#and i refuse to believe it's from the trash all the way downstairs across the entire apartment in the kitchen

[swagging-back-to]

owo cant wait for the bolognese making it now LOL

shes just gonna have to MOVE

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Real? Not Real?

Prompt: Uh hello, I just wanna day that I really really love your work. I came across it this morning and I’ve been binging it all day, and you are a REALLY good writer :) if it’s not too much to ask (and feel free to ignore this), could I request one of the Sides (preferably Janus) having a bad day and derealizing and another one (preferably Patton or Remus, but really any work) comforting them and helping them get grounded? Maybe something that is after the wedding, with everyone at odds with each other so no one notices at first?

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: disassociation, derealizing, some things that could be interpreted as self-destruction

Pairings: none, other than platonic moceit and dukeceit

Word Count: 2287

The wall is yellow.

 The wall isn’t yellow. 

The wall is yellow. 

Janus pushes his door closed and sighs, leaning against the wood and taking his hat off. He scruffs a hand through his hair and lets his head thunk against the door.

 “Well,” he mutters, “that wasn’t exhausting.”

 The conversation had dragged on for hours; from picking apart every little idiosyncrasy and explaining every other word, it’s a wonder he had any energy left to even sink to his room.

 Well, he didn’t. That’s the point.

 He heaves himself up off the floor, stumbling a little when his body decides that no, actually, we’re going to remain on the floor because we dislike you personally.

 “Thank you,” he grits out as he fights the urge to collapse back to the floor, “no, really, I wanted to be able to fall over as soon as I tried to move.”

 When the floor looks like it stops spinning for a few seconds at a time, he reaches for his cane and shuffles over to the desk. The chair creaks a little in protest as he all but collapses into it. He tosses his hat toward the coat rack, missing terribly, and rips his gloves off.

 “Ah!”

Janus cups his hand around his wrist, biting back a curse as the glove catches on the underside of an older scale. He glances around. The first-aid kit is on the other shelf.

 “Damn.”

 He could just…stretch out and get it? Probably? He swallows and reaches. And reaches. And reaches.

 Why—why can’t he touch the shelf?

 Controlling limbs gets exponentially easier the longer and more disembodied they get. All the time.

 Janus grits his teeth and concentrates, closing his eyes until his fingers bump against the shelf.

 “Thank you,” he mutters as he brings the first aid kit back to his side. “That was certainly the picture of compliance.”

 The first aid kit, because it is an inanimate object—or rather, a collection of inanimate objects—says nothing.

 Trying to apply first aid one-handed is such fun. He ends up holding back the sleeve with his teeth as he rubs the ointment onto the patch left by the scale. The wrapper sticks to his fingers with the determination of a static-filled leech, refusing to budge even as he pries it off with one hand only for it to attach viciously to the other.

 “Get off!”

 It flutters down to lay infuriatingly close to the trash can.

 Or is it in the trash can?

 He reaches down to pick it up and put it inside. He can’t feel it through his gloves. So he takes them off. Maybe then it won’t get stuck. It lands in the trashcan noiselessly.

 Muttering to himself, he gets his gloves on their spot on his desk and goes about getting the rest of this stuff off. Snakes aren’t supposed to run warm, so why can’t he feel anything?

 He goes to undo the clasp on his cape only for his fingers to meet the soft fabric of his shirt. Oh. He must’ve taken it off already. Wait, did he even put it on when he left?

 He glances over to see it hanging on the hook by the door. Exactly where it was when he woke up this morning. Or was it? Wasn’t it draped over his chair? No, that was when he was about to leave.

 No, he put it on his doorknob, didn’t he? To make sure he didn’t forget it?

 But he never forgets his cape.

 Janus shakes his head, immediately regretting it when the action sends him into a dizzy spell. God, why is he so tired?

 It doesn’t matter, he decides, because he was going to take his cape off but now he doesn’t have to because it’s already off. So he can take his shirt off now.

 But first, he should take his gloves off. Trying to undo shirt buttons with gloves on is a tedious process.

 His fingers scratch the bandage over a spot on his hand. That’s funny. He doesn’t feel any pain coming from it. Maybe it’s healed already?

 No, no, he just put that bandage on.

 “Get yourself together,” he scolds himself, going to undo the buttons, “you’re being ridiculous.”

 Is he, though?

 He spent so long observing and mirroring the others today, just to get in the habit of it when he needs to, that is it really a surprise that he can’t really remember what his own limbs are doing?

 Yes. Yes, it is.

 His shirt lies in the corner. He doesn’t remember putting it there. He’s still wearing it, he hasn’t gotten all the buttons off yet. His fingers touch his bare scales. Oh. Maybe he has.

 Why does it look like it’s the wrong color?

 Janus squints hard at the offending pile of fabric lurking in the corner. As he stares, the fabric moirés into a dizzying display. He blinks. That shirt isn’t patterned. It’s just a plain white shirt. Why is it doing that? Is it doing that? Are Janus’s eyes doing that?

 He crosses the room, stumbling a little as he gets up—since when has that table been there?—and grabs the shirt. It folds and bends and warps around his fingers. It should be cool to the touch. The fabric is soft, normally.

 He can only tell he’s supposedly squeezing it from the wrinkles that appear around his fists.

 “This doesn’t belong here,” he mutters, going to put it in the laundry basket.

 The laundry basket is not where it’s supposed to be.

 “Fuck.”

 Did he leave it downstairs? That’s always a risky move; Remus will capitalize on any opportunity to completely and utterly destroy any abandoned object. He turns to go rescue his laundry basket only for it to appear out of the corner of his eye.

 Oh.

 Has it been there the whole time?

 Janus frowns. He looks at the laundry basket, he looks at the shirt, he looks at his cape, he looks at his gloves.

 The bandage on his wrist should be itching.

 It isn’t.

 Why not?

 Oh.

  Oh.

 He smiles to himself and lets the shirt fall to the ground.

 Right, how could he forget?

 This isn’t real.

 None of this is real. He doesn’t exist. He is a figment of Thomas’s imagination, created as part of an elaborate plan to explore personality facets for entertainment purposes. He is not real. He cannot exist in any way that matters.

 That is why the first aid kit won’t speak to him. That is why his shirt creates patterns that are impossible. That is why the laundry basket keeps appearing and disappearing. They’re not real. None of it is real.

 He is not real.

 The walks flicker a pale white as he sinks slowly to the ground, staring up at the fake ceiling. The floor is not solid under him. His legs do not groan and scream in protest as he lies his nonexistent weight across them. His eyes do not fog up. His head does not throb. The door does not feel like a cage, trapping him in a spiral of down, down, down.

 Nothing is real.

 Least of all time.

 …

 …quiet.

 “—nus!”

 “Janus, are you in there?”

 “Snake-Face, if you don’t open up right this instant, I swear—“

 “Kiddo, you never came down for dinner, we’re worried, are you alright?”

 “I’m gonna break this fucking door down.”

 “Remus, no—!”

 A loud thud does not startle him awake. His eyes do not fly open. His body does not refuse to respond as chunks of wood fly all over his room. The walls do not look like they’re transparent as someone peers at him. They are not real.

 “Janus? Oh my goodness, Janus!”

 Patton. Patton is also not real. That is okay.

 Patton does not rush across the floor to him and fall to his knees. His eyes aren’t welled up with tears that he bravely tries to fight back, smiling down at him. Patton’s hands do not cup his face tenderly. He doesn’t say anything.

 “Kiddo?”

 He cannot speak. Real things cannot speak.

 “Kiddo, can you hear me?” Patton does not stroke his thumb gently over his cheek. “Can you breathe?”

 Real things do not breathe.

 “Fuck,” Remus does not swear, “he’s derealizing again.”

 “He’s what?”

 “Derealizing.” Remus does not run to crouch beside them. Remus does not gently tuck his hands under his legs to lift them into a more comfortable position. “Gets stuck in his own head, caught up in his own lies.”

 Patton does not help Remus. He does not cradle his head and lift it up. The pillow suddenly under his head is not real, not soft, not pleasantly cool. His hand does not stay in his hair, stroking gently.

 “He’s overcorrecting,” Remus does not murmur, “convincing himself that nothing is real.”

 “Oh, kiddo,” Patton doesn’t sigh, doesn’t ruffle his hair gently, “you’re real, kiddo, stay with us.”

 “He’s not gonna believe you, Daddio.”

 “Then what do we do?”

 “You’re not gonna like it,” Remus doesn’t say.

 He doesn’t get up and leave. Patton doesn’t stay, still stroking his hand through his hair soothingly. Is it soothing? Does it feel soft? Caring?

 Patton—Patton is caring, right?

 “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart,” Patton doesn’t—does?—murmur, “you’ll get through this, okay? You’ll get through this, I know you will.”

 “Here.”

 Oh, Remus is back. Is? Isn’t? Is Remus real?

 “Just hold this, okay?”

 “It’s really warm, are you sure—?”

 “That’s what the towel’s for.”

 Remus doesn’t crouch back down next to him. Patton isn’t gripping whatever Remus just gave him in his fist. He doesn’t look worried.

 Wait, why is he worried?

 “Ah!”

 He cries out in surprise when something freezing presses to his stomach. Cold. Cold, cold—

 “Shh, easy, Snakey,” Remus soothes—wait, doesn’t soothe? Is Remus real?—immediately replacing the cold with something warm, warm, warm, “it’s okay, it’s gone now, you did great, just stay here, okay?”

 “Re-Remus?”

 “Yeah, Jan-Jan, it’s me, I’m right here, can you grab onto me?”

 He can’t, he’s not real, Remus isn’t real, but Remus is right there—

 “There you go,” Remus encourages when his fingers hook through the ends of his sleeves, “you got me, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

 “Why—what happened? Why are you here?”

 “You never came down to dinner, kiddo,” Patton says, stroking his solidwarmreal hand through his hair again, “we got worried. No one could call you and the room wasn’t letting us sink.”

 Well of course it wasn’t, it isn’t real.

 Wait.

 “How did—“ he gasps— “how did you know I was here?”

 Patton frowns, tilting his head. “Because we care about you, kiddo, you’re important to us.”

 How can he be important when he isn’t real?

 “Hey,” Remus says sharply, giving his wrist a little tug, “no drifting off again, Snakey, stay here.”

 “H-here?”

 “Yeah.” Remus presses the hot pad into his stomach and oh, it’s so warm, it has to be real. “Right here, Jan-Jan. You feel this?”

 “Yes.”

 “This is real. This is real. I’m really here, I’m really holding this to your real stomach. You’re real. The floor is real. Patton’s real.”

 Patton’s real?

 “I’m real, sweetheart,” Patton says softly, still rubbing his hand through his hair, “and so are you.”

 He opens his mouth to try and breathe. If he’s real, he should be able to breathe…right?

 “That’s it, kiddo, good.” The hand in his hair moves again. “Just lie there and breathe for a moment, okay?”

 He looks over at Remus. Remus starts to rub little circles into his stomach with the warm towel.

 “Stay here, stay real, Snakey,” he encourages, “just focus on this.”

 The floor becomes solid under him again. Patton’s hand, his voice, he can hear them. Feel them. He blinks at Remus, real Remus, still working patiently.

 He must make some noise because Remus pauses, looking up at him. Then he takes the towel and reaches up to slowly, slowly brush it over his cheek.

 The tears that spring to his eyes at the tenderness of the gesture certainly feel real.

 “Oh, kiddo,” Patton whispers, pulling him into a solidwarmreal chest, “it’s okay, shh, you’re safe, you’re real, everything’s okay.”

 He gasps again, trapped in the warmth of Patton’s embrace. Remus scoots in behind them, wrapping his arms tightly through the limbs that still don’t want to work.

 “Why can’t I move,” he chokes out, “why can’t I move?”

 “You’re exhausted, sweetheart,” comes Patton’s soft reply, “you overworked yourself today.”

 “But I can’t feel them!”

 “Here,” he whispers, gently squeezing one of his arms, “can you feel that?”

 “O-only a little.”

 “How about here…and here…there.”

 Patton’s hands are so warm and solid and real.

 “P-Patton?”

 “Yeah, kiddo, I’m right here.”

 “Remus?”

 “I’m here too, Snakey, we gotcha.”

 “Am I—is this—“ he swallows unsteadily— “is this…real?”

 “Yeah, kiddo,” Patton murmurs as Remus strokes firmly up and down his back, “this is real.”

 Patton is real, solid and warm against him. Remus is real, solid and warm behind him.

 Janus opens his eyes and stares at the yellow wall.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness  @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes  @iminyourfandom  @bullet-tothefeels  @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83  @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious  @firefinch-ember  @fandomssaremysoul  @im-an-anxious-wreck  @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch  @enby-ralsei  @unicornssunflowersandstuff  @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams  @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne  @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer  @i-am-overly-complicated  @annytheseal  @alias290  @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734​

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

[marvelfansince08love]

The Pleasure is all mine  Chapter 3 - Part 2

Word Count: 1831

Pairing: Lou Miller x Fem!Reader.

Setting: Continuation from chapter 3 part 1.

Warnings: Pure Fluff to be honest. 

A/N: As if I’ve uploaded another chapter in the space of three days, is this the new me?... probably not. I hope you enjoy the chapter! I had to do a little bit of research for this one. Attempted to proofread however fell asleep after doing a 12 hour shift - go me! so I do apologise for any grammar or spelling mistakes. I spent way too long trying to make the format perfect but alas Tumblr wants to see me suffer.

Your comments/ feedback brings happiness to this potato trash! 🖤

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @5aftermidnight @iamheartless @deadly-darling​ @gaylorrds 

I do not own the gif below!

Chapter 3 - Part 2  

Holy shit!

"I'm sorry, I thought for a second there you said you were a con artist. I didn't realise we were in a movie" I say sarcastically. Her lip quirks up slightly but her eyes stay locked with mine.

 "You can't be serious! Is that why Debbie was shot at?!" 

 "A group called Python have been collecting Breitling Chronomat watches worth over 8million a piece in exchange for 18k white gold #rings with over 250 brilliant-cut diamonds in each one. In shorter terms they are worth more than the watches to these guys, apparently the ringleader has ancestors who inherited these rings which were stolen and auctioned off. It's known that at least four of those rings are based right here in New York in our very own Cartier store. We scanned them, made some of our own. it was supposed to be a simple exchange but something went wrong. A gun was pulled - the poor kid was only young, I guess he panicked. Probably didn't want to go back to his boss and explain how he lost the entire set of watches worth more than his life as well as being outwitted by a woman. She was lucky he was such a crap shot" 

I gape at her in utter shock. 

"I think, I need a glass of wine" I whisper mainly to myself, but Lou hears and goes to stand. I watch her carefully, taking in her rigid posture her eyes darting back towards me as she heads to the kitchen.

 Probably to make sure I don't run out on her again.  

