notion, and one that amused Huaisang for a while.

Until one day, it hit him that it wouldn’t be only Mingjue’s fate he would change.

If he were to do this, he would alter Lan Xichen’s life too. His husband wouldn’t go through heartbreak, he would get to marry the man he loved, he would get to be happy.

There were few things Huaisang wouldn’t have done for his brother.

Those things, he realised with mild horror, he would gladly do just to see Xichen smile again, even if it would never be at him.

Huaisang did not want to think about what that said about him, about the way he felt for the man who had stood at his side for a decade. He had lost Xichen in this life and, as he gathered the required elements for the ritual, he knew he was preparing to lose him in another one too.

It was fine, he reminded himself as his blade cut through his skin in complicated patterns, letting his blood join that of a number of animals. Lan Xichen had never been his to have.

He collapsed soon after, unsure what might happen.

It was a surprise when he opened his eyes and found himself in a room both foreign and familiar, bathed in the pale light of early morning as a bell rang in the distance. Cloud Recesses. The ritual had worked.

Huaisang smirked to himself.

So he’d really been given a second chance. He’d make it count.

Mingjue and Xichen would be happy, no matter what it cost him.

[weirdlyokaywithit]

Soldier? Part Two

A/N: I kinda loved this

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, definite smut, angst, violence

I inhaled deeply and rolled my shoulders before I hit the button and scanned my iris to enter containment room C. I’d brought breakfast with me and when I slid the door open he was back in his position against the back wall.

His cerulean eyes flicked over me and landed on the food in my hands.

“Breakfast,” I said, raising the plate.

And it was a good breakfast too, eggs and bacon, biscuits and gravy, toast, and sausage.

“Do I need to take a bite still?” I asked softly.

His eyes flicked back and forth before he gave a curt nod. I took a bite of everything and even a sip of the coffee, once I’d done that I placed the plate on the middle of the floor.

He waited five minutes, watching me intently before he grabbed the plate and started eating. He took a bite of the biscuits and gravy, his face pinched a little but he kept chewing.

“Bucky, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it,” I said and his eyes flicked up to mine.

He swallowed hard and then ate everything else on the plate. I let him put the plate back in the middle before I moved for it. I pushed it against the wall by the door and sat criss cross on the floor.

“So, no biscuits and gravy huh?” I said with a small smile.

He shook his head, staying silent.

“You can sit, if you want,” I spoke softly.

Bucky looked at the floor and then at me, he slowly crouched down and mimicked the way I sat. His eyes slowly traveled down my body, I could have sworn they lingered on my breasts. I wasn’t in my full uniform but I was in a suit, no Kevlar and no straps and holsters.

When his eyes reached my face again, he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but then shut it again.

“You can ask me whatever you want,” I said, my head cocked slightly.

“What did- what did they do to you?” His eyes looked strained and he looked almost in pain for me.

“They took my DNA sequence and altered it, combined it with some form of radiation and injected me with it. They tested what it did to me many times, essentially I regenerate, I’m strong, and fast.”

He nodded and took in what I said for several moments, like he was feeling what happened.

“Did they... did they try to kill you?” His voice was gruff and like he couldn’t stand to say the words.

“A few times,” I said with a nod.

He grimaced and then looked down at his arm, the metal one.

“Do you remember what they made you do?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, he looked everywhere but there.

“Yes,” I said my voice thick.

His eyes met mine and whatever he saw there he understood.

“There was this one mission, they told me that I needed to wipe out an entire village. I remember not questioning it until I got to this one house, and there were two little girls crouched under the stairs. I called in to tell them that there were children, that I wouldn’t do that. And... I remember my superior saying that if I didn’t get my mission completed by sunrise that he would skin me and them alive. ‘Eyelids and all’...” I trailed off, reliving the memory.

Their large brown eyes staring up at me, tears streaked down their cheeks as I paced back and forth. Cocking and uncocking my gun, punching the wall and screaming. That was the night I gave myself over to the darkness. It was thirty minutes until sunrise and I could see the sky starting to lighten when I fired my gun.

“I did it. I shot two little girls in the head... I dissociated after that. I can remember doing things but never specifics and never with clarity. Just like the rest was a dream. I know I did much worse than that later but I don’t recall it. Not like I do that night,” I spoke softly.

When I looked at him, his face was blank. His lips mashed into a thin line, his eyes were hauntingly cold.

“At least you remember,” he said chillingly.

“Do you want to remember?” I asked.

His eyes looked bleak and gray instead of blue, almost as if they were mirroring his aura. His nod was hesistant at first until he nodded firmly at me.

I hit the com button on my collar and spoke, “I need a monitor brought to containment room C. Subject Winter Soldier, all footage and reports.”

“Copy,” Jason responded into my com.

“Soldier?”

My eyes snapped back to Bucky, his face screwed in disgust.

“They call me a soldier... they couldn’t be more wrong, I’m a weapon,” His voice was grave.

“Well, headcase was in the running but it was already taken by yours truly,” my smile not meeting my eyes.

I found out what they called me after I overheard someone complaining about being put on a mission with me.

“They call you headcase?” Bucky sounded disbelieving.

“Well, not to my face,” I said with a small smirk.

He seemed mildly amused until the buzzer sounded and the door clicked. He was on his feet, back to the wall before I could blink. I sprung to my feet and snatched the monitor cart from the guard and slid the door shut quickly.