She walks back over with a big glass of white and places it in front of me, instead of sitting back on the edge of the sofa occupied by Debbie she perches on the edge of the table, so we're knee to knee. She reaches forward and takes hold of my hands keeping them in-between both of hers. 

"I know this is a lot to take in and trust me, that job was dangerous, and we don't normally work that way. It won't be happening again, but I at least owe you an explanation. I understand if after this you never want to see me again, I totally deserve that after putting you through this" her hands tightening around mine, I finally look up and see her eyebrows pinched in a frown, her eyes glossed over. 

I gently remove my hands from hers and take a big gulp from my glass before putting it down and reaching over to cup her jawline. My thumb caresses her cheek, she leans into my touch just a fraction - her eyes closed.

"You promise me that in future you tell me exactly what's going on. No secrets Lou, I don't want this sort of thing dropping on me again because if that's the case I'm afraid I can't be with... around you" my words strong and clear - completely the opposite to how I'm really feeling - scared and unsure. Her eyes open showing me those beautiful crystal blues, with a small smile on those delicious lips.

 "Okay"

 I grin.

 "Okay"

 *** 

After what seems like hours of talking, we finally reached an understanding. With all the serious talk over with, we gradually move on to lighter topics - mainly Lou asking about me. 

"So, you are telling me you decided to become a Nurse after your brother ripped the arm off your most precious teddy, if that doesn't scream childhood trauma" she smirks teasing me. I blush at her smirk and gently shove at her arm which causes her to stumble back slightly making her laugh.

 "Yes! I ended up stitching him back up and nursing him back to health, thank you very much" I laugh along with her, we hear Debbie stir from the sofa across the room. We both turn to look at her resting peacefully and with no signs of fever.

 We chuckle quietly before a yawn escapes me. Lou sees me yawn before standing up and put her hands out for me to take.

 "Come on you can crash here tonight, I'm sorry I didn't realise how late it was. Fuck! you've been on shift as well, I'm an awful person"

 "It's okay Lou I'm used to it but seriously I can go home, I'll get a cab" she's already shaking her head at my proposition.

 "Not happening, its 2 in the morning Y/N you can sleep in my bed"

 I raise an eyebrow at that.

 "Don't worry we're both adults here I'm sure we can share a bed without ripping each other’s clothes off Y/N"

 "Who says I want to rip your clothes off Miller"

 She smirks devilishly and steps into my space, making me walk backwards until my back hits a wall. She places her hands on either side of my head and leans in close until her nose brushes lightly against mine, her lips almost brushing against mine. My breath hitches, my eyes drawing to her lips.

 "Cheek - but we both know this isn't the time or the place" there's an agonising pause and then:

 "It really isn't, so could you horny lesbians take it to a private room away from my poor innocent ears. Hearing this is worse than being shot at"

 We both jump apart and turn towards Debbie who is now sat up taking her next dose of medication. I feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment. I can't believe we almost got caught like some horny teenagers.

 "Is the offer for the bed still available" I say quietly into Lou's ear who seems to be preoccupied staring Debbie down.

 "Of course, first floor, second door on the left"

 I say a quick thanks before sliding away from Lou's side and towards the stairs.

 "Good night Y/N thank you again" Debbie teases all while staring straight back at Lou with a grin. I blush even harder if that's even possible before muttering a good night while taking the stairs two at a time.

 ***

 Once I've washed my face in the ensuite bathroom I turn towards the large bed in the middle of the room; Lou's bed. Before I can think more about the bed arrangement, Lou appears against the door frame of the room.

 "You can borrow some clothes if you like? I have some shorts and oversized shirts"

 "That would be great actually" I stand awkwardly by the bed, watching as Lou goes towards a table of draws. She passes me the pieces of clothing and stands with her arms crossed.

 I raise an eyebrow and twirl my finger around indicating for her to turn around. Her hands come up in mocking surrender before turning around with a wide grin.

 "Are you always this cheeky or do I get special treatment"

 Her shoulders shaking indicating her laughter.

 "Only for you, love"  

 I grin softly and quickly change into the clothes I've been given. The shorts stop mid-thigh while the old band t-shirt flows just above the knee. I decide last minute to abandon the shorts seeing no use for them.

 Besides the shirt covers what it needs to and showing a little bit of leg never hurt no one.  

 "You can turn around now"

 With her hands still up she turns back around, once she sees me standing there her hands drop to her side, her eyes dropping to the bottom of my feet and slowly making their way up - taking in my form. Her eyes darken, I see her swallow hard before she shakes her head.

 "So, I normally take the left side as it's closer to the door. You're welcome to the right side of the bed though"

 "Shouldn't one of us stay with Debbie? I don't feel comfortable leaving her by herself"

 "Don't worry Tammy came down just after you left, she's going to stay with her. I did try to get her to go back up, but she refuses to leave her side. I'm surprised she even let us keep her away for so long"

 "Oh, oh"

 "Yeah" she says with a smirk amused by my realisation.

 You couldn't have gotten it more wrong, nice move L/N.

 "We should get to bed, I'm sorry again for keeping you up. I promise I'll make it up to you" she says, making her way to her side of the bed. I reluctantly make my way to the other side and slowly make myself comfortable lying on my back facing the ceiling. I feel Lou shift around trying to get comfortable, from the corner of my eye I notice her lying towards me the soft glow from the streetlights lighting up her face - just enough to see those crystal blue eyes and that signature smirk.

 "So, do you want me to stack a few pillows in a line between us or I could make us a fort"

 I chuckle quietly before turning onto my side so we're facing each other. Her hand reaches forward, her fingertips brush gently across my cheek; brushing my hair out of my face.

 "So beautiful" she whispers. I bite my lip gently and drop my gaze - suddenly feeling very shy.

 "Downstairs before - if we weren't interrupted do you think you would have done it"

She smirks softly, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

 "Would have done what, love?"

I roll my eyes playfully knowing she's making me say it.

 "Kissed me"

 Her playful demeanour changes to something more serious.

 "Is that what you want Y/N, for me to kiss you?" There's a pause while I debate my answer.

 "Yes"

 Before I have a chance to continue Lou leans forward, her hand still resting gently against my jawline and brushes her lips against mine before pressing firmer deepening the kiss. Her lips are soft, the taste of cherries and wine. I moan softly at the feel of her lips against mine but before I can take it any further Lou pulls away reluctantly. I look at her in confusion, suddenly scared that I might have taken it too far. She leans her forehead against mine and presses a light kiss to my nose before brushing against it with her own lightly.

 "As much as I would love to continue this, I really want to take you out on a date"

 "A date?"

 "Yes, it's when two people who really like each other..."

 "I know what a date is, smartass" I chuckle at her playfulness and her stupid grin.

 "So, will you? Go on a date with me"

 "Yes, I'll go on a date with you" with a big grin I lean forward and kiss her cheek softly. She smiles a proper smile before putting her arm around my waist - pulling me closer. Her lips brushing against my forehead.

 "Good night Y/N"

 "Good night Lou, sweet dreams"

 Closing my eyes, I drift into a deep sleep, thinking about those soft lips and crystal blue eyes.

[neverendingparable]

Returning Home

mentions of self harm, suicide, mental illness, drugs, medication, scars

Someone was knocking at the door, loud and urgent, interrupting his reading.

Ezra picked up the bookmark and slid it in between the pages, then checked his phone in case he had overlooked a message before he got up to answer.

Probably someone from the downstairs apartments was asking for help again. He wasn't quite sure when he became  the man to go to whenever the trash collectors oversaw their cans or when scammy ads were on their way to frightening people into buying insurance with shady companies, but it seemed like every time something odd happened around here, at least one person would turn to him for help.

He unlocked the door and opened it, ready to assure a worried elder about doubting the legitimacy of the latest marketing scam. Instead of his downstairs neighbors, he found Stanley, sweater and hair disheveled and eyes bloodshot.

Ah.

Ezra didn't expect him to come knocking so soon and an unexpected flutter of panic unfolded in his chest. It was only two days ago when they had the fight, or rather it was Ezra chastising him, telling him that he had to choose between living and dying once and for all.

'I'm not going to be with someone who is constantly on the edge, Spencer,' he had said, trying his hardest not to yell. 'You need to figure out what you want. I can't stop you from hurting but I can be there with you every step of the way if you want to recover. I want to be there for you. But I can't watch you sabotage yourself, much less stand by idly while you dig your own grave.'

He had poured in years of frustration with his ex boyfriend, all those times he was Stanley's rock, the reason why he was still alive, the one to treat his injuries. But it had never gotten better and Ezra decided that perhaps if he gave him an ultimatum, Stanley would finally realize he was being serious. He wasn't going to stand around and watch the most important person of his life kill himself slowly.

That was the last time he had talked with him. He wanted to give him space to think about his words, to let Stanley feel the absence so he knew the gravity of his choices. Ezra had felt a tiny bit guilty about it all, but he knew it was important. Nothing else had worked before.

He had expected a week or so of silence until Spencer eventually crawled back and reluctantly agreed to try out something. He hadn't prepared to be confronted so quickly.

Despite the nervousness creeping up his throat, Ezra relaxed into a friendlier stance and attempted to smile.

"You look awful," He said lightly. "Did you stay up all night?"

Stanley stared at him. There was something wild in his eyes. Fear? Desperation?

"....did you have a nightmare, Stanley?" Something felt off. Even if he did simply pull an all nighter or - possibly - hadn't slept since their argument two nights ago, it didn't make sense for him to look this worn down. Stanley was the type of guy that could take three all nighters in a row without flinching even at age twenty five, while Ezra who was only slightly older felt groggy if he didn't go to bed before midnight.

Perhaps Ezra had managed to get through to him after all and Stanley felt so guilty he spent the last two days beating himself up over it before working up the nerve to come here. Somehow, that didn't make him feel any better.

"Wha...what date is it?" Stanley finally croaked out in a hoarse whisper.

Ezra blinked. "Sorry?"

"The date."

"It's Tuesday." Ezra stepped forward to coax him in, but stopped when Stanley made a noise of frustration.

"Year??" He demanded.

Maybe he was drunk. Or high. Or both. Ezra was certain you weren't supposed to mix drugs and alcohol but if something was forbidden and potentially dangerous it would make sense for Spencer of all people to try it.

"Why don't you come in and I'll get you a glass of water," He attempted again, keeping his voice gentle. "You're confused—"

"For fuck's sake! Just tell me the damn date-" Stanley's voice cracked and became strangled. He looked like he was about to cry.

Ezra had no clue what was going on. It scared him though, even after all these years of witnessing breakdowns and fits of rage, he had never seen his friend like this. It was like he changed into a different person overnight. The Spencer two days ago barely seemed remorseful after their relationship abruptly ended.

"It's October the 15th, 2013," Ezra said carefully.

Spencer's face fell instantly. It was the oddest expression he had ever seen on someone, full of sadness and understanding, hope and rage and a tinge of happiness. Like all of his worst fears were just confirmed and amidst it all, so was his greatest wish. He swayed for a second, lost in a million mile stare and then steadied himself enough to step into Ezra's apartment.

He stood there, looking around while Ezra closed the door behind him. His eyes rested on every piece of furniture as if making sure they were all still there where he remembered them to be.

Then he turned towards the couch and for a split moment, Ezra could've sworn he saw a pale thin scar stretch across the back of Spencer's neck, like someone had attempted a decapitation. He shuddered and looked again and found it gone.

"So-....uh..." Spencer took a seat on the couch awkwardly. He searched his thoughts for a second then attempted to appear a bit more relaxed, like he was stepping back into his role as the nonchalant jokester.

"How are you, um, Ezra?"

Ezra stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, you come stumbling in here like a zombie on drugs and now you want to make small talk? What happened to you?"

Spencer shrugged. Normally it would make his blood boil but Ezra just felt helpless. This didn't seem an attempt to dismiss his concerns. Spencer was guarded, sitting like a caged animal ready to jump and run at the first sign of danger.

"I'm not on any drugs."

"Alcohol?"

"No."

"Did you take any meds?" He had to ask just in case Spencer was cleverly avoiding confessing to be drugged up with medication instead of drugs he bought off a friend.

"No." Spencer paused. "I'm...I'm just a bit confused, that's all. Had a rough-...rough time."

Ezra sat across from him, hesitated, and took his hands into his own. He could feel them shaking slightly and when he looked up, he could tell Stanley was trying hard not to cry.

"Stanley...please. Just be honest. What happened to you?"

"It's- nothing." You wouldn't believe me hung heavy in the air between them.

"Was it the argument? Was I too harsh?" Ezra didn't want to hear the confirmation that he might've been the cause for this. He hadn't thought he pushed him too hard with his words. Perhaps it had been a mistake. Stanley had abandonment issues and maybe the break up left him more shaken up than Ezra had realized-

"No." The tremble in Stanley's voice disappeared. "No, it wasn't you, Ezra, don't think that. If anything, it was my fault. I was a shit boyfriend and an even shittier friend."

"Stanley-"

"No, let me talk." Stanley pulled his hands away. "You were right, you've always been. I was unfair to you, I was selfish and immature and only thought about my wants. I took advantage of your second chances again and again and you were right to tell me to stop my bullshit."

"Well..."

"I'm sorry, too." His voice grew softer. "I never thought I'd get this chance to say this but I'm sorry. Ezra, I love you. As a friend, as a soulmate, as whatever you want to call it. I know we're not boyfriends right now but please believe me I'm so sorry and I don't want to leave you."

"What...do you mean you never thought you'd get the chance to say it?" All he got as an answer was two armfuls of Stanley, holding onto him for dear life.

He returned the hug carefully, lost in the absurdity of the situation. It felt like a dream he wasn't aware he stumbled into. It felt like he had just narrowly avoided a horrible fate and the weight of the 'almost' was looming over them like storm clouds.

Stanley was still talking about how sorry he was and how he was going to get better, therapy, life coaches, mental hospitals, whatever you want I'll do it just don't kick me out tonight and he sounded so desperate Ezra almost believed that whatever happened to him was a type of horror he’ll never understand.

Logic told him it was just a very extreme case of depression. Perhaps he had been drinking. Perhaps he beaten himself up so much over these past two days that he had somehow driven himself to hysterics and if he really did mean it then he would have to prove himself.

But that night Stanley clung to him until he passed out in exhaustion and even in his sleep his grip was tight enough to suffocate.

He did stay true to his words. He threw out everything remotely harmful, even donated his rather impressive knife collection to a local thrift shop. He went to every doctor Ezra recommended to him and soon he was on meds again, getting weekly counsel sessions.

The doctors told him that Stanley was suffering from a type of extreme PTSD, one that couldn't be easily explained from his childhood. His parents had been neglectful, not violent and once they both graduated, their lives have been fairly normal.

Spencer was eventually put on anxiety medications. He was unbearably clingy, to the point where Ezra found him staring at the door when he came back from getting groceries or the mail.

He had nightmares too, ones he only vaguely described as feeling 'trapped' in. Nightmares that involve him losing Ezra in endless hallways, meeting monsters who wanted to tear him apart, watching himself die in various ways.

The source of these newfound problems remained unknown as Stanley stayed tight lipped, changing the subject whenever Ezra pried too hard. But despite the new wave of horror now haunting him, he didn't refuse treatment even once. And it was through their combined efforts he eventually got better. He stopped being scared of entering new buildings, stopped waking up in the middle of the night screaming, stopped going into a nervous fit whenever Ezra was out of his sight.

He found new hobbies, building little machines in his spare time and on the weekends they would spend hours hiking nearby trails.

They started dating again. Stanley's previous shyness about intimacy had all but disappeared and been replaced by neediness. He bared himself shamelessly, asking to be loved for every flaw and Ezra obliged.

Whatever happened was beyond his comprehension. He didn't know how someone could change so drastically and for the longest time he blamed himself for not seeing the signs earlier. That perhaps Stanley had always been like that and he had never noticed.

But there were little things that confused him. Every so often, when they were untangling in bed or just in the shower, he caught glimpses of unexplainable scars on Spencer's body. Scars that were deep and ugly, scars that told of violent deaths. Decapitation, disemboweling, torture, burn marks. A second look and they were gone.

Sometimes he felt an odd sort of calling when he was walking down the hallways of the hospital or his work office. A longing to open a door and step inside, see what could be on the other side. The one time he did, he found a broom closet where he was sure that hadn't been before and the energy radiating from it was so hungry he had closed it quickly and left.

Several times he caught glimpses of someone watching them while they were out in public. An impossibly tall figure in a suit, a smiling woman in an exceptionally colorful dress who looked a little too much like Stanley used to look when he still had long hair, a man in an overcoat and a top hat. None of them ever approached and Ezra was strangely relieved.

As the treatments carried on, Stanley found his lively spark again. He insisted on being called Bradley, ('Brat-ley' he explained proudly) and tried his hardest to live up to the name. 

It didn't bother Ezra, however.  They were happy. Alive, well and happy. 

And that's all that mattered.

[queernarchy]

Statement of Elizabeth Williams, regarding a box of tapes found in the basement of her student house. Statement given October 18th, 2018, 105 Hill Top Road, Oxford.

[INT. OXFORD, 105 HILLTOP RD, UPSTAIRS BEDROOM]

[TAPE CLICKS ON]

[SOUNDS OF BETH STUTTERING, APPARENTLY SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING TO SAY]

[A SHAKY INHALE]

BETH

Right. Um. I, uh. Right.

[PAUSE]

BETH

To be perfectly honest, I’m not really sure what I’m doing. I- I found this. It’s the only one I’ve found in the box that’s blank. You know, I’ve never actually seen a tape recorder, like in real life? It’s quite - Well, I’m not even sure I know how to use it. Except … I do. Because I turned it on. I hit the button and now I’m talking to it, like it’s a person. Like I’m crazy, which … I might be. God, I might be. 

[BREATH]

BETH

I probably am. In fact, I hope I am. I hope I was just dreaming it all up. Another sign of an overactive imagination. Spending too much time with those books and not in the real world, as mum would say.

[PAUSE]

Even if it was real, there is no reason for me to be talking to you - no, to this. [TO HERSELF] It’s a tape recorder, Beth, it’s not a person. [BACK TO NORMAL] But I am. It feels right to, to tell you. So I’m going to. I’m going to tell you what happened and then it’ll be over. And I can go back to my life. 

BETH (STATEMENT)

I’m not great at this. The talking, the explaining, the storytelling, it’s not really my thing, at least not anymore. 

When I was a kid it was easy, you know? I was always latching onto one thing or another, letting it consume my brain and then going on and on about it to whatever poor soul I could corner long enough into listening. My parents didn’t let me use a computer until I was well into my teens - something about them making nightmares worse? It was all bollocks, really, how would they know that if they never actually let me use one? But, anyways, before that I used to spend hours in the Wokingham library touring the sections. Once, when I was twelve, I read a book on oceanography: Vanished Ocean: How Tethys Reshaped the World, and spent a solid week scouring the corners of every bookshelf for anything I could find on ancient supercontinents or vanished fault lines before giving my report to the first unlucky and unsuspecting librarian who happened to be out in the open. [LAUGHS] Poor Mike.

I never cared what the genre was, nonfiction, mystery, fantasy, that was never important to me. I just loved the pursuit, and the compelling joy of walking through a new world. It was like a secret between me and the writer, something that we knew that nobody else did. 

I always dreamed of being a writer too one day, but like I said, the storytelling part never actually came natural to me, no matter how many books I consumed. I suppose it must have been that lack of skill that bugged the people around me to no end. My father spent most of his time at work and I didn’t really get along with my brother or sister, but let’s just say that my mum was never as ... enthusiastic about my new interests as I was. 

It wasn’t her fault, I was deeply, deeply irritating. But to my credit, the minute I realized that, well, that’s when I finally started to shut up. Thinking back, I think that’s where it started. I had always kind of been afraid of pretty much anything and everything. But when I got old enough, I started to routinely feel a gripping terror bubbling up through my stomach, my chest, shaking my limbs and rooting me to the spot whenever I spoke for more than a minute at a time. 

All this to say, a few years ago I graduated secondary school with absolutely no skill in writing, the one thing I actually enjoyed, and a lot of anxiety. It seems inevitable that I would end up studying library sciences, doesn’t it? It’s practically what I’ve always done anyways - sorting and researching. And a future as a librarian with a couple cats and a cozy cottage, surrounded by books, well … there are worse things. Much worse. 

I moved into student housing right before my first term started at Oriel. I call it student housing, but it’s not, not technically. The actual dorms were a bit out of my price range, so when I saw an ad looking for flatmates in Cowley, only a 20 minute bus ride from the college, it seemed meant to be. There were ten living here all together, to start. George moved into his boyfriend’s place last year, leaving nine of us. [DARKLY] Well, eight, now, I suppose.

It was a proper house, renovated a few years back, I think, but it was already thoroughly  trashed by the time I showed up. It was one of those places that, the minute you walked through the door, you could just feel the grime lurking between the worn couches and stained mattresses, that musty smell of overuse. I tried to ignore it, I did, but one Friday night a couple weeks after I’d settled in, I waited until everyone had gone and walked to the closest shop to buy a blacklight. It went about as well as you’d expect. I spent that entire weekend scrubbing this house from top to bottom. I even cleaned Sam’s room. It’s not like I’m a germaphobe or anything, I just like to know where things have been. And if they dirty again, well, at least I know it’s the slobbery of my friends rather than that of strangers. 

I didn’t touch the basement, though. None of us ever did. I’m not sure why, it was always just an unspoken agreement between us. I must have asked about it when I moved in. I must have. I mean, it would be one thing if it just never came up, if it was just an unfinished and unsafe part of the house we didn’t go down to and that was that. But, you know, thinking about it now, we didn’t even mention it, not once. It’s amazing, isn’t it, what you can ignore. Right up to the moment you’re devoured by it.

I don’t remember the exact moment things started to feel wrong. Can’t have been more than a couple weeks ago. It was subtle, at first. Doors swinging closed on their own, misplaced items, shadows that didn’t really ... fit. All things that could be chalked up to the mind playing tricks out of boredom, or fatigue - just a consequence of one too many sleepless nights. I didn’t really think about it too hard, even when Sam brought it up at breakfast, started insisting the place was haunted. That was easy to dismiss, she’s always going on about some supernatural this or that and I don’t believe in ghosts, but even that would have been easily digestible as an explanation. 

It was like that for a few days, and all the while, that feeling of wrongness lurked in the background, pulsing beneath us. I honestly don’t know if I would have even taken notice if Milton hadn’t started behaving the way he did. Milton is - was - every bit the hipster film student of your wildest imaginations. I swear, I saw him wear a beret once, completely unironically. We’d been friends, as I was one of the few people who would listen to him ramble on about whatever arthouse film had caught his attention that week. We got on fine, well, actually, for flatmates at least. That’s not to say that I always liked him - I’d acted in a few of his student films, just by convenience, and he wasn’t exactly the most easy to work with. Everything always had to be just the way he wanted it, down the most minute detail. I swear, if he could have tied strings around our limbs and puppeted us from afar, he would have. [PAUSE] Sorry, that’s … that’s poor taste. 

It had to do with the cassettes. You see, Milton had always insisted on using magnetic tape for his recordings, refusing to even entertain the idea of a digital camera. Something about being more authentic - I never understood it, but far be it from me to get in between a film major and their precious ‘analog charm.’ He loved those tapes, and we all got used to seeing dozens scattered throughout the house at any one time. Which is why it struck me as odd when last week, they vanished entirely. When I asked him about it, he just said that he'd been editing a new project that he needed them for. I wasn’t sure what kind of project would require that many cassettes all at once, but he certainly spent enough time working on it. He’d be locked away in his room for hours, sounds of whirring machinery coming from behind his door. When he did come out, he was exhausted, gaunt. I tried talking to him about it, you know, but he’d just ignore me.

It was strange behavior, sure, but not supernatural. Perhaps I would have chalked it up to stress, just a bad week, but that’s when the nightmares started. I had always had them, just a side effect of my anxiety, but they’d died down a couple years ago, after I moved to Oxford. One sleep after this started, though, I saw Milton. He was sat at a desk, a mess of cassettes unspooled into piles of thin black magnetic tape scattered across it. He was tangled in tape as well, almost every limb bound by it. He stared at the pile in front of him with dull eyes, completely still. 

I didn’t realize until the tape began to lift his arms that he wasn’t just tangled in it. The long, metallic strands were embedded directly into his skin. The strands controlling every movement, he grabbed a spool, and, very slowly, raised it to his mouth. His jaw unhinged, farther than anything natural, and he began to stuff the tape down his throat. Again, and again, and again, until the entire pile was gone. I had never felt relief the way I had when I finally woke from that dream. I didn’t know that was only the first time that I would have it.

I woke from one of these nightmares late one night, heart beating fast and body sticky with sweat. I climbed downstairs, trying to clear my head, and found Milton sitting in the living room, staring at our small television screen playing his movie. At least, that’s what I assumed it was. There was no coherence, no audio, just rapid, violent black and white images that flashed across the screen sporadically and bits of static that faded in and out at random. Occasionally, I’d see the corrupted and disjointed image of my own face cross the screen, along with the other actors. The pattern was hypnotic. Every few minutes, the images would perfectly align, shaping spindly, bony legs that almost seemed to reach beyond the glass face of the TV.

After a while, I finally managed to ask him if he was alright, if the cassette had become corrupted somehow, if there was any way to fix it. He had always been so fiercely protective of his tapes, and with the state it was in I expected him to be furious, or devastated, at least concerned. But when he turned, there was none of that written into his face. Just a calm, blank expression. He studied me carefully for a long moment, before finally speaking. ‘We should feed our guest. She’s so happy to have arrived, and she is very hungry.’ He smiled after he said that. When he did, I could have sworn I saw that thin black film tape weaved inside him - webbed in the back of his throat and threaded right through the fleshy center of his tongue. I went back up the stairs immediately and locked my door, sat in bed until the sun came up.

I managed to avoid him the days after that. I thought about telling the others, trying to explain it to them, but I knew it wouldn’t end well. They wouldn’t believe me, why would they? I wasn’t even sure that I believed me. I thought about moving out, of course I did, but I had nowhere to go. No money, no real friends outside of the ones I already lived with. And who knows if I was just overreacting, imagining it all. So I decided I’d just ignore him as much as I could until he went back to normal or I’d saved up enough money for a new place.

It didn’t last, though. It was three days ago that it happened. It was late, and I had carelessly lost time sitting in the kitchen, studying for my history exam. I was alone when he walked in. He didn’t say a word, just, met my eyes with that calm look, like an invitation. Then he turned, with a finality I had never seen before, opened the door to the basement, and vanished down the stairs. 

I shouldn’t have followed him. I could have just walked away, went upstairs and buried my head in my pillow. But I didn’t. I had to know. To see. 

So, I walked down those old stone steps, dodging cobwebs. I don’t remember if I closed the door behind me, or if it did that part on its own. The cellar was warm, far too warm for October. It was unfinished, and empty save for an old, lidded cardboard box that sat neatly in the center of the room. A long, jagged crack ran through the floor and up into the far wall, as though the foundation had been damaged in an earthquake or something. Milton stood facing away from me, towards the crack in the wall, whispering something I couldn’t quite make out. I called out to him, and he turned to face me, expression wild with … something. Excitement? Panic? He had started to say something before, all at once, dozens of shadowy, spindly tendrils, adorned with what looked like coarse hairs crept from the crack and began to wrap themselves around him.

I felt that familiar terror bubble up, running cold through my veins, stronger than I’d ever felt it before. I wanted to run or scream, but I couldn’t. He didn’t scream either, but I could see the fear growing in his eyes, silently pleading. He didn’t move, not even as the tendrils began to … unspool him. They reached into him, breaking into his body like plaster, and pulled. He was hoisted from the ground, his limbs yanked in different directions and elongated. They just dangled there, arms and legs and head only still attached by threads of dark, magnetic tape, like an old, torn doll hanging together by string. And then the tendrils began to move him. They took their time puppeting him, and at the end, they pulled up his head, forcing his gaze to meet mine. His cheeks were strung up into a grin, but I saw the tears that flowed freely down his contorted face. 

I don’t know how long I stood there, watching him stripped him apart, piece by piece, slowly and deliberately. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I felt hot tears roll down my cheeks, although I couldn’t tell if they’d come from the terror of it all or simply because I no longer possessed the ability to blink. I watched and watched. And when it was over, and he was gone, I waited. I waited for them to take me, a part of me just relieved that I didn’t have to watch anymore. I had already shut my eyes tightly before I understood that I could. I felt my hands twitch, regaining their will. When I finally opened my eyes again, I was alone, in that old, dank basement, with nothing but that long dark crack, and, in the center of the floor, the cobweb covered cardboard box, now open, and filled to the brim with tapes. 

I don’t remember the rest of the night with any real clarity. I know I stood there for a while. I know at some point I calmly bent down, picked up the box, and walked it upstairs. I spent most of the last two days just staring at it. I’ve missed all of my classes. Sam has come to see me a couple of times, to ask how I am. This morning she actually brought me a plate of spaghetti. Imagine that, spaghetti for breakfast. I do appreciate the thought, even if it makes no practical sense whatsoever. Must be an American thing. She did mention that a man stopped by yesterday. Short, greying hair, lots of weird scars, asking about ‘strange happenings’ in the house. Sam told him about her hauntings, and apparently he had been, less than impressed. He told her he was sorry, and that she should move out, and then left without another word. [LAUGH] Creep.

I finally got up the nerve to look into the box. It’s pretty much what it says on the tin: Tapes and stationary. And cobwebs. So many goddamn cobwebs. 