The last thing I needed was someone pissing him off, I turned the monitor on and put in my credentials. I pulled up a video queue of all the footage we had on him. Some of it was old, like really old.

“Are you sure?” I asked, turning to him.

He was closer than I had anticipated, just a few feet behind me. His eyes scanned my face before nodding, I pressed play and turned my attention to the monitor.

The first few minutes weren’t bad, just some missions where he did some hand to hand and a few shots fired. It was the next ten minutes of watching him torture several people and smiling whilst doing it. It was bloody and gory and vividly horrifying. I tore my eyes away to look at his face, he was watching with his mouth slightly agape with tears pricking his eyes.

“I think that’s enough-“ I started to turn it off when his hand stopped mine. I forced myself not to react at the tingles that spread from where he touched me.

When I looked up at his face, he shook his head at me.

“I need to know.”

I lowered my hand back to my side and returned my eyes to the monitor. The footage only got worse, him wiping out entire crowds of people. Using people as human shields, slaughtering children in front of their mothers, all the while his face was blank.

When the queue finally ended, and the monitor went blank I didn’t want to look at him. Not because he’d done those things but because I knew what it felt like to know what you’d done.

“Do they.... do they know how many...” His voice was low.

“Upwards of a thousand.” I responded quietly.

When I turned to look at him, I nearly lost it. He looked so ashamed and broken.

His breathing was haggard and heavy, his muscles tense as he clenched and unclenched his fists. His body stilled suddenly and I thought he might have started calming when he launched his fist into the wall.

He threw punch after punch into wall, yelling all the while. It only escalated from there, he started kicking the wall. I backed myself against the door, minimizing myself to the threat.

He grabbed the chair from the desk and launched it at the wall, it snapped under the pressure. He launched his fist through the metal desk, and then ripped the rest of it in half.

“You need to get out of there, now,” Steve sounded in my ear.

I very calmly responded, “No.”

Bucky grabbed the monitor and crushed it between his hands, and smashed the cart with one hand. He flipped the bed, screaming out in anguish.

When he turned on me, his eyes were molten blue fire, I didn’t move a muscle. He stalked toward me and towered over me, his arms caging me between him and the door. His breathing was labored and I could feel his breath on my cheek. I stared calmly up at him, waiting for his next move.

“Kill me.”

Now that I was not expecting.

“No.”

“I’m a monster. Kill me,” he bit out.

I shook my head.

“KILL ME!” He yelled slamming his fists on either side of my head.

“No.”

His face twisted and he screwed his eyes shut, I slowly reached up and touched his cheek. Bucky’s eyes flew open in surprise and he didn’t pull away.

“You didn’t choose those things, you were made to do them.”

His eyes were filled with pain, he whispered, “But I enjoyed them. I was smiling.”

I shook my head and stroked his cheek softly, “No, the soldier did. Not you. That is not you. You did not choose that.”

He scanned my face and lingered on my lips, was I imagining that?? I could feel the heat coming off of his body, and my hand was tingling from touching his cheek.

“Why are you like this with me?” He whispered.

“Like what?”

He looked so hurt and lost when he responded, “Nice.”

His eyes were focused on the ground so I slowly raised my other hand and brought his face up to look at me.

“Because you’re still breathing. Which means you have a chance to make things right. To change. To grow. Because I felt the same way. I should have been killed on sight, but I wasn’t,” I said, searching his baby blue eyes.

“I don’t deserve a second chance. I don’t know- I don’t know if I can change.”

He was so beautiful and broken like a haunted angel, it was almost too much to look at.

“Of course you can change. Anyone can,” I whispered.

His head tilted like he was debating something and he leaned in his nose brushing my cheek. My breath hitched and I stayed completely still, his lips danced along my jaw and I stifled a moan. He paused, pulling back to look me in the eyes and whatever he saw there made those blue irises darken.

Bucky pressed his lips to mine and I moaned in response, when he moved them I almost lost it. My hands made their way to his hair, curling around his dark stands. He licked the seam of my lips as if begging entrance and I parted them, my body melted when he flicked his tongue against mine.

His metal arm slid and wrapped around my waist, drawing me flush against his body. I could feel his arousal and I nipped his bottom lip with my teeth. He groaned in response and started kissing me with such urgency. He used his other hand to cup my neck, smoothing his thumb along my jawline setting my nerves ablaze.

I rolled my hips, trying to get closer to him and he let out a gutteral sound that made me shudder. He slid his hand down and stroked between my legs, lighting my core on fire.

“Pleaseeee,” I whined against his mouth.

His teeth captured my bottom lip and I ground my hips into his hand, begging for more. I could feel every small movement he made, it was like it streamlined straight to my pussy. Bucky pulled back for a second, mouth agape and pupils so large they left no blue in sight. He seemed to be trying to get a read on me, I’m sure I looked like a hot mess and considering I was still squirming on his hand that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Tell me what you want,” he growled, his metal hand stilling all movements with a vice-like grip on my hips.

“I want your dick inside me. Now,” I snapped.

At my words, he let out a groan and immediately yanked the zipper down on my suit. I hurriedly stepped out of it and he lifted me with his metal arm, the coolness making my shiver. He caught the movement and started to open his mouth but I slammed my lips to his, kissing him hungrily. I clawed at his shirt before finally ripping it in two, my hands grasping at the red hot flesh.

He fumbled with his scrubs before pulling them down far enough to release his cock, I grasped the velvety skin and guided him to my entrance. I rubbed the head along the folds and reveled in his reaction: his head falling back, eyes completely shut, teeth clenched. I circled my clit with it and moaned, my hips rocking involuntarily with the movement.

His head snapped back down, his ice blue irises found mine and he bared his teeth. He yanked me down onto his dick and I almost came instantaneously, my hands flew to his hair and I writhed against him.

“Fuuuuck,” I cried against his ear as he drove into me over and over.

His hips creating the most delicious rhythm, my nails clawed at his shoulders and neck as I clung onto him for dear life. His teeth nipped at my neck before his tongue laved over the spot soothingly, I mewled helplessly against him.

“You like that?” He teased in my ear, slowing his pace and stirring his hips.

“Oh fu-fuuuuuck, yes I fucking LOVE THAT,” I keened as he snapped his hips up full force.

I flattened my palm against the wall and pushed off, Bucky still holding me up and inside of me stumbled backwards. His flesh hand tangled in my hair, he tugged my head back hard and slammed us onto the bed which had collapsed to the floor.

His metal arm whirred and clicked as he brought it up to pinch my nipples, I felt my pussy clench desperately on his cock at the stimulation. He pulled his head back, eyes dark and wide as he rolled my nipple again. I cried out as he slammed his hips harder while my walls clenched uncontrollably.

“Fuck, I can feel your pussy clenching me,” he groaned.

I nodded desperately as I rocked to meet his thrusts, begging for him not to stop.

“I’m not gonna stop, can’t stop fucking this sweet pussy,” he growled filthily as he seemed to do the impossible and fuck me harder.

I screamed as my release hit, the waves of pleasure knocking through me violently as I thrashed under him. He praised me and I could feel his thrusts getting choppy as I came around him. I felt him erupt when I raked my nails down his chest, he yelled hoarsely and his cum spurted wave after wave inside of me.

I tried to calm my breathing as I came down from my orgasm, my eyes still blurry from watering at the intensity. Bucky pulled out of me and my pussy clenched at the loss, I made a sound and his blue eyes shot to mine.

“Are you- did I... Did I hurt you?” He asked softly.

I shook my head, a soft smile spreading on my face as I smiled at him.

“Not at all. Did I hurt you? I didn’t- I didn’t mean to scratch you like that,” I said sheepishly.

He glanced down at his chest and seemed surprised to find glaring red lines on his skin. He shrugged and pulled his pants over his magnificent member, I almost pouted but refrained. I glanced over at my suit and that’s when it hit me, cameras. I shot up from the bed and scrambled for my suit, yanking it on as fast as I could.

Bucky misinterpreted the movement and flushed and turned away from me, he ran his fingers through his hair.

“It’s not what you think, Bucky-“ I started but he cut me off with a wave of his hand.

“I get it, the winter soldier isn’t exactly a suitable bedmate,” he snapped bitterly.

“No, actually, I forgot there are cameras in here and we just gave Steve Rogers a hell of a show.” I spat adjusting my suit.

He spun on his feet to face me, his full pink lips forming an O. Those ice blue eyes finding the camera in the back right corner, he picked up a piece of debris. He launched it into the camera, shattering it before turning back to me.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot, I mean you were... exposed and I- they probably saw...” he trailed off awkwardly rubbing his neck.

Bucky looked so apologetic I wanted to giggle, however I refrained and stepped towards him. My hand settling on his right shoulder, I squeezed it.

“It’s fine, just don’t think he needed anything extra.”

I glanced around the destroyed room around us and grinned.

“We’re gonna need to get you a new room.”

[melodiouswhite]

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde rewritten - Ch. 26

26. The morning after

When Utterson woke up, it was late in the morning. For a second he wondered, why his clock hadn't woken him up. Until he remembered, that it was Sunday.

And the other person in his flat sprung to his mind.

I better check on him, he thought. And tiredly crawled off the couch to see after his guest.

He wasn't even surprised, when he found Henry Jekyll instead of Edward Hyde sleeping in his bed.

As if sensing the lawyer's presence, the blond stirred and slowly opened his eyes.

“Good morning, Jekyll”, Utterson greeted.

The Doctor blinked in confusion and looked around. “Gabe …? Where am I … why am I here … what happened …?”

The lawyer frowned. “You don't remember what happened last night?”

Jekyll's expression became mildly unsettled at that question. But he shook his head.

Oh.

Hyde must have blocked him out, while he had pursued his … reprehensible passions.

How … considerate? He supposed?

Utterson decided, that Jekyll shouldn't have a nervous breakdown right after waking up.

“This is my flat”, he supplied, “I stumbled over Hyde last night and he was too tired to go all the way back to your home. So, because my flat was closer, I offered to-”

“Gabriel.”

There was a warning undertone to Jekyll's voice. He was looking at the lawyer suspiciously.

“That's not really what happened, is it?”, he queried, “I may not remember anything, but when you get so vague, it always means you're hiding something. Tell me the truth.”

The black-haired man sighed: “I will tell you later. Or”, he added pointedly, “You could ask your other half! I'm sure, Mr. Hyde will be delighted to give you all the gory details!”

Ignoring the hurt look in the other's light brown eyes, he turned to leave. “Go back to sleep. You overexerted yourself last night. I will see, if I can whip up some breakfast. After all, it's Sunday and my servants are at home. Also, I have some phone calls to make.”