Nobody has said anything about Milton. I expect in the next few days someone will notice he’s gone. How do you explain something like that? I’ve been seeing it again, though. My nightmares … my nightmares have been getting worse. I keep ending up back there. I just watch, and watch, and watch, and I can’t turn away. 

BETH (POST STATEMENT)

Statement ends, I suppose.

[STATIC RISES]

[STUTTERS, CONFUSED]

…. Statement? I, I don’t, I didn’t -

[STATIC FALLS]

[A SHORT SIGH]

I don’t feel better. I really thought I would. I don’t know why. Why in the world did I think that telling my stupid story to this thing would make me feel better? 

The box is still sitting at the foot of my bed. I want to get rid of it, I do. So why don’t I just toss it? It would be so easy. Just … throw it out. But I can’t. 

[RIFLING THROUGH THE TAPES]

Oh, huh - 

[STATIC RISES]

This tape’s blank as well. I thought I’d sorted through them all, but I guess I missed one. Hm. 

[TOSSES THE TAPE ASIDE]

They’re quite interesting, you know. I haven’t played any of the tapes yet, but I glanced at a few of the written accounts. Some of them are so illegible I can’t even read them but others are. Compelling. They make me feel, right. Scared, but [SIGHS]. I don’t know how to explain it. 

I did some research on them, the ones I read anyways. I say research, I mean some quick Googling, a bit of asking around. They’re not real. The Magnus Institute, that’s the logo printed onto the stationary, isn’t a real place. And, as far as I can tell, these people … these people don’t exist. Anywhere. I mean, I found a few names that match but nobody who lines up to the descriptions and when I reach out to them they claim to know nothing about any of it. One of the people I called, Timothy Hodge, his name is, actually gave me the number of his psychiatrist. [LAUGH]

So maybe it’s fiction. A collection of short stories about fictional people and fictional suffering. Just a practical joke. Except, I know that it’s not. I can’t explain how, I just … Know. 

I should probably move out. Only an idiot would stay in this place, after something like that. When I leave this room, I’m going to have to walk by that basement door. Every single day.. I should leave. I want to leave. I will leave. Just, not yet. 

I need to understand, to unravel the mystery, and I’m getting the feeling that there is something in this box that’ll help me do just that. I’ll try to record whatever I find out. I do have another blank tape, after all. [HM] End recording. 

[TAPE CLICKS OFF]

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   24

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Sans is full of self hatred, and decides to do the 'right thing.'

A/N: Oh boy, drop this stuff like it’s hot! I’m trying to get all caught up to where I’m supposed to be- or where I’d planned to be, anyway. But, it is (American) Thanksgiving- pretty much a time for gluttony- and it’s new here, but sorry there’s not a bunch of new stuff for all of you who’ve been staying caught up on Ao3!

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

Sweetheart goes home.

What the hell did he even think a worthless monster like him was doing with someone like (Y/n), anyway? Did he think he had a chance? That she'd ever even look at him if she had any other choice? 

He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve anyone, but especially not her. He deserved to dust, that's what he fucking deserved. 

Sans drained a glass of Flare-wish, one of Grillby's custom made alcohols, and it hit deep in his bones, making the hum of his magic a bit more obvious. 

It was supposed to bring your happier feelings forward, but it was just depressing him more as he realized that most of his happy thoughts were for the same reason he was feeling low in the first place; (Y/n). 

"Hey, Sansy. Two days in a row, huh?" The usually drunk bunny asked as she sat next to him. "Don't usually see you here this much anymore. Hey Grillbz, gimme a Hot shot Flamethrower, I wanna get wasted, quick!" She turned back to Sans, looking him over. "Your brother kick you out or something?" 

Sans just gave a noise in response. 

"What happened to your pet? She was cute." 

Red eyelights fell on the bunny awaiting her drink, a show of animosity covering his sorrow. 

"Thanks, Grillbz," she gratefully accepted the tall glass in front of her before looking back to Sans. "What's with the look? Oh- wait! Gf gf gf… Is she mad at you or something? Refusing to be good?" 

"shut th' fuck up!" Sans snapped. 

"Oooo, got a nerve, huh?" She asked as she laughed. 

"ya don't know what th' fuck y're talkin' 'bout! she ain't got anythin' ta do wit why i'm here!" 

"Suuuure," she said, taking a sip of her drink before taking a big gulp and murmuring, "mmm, warm." 

She'd taken only a couple of steps toward her usual booth when Sans yelled, "i jus' wanted a fuckin' drink! why d'ya gotta ruin it?!" 

i ruin everything, his mind whispered. i ruin everything… 

He disappeared quickly through a shortcut. 

. 

(Y/n) heard the door open downstairs and took a breath. 

She hoped that Sans was in a better mood. She still really needed to talk to him. She wasn’t quite sure if she’d gotten her answers before, but she remembered how hurt the flashes of honest emotion across his face had been. 

Sans appeared through the doorway, looking pissed- and extremely miserable. 

“doll- i…” He took a breath and bolstered his resolve. “doll, i came ta tell ya ya can go home.” 

She didn’t need to be there with him. She needed to be somewhere safe, where she wouldn’t have to deal with beings like him- disgusting, lowlifes that didn’t have a good or decent bone in their whole being. Those who would hold her captive just so they could continue to see her pretty face, knowing that they’d never get the chance otherwise. The ones that would try every deceitful trick in the book just to see the beautiful smile grow across her face. 

(Y/n) looked at him in confusion. “You… think it’s safe now? But- the sun is setting! I thought it was more dangerous to go out at night!” 

Sans couldn’t meet her eyes, drunk enough that he swayed a bit, had lower inhibitions, but he was still lucid enough to know what was right, what he had to do… 

“don’t worry about it… it’ll be fine…” 

“Sans- you’ve been drinking again, it might seem like it’ll be fine, but it’s not going to be if we go out and try to walk through town. You and your brother were right- walking through town even in the middle of the day was dangerous.” 

Sans didn’t lift his eyelights from where they’d landed. 

“And- and I just wanted to talk about what happened yesterday, I wasn’t trying to-” 

“it doesn’t matter,” he cut her off. 

“I-it doesn’t- Sans- I need to know what kind of relationship-” 

Stars- shards of glass dipped in lemon juice and hot sauce were being shoved through his soul. 

Like he could ever have a real fucking relationship with her! 

She was too kind, too sweet- too perfect!

Someone like him would never have a chance with her! If nothing else proved it, the way that she flinched every time he got close did! 

Even if she was willing to play into his fantasy and pretended to want to be with him, he hated that fake shit. The thought that anything that would resemble a relationship between them would be all fake on her part made him feel sick. It made his soul twist in such a way that if it was physically twisting, it would look like a pretzel instead of a soul. 

“there ain’t a fuckin’ relationship,” he barked out, stopping her words short. 

“There… isn’t…? N-not even a friendship…?” (Y/n) asked quietly, trying to hide the hurt in her voice. 

“don’t- don’t fuckin’ act like ya’d actually want ta be wit me, doll. wouldn’t be doin’ either a us any favors.” 

(Y/n) was so confused, so hurt… 

He didn’t think there was any relationship between them? 

They’d at least basically become roommates, or slumber party friends, since they slept in the same room. 

What they’d done- did he think of it like picking up a stranger in a bar and taking them home, never intending to see them again? 

Oh- was she… cramping his style so he couldn’t bring other partners home…? 

It was like the icy edge of a sharp icicle had fallen and stabbed through her heart. 

This hurt worse than the first time her ex had betrayed her trust and hit her. 

“I-I-I…” Her lip trembled, and her voice quivered with it. 

“get yer shit, i’m takin’ ya home.” 

His voice was rough, forceful… His mind was made up. He was getting rid of her. He’d… finished with her, gotten bored… Time to take the trash out, throw her to the curb and find a new interest… 

(Y/n) stuffed her few clothes in a bag, pulled on her shoes and jacket and shrugged. “Guess that’s it…” 

He stepped close to her, looking a bit regretful, and she almost thought he was going to change his mind… 

Sans wrapped his arms around (Y/n), crushing her against him. It was going to be the last time he’d ever get to hold her, so he was going to take it in for as long as he could. 

His soul was rushing, throbbing fast, and he shoved it back into place as it tried to reach out to her to relieve the ache. 

He didn’t need her. 

He just needed his brother to be safe, and that’s all he could ever ask for. 

Having emotions was bad. 

Love was stupid. It was dangerous, for you, and the one you loved. It would get one or both of you dusted. 

Sans didn’t need her. She was weak. She made him weak. 

She was his weakness… 

i don’t need ‘er, he told himself, jus’ take ‘er back, drop ‘er off… don’t go lookin’ fer ‘er… 

He took a deep inhale, pulling in the smell of her, and felt his body tighten, trying to get her closer. 

He’d never take her back if he didn’t do it right now. 

… So he did. 

(Y/n) was confused, Sans was holding her close, and not letting her go, even though he’d sounded upset at her, plus it had felt like they’d just gone over a rough wave on a innertube, or raft, or something else that floated, making her stomach dip, though they hadn't moved. 

She pulled back and looked around, her eyes nearly bulging as she saw the street about seven blocks from her apartment. No time had changed; the sky was barely lit, as it had been through the window at Sans and Papyrus’ house… The street was nearly empty, but that was most likely because it was a questionable neighborhood in the dark with limited streetlight. 

“Wh-wh-” she took a breath to compose herself. “What the hell…?” 

Sans dropped his arms and stepped back. 

Now he just had to get the collar. 

Then he could leave, get out of her life… never see her again… 

(Y/n) pinned him with a questioning glare. “How the hell did we get here so fast, Sans?” She asked, dangerously calm. 

“took a shortcut,” he told her. 

“I thought it was a trek through the town full of monsters back, that would most likely get us killed, especially at night!” She accused, the used feeling coming back, its sibling, betrayal, growing at its side. 

“yeah, it is, if ya walk.” 

“How did we get here- are we really here?” She was having trouble understanding what had happened, since not much was known about monsters. Was this something they could all do, or just Sans? Was it real, or an illusion? Had she been in the same area the whole time she’d been ‘gone’?! 

“i told ya; i used a shortcut. got us here faster.” 

“And… you what? Just found out about it at the bar?" Suspicion was starting to build a wall of bitter feelings in her chest. 

"this's where i met ya," he admitted, "so i knew where it was." 

(Y/n)'s jaw was tightly clenched as she tried to restrain herself. "You… could have… brought me back- at any time?!" 

Sans felt her anger hit him like a dark wave. 

He needed to be quick- he just needed to get the collar and go, while he could still remember her softness and the memory wasn't overshadowed by her anger at him. 

"You're such an asshole! I can't believe I ever-" She cut herself off, her jaw clenched and hands tightly fisted. 

Sans moved to take the collar from her, but she smacked his hand away. 

"Why didn't you just do this before?!" She demanded. 

Anger flashed through Sans at the smack, mixing with his lowered inhibitions and flaring up. "maybe i fuckin' shoulda!" He yelled back. 

He was quick enough this time that he was able to unlatch the collar and it slipped from her neck as he drew his hand back. 

(Y/n) raged, her hand snapping forward, grabbing whatever was in his hand and threw it down at her feet. 

"You're a real fucking asshole!" She yelled at him. 

"yeah?! well y're no fuckin' ray a sunshine either!" 

Ooo… that was so untrue it made his soul twinge. 

He realized that he had to get out of there before he said something he'd really regret, and disappeared through another shortcut. 

(Y/n) gave a loud noise of rage, pitching the bag in her hand at the spot he'd just stood. 

How could he do that?! 

Just keep her there for no reason?! 

The only explanation she could find was that he had meant to use her the whole time, and had just been keeping her there until she'd complied. 

She gathered the things she'd thrown on the ground and stormed home, hoping the landlady was awake to let her in. 

[sweetiepie08]

Rebelz Chapter 5

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall​

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

(thought I posted this a month ago, but either I forgot or it got eaten by the tumblr void.)

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8.  Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

[-]

Jerry had just smashed Tom’s foot with a hammer when Dib realized he was watching the robot’s cartoons more than he was watching the house. He’d been staring at these screens all day. Tak hadn't shown up at all. Zim did turn up for a few minutes, but that was hours ago and he hadn't come back since. There were no fights, no screams, no explosions, or at least not that Dib could see. The only noteworthy thing that happened was Zim choking on a soda. Was there really nothing going on?

His eyes drifted to the clock. 6:30 already? He'd just wasted most of his day watching old cartoons through a security feed. His stomach rumbled reminding him he hadn't eaten since noon.

Dib looked back at his monitors. Tom chased Jerry around the room. Jerry ducked into his mousehole and Tom rammed his face into the wall. The robot laughed. Dib’s stomach rumbled again. The idea of a break started to sound appealing.

“Hey Gaz,” he called hitting the record button, “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” she called back.

“You want to order a pizza?” He slid off his chair and started out of the room. “I was thinking we could have dinner while we watched that documentary.”

He headed downstairs and found Gaz in the kitchen. She already had the phone in one hand in the Pizza Factory menu in the other. “I'm thinking Peppers and onions,” she said, not dialing the phone.

“How about sausage?

Her face twisted in disgust. “No pork.”

“Okay, fair enough,” he conceded. That shadow hog thing still weighed on his conscience. “Cheddar cheese? Oh, and get garlic bread.”

Gaz nodded and put the phone to her ear.

Dib smiled. It actually felt good to be out of that room. This break would be good for him. He’d get some food in his stomach and watch something he’d been waiting to see. Then he could get back to surveying the base later. Besides, with the camera recording, he wouldn’t miss a thing, if anything even happened.  After all, he got nothing all day. What could he miss in a few hours?

[-]

Gir laughed every time the cat on TV let out that loud yelp. He liked the yelling. It reminded him of someone. And it was funny.

As he laughed, another robot walked into the room. Gir looked over. A new friend? Maybe. Did master build it? Nah, he would have said something. Wait, he remembered this thing. This was Tak’s robot. What was it doing here? Oh yeah, they friends now. She gave him a present. They must be over to play.

“Want some nachos?” Gir asked.

Tak’s robot lifted its head and looked curiously at the nachos. What was wrong? Maybe it didn't know what nachos were for.

“You do it like this,” he said stuffing a handful in his mouth.

Tak’s robot just stood there. It still didn't get it. “Here, let me help.” Gir got off the couch, walked over to the other robot, and smushed a handful of nachos in its face.

Tak’s robot wiped the nachos away and shook off the remaining cheese. It’s eyes narrowed and glowed red. Oh it looked mad. Maybe it would start yelling at him. But it didn’t.

Oh wait! He got it now! “Hey, you don't gots no mouth,” Gir said, leaning real close to get a good look at the robot’s face. “That's not right. You need a mouth for nachos.”

This was a problem. If it was going to be his friend, it needed a mouth for snacks. “Oh, I know!” Gir screamed. He ran for the trash can/elevator. He'd seen master go down this way earlier. Master could build a mouth. “This way! This way!” He dove head first down the elevator shaft and Tak’s robot followed him.

[-]

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not! It's not!” Tak shouted. The can in her hand spilled gignzor on the ground as she gestured wildly. “You cannot tell me! You cannot tell me Foodcourtia is worse than Dirt!”

“It is! It definitely is!” Zim yelled back, punctuating each sentence by slapping the computer control panel.

“It's definitely not!” She slapped the control panel as well. “Dirt is a garbage planet made out of garbage! Everywhere you go, it's garbage! Everywhere you look, it's garbage! You close your eyes and, still, all you can see is garbage!”

“But there's no customers! Zim countered, flinging his empty can across the room. “No one screaming at you all day! No one yelling because their order is late, or cold, or they got the wrong thing! No one saying they want blogrings on the side, but they won't tell you on the side of what. But when you guess, they start yelling! And you're trying every side you can think of, but nothing works! And sometimes they still haunt your thoughts late at night!” He grabbed Tak’s shoulders and shook her. “What side did he want, Tak? What side did he want?!” He kept shaking until she slapped him away.

The sound of a “Whee-hoo” came from the ceiling. It got progressively louder until Gir splat-landed face-first on the floor. Tak’s Sir unit slinked gracefully down and landed beside him.

Gir sprang to his feet. “My friend needs a nacho hole,” he said pointing at the other robot.

“MiMi,” Tak commanded, “Get away from that pile of junk.” The SIR unit nodded and slink to her side.

“Hey!” Zim pointed an accusing finger at her. “You don't get to call my Gir junk!”

“Yeah!” Gir screamed.

Tak smirked. “I built Mimi myself out of spare parts and she’s still more advanced than the standard SIR units issued to the invaders.”

“Well I got a mouth!” Gir shot back.

“Yeah!” Zim shouted. “Hey wait, does your SIR unit talk?”

“No,” Tak sighed. “I couldn't find a functioning vocal chip on Dirt.”

Suddenly, Zim’s computer made an alert sound. “Sir,” computer said, “there is an incoming transmission from the Massive.”

Zim's hands flew to his head. “Oh no, the Tallest can't see me drunk.”

“The Tallest can't see me at all,” Tak added.

“Well, get out of frame, then.”

Tak scooped up Mimi and they ducked under the control panel. Zim tried shaking a bit of his drunkenness off. It didn’t seem to do much, but he answered the call anyway. An Irken in a navigator’s uniform appeared on the screen.

“Um, Invader Zim?” the navigator said, putting a strange emphasis on Zim’s title.

“Yeah,” Heh, he said ‘invader’ funny… Wait a second. “Hey, you're not The Tallest. What is this?”

“The Tallest are very busy at the moment,” the navigator replied. “A traitor has been identified.”

“Traitor? Pfft…” Zim waved his hand. “I don't know anything about a traitor, definitely not one with any conspiracies.” I am nailing this nonchalant performance.

“Uh, you wouldn't.” The navigator said, raising an eyelid. “A notice went out to all Irkens on planet or in the Armada. I've been tasked with informing all those out-of-range to be on the lookout for her.” He paused. “What was that about a conspiracy?”

“Nothing. I said I didn't know anything about a conspiracy, remember?” Totally nailing it.

“Yeah, but why would you bring it up in the first place?”

Shoot. He was asking too many questions. Better get rid of him. “Yes, yes. Anyway, I got your message,” Zim dismissed, reaching to cut off the transmission. “I'll be sure to look out for Tak. Now you can move on to-”

“Wait, I never said the traitor's name.”

His hand froze. Fuck “Uh, yes you did.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No. I didn't.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn't!” The navigator shouted impatiently. “And I can playback this conversation to prove it.”

Zim started to sweat as he contemplated his next move. Before he could say anything, however, Gir dove under the control panel.

“Found you!” Gir squealed.

“What was that?” The navigator asked.

“My SIR unit,” Zim answered. “He lost his… uh… contact lenses!”

“SIR units don't wear contact lenses.”

“Your turn to hide.” Gir said. Zim could hear a scuffle going on.

“No, stop.” Tak whisper-shouted. “Stop pushing me, you metallic hunk of-” Tak flew out from under the control panel and landed on the floor with an “omf.”

No, no, no, no, no! Zim slapped a big fake grin on his face. “As I was saying, I'll be on the lookout for that traitor and I’ll get back to you if I see her. Bye!” Zim cut the transmission and the screen went black. He let out a long breath. “I don't think they suspect a thing.”

Tak got up and brushed herself off. She glared daggers at him and snarled, a retort forming on her lips. Before she could speak, the entire base shook violently, knocking them off their feet.

“What's happening?” Zim struggled to stand up, but another shake sent him back to the floor. The base continued to rumble and, with each new quake, the room shrank in size, along with the tech in it.

“You idiot!” Tak shouted, managing to pull herself up. “It's cubification!”

Zim blinked. “Uhh…”

She scowled and rolled her eyes.” When The Tallest believe an invasion has been compromised beyond salvation, the remotely cubify the base, destroying all evidence and crushing any organic matter left inside.”

“I knew that.” Zim jumped to his feet. “Why are you explaining things I already know?”

“You moron, were going to be squashed!” Tak screamed, grabbing the front of his tunic. “And I refuse to let my cells mix with yours!” She threw him down and called, “Mimi!”

Tak’s loyal SIR unit slid up to her side. Mimi saluted, wrapped her arms around Tak, and flew them both up the elevator shaft.

“Gir!” Zim commanded. “Get us out of here!”

Gir bounced up. His eyes flashed red as he gave a salute. He then ignited the propulsion jets in his feet, flung Zim onto his back, and rocketed them up the elevator shaft.

As they flew to the house level, the walls around them closed in at a steadily rapid rate. It became a tight squeeze toward the top. Zim’s waist became stuck in the trash can lid for a moment before he managed to wiggle out.

By the time he made it to the living room, the ceiling was only a few feet overhead. Tak pulled at the doorknob with all her weight, but it wouldn't budge. She let out a cry of frustration and her laser cutters unfurled from her PAK. The lasers on all four tips joined into one large square of energy which blasted a hole in the wall. However, that hole shrunk just as quickly as the rest of the house.

Tak dove through and MiMi followed. Zim looked around for his service unit who was busy giggling and bouncing off of the encroaching walls. “Gir, quickly!” he commanded, pointing to the hole. Gir launched himself through, squealing. Zim followed after, feeling the ceiling brush the tip of his antenna on his way out.

He landed on his hands and knees on the lawn. Once he gathered himself, he turned to watch as his beautiful base crushed itself into a cube about the size of an Urth child’s alphabet block.

Zim’s mouth hung open. “Six years on this miserable ball of filth,” he murmured, scooting up to the teal cube on his knees. “Now look at you.” He flopped face-first on the yard and made pitiful noises. Gir sat down next to him and patted him on the back.

“Get over it, Zim,” Tak grumbled, activating her human disguise. “At least you still have a ship. Mine’s crushed in there with everything else.”

“Everything?” Zim snapped up. “Wait, where’s Minimoose?”

“NYAH,” Minimoose squeaked as he floated into Zim’s line of vision.”

Zim jumped up and threw his arms around his creation. “Yeah! Minimoose! I knew I shouldn't have to worry about you.”

“Quit hugging the moose, Zim,” Tak snapped. “In case you haven't noticed, we have a real problem here. We're stuck on this dirtball with no shelter, no resources, nowhere to go, and we're out of gingzor.”

“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?” Zim retorted, stomping up to his ship. He reached in, pulled out a spare dog suit, and flung it out Gir. He then began applying his human disguise and he continued. “My base would be fine right now if they didn't catch you hiding out in there.”

“Well they wouldn't have caught me if you could control your sorry excuse for a SIR unit,” Tak shot back.

“Hey!” Zim jumped down from his ship. “Gir is a specialized unit! Operating him takes a deft hand. Simply shouting out commands won't do.”

“why? because then he'd work properly?” Tak smirked.

Zim let out an exaggerated gasp. “How dare?! I just lied my butt off for you and you repay me by insulting my Gir?”

“Oh yes,” she scoffed, “thank you so much for blurting out my name before they even told you who the traitor was. You are a true master of deception.”

Zim put on a smug, mocking grin. “You're welcome.”

Tak growled and kicked nearby rock into the street. After letting out an huff, she turned back to him. “Well, you've been on this planet longer than any other advanced species. Where is a good place to lay low?”

Zim thought about this as he picked up the teal cube and turned it around in his hands. His base wasn't completely destroyed. Everything shrunk as it was being cubified. Perhaps it was all still in there. If he could reverse the effect… “It'll have to be a place with access to a lab. With the proper tools, I could possibly find a way to get my base up and running again.”

“Oh! I know! I know!” Gir squealed, jumping on Zim’s back.

“No, Gir. We're not doing that.”

“But… but…”

“No, Gir,” Zim said again, crossing his arms. “I won't allow my pride to sink that low.”

“But we've done it before,” Gir pointed out.

“Hmm? What's he talking about?” Tak asked sternly.

“Doesn't matter.” Zim answered, waving a dismissive hand at her. “It's not an option.”

“Yes it is,” Gir argued.

“Zim…” Tak growled, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up to her eye level. “Where is it?”

[-]

Gaz flipped open the pizza box and steam rose off the hot, fresh cheese. Dib reached into the takeout bag. The garlic bread was still hot, too. He bit into a slice, enjoying the warm, steamy goodness and hoping the documentary wouldn't bring up any cow disembowelment's while he was eating.

This was shaping up to be a pretty good evening. Good documentary, good food, and he and his sister were just chilling together. There were no fights, no aliens (except the ones in the documentary, of course), no plans for world domination, no nothing. Just pizza, sibling bonding, and the dulcet tones of the narrator explaining bizarre happenings in Utah.

Gaz was right. He needed to take breaks more often. In fact, he was pretty content to spend the rest of the night relaxing. He could do without dealing with Irken nonsense for one night.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Point of No Return: Part Two

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,914

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Instead of letting him do that, you let him get cleaned up so that he doesn’t have dirt stuck to his face and clothes. After clean clothes, a glass of water, and a shower, he’s ready to talk about what happened to him.

“Why don't you just tell us everything? Start from the beginning,” Dean orders.

“Well, I was dead and in Heaven. Except it kinda looked like my prom, and I was making out with this girl. Her name was Kristin McGee—”

“Yeah, that sounds like heaven. Did you get to third base?” Dean chuckles.

You look at him from over your shoulder, and as soon as he sees the look in your eyes, he shuts up.

“Well, these… these angels pop out of nowhere, and they tell me that I—I'm chosen.”

“For what?”

“To save the world.”

“How you gonna do that?” Sam inquires.

“Oh, me and some archangel are going to kill the devil,” Adam shrugs.

“What archangel?” Dean butts in.

“Michael. I'm his uh, sword or vessel or something, I don't know.”

“Well, that’s insane,” Dean shrugs.

“Not necessarily,” you say. “Adam may be younger than Sam, but he’s still his brother. He’s still John’s kid, so I guess Adam is the angels’ loophole.”

“She’s right, it’s not perfect, but it’s possible,” Castiel agrees.

“Well, you gotta be kidding me,” Dean scoffs.

“Why would they do this?” your father asks.

“Maybe they're desperate. Maybe they wrongly assumed Dean would be brave enough to withstand them,” Castiel thinks out loud.

“Alright, you know what? Blow me, Cas,” Dean glares.

“Look, no way. After everything that's happened? All that shit about destiny? Suddenly the angels have a Plan B? Does that smell right to anybody?” Sam questions their intentions.

“Sam’s right about this. I don’t feel strong about this at all,” you give your input.

“You know this has been a really moving family reunion, but uh, I got a thing, so—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, no, no, no. Sit down,” Sam cuts off Adam as he tries to get off the couch. “Just listen, okay? Please.”

“It's unbelievable. How can you expect me to listen to you right now?”

“Adam, the angels are lying to you. They’re full of shit. I can sense these things. I’m a witch, and this isn’t sitting right with me.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Really. Why not?”

“Um, 'cause they're angels?” he scoffs.

“They tell you they were gonna roast half the planet?” Sam asks.

“They said the fight might get pretty hairy, but it is the devil, right? So we got to stop him.”

“Yeah, but there's another way.”

“Great. What is it?”

“We're working on ‘the power of love’.” Dean says sarcastically.

“How's that going?”

“Mmm. Not good.”

“Look, Adam… you don't know me from a hole in the wall, but I'm begging you. Please, just trust me. Give me some time.”

“Give me one good reason,” Adam says, and waits.

“Because we're blood,” Sam finally answers.

“You've got no right to say that to me,” the younger brother glares.

“You're still John's boy,” your father says.

“No, John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. I don't have a dad. So, we may be blood, but we are not family. My mom is my family. If I do my job, I get to see her again. So, no offense, but she's the one I give a rat's ass about, not you four.”

“Fair enough, but if you have one good memory of dad—just one—then you'll give us a little more time. Please,” Sam begs.

All Adam can do is sigh, but that sigh told everyone that he’s willing to give Sam just a little extra time.

“Dean, please talk to me. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” you ask.

He’s been ignoring you ever since you and Sam got him from his motel room. He refuses to talk to you, and it’s getting really annoying. He has to crack sometime, and you’d rather it come sooner rather than later.

“Dean, I know you’re upset, but ignoring me isn’t going to make this situation go away. You’re going to have to talk to me eventually,” you try again.

He’s getting your father’s panic room set up for him to stay there since Dean needs to keep him on suicide watch. Neither Adam nor Dean will be giving their bodies up for the archangel. He stacks some books on the small table inside and turns on the lamp. He doesn’t read, but if he’s going to be stuck in here by himself, then he might want a book or two. On a normal day, you would be stuck in here with him, but there is no way he’s letting that happen. He’s acting like if he looks at you, he’ll hurl.

“Dean! Please say something!”

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I’m pissed? That you made the biggest mistake of your life? That you took something from me without asking? I think you already know that,” he scoffs.

“It’s not like I did it to hurt you. You know that was never my intention.”

“Yeah, well, you got it.”

“How are we going to fix this? You want to make another child? We can do that easily, you know.”

“Why would I want a child with someone who doesn’t even want one?”

“I never said that. All I said is that I don’t want to raise a child in this life right now. I don’t want my kids being hunters.”

“You’re a fucking witch, Y/N. You’re always going to be involved! It’s either you have kids now or you’ll never have them. It’s not like you’re going to give up your powers like your mom did. You love being a witch too much. No, there’s a much bigger reason as to why you got rid of our child like it was trash. There is something you’re not telling me. If there is, better tell me now.”

“There isn’t, I swear,” you said.

It was half the truth. There is another reason why you don’t want kids in this lifetime or in this life. Amara will make your kids her vessel and use them like she’s using you. If you don’t have kids, then she can die with you. You’re not letting your kids have that life being pushed on them. As soon as your first child is born, Amara will have another person she can torment. You’re not letting that happen.