Then he left the other alone.

Jekyll had so many questions right now.

What the hell had happened last night?

Why was he still so incredibly tired, even though he had slept like a rock?

Why was his entire body so sore?

Why was his back hurting, as if he had carried something heavy?

And most importantly, why was Utterson so upset and chilled towards him?!

He tried to remember of his own, but it just made his hurt more.

Dammit, this pain was far, far worse than what he usually woke up to on Sunday mornings!

Just what had Hyde got up to?!

“Edward?”, he called out aloud.

He was just too tired to hold a mental conversation.

For a few minutes nothing happened.

Then Hyde's voice finally answered. “You called?”

“What the hell happened last night?”, the doctor snapped, “You better give me a good explanation!���

Another moment of silence followed.

Then Hyde laughed: “Why don't you ask your lawyer?”

“Because he won't tell me! Now spill!”

A chuckle. “Of course he wouldn't. After all, he doesn't like to see his dear Doctor upset, does he? Alright, since you asked for it.”

Without a warning, Hyde supplied him with all memories of the previous night.

At first Jekyll was overwhelmed by the flood of pictures and noises.

Then, when his mind had finally registered them all fully, his eyes widened in horror.

“Hyde”, he whispered, “What have you done!”

“Of course!”, Hyde snapped, “Blame everything on me, when it was his stupid decision to bloody stalk me! If he hadn't been there, none of this would have happened!”

“He's scared of heights!”, Jekyll snapped back angrily, “Not only did we almost fall to our deaths, because of your insane stunt, he almost died of fright, because you dragged him across a bloody roof, knowing that one false step could have lead to all three of us dying!!! What were you trying to do back there!”

“It was either this or getting beaten to death by a crazy mob!”, his darker half reminded him coldly, “Just in case it didn't occur to you, those were at least two dozen men! Not even I can take on so many and I was already exhausted from the brawl earlier! Do you think they would have spared your precious lawyer, after seeing him with me? Especially with him looking like a rich snob?!”

Jekyll knew what Hyde meant.

If the small brunette had just left Utterson there, those cowards would have taken their frustration out on the innocent lawyer. When a brutish mob of working class scum couldn't exact their revenge on the object of their anger, everyone was fair game. They would have beaten him to a pulp, before robbing him of everything that could be of value.

The very thought made the Doctor burst into tears.

He heard Hyde sigh in his head. “Oh, good grief.”

Then the smaller man manifested as a spectre and sat at the edge of the bed.

“I didn't like the thought either”, he admitted sadly.

Meanwhile Lady Summers was on her way to Gaunt Street.

Mr. Utterson had called her on the telephone, sounding almost hysterical. He had given her a brief rundown of something that had happened during the previous night and reproached both Mr. Hyde and himself, until she had told him to shut up and wait for her.

So she had handed the client she was having over to her servants for entertainment and left the house.

Lady Summers was clutching her cane, with a grim expression. She was convinced that both – no, all three of them, had done something incredibly stupid. In that case, she would have to knock some sense into them.

Despite his upset, Utterson had somehow managed to make some breakfast. He was about to place it on a tablet to bring up to his bedroom, when he saw an extremely distraught Henry Jekyll stand in the door frame, still wearing nothing but the lawyer's nightgown.

“Gabe …”, he whimpered, his eyes filled with tears of anguish.

So he remembers now.

The doctor stumbled towards him like a lunatic, before grabbing the smaller man and hugging him tightly.

“Idiot!”, he sobbed, “Idiot, idiot, idiot! Going to Soho, just to see, what-”

Jekyll began to bawl into his shoulder, stumbling over his words.

“You idiot – could have died – I'm sorry – for everything – please – don't ever do this again – if I lost you – goddammit, Gabriel!”

The rest went under in his relentless crying.

Utterson's heart broke in two. He hugged back and began to cry as well. All of his anxiety left from the last night poured out of his eyes.

“Sorry too – sorry – dammit, Henry – I was just worried – I thought – what if you – is that what you're capable of – you could have died too – do you have any idea – you fool! If you had died – forgive me for – Henry!”

So they stood there in each other's arms, crying and apologising to each other profusely.

“Damn right, you three should apologise!”

The two men broke apart, startled by the female voice.

Lady Summers was standing in the door frame to the kitchen, looking absolutely livid.

“How did you get into my flat?”, Utterson demanded to know.

“Forget that”, the Lady growled, “The real question is: what the hell have all three of you been thinking?!”

For a few seconds, there was silence.

Then she walked up to them in wide steps and whacked them both over the head with her cane several times.

“HOW ARE YOU THREE EVEN STILL ALIVE?!”, the Prussian shrieked at the two men, who were nursing their aching heads.

She inhaled sharply, then lowered her cane and leaned onto it, pinching her nose.

“You are really too stupid to live! Taking such a risk! Sie sind ja absolut geisteskrank*! I'm positively shocked! Bewildered! Lost for words! I … I don't know what to say!”

Despite not knowing what to say, she proceeded to berate them for over an hour.

---

*Sie sind ja absolut geisteskrank! - German for: You’re absolutely insane!

[hellevator-mp3]

how it all went wrong (and what went right) || Part 1

Pairing(s): Woosan, Seongsang, Yungi

Genre: ?? Not even sure what to call this?? mild fluff and idk what else

Word Count: 3000+

Warnings: bc this is a zombie au, there will probably be some mildly gory descriptions, moderate violence, and who knows what else?? but everything will be tagged here!