“Like I believe you,” he scoffs.

“Dean, please,” you beg.

“At least Lisa didn’t kill my child,” he mutters.

You may be standing by the door, but his voice travels throughout the room. You heard what he said, and it shatters your heart into a million pieces. If he’s already comparing you to his other baby mama, then you are in big trouble. Tears stream down your cheeks as you fled the room, and you wouldn't have bumped into Castiel and Sam on your way out if it wasn’t for your blurry vision. Sam moved out of the way so you can race up the stairs.

“Dean, what did you do?” Sam asks.

“Just told her the truth,” he shrugs.

Without thinking, you ran straight toward your dad and fell into his arms. He caught you without a second thought, and let you use his shoulder to cry on. Adam is eating in the kitchen, and he looks up at your intrusion. He decides to stay out of it, but he's close enough to hear what you have to say.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob.

“I know you are,” your dad whispers, already knowing what you’re sorry for.

“I’m sorry for murdering your grandchild,” you hiccup and get off him to give him some space.

You move from his lap to the chair across from him.

“I know why you did it.”

“I knew there would come a time where something might matter more than a mission or a hunt, but I didn’t think it would come so soon. Plus, I can’t let her win.”

“Who win?”

“Her! Amara! My mother was a vessel for her. Her mother was one too. What kind of mother would I be if I sentenced my kid’s life to that?”

“They didn’t know about Amara and/or the bloodline thing,” he sighs.

“But I do. She’s going to do to my child what she’s doing to me. Dean isn’t a witch, so who knows if my kids will have powers. If they don’t, then how will they protect themselves against her? Lucifer? Every other fucking monster out there?” you shout.

“The same way Sam and Dean do. They don’t have magical powers to help them. I never had that. John didn't either.”

“Yeah, well, look where that got him and you. No offense,” you scoff, motioning to his wheelchair.

“All I’m saying is that you’re a lot stronger than you know. And I know my daughter isn’t going to leave her kids defenseless. When and if you decide to have kids, you’ll do a great job. You both will because I know the kind of person you are. It shouldn’t matter what’s out there. All that matters is family.”

“I really wish I can see it that way, but I can’t,” you whisper.

“You will one day. Let me tell you one thing. Your mother having you? Best decision she ever made,” he smiles.

“Thanks, dad,” you give a small smile back.

Footsteps come from behind you, and you turn your head to see Sam jogging up the stairs.

“How’s he doing?” your dad asks.

“How are you doing?” Sam asks after giving a shrug in response to your dad’s question.

“Peachy, Sam. Just peachy,” you say sarcastically.

“What about you?”

“Hanging in there,” Sam answers truthfully.

Now that Dean is locked up and Adam is safe for now, all there is left to do is wait until a better idea pops into someone’s head. Until then, you could use some rest.

That poor, dumb angel. You knew it was a bad idea to let him go downstairs and check on Dean. You had a bad feeling about Dean, and knew he was up to something bad. That’s when Castiel offered to check up on your boyfriend. However, he never returned. When you and Sam went to go check on him, the panic room door was wide open, both men were gone, and an angel banishing symbol was drawn on the wall with Dean’s blood.

“Where’s Cas?” your dad asks when you and Sam return back upstairs.

“Blown to Oz. Look, Y/N and I will get Dean. He couldn’t have gone too far. Just watch Adam.”

“How? You may have noticed, but he’s got a slight height advantage.”

“Then cuff him to your chair. I don’t know. Just watch him,” Sam shrugs.

“Wait, why do I have to go? You sound like you can handle it on your own,” you chuckle nervously.

“Y/N, you’re coming. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Fine,” you sigh deeply and leave with the younger brother. 

Either you’re going to find Dean and he’s going to hate you for trying to rescue him, or you’re not going to find him because he’s already given his body to the archangel. Whatever the case may be, it won’t turn out well for either of you.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@sing4mejensen @essie1876 @gh0stgurl @redsalv20 @superrandomnatural @scarletmeii @babypink224221 @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo @akshi8278 @a--1--1--3 @kendlemariee @miraclesoflove @earthtokace​ @teamfreewillsstuff​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @kiwihoee​ @jennazeise​ @phantomalchemist​ @posiemax​ @22sarah08​ @tricksterdean​ @andi-mendes-barnes​ @put-my-favorite-record-on​ @countrygal17a​ @whit85-blog​ @sammypotato67​ @knowledgefulbutterfly​ @fandomoverdose666​ @sharp-cheekbones-locked​ @amotleyworld​

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Better than Vers

Request

warning: language, angst, death

Summary: Hey there! Can I request a story where the reader was friends with Carol (Marvel) after she became Vers, but didn’t know about her past? Maybe the reader finds out during the big fight towards the end and kind of just drops her weapon leaving her defenseless only to be killed by her now ex-teammate (maybe Yon Rogg?) (slow and painful death lol) how would Carol react to knowing that the only person who changed after learning her past died from refusing to fight? Thanks! Lots of Love- AC

She could believe this. I mean it just sounds so cruel and sick and to know she was apart of it a stupid yet will participant. It seems no one else was affected by this newfound information meaning they already knew. Was she the only one in the dark besides Vers or carol?... Carol? yes, carol. That’s what the humans called her. And it suited her.

She could understand why she was possible left in the dark she joined the team the same time as Carol, she was best friends with her, she was a very emotional person, and a terrible liar. But she couldn’t understand why would they do this to Carol in the first place. She just couldn’t. 

“(Y/n), let’s go” Minn-Evra called out she had two soldiers flanking her.

“Um, yeah my head is just out of it right now I took a pretty hard hit. But I’m good nevermind I’m okay. Let's go get this bitch”.

(y/n) marched behind the three as they made their way to where Carol was supposed to be. They found her sitting on the railing of a bridge. “ Hey Guy, arm wrest for the tesseract” (Y/n) fought her laugh but not her smile. She jumps back as the bridge collapses falling back into the highway with Minn-Erva. She gets up to shot at her firing off one-shot (y/n) then kicks her off the bridge. Carol looks up at her and they both nod.

Instead of Jumping of Like Korath (y/n) gets some common sense, mixed with a bit of lazy, and takes the stairs. By the time she makes it downstairs, Carol is facing Minn-Erva.

“You knew all along. Is that why we never hung out?”

“No, I just never liked you” (Y/n) fires her gun at her

“You missed out. She had awesome snacks” (Y/n) looks at her and smiles “ Carol is a nice name much better than Vers”

“Thanks. Did you-”

“No, found out 20 minutes... jerks”

Suddenly Att-Lasse tackles Carol and Two soldiers start firing at her she ducks down-firing back. (Y/n) laughs as Att-lass goes flying. Taking out the two soldiers (Y/n) stands up to help Carol but sees something at the corner of her eye turning around weapon high she finds Yon Rogg.

“What are you doing? Vers is the enemy”

“Her name is Carol and she’s a friend. My best friend. “

“She’s working with the Skrull”

“How about instead of attacking her we ask her why? we let her explain. There has to be some explanation for this.” she lowers her weapon and steps forward placing a hand on his cheek he leans into her touch “ Let's give her a chance, please” Yon sighs she smiles.

“No” (Y/n) gasps and tears form in her eyes as she feels a sharp and heavy pain suddenly erupt in her chest. She tries to take a step back but Yon pulls her back into his arms “ I would say you need to learn to follow orders but you won’t be learning anything anymore. So much potential lost” he slowly lays her down on the floor behind a flipped over gaming machine. He kisses her forehead “ You have such a kind heart darling. And that was your downfall. I’m going to miss you “

(Y/n) clung to the front of Yon Suit as she cried and gasped. She didn't want to be alone she didn’t care who was with her at this moment she just didn’t want to be alone. She could feel her suit soaking in her own blood and her lunges drowning in it. It was painful and she didn’t want to be alone.

She began to sob as Yon tore her hands away from him. His eyes held no emotions as he tore her hands away and left her there. She sobbed as she felt her life slowly slip away and no one was there with her no one was there she was all alone and dying. Oh god, she was dying.

“(Y/n), (y/n), (Y/N)... (Y/N)” Carol

(Y/n) tried to call out and let her know where she was instead she coughed up blood which made her cry harder. Carol’s face paled as she found her.

“c-couldn’t...f-f-fight... h-h-”

“Oh no, oh no. Hey, hey, hey” she said as kneeled next to (Y/n) she pulled her into her lap and found her hand.” um... we’ll fix you. You’ll be okay-”

“Hold ....m-me....d-d..on’t... go”

“Shhhh. Don’t talk, don’t talk. I’m not going anywhere, I’m not going anywhere.” Carol cried as she gently rocked (y/n) in her arms softly singing to her until her breathing became shallow then slow until she wasn't. Carol cried as she held her friend close her only true and honest friend for these past five years.

-

“I have nothing to prove to you.” Carol held out her hand to him he took it and she began to drag him across the field “ If anything I owe you a very slow and painful death. But I’m letting you live because she wouldn’t have wanted that” She put in the coordinance to Hala.

“ I can’t go back empty-handed”

“You won’t I’ll be sending you back with a message. Tell the supreme intelligence that I’m coming to end it. The war, the lies, all of it. ” 

“Vers” she punched him in the face successfully knocking out his tooth.

 “ My name is Carol” she takes a step back and watches as the small pod starts up when it looks to be weak she gives it a boast and watches as it shots off in the distance.

It isn’t until it’s far off into in the distance gone that everything rushes back to her and she looks down as the blood that stained her suit. She falls to her knees and begins sobbing for her friend. Her true friend her only true friend.

Request tags

permanent tags

@lovely-lollipops-blog @totallyweirdsam @sexysamsungl @lilylovelyxo @iamwarrenspeace @geeksareunique @that-random-emu @supreme-leader-jazlo-ren @stone2576 @lil-dino-trash @metal-armed-dino @dylanobrienmoviekid @theshortegg @dontevenblink-badwolf-tardis @mandylove1000  @isnotashtonstan @broitsmydick @onceaballeralwaysaballer1213 @mypage-myfandoms @jordynhartley2001 @midnightdream83 @cookies186 @i-am-marvel-trash-forever @marvels-queen-bee @aebeessun @gabriels-gumdrop @the-best-alchemist @smile-my-bean @valeriae2903 @cassiopeia-barrow @uberduber-loulou @spideyboiiiiiii @lookinsidemyhead @lokilvrr

MCU tags 

@acupofhotlatte

[ariadnelives]

Chapter 23 -- The Trail

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

The location of the Red God compound was surprising for only one reason: It was exactly where it had been the last time they had been there.

It would be reasonable to expect that a covert and very illegal facility would relocate after being discovered, especially if that facility was floating in space and had a very large rocket at the back which could very easily push it somewhere else without anyone noticing.

Two signals floated just outside of the patrolled borders of the system, as remote as it could be while still being towed through space by the Sun’s gravity. This seemed to confirm their suspicions that the clones were being kept in the same facility where ViLaz had been discovered.

After all, it wasn’t like the cult could remove or deactivate the implants to leave a false trail. For one thing, they had no way of knowing the pirates had reverse-engineered the signal to track the other implants, but more importantly, this was their means of controlling the clones. Removing the implants would defeat the entire purpose of having created clones in the first place.

There was, however, a third point on the map, close to the first two. Under normal circumstances, they would assume that this was the Zealot’s own implant. These were not normal circumstances.

“Bad news from downstairs,” Ariadne sighed as she walked into her quarters and found Pilar reading a book, “two weeks of decryption only to find that the third implant is coming from a relay and we can’t trace its real location”

“A relay?” Pilar asked, marking her book since she had immediately known she would not be able to continue reading.

“They aren’t sending a live feed, the Zealot must pre-record the visions he sends to the girls, beams them to a relay, and then the relay beams it to their implants. There’s a block smack in the center of the relay, so I can’t trace where the signal is sent from.”

“You, for the first time ever, can’t hack through a digital barrier?” Pilar raised her eyebrows.

“A digital barrier would be no problem. This isn’t that kind of barrier.”

“And what, pray tell, has you so stumped you can’t break through it?”

“I’d guess about five feet of empty space,” Ariadne said. “I mean, I can only guess about how much empty space, but we’ve been trying to break into their system for weeks, and one thing has become clear: the device that interfaces with the girls’ implants and the device that receives input from Dr. Simon have no connection between them. My guess is, he sends the visions to the receiver where they download to a removable drive, and then some lackey removes the drive and physically walks it over to the relay, where it interfaces with the implants.”

“So, we’re back at square one?” Pilar asked.

“Nowhere close. I can still trace the origin of the signal if I’m in the same room as the receiver. Luckily, the receiver is conveniently located at our next stop.”

“So then, we’re launching to get the girls?” Pilar asked.

Ariadne nodded. “We’ve got to make sure they’re safe onboard before we move on Dr. Simon anyway. If we finish him off, the acolytes will have no reason to keep them alive.”

“Their security is largely built around their remote location,” Pilar offered, “I don’t think they’re prepared to fight off attackers, they’re counting on the idea that nobody will stumble across them. Once they figured out where we were, Sasha and… Sweettalk… were able to break in undetected to rescue us.”

“Still not used to it, huh?” Ariadne asked.

“I just can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Pilar responded, “I mean, I think I came really close to messing up our relationship for good. My own sister, and she spent a year of her life thinking she had to hide her relationship from me?”

“I should probably apologize too,” Ariadne said, “I’ve known for weeks and I didn’t say anything.”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t,” Pilar replied. “I didn’t marry no narc, and besides, you’re family to Sasha. I’m glad she can tell you stuff without you worrying that you’re going to rat her out to her overprotective big sister.”

“You know, it’s funny, I never thought I’d say this, but it reminds me of—”

“No,” Pilar chuckled and cut her off, “that was different, she was just oblivious, this was being kept a secret.”

“I miss Flax some days,” Ariadne laughed. “I’d never met a lesbian with such terrible gaydar, and she was so easy to get a rise out of.”

“You know what really gets me, though?” Pilar brushed a hair out of her face, “Sweettalk drives me up a wall sometimes, but she’s absolutely perfect for Sasha. I mean, look how much that brash, impulsive girl has managed to bring her out of it despite my best efforts to keep her stuck in there.”

“I think she should come with us on the raid. Give you a chance to get to know her, and, uh…”

“Have her do the dirty work of tactfully explaining to two clones who don’t know they’re clones, that their religion is an actual scam, and that their father grew them as glorified organ farms without upsetting them so much that they refuse to leave with us?”

“Yeah, I really do not want to be in charge of that part,” Ariadne said. “Let’s pull together a smaller strike force to extract the girls and the receiver, and leave Fastwing in charge of rallying the troops for an assault on the Zealot’s location as soon as we have it. You, me, Deathsbane, and Sweettalk for sure. Ghostrunner is a must-have on a stealth mission.”