Author Note: y’all,,,, i literally wrote this in one night,,,, and i’m so excited to actually be posting it!! i got inspired to write this after reading “kenopsia” by skz_jpeg on ao3, which i 100% recommend!! anyways this probably won’t be super long of a series, but it’ll probably be somewhere between 10 and 20 parts?? i’m not 100% sure yet tho!!

it’s hard to forget where you were when tragedy struck, even after years pass.

when it started, yeosang was at his favorite department store, browsing the racks one minute, and locked in the manager’s office the next.  his savior, a boy in red by the name of seonghwa, told him that he was mere feet away from the undead.  

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even at night, the city of seoul was almost always bustling with people.  whether they were just getting off work, or just going to work, just going shopping or coming home from a night of drinking, there were always people lining the streets.  bars would be open, music blasting onto the streets every time the front door opened.  businesses would have their lights on, workers dozing off behind desks and counters as they worked the midnight shift.  corner stores were always open, their bright signs flashing “open!” at anyone who happened to pass by.  

however, yeosang had never seen the seoul streets this empty and quiet.  then again, he had never walked home in the dead of night with a machete clutched in one hand, and a stranger’s hand in the other.  he had also never faced death in the face of the undead, but it turns out that there’s a first time for everything.  

it had been peaceful, the late night crowds in the underground mall slowly dissipating as yeosang leisurely browsed the racks of his favorite department store at a quarter to midnight, just a few hours before the store would close.  he had been in the underground mall for hours at this point, but had come out of nearly every store empty-handed, but he swore that that wouldn’t be the case with this one.  although the mall was clearing out, there was still loud chatter in the hallways that enveloped the building.  he assumed that the shrieks fading into the distance were due to a celebrity or something showing up, and continued on his search for new clothing. ��because his paycheck had been rather large this time around and he had money to spare, he decided to treat himself for once.  he had an armful of clothes, and was just turning around to check out when a voice shouted “look out” not even a foot away from him, and he turned to see a person.  but no, it wasn’t just any person.  it was someone wearing the store’s uniform, presumably once an employee, but judging by the chunk of flesh missing from their neck, the sickly color of their skin, and the blood that stained their shirt, it could be assumed that they were no longer alive enough to be employed.  

there was a tug on his wrist, and he watched the person - zombie? undead? - lurch dangerously close to where he was just standing.  he was pulled back into a solid chest at the same time as a wooden pole appeared in the corner of his eye, smacking the undead on the side of the head, causing it to lose balance and tumble to the floor, which bought them just enough time to bolt for the manager's office.  they were lucky, yeosang thought, at the metal door swung open with ease and soon clicked closed behind them.  there was a small window up near the top of the door, which they watched through as the undead seemed to lose sight of them and wandered off.  for a brief moment, yeosang compared the being to a baby, considering that it seemed to have the same concept of object permanence as one.  he shook his head at the thought, watching the being stumble between the racks and out the front of the shop, presumably to look for another victim.  a loud sigh of relief made reminded him of the other presence in the room, a bleach blond boy slumping against the wall next to the door.  yeosang remained standing and studied him curiously, eyes raking over the unfamiliar face for a second before the boy looked up and they made eye contact -- and suddenly yeosang couldn’t look away.  piercing, almost ashy green eyes held his gaze, the color unnatural but suiting the stranger.  the firetruck red hoodie that covered his upper half was striking against his hair, the combo obviously very carefully put together to attract attention.  the two sat in silence for a few moments, just studying one another, before the stranger was hauling himself back to his feet with the help of the wooden pole still clutched in his hand.  his free hand was soon extended to yeosang, and he was introducing himself as seonghwa.  

yeosang soon learned that the country was in a state of emergency.  some sort of scientific outbreak had occurred, and soon, people were dying and coming back to life, but only halfway, resulting in beings like the one they had just seen.  seonghwa informed him that the mall was crawling with them, but that it would be good for them to get out as soon as possible.  yeosang nodded in response, before suggesting that the two of them stick together and go back to yeosang’s apartment, where they would likely be safer than out in the open.  seonghwa readily agreed, and soon they were setting out.  just before they left the store, however, yeosang headed to the back and grabbed one of the biggest backpacks he could find, and shoved some of the more useful clothes that he was planning on buying into it.  after looking around and making sure the store was clear, he ordered seonghwa to go find either a leather jacket or a denim one.  his only reply to the confused look he got was a deadpan one in return.  “denim and leather are hard to bite through, and these things are humans, with human teeth.”  he quietly informed him, getting an understanding nod in return.  they split up but stayed within a few feet of one another, as yeosang shoved his arms through the sleeves of a denim jacket, and tossed a leather one into the backpack.  just a few rows over, he saw seonghwa doing the same.  he hissed that they needed to hurry, and the other nodded, before they joined up to exit the store.  

they were lucky, somehow managing to make it to a camping supply store without seeing a single undead.  they ducked inside, splitting up to find supplies to take home, since yeosang had mentioned that he didn’t have a lot of things that they would need.  he figured that if the world ever sorted itself out, he’d keep a tally of what they stole - borrowed - and pay for it when everything was right again.  seonghwa came back with his own bag, full of things that they would need if the electricity went out, or they ran out of food, and supplies to purify water if they needed to.  yeosang was in the middle of unboxing a pocket knife, which he then used to cut the packaging on a machete.  the pocket knife was stuffed into his jacket pocket, and seonghwa shoved another packaged machete into his bag before saying they needed to leave.  

as they were navigating their way out of the mall, yeosang suddenly pulled seonghwa into a beauty supply store.  seonghwa went to question him, but yeosang just pulled him to the side of the door into a small cubby-like space, pressing the two of them together and pressing a finger to his lips.  they heard stumbling footsteps over the sound of their breathing, followed by a short moan that quickly dissipated as the figure passed.  yeosang checked quickly to make sure it had passed, before venturing further into the store and gesturing for seonghwa to follow him.  it wasn’t long before they stumbled across one of the undead at the back of the store, where yeosang was pulling down a box what appeared to be the same dye he used to achieve the blush colored hair he currently sported, as well as one that seonghwa assumed was his natural - or as close to natural as he could get - hair color to cover it up with.  after the undead was taken care of and the dyes were in yeosang’s backpack, and he had finally convinced seonghwa to grab what he needed to maintain his own platinum blond hair (“it looks good on you! you have to keep it!” yeosang had rambled on excitedly at the prospect of helping seonghwa with his hair), the two continued to make their way out, the contents of their bags rattling slightly with every step.  seonghwa cursed as they had to take out another undead before finally hitting the escalators, which hadn’t shut off just yet.  they rode in silence, standing as close to each other as they could and watching each other’s back.  

the sirens that blared got louder and louder the closer they got to the surface, and yeosang idly wondered why he couldn’t hear even a hint of them while he was in the store.  when they finally got out of the mall, they found the streets empty and near void of life.  the moans of the undead could be heard from where they were, so they decided to speed up their pace, even just a little bit.  just a few blocks from yeosang’s apartment building, they were just passing by a supermarket when seonghwa pulled them inside, pulling the same maneuver as yeosang had just a few hours before, at the sight of a zombie about a mile away.  he shushed yeosang quickly, keeping an eye out for the undead to pass them by.  they were lucky it hadn’t noticed the automatic doors that had slid open at their appearance, and remained open as they stood next to it.  

yeosang finally breathed a sigh of relief as seonghwa finally pulled himself away, before looking around, trying to ignore the flush on his cheeks from their proximity.  sure, it was okay when yeosang had done it to seonghwa, but the other way around had a feeling bubbling up in yeosang’s stomach that he didn’t like.  the building seemed quiet, and the two of them exchanged glances.  “should we grab a cart or two and take some of this back to your place? before somebody else raids it?” seonghwa suggested quietly, eying the carts just past the door to their right.  yeosang shrugged, agreeing that it might be a good idea.  

since it was the dead of night and the country was considered under a state of emergency, it was assumed that most people would be holed up inside their apartments and houses under morning, at the very least.  with a nod, they grabbed two of the shopping carts and started walking up and down the aisles.  seonghwa stocked his full of bottled water, checking it often to make sure that it wasn’t too heavy to push down the street and to get into an elevator.  yeosang’s was soon full of canned goods and other things that wouldn’t spoil quickly, along with little things for them to snack on in the meantime, things that they may not be able to enjoy for long.  he also stocked up on various vitamins, telling seonghwa that having a stronger immune system may help them in the long run.  seonghwa nodded in agreement, before also throwing bottles of shampoo into yeosang’s cart, “just in case”, he said.  just as their quiet ‘shopping trip’ was coming to an end, they heard the automatic doors open and froze in their spot.  footsteps echoed around the store, but there wasn’t a moan to be heard - therefore, it had to be somebody alive that was inhabiting the store with them.  yeosang and seonghwa were soon back to back, wielding their respective weapons as they watched either end of the aisle with bated breath, waiting for either friend or foe to pop out.  

a silver haired boy, and a black haired boy with red highlights appeared from behind the endcap, one of them holding a hand basket while the other wielded a kitchen knife.  with his free hand, seonghwa, who was facing the two boys, tapped yeosang’s upper thigh to signal for him to turn around.  the two groups finally took notice of one another, the silver haired boy nearly shrieking in surprise.  the black haired boy quickly covered his mouth, shushing him quietly.  “we’re not here to hurt you or raid you, we’re just trying to stock up before everyone else does.  we can’t get back into our apartment, our building is surrounded in the undead and they’re walking the hallways, too, so this is our only shot.”  the black haired boy explained quickly and quietly, letting his hand drop from the other boy’s mouth, and letting it drop to intertwine with the other’s.  before yeosang could reply, seonghwa had already blurted out that they could follow them to yeosang’s apartment, and they could figure it out in the morning.  the two boys exchanged glances, while yeosang was sputtering indignantly, yanking seonghwa to the end of the aisle and out of sight for a minute, completely disregarding their carts.  

seonghwa raised an eyebrow, and yeosang took a deep breath before finally speaking a proper sentence.  “you can't just invite people into my home!” he hissed, trying to make sure the others couldn't hear him.  seonghwa sent him a deadpan look, before gesturing down to himself.  at the realization that he was being slightly hypocritical, yeosang sighed, a hand drifting up and fingers rubbing at his temples.  “it's different with you.  you saved me, and i owe you.” he whispered, eyes closing as he tried to distract himself.  why exactly did he so willingly offer up his home to a stranger?

the answer came to him in the form of the butterflies that reeled in his stomach when seonghwa grabbed his hand with one of his own, pulling it away from his face at the same time that his free hand reached out to cup yeosang’s chin and make him face the other.  “then let them stay with us, and we'll be even.  tomorrow, when they leave, it'll just be us again and we'll be fine.” seonghwa tried to soothe him, rubbing his thumb over yeosang’s cheek, who leaned into the touch.  

it took a second for yeosang to relent, nodding into seonghwa’s palm.  he heard the other laugh, and allowed himself to be pulled closer into a tight embrace before they headed back to the other two, acting as though nothing had happened.  the two boys watched them nervously, the silver haired boy fiddling with his fiance's fingers to distract himself.  