“Taryn’s been training as Deathsbane’s apprentice,” Pilar suggested, “She’s got a real flair for medicine and it’d probably do her some good to shadow Sasha in the field.”

“You mean Uprising, right? After all, she showed a lot of courage standing up to us.”

“You’re getting better at the names,” Spacebreather told her. “Yeah, bring Tar… uh, Uprising along too.”

“I’ll grab ‘em,” Ariadne said, “Meet me onboard the Thread in 20.”

***

“I just don’t really think it matters how far apart they actually are,” Taryn explained as they quietly filed into the airlock. Their helmets were internally soundproofed and linked by a communications system, so they could hear everything going on around them, but speak openly without fear of being overheard. “They could be six inches apart or 50 feet apart and it would still be just as impossible to hack.”

“Yeah, but if you had to guess,” Ariadne replied. “I say five feet, Pilar says two, Sweettalk four, Deathsbane ten, I mean, it’s a pretty straightforward wager.”

“If I say a number, will you stop asking me?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious that I will,” Ariadne responded.

“50 feet.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“You said I had to make a guess, not that I had to care about winning the bet.”

“Ugh, fine,” Ariadne said, “What about you, Ghostrunner?”

There was nothing but silence on Ghostrunner’s channel.

“Ghostrunner?”

“I copy. I’m just not talking.”

“Seriously, just give her an answer, she won’t stop talking about how far apart these machines are until you do,” Uprising said.

“Five feet and one inch,” Ghostrunner replied, and her mic went silent again.

“That’s not cool,” Ariadne replied as she quickly set to hacking the access panel that would open the seal and allow them passage.

“Roger,” said Ghostrunner.

“Jesus, Prescott designed a shitty security system,” Ariadne said, “Someone with an eighth grade education would be able to find the backdoor he put in here! How did he ever sell one of these things?”

“You know an eighth grade education is all you’ve got, right?” Spacebreather reminded her.

“I’m saying!” Ariadne called back, “I just unlocked every door and disabled every alarm in this place and it wasn’t even hard.”

“To his credit,” Pilar shrugged, “He was the system’s greatest bullshit salesman.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to pour one out on his grave when we get back,” Sweettalk said as they drew their weapons and quietly moved through the seal and into the compound, “right into the catbox.”

“Catbox?” Uprising asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Deathsbane said flatly.

“Deathbane, Uprising, with me. Spacebreather and Sweettalk, watch our six. Ghostrunner, meld into the shadows and stay close, I don’t want to see you until we’re leaving unless the shit hits the fan.”

“Roger,” said everyone but Ghostrunner, who had already vanished without anyone noticing.

“That’s what I like about that girl,” Ariadne explained, “she takes pride in her work and she’s got great fashion sense.”

They stealthily moved down the corridor with weapons raised approximately chest-high, making sure to glance through the small glass window in each room to check for an immersion pod.

Most of the rooms did not have what they were looking for, and instead were full of red-robed Acolytes either poring over screens full of code or deliberating over something that looked important. If discovered, they would be wildly outnumbered.

The immersion pods would be in the last three rooms they checked, which only made sense because they stopped checking rooms when they found the right ones. At the end of the long corridor were three doors. In the spaces between them stood two boxy machines about the size of a regulation trash can, each of which had an antenna on top, one long-range and one short-range.

“Sweettalk, how tall are you?” Ariadne asked intently.

“Four foot eleven.”

“With the boots and the helmet, though, you’d be exactly five feet, yeah?” Ariadne asked.

“You’re about to make me lie down between these machines to see if they’re five feet apart, aren’t you?”

She was.

“Dammit,” Ariadne muttered, “Still three inches left over. Ghostrunner was closest without going over.”

Ariadne swiftly plugged a compact screen into the device with the long-range antenna, while Deathsbane and Spacebreather entered the first room and began to pry the pod open.

After a few seconds, they managed to get it loose with a satisfying hiss, and a girl who looked exactly like ViLaz, to the last detail, stood before them.

“You’re on,” Spacebreather said, and Sweettalk took off her helmet so the girl could hear her.

“Hello, ViLaz,” she said, and ViLaz looked incredibly confused. “It’s very important that you come with us, okay?”

“Who are you?” She asked, “are you with the church?”

Sweettalk considered this for a moment, and then decided there would be plenty of time for the truth on the ride home. “Yes, your father sent us, we’re here to take you somewhere safe.”

“Father says if I leave, the Red God will cleanse me from the universe with fire,” ViLaz replied apprehensively, and did not move from the inside of her pod. “I had a vision of the future, myself engulfed in flames for defying the Red God’s will.”

What she had actually seen was not a vision of the future, but a video recording of the past, when her identical sister was lit on fire, but as this girl was unaware she had a sister, and had been directly told the video was her own future, her confusion was understandable.

“Yes,” Sweettalk explained, making it sound as though she wholeheartedly believed every word of the lies she was telling, “of course that’s why we’re here. We’ve discovered a new holy site, and the Red God needs you there right away.”

The girl looked unsure, but too afraid to question it. She stepped out with them, and they ushered her out to the waiting crowd.

“This is our friend Dr. Sasha,” Sweettalk said softly, “before we go any further, she needs to check for, uh, purity of heart… in the… back of your head…”

This was not Sweettalk’s best lie, but it is difficult to hold that against her, given that it worked.

“This will only hurt for a moment,” Deathsbane said as she set to work applying a local anesthetic and removing the implant from the back of ViLaz’s head as quickly as possible.

Spacebreather and Sweettalk managed to get the second pod open, and roused the other girl, who also looked exactly like her sisters.

“Hello, ViLaz,” Sweettalk started in on the same story as earlier, and this ViLaz looked just as confused. “It’s very important that you come with us, okay?”

“Who are you?” She asked, “are you with the church?”

“Okay, that’s uncanny,” Spacebreather said through her comm.

“No time to chat,” Ariadne replied. “Get her out of there, now. We’ve got company.”

“Yes, your father sent us, we’re here to— HEY!” Sweettalk was cut off by Spacebreather pushing past her and scooping up the girl fireman-style over her shoulder.

“YOINK!” Spacebreather shouted, and made a break for the door. Sweettalk followed, and moments later, they were all running down the hall as quickly as possible, as the girl over her shoulder pounded on her back and yelled as loud as she could.

“I thought you said we had company,” Spacebreather said, panting heavily.

“We will,” said Ariadne, who also had one of the girls over her own shoulder. “Someone on the other end must have detected me before I could get the coordinates and alerted security, we’ll have acolytes on us in two minutes.”

“Especially with the racket this one is making. Did you get the chip out of her head?” Spacebreather asked Sasha.

“Yeah,” Sasha replied, “but I’m not gonna have time to operate on that one before we get on the ship.”

“Here,” Spacebreather said, and deposited the screaming girl into her sister’s arms. “You and Ariadne take the girls ahead and get on the ship, I’ll try to cause enough of a ruckus that they don’t realize the girls have been taken and light up the implant in her head.”

“You can’t be—” Sasha began, but Pilar jumped in.

“Yes, I can. I’ll be fine. Just get her to the ship and have it ready for when I get back.” Pilar quickly ran back the way she came and drew both her weapons.

Sasha turned to Sweettalk. “Watch her back, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you,” Sweettalk said to Sasha as she ran after Pilar.

Sasha, Ariadne, Taryn, and the two girls would make it back to the ship without interference, as Pilar and Sweettalk were able to hold off their pursuers for long enough that Sasha could safely remove the implant and save the third ViLaz from a fiery death. In fact, they held out for quite some time before being subdued and captured.

None of the crew actually wanted to leave without Pilar or Sweettalk. In fact, they very literally had no choice. Soon after their capture, the airlock simply disengaged from their ship on its own, and the entire station fled faster than the Thread could follow.

The morale aboard the Thread had never been lower. Sweettalk and Spacebreather were captives and for a moment, they thought they would have no way of finding them.

And then a message appeared across the ship’s main viewscreen.

“We’re fine. I am in control of the ship. Nobody can find me. Will keep Spacebreather + Sweettalk alive. Bringing the whole thing back to base. Sure hope the spiderweb still works. xoxox Ghostrunner.”

They had, in the confusion, completely forgotten that Ghostrunner had even come with them. She would not be insulted by this, after all, it was her job to go unnoticed, and she had performed it spectacularly.

Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief. “Set the ship’s autopilot for home.”

“I can get us home,” Sasha said, looking a bit frazzled, “I just need to—”

“No,” Ariadne said, walked over, and gave Sasha an overly tight but appropriately comforting hug, “the autopilot will get the ship back home in a few hours. The emergency teleporters will get us there now. We need to be ready for when the girls get home.”

“With a massive ship full of angry cultists,” Uprising pointed out.

“They should be so lucky,” Ariadne said, “they just captured Pilar Spacebreather and someone who matters to her sister. Do you know what Pilar kills for?”

“To protect the people she cares about,” Sasha muttered, thinking back to their conversation a few weeks previously.

“Exactly,” Ariadne said, “One handcuffed Pilar against a hundred armed cultists? They’re completely outmatched. You just wait, there will be three living people on that ship by the time it gets back home.”

[raspire]

Prologue : Into the Dream

WARNING!! Contains character death, mentions of abusive scenarios, mild violence and may make some uncomfortable if you are not alright with these! If so, continue!

Prologue

Angus Ferrum

“Goodnight!” Echoed from Evelyn; a silky nightgown blanketing her tiny figure. Angus listened to her nightly farewell and to the footsteps pattering down the hall after.

“.... Are your teeth brushed?” He assumed, listening to the girl patter back through the hall a second time, answering his question. With a few small clinks and hissing water, Evelyn slipped by the hall for the third time.

“Sweet dreams, Lyn...” The tiny click of her door echoed, telling Angus she had gone to rest for the night. Rubbing his own eyes for a moment, the sensual massage over a worn gaze helping for slight reprieve. It was a daily occurrence. Early to rise and late to rest; like clockwork.

Angus trudged into an open kitchen, wanting to examine the groceries left remaining. He strategized in these thin hours as Evelyn rested; the willing burden of an older sibling. Financial, educational, cleaning and feeding; these were all things that the boy toiled through day by day for his own and hers. Closing the cabinet gently brushed rancid air by him; reminding the boy of the permanent odor of smoke smearing the walls and furniture.

Standing upright, the small glints of beautiful light bounced from the hollow glasses decorating the counters which were haphazardly shoved together. It was almost as if the one who put them there couldn’t care less as to whether or not the glasses actually belonged there. As quietly as he managed to, Angus forced open a trash bag to relocate his mother’s empty collection to a more appropriate place outside. All but one hanging on a corner, having hidden from sight to Angus from its position, had been cleaned.

He moved silently back through the home, knowing Evelyn tossed and turned often in her sleep and awoke just as easy; cautious to the noisy bottles. The moment he split the door from its frame, crisp November air greeted him. The winter had just arrived, the male grimaced at the annual hurdle that the holidays kindly provided him. The boy slipped into the yard, glancing down and remembering it was one less thing he would be doing for winter’s presence. Lifting a dark green cover top to the trash bin; Angus rather easily tucked the ruckus of glass within the last place he’d ever see it. It was after this he only just noticed the abnormally early sounds of a car engine slide to the drive-way to the front of the house.

He walked back inside, not thinking any further than the fret of managing to hide his papers to seclusion from unwanted parental eyes. Swiftly tucking the door behind him, soft in the last second as to keep a ruse of silence, Angus turned immediately expecting to see some shadow, figure, or evidence of another human entering the house... And found none.

“.........Mother?” Angus cautiously named, unaware of how she may respond to him between the chances of cruelty or otherwise. And yet again he received no response. He knew better than to call for his father, a man who refused all but little to do with his children beyond providing the house for them by ordained court order. The silence drowned over his short calling, before finally hearing the sounds of shoes step across the porch lining.

“...Mother, I’ve already put E—“ he began to speak, reaching his hand towards the door to allow her entry before being struck back. Shards of glass pelted his hand, immediately reeling back. It was looking at the figure; much taller now with its shadow cast over the front door blinds that truly struck Angus at his core. A wide, gloved hand shoved through the blinds, damaging in the intruder’s attempt of reaching the lock.

Panicked, Angus reared back to the house, frantically yanking a cheap wireless phone from its slot: the aggressive motion yanking its charger from the tabletop. His mind raced— soared, and screamed all at once. Immediately, he scored up the staircase leading to Evelyn’s room on the second floor. His hands smeared in sweat, rubbing onto the worn metal door of the little girl’s room. Closing it, his heart raced in his ears and breath heavy.

“......Gus?.....” murmured a sweetly voice from the comforter; moving the thick blanket to show a messy head of chestnut hair after. Angus froze; knowing that Evelyn’s safety became priority, and that Evelyn herself could not grasp the severity of the situation. That the source of intrusion was unknown, and so he reacted accordingly.

“...Lyn!... Do you remember that night when we played hide and seek, when our two cousins were visiting and you hid so well that nobody could find you until Mother needed you to come for dinner?...” Angus quietly asked, face dimly lit by the lime light of the handheld phone.

“.......I do!... But.... Gus.... Are you worried ‘cause... you broke something.. Is that it? I heard a loud—..?” Eve questioned her brother before another crash sounded from downstairs announcing something else. “Gus, what was-“

“Lyn.” Angus interrupted, voice calm and soft, opposing to his emotional state. “...I want you to listen to me. It is... So very... Very important.” He softly pleaded to her. The male gently took her hand, approaching the girl’s closet laced with countless animals the female owned. “...... I need you to stay in here. And I need you to wait for me to come get you.” Angus requested from Evelyn, on his knees as he opened a large toy trunk, empty mostly apart from some half filled art books she owned and pencils.

“...Angus...” Evelyn whimpered, giving a reluctant gaze. He shook his head promptly; smiling warmly still as he stood, lifting Evelyn gently into the trunk.

“I’ll be back.” He promised, Evelyn watching her brother close the trunk quietly and gently; leaving the lock undone so she could yet breathe fresh air.

“Lyn.” Angus spoke one last time.

“....What?”

“I love you.” He reminded, hands finally allowed to shake. The silent alarm having already been set off using the home phone. He turned to leave, heart twisted up in fear of her being found.

“.......ve....ou....” her words grew faint and quiet as he softly closed the door behind him.

Peering down the staircase, a shadow slid across the old olive carpeting; intruders violating the sanctity of their home, their upbringing. Angus carefully stepped across the carpet, wary of the floorboards beneath that groaned with age. Within a small hallway closet he kept a wide variety of things, from first aid, to toiletries, and the essential product of the moment; a knife. It wasn’t much; a general store standard pocket knife, something he only needed to use to open boxes and reach things in hard to reach places. Now, it became his defense.

Angus made quick to glance over the side of the stairwell that ran down and turned halfway, then finishing to the left. Shadows of the men would slide over the wall of the stairwell only briefly, implying their focused search of the ground floor. Angus clutched the phone tight, slipping out to make the life-saving call of emergency.