“if you get a cart and help us stock up, you can come home with us.” yeosang relayed to them quickly, and the two rushed off to get a cart, only after introducing themselves.  the black haired boy was san, and the silver-haired boy was his fiance, wooyoung.  it turned out that they lived just a block or two away from yeosang, thankfully far enough that they didn’t worry about seeing the undead that flocked their building.  it wasn’t until nearly an hour later that they found themselves standing in front of yeosang’s apartment building.  they had to abandon their carts several times during the walk home, hiding in doorways and behind pillars until the threat had passed, somehow managing to make it back in one piece.  yeosang was the first to go up, taking the elevator to his floor and checking to make sure that it was clear before riding back down and guiding the rest up to his apartment.  soon enough, they had managed to fit the three carts in the doorway, and were unpacking the supplies.  “we need to find some way to board up the windows, just in case.”  yeosang piped up from the kitchen, where he was stacking canned food in the cabinets.  even though they were on the third floor, there was still a possibility of something - or someone - getting in through the window.  

“and we should figure out how to rig up the hallway so nothing else can get down here.”  san replied from the small dining room, where he was pushing the carts together near the window and going to join yeosang in the kitchen.  wooyoung and seonghwa were quietly conversing as they unpacked the other supplies that seonghwa and yeosang had collected, as well as some little things that they managed to save from their apartment.  soon enough, the four of them were gathered in the living room, where they quickly whipped up a list of things that they still needed, which included, but wasn’t limited to: sleeping bags, maybe air mattresses if they were lucky, along with other things like more matches and candles, batteries, a radio, and a few other things.  they made themselves comfortable, yeosang pulling a blanket down from his closet for san and wooyoung, who had taken refuge on the couch.  seonghwa had already said that he would be sleeping on the floor next to yeosang’s bed, “for safety reasons”.  yeosang had rolled his eyes, a bright flush painting his cheeks as he pushed seonghwa away.  moonlight still flooded in through the windows, signaling to them that sunrise was still a few hours away, and they had time to catch a little bit of shut-eye before it was time to figure out a plan.    

yeosang woke sometime a little bit later with a racing heart and a scream hovering in the back of his throat, one that he barely managed to hold back.  it seemed that either he had already made noise in his sleep, or seonghwa was just that light of a sleeper, considering that the other sat up quickly and glanced around, eyes falling on yeosang’s shiver ridden form.  with a small noise, he crawled into bed next to yeosang, pulled the boy to his chest and soothing the boy with gentle strokes of his hands over his hair and back.  seonghwa smiled as the boy melted into his chest, and found himself falling asleep again with yeosang’s fingers wrapped in his shirt.  

san and wooyoung slept peacefully in the living room, wooyoung pressed into the back of the sofa.  it was a good arrangement, considering that wooyoung got cold easily in the night, and san too hot.  

silence once again draped over the apartment like a blanket as the people inside finally all fell into a deep sleep, to ease the tired they felt in their bones.  

they were woken just a few hours later at the sound of frantic pounding on the door and screams for help.  

[lieskeepyoualive]

Kiss It Better Dean Winchester X female!OC

Summary: OC gets hurt on a hunt and black outs, fluff and a light suggestion of later smut.

Warnings: blood and injury - central to the plot but not majorly gory

Word count: 1500

Kiss It Better

Somewhere in the midst of killing a wendigo, I'd gained another gash across my stomach. It hadn't bothered me at first, I wasn't completely sure how it had happened or where all the blood had come from but now I could see. My blood soaked flannel shirt was still on, as were my ripped leggings as I slowly manoeuvred my body to lie down on the bed. Groans and small cries fell from my lips as my head hit the pillow and I allowed my hand to find its way to the slash.

The tips of my fingers found the warm liquid first before finding the edge of the wound. It was tender but no so tender that it needed expert attention, my own stitches would suffice, depending on its depth. In my mission to check the extent of the damage, my finger slipped into the wound and a scream of pain left me before I could silence myself; then more blood began to flow.

In an attempt at silent frustration, I pulled my flannel off, using it to stop the increasingly heavy flow as I got to my feet with as much energy as was left in me. Then, with a slight hobble, I made my way through the dingy motel room to the once white, now yellowing, bathroom. The flicking bulb did little to calm my rising anxiety as I removed what was left of my leggings with one hand, the other clutching the now blood soaked shirt. It was beginning to stick to me and I could feel myself becoming evermore faint as the clock by the bed counted every second with an agonising sense of doom.

My pained whines where buried under the beats of the heart lodged in my throat and the sudden thudding noises from the room next door like the moving of furniture. Shouts followed the thuds and I slowly sank to the floor, unable to fully understand any of the words. My need to regain full consciousness became increasingly important as I realised I now sat in a nothing but my underwear, blood covering me as the two brothers fought next door.

Shaking and with limited movement, I managed to pull myself to my feet, predominantly using the sink and the adjacent wall. The noises of my discomfort were no longer registering with me as I made my way towards the shower, twisting the dial to shoot water into the tray as I struggled to remove my remaining pieces of clothing. I never got as far as the shower. A loud crash as my door was kicked through startled me and I fell back.

When I woke up, Sam let me know it was Dean who'd decided to breakdown my door; he'd also, according to his little brother, washed me and stitched my wound before he'd brought me back to their room. And that was where I had awoken, tucked into Dean Winchester's bed, wearing Dean Winchester's clothes with Dean Winchester's smell enveloping me and Dean Winchester's shoddy stitches holding my abdomen together. Yet there was no Dean Winchester, only his little brother and John's journal left on the floor between the two beds.

At first I'd tried to turn onto my side to talk to Sam but had eventually given in to simply lying on my back during our conversation in light of the new evidence of the extreme pain the wound could cause. We must have talked for hours before Dean even made an appearance in true Dean style, at the worst possible moment and surprisingly sober for a man returning in the early hours of the morning.

"I'm not saying I want him to rip his heart out and confess his love for me," I begun to say to Sam before pausing, trying to find the right words for what I was feeling, "I'm just saying I wouldn't object to him ripping his clothes off and showing me more attention than a once over if I ever get a paper-cut." Sam, although mildly disgusted had snorted at that.

"In his defence, you rarely get something as simple as a paper-cut, therefore I don-" the rest of Sam's thought is lost to time as that was the moment Dean Winchester decided to open the door and to stare at the two of us.

Dean looked at us both and nodded towards us in greeting, entering the room carrying a paper bag, "What'd I miss?" I stared at Sam, possibly as a dare to tell his brother what we had been discussing, definitely as a threat. Sam met my eyes and smiled reassuringly before the next few words left Dean's mouth, "I picked up your room key, Sammy"

"We were mainly talking about you." he gave me a knowing look as he said it and then he stood, exiting the room after taking the key from Dean's palm.

Dean had barely locked the door, his fingers still on the spherical handle, when he turned to me. His eyes seemed softer when it was only us, it wasn't the same softness he had with Sammy. I always assumed it was because I was the youngest of the three of us, and as we didn't see each other as often, I'd always assumed the brotherly affection had to be squashed into our brief meetings on hunts before we parted ways. His lips didn't match the softness I had seen. A smirk sat where I'd expected to see a fond smile.

"Talking about me, huh?" his amusement was clearly fuelled by my embarrassment as I rolled my eyes. If I'd been smart and collected, I would have ignored him, or at least would have stilled the rapid beating of my heart.

His eyes changed, not drastically, just a little. Dean Winchester's eyes no longer looked like the pair I was used to seeing, they held another emotion now. A part of me wanted it to be love, and not the platonic kind, the kind I needed from him; another part wanted to see the lust I'd been doomed to feel before; another part of me hoped it was exhaustion in a hopes to avoid whatever he was about to do.

I couldn't bring myself to reply to him and merely nodded, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back onto the pillow with minimal enthusiasm.

"Almost like you don't love me like a brother," he paused, "Those are the words you used last time we met, when we were in the Impala."

"You were drunk" I glared at him a little, realising he'd overheard the end to my conversation with Sam.

"Not drunk enough to forget that pain." Dean watched me as he took another step towards me, as if he thought I'd up and run. I kept my eyes on him too, scared he might move suddenly and cause too much surprise for my already erratic heart.

"I said I love you like a brother when you kissed me, it's hardly a deadly sin." I look away from him as I struggled to sit up on the bed, groaning as the movement made my stitches pull, "You were too intoxicated to even realise you were confessing anything."

Dean completed his journey across the room to me and sat on the edge of the bed with more consideration than I would usually associate with the impulsive man. He looked at me briefly but seemed to decide against words and took my hand into his instead, "I was sober enough to mean what I said."

"Clearly." there was more spite behind my words than intended. Though the spite was mainly directed at myself, a small part was directed at Dean, "Would it have killed you to mention this sooner?"

"I might have been told I'm a brother to you again. You hide the part of you with affection past friend." he paused again, but this pause wasn't considering. This pause seemed like a warning for what was to come as the smirk made its reappearance on his lips, "Saw all of you earlier though. I like your tattoo by the way."

"Shut up."

"Very classy," he continued, "I thin-"

"Kiss me or fuck off." that was the sentence that got his attention and his eyes flicked up to mine with a new glint. It was then that I saw something never before seen, Dean Winchester stumbled over what to do and barely regained his confidence.

"Need me to kiss it better, sweetheart?" the smirk grew as he leaned towards my stomach, pealing back the covers of the bed agonisingly slowly.

I don't know what I expected him to do, maybe a lewd comment or something sexual. I didn't expect him to push the shirt I was wearing away from my stomach and kiss it. My breath hitched.

It wasn't that it was sexual, no; it was sensual, intimate but also innocent, loving, with more care than I could have imagined. His lips were shockingly soft against my tender wound. Their warmth was comforting rather than painful and I felt safe. Whispered I love yous and previously unsaid affections surrounded us.

At some point Dean began to trail his lips and soft kisses towards my neck, lingering briefly at my collar bone. My breathing was shallow and waiting as he finally placed his lips on mine.