After a few moments of explaining the severity and location, the emergency service operator spoke the words he desperately wished to hear.

“.....Okay dear, Please stay on the line..... A police unit is on its way honey...” Promised the voice of his supposed savior; the woman and Angus having shared a brief and hushed declaration of emergence. “Is there anyone else with you right now at the house? Are they downstairs?” She questioned him, Angus more concerned with keeping his eye on the stairs from the narrow bathroom across.

“...Yes...” Angus responded, feeling his heart twist at leaving Evelyn alone. “....My little sister...”

“Is she there with you?” Responded the older woman.

“Yes...B-but no.... I put her in her room... and went somewhere else... I-I am watching for them.”

“Okay, sweetie. Please don’t do anything to put yourself in harms way. Stay where you are, we’ll be there any second now.” She promised him again, Angus feeling more reassured. “...Where are the men now? Are they still downstairs?” Again she questioned with a honeyed tone. He peeked from the stall. Silence ran from the house.

“It’s quiet... I-I think they may have left.....” Angus relieved, stepping from the bathroom stall now.

“They May still be on the property, love please stay where you are, we will be there any moment.” Urged the woman, but Angus has his attention caught by other means. Shadows grew closer to the stairs, for why he didn’t know, but surely it meant they were still there. Wincing from stepping at a slight prick on the floor, he caught his balance with the phone-held hand, keeping his silence but successfully ending his phone call with the woman by mistake.

Turning again to the stairs, Angus braced himself. ‘Please....’ Angus stressed, praying to gods he didn’t even believe in. ‘Don’t come this way.....Don’t...Don’t come up....’ Their footsteps paused, one of the men accidentally setting off one of Evelyn’s toy instruments.

“...... Probably asleep.” Came from one, the words making Angus’s frame relax. Sweat flooded from his brow and palms, tight and yet slick over the knife. Suddenly, the phone tucked within his jeans pocket sprang to life; the emergency number attempting to re-establish connection with Angus. the hallway dimly lit by its lime light revealing his presence atop the blind staircase corner. The noise of a default setting successfully alarmed the invaders of his very much awake and conscious position; and with a phone on hand. It was then that he made eye contact with the first; broad shouldered, wide and gaudy. “There’s a damn boy up here!” Angus winced, knowing he had only seconds to react before it became a hostage situation. He chucked the ringing phone at the first, hitting his face with the cheap plastic phone. As he made this motion, Angus flung only a second after; knife digging into the first male. Hitting only muscle and tissue, the seconds following this were rushed, immediate, and pained. Men grabbed at him from behind, attempting to pull him from the first, Angus refusing to be yanked as he attempted to swing his weight back into the stairwell. However, it was turning to attempt to make a second stance, that Angus felt the icy and alien object imbedded to his lower torso. His hands felt absurdly warm, holding at the intrusion in his chest. Vision blurred, slumped to the side of the stairwell he tried to stand again... Foggy words echoed in his head; men arguing and becoming heated over who stabbed him. One more time, Angus made a glance towards the room; the thin door that split his sister from the criminals. ‘...Ev....e...’ he thought, before laying down to a subconscious demand of rest.

Lights painted the neighborhood block; yellow taped blocking off the scene from several angles. Uniformed men entered the house, a broad man driving on scene. In an ambulance to the other side of the street, a little girl sat tucked within a warm wool blanket; a neighbor woman holding her close. It didn’t add up, as two minors were reported to be involved.

Stepping inside the house, the scene was revealed to the investigator. Urns and containers were demolished; crates pried open and medicine drawer rummaged. A phone charger lay yanked from its place, missing its phone that laid a few yards off at the bottom of the stairs. It was at that spot that new decorative smears stained the yellow-tinted walls; a teenaged body covered by a swarthy, glossed sheet.

“...And what the hell happened here?” Questioned the freshly arrived, looking down at a inspector.

“... Robbery. Kids were left at home while the mother filled her glass down the road. Two in custody, one still at large.” Came the answer, words cruelly smooth as it were something they dealt with on a daily; murders, assaults, robberies and worse yet.

“...This the boy?”

“Yes. Older of the two. Put the younger one in a toy chest upstairs. That’s when they assume he made the call. At some point it was closed or cut off... Found two of them attempting to treat a stab wound at a local vet office a couple blocks off. They’ve sent the blood in for analysis to confirm if it matches the blood on his knife.” They finished, filling in the majority of the context. The detective sighed, exhaling brisk foggy air to the house now chilled by its broken front door.

“... What does the girl know?” He questioned, glancing out to the window as she was seen entering a car, a protective service member sitting by her; amber eyes watching the house roll away, car driving off.

“They’re going to take her to get her end of it, maybe try to fish for more context. I don’t believe they left the body uncovered when carrying her down. At her age... it’s hard to tell what she’s thinking.” Replied the woman, dabbing at spots on the boy’s stiffened hand. Silence filled the house that not too long ago, crashed and roared with noise.

“Why didn’t anyone hear what was going on?” He mustered, glancing to the damaged house.

“...Neighbors claim it’s always causing a ruckus. The mother is apparently a piece of work.” She sighed, standing up with collectives of samples cased up.

“...Right.” He grimaced, having to walk by the body a second time. By the front walkway, a gurney was already being hoisted over to the house, being led on by a couple of dressed individuals. Snuffing the end of a cigarette, the male set off out of the house again leaving the tragic scene behind him. Someone had to wrench the wretch of a parent from the devil’s grasp and bring them to light on the travesty they neglected.

Thanks for reading! More to come

[feelingfredly]

Tea for Three?

Part 3 of the Better Living Through Chemistry series

Grimmjow was a surprisingly good companion—Ichigo refused to call him a date, no matter what Nelliel said—the only problem was his enthusiasm.

And his ego.

Oh, and don’t forget the fact that he constantly forgot they were surrounded by humans.

Okay, he was a horrible date, but it was still good to not be the only one in the audience looking at the kickboxing “experts” and thinking they’d last about a minute and a half in a real fight.

“Sit down, you idiot,” Ichigo hissed, for what seemed like the fiftieth time. “I told you, they don’t take challengers.  Anyway, you’re in a fucking gigai.   What makes you think you could take them anyway?”

Grimmjow growled and dropped back onto the bench. “I could take that asshole in the black with my teeth. I can smell his fear from here.” He pulled his lips back in a feral grin and Ichigo had to admit, they were impressive teeth for a gigai.   Kisuke’d even let him keep the almost-fangs. “Everything he does is for show and then he runs away where the other guy can’t hit him.  Fucking coward.”

Ichigo made a noise that could have been agreement.  “The guy in white has great range, though.  I thought he was going to pull the guy over completely when he grabbed that last kick. Good leverage.”

Grimmjow grunted. “Should’ve just broken his ankle.  Gloves are for weaklings.”

Ichigo didn’t argue.

They sat like that, alternating between hunched forward staring intently and throwing themselves back in their seats in frustration as the fights went on, until neither of them could stand it anymore.

“Race you to the training grounds at the shōten.”

The almost-fangs shone in a blood-thirsty answer. “Thought you’d never ask.”

***

They trash talked as they raced through the streets of Karakura and Ichigo had to fight Zangetsu down more than once, his inner hollow feeding on the aggression.

“Aw, is the Baby Hollow giving you a hard time, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow laughed at the glimmer of gold that Ichigo knew was edging the brown of his eyes.

“Fuck you, Grimm,” he said, tripping the taller man as they turned the last corner before the straightaway towards the shōten. “Zan would wipe the floor with you, gigai or not.”

He could hear the crazy laugh in his inner world and growled internally. Don’t get any ideas. Grimm is MY fight.

Zangetsu giggled again. Sure, King. Fight. Right. Say it a little louder and maybe you’ll believe that’s all he is.

Ichigo frowned and ignored the taunt.  Zan had jabbed at him more than once about the time he spent with Grimmjow, whether they were arguing or sparring or trying to sort out what exactly was going to happen now that Aizen wasn’t running Hueco Mundo. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the white bastard was jealous. And Kisuke was no help.  He just smiled and said that it made sense for Zan to want to prove his dominance over the nearest hollow, and if Ichigo was going to continue spending time with Grimmjow, he should either get used to his inner world being a constant snarkfest, or give in and let Zan have it out with Grimm once and for all.

That sounded like a recipe for disaster of absolutely Kisuke proportions.

“Cheating bastard.” Grimmjow laughed and scrambled to his feet so fast it was as if he’d never lost his balance. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Kurosaki.”

“You have no idea what I have in me,” Ichigo said, throwing himself forward at full speed.  Even in his human form he could feel his reiatsu humming along his skin, and he couldn’t wait to hit the training ground to beat Grimmjow and Zangetsu both back into line.

They hit the door of the shōten at almost the same time, but Ichigo had the edge of familiarity and he had the door in his hand before Grimmjow could grab it. “Beat you, Grimm.”

Grimmjow snorted and leaned against the wall, the only sign of their hell-for-leather race being his breathing a little more heavily than usual. “What was that? You wanted to use all that practice you’ve gotten beating off, eh, Kurosaki? Why didn’t you just say so? Didn’t have to…”

“Shut it, asshole,” Ichigo slammed the door, just missing Grimmjow’s foot, “save it for downstairs.”

Just then Kisuke wandered out of his lab, hair mussed like he’d been running his fingers through it. “Grimmjow-san! Ichigo-kun! Welcome back! I didn’t expect to see you so early. I take it the kickboxing tournament failed to hold your attentions?”

Grimmjow pushed off the wall and sauntered across the room. “Tournament? Bunch of losers you mean.  One adjuchas could’ve kicked all ten of their asses, and then eaten the damn trophy at the end. Right, Kurosaki?”

Ichigo hated to agree with him, but he wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah. It was a little frustrating, honestly.  Too much padding.  Too many rules.  Made us want a real fight.  I thought we’d use the training ground and burn off some steam before Grimm headed back to Hueco Mundo.”

Kisuke looked from one to the other and then shook his head a little apologetically. “Oh, but Ichigo-kun, don’t you remember?  The experiment I’ve been working on is finally ready, and you promised to help me test it this evening.  I’d say that it could wait, but unfortunately the compounds in this batch are quite volatile.”

Ichigo groaned.   Right now, the last thing he wanted was to do another one of Kisuke’s tea drugging experiments, but he couldn’t back out.  Kisuke’d been working on this one for three weeks.

“I’d totally forgotten.  Crap. Sorry Grimm, but I’m going to have to take a raincheck on the fight.”

Grimmjow wasn’t having it. “What the fuck is so important that it can’t wait until I’ve kicked your ass around a little?  We weren’t even going to be back for another hour, and it won’t take me that long to beat you into a bloody pulp.  Then the mad scientist over here can use what’s left for his experiments.  Win/win. Everybody’s happy.”

Zangetsu hissed in the corner of his brain. Let me kick his big blue ass, King.  I’ll take him apart until he’s nothing but little pieces that Kisuke can let Benihime practice sewing on. Fucking prick.  All talk.  Let’s fuck him up so badly that you’ll have to throw him through the garganta back to Hueco Mundo.

Ichigo knew from the look on Kisuke’s face that Zan had taken enough of a hold on him that his eyes were bleeding to gold.  Fuck, this wasn’t what he’d planned for this evening.

“Grimmjow-san, I am sorry to say that the bloody pulp would not be sufficient for my experiments,” Kisuke gave a little bow, “although I appreciate your willingness to adapt your plans to suit mine. For this experiment, though, I need Ichigo-kun at his strongest.  He will have to be to deal with the effects of the tea.”

A blue eyebrow rose. “Tea?” The disbelief was palpable. “Is this one of those tea drugging things Kurosaki was whining about a couple weeks ago?  I mean what?  You made him throw up for a couple hours.  Surely that isn’t something that he’d have to be in top form.   Or are you going to actually poison him for real this time?”

Ichigo shoved him.  Hard.  The bastard barely moved, though, and that just pissed him off more. “If Kisuke says I have to be in top form, then I have to be in top form.  You’re just lucky you’re not the one getting dosed.  You’d probably be crying in a corner like a kitten when it was over.  Asshole.”

Grimmjow stepped into him, forcing him to look up to meet his eyes. “Anything you can take, Kurosaki, I can take twice over.  Fucking drugged tea.  Give me a break.  He’s probably going to dose you with a sleeping pill so he can finally have a quiet night without listening to you whine.”

Kisuke stepped forward. “Boys, boys, calm down.”  He raised his hands placatingly. “I’d really rather not have to close the shop because you two ripped the displays apart.  Again.”

The two of them separated looking a little sheepish.  Well, Ichigo looked sheepish.  Grimmjow just looked pissed.

“Grimmjow-san, coincidentally enough, you might find the experiment interesting after all.  It was, in fact, designed to interact with Zangetsu-san, so it should, in fact, affect you as well.”

Broad shoulders rolled back at the challenge couched in Kisuke’s voice. “If the white punk could take it, then I can.”

Gray eyes turned to Ichigo and a blond brow rose in silent query.  The penny dropped, and Ichigo remembered what Kisuke had told him about this particular experiment.

 Hollows, no matter how evolved, whether they’re like Zangetsu-san or the Arrancar, are more driven by instinct than humans or Shinigami or Quincies.  At the bottom of every interaction you will find one of the major impetuses—fight, flight, or, to be blunt, fuck.  Most of them revert to flight.  The stronger ones fight.  Very few fuck.  What if we could find a formula that would change that? It would be much easier to kill a hollow that’s trying to chase an orgasm than one that’s trying to kill you, ne?

At the time it had sounded impossible and insane, but honestly many of Kisuke’s best/worst ideas started that way. And now… he’d done it. Or he’d gotten close enough that he wanted to try it on Zan and he didn’t think it would do any lasting damage if it didn’t work.

Zan’s wild laughter had quieted, but the anger still simmered deep inside and Ichigo wondered what the hollow would be like if he was just horny instead of murderous all the time.

What would Grimmjow be like?

That was what Kisuke was asking, wasn’t it?  Did Ichigo want to include Grimm in this mad trial? What would the brutal attention he brought to his fights be like if it was turned into sex? Did Ichigo want to bring that into their lives?  Into their bedroom?

“Two test cases are always better data sources than one, Ichigo-kun.”  A sly smirk spread across Kisuke’s face and Ichigo could feel a flush begin to crawl up his neck and across his cheekbones as his jeans became just a little tighter.

“Fuck it.  Bring on the tea, Kisuke,” he said, flinging himself onto the cushions by the low table in the lounge. “First one to cry uncle loses.”

***

“Now, Grimmjow-san,” Kisuke had brewed two cups of his best matcha and set them in front of Ichigo along with two glass vials filled with dark amber liquid, “normally I wouldn’t inform you of the expected effects of one of my experiments due to the possibility that foreknowledge would skew your reactions, but because you are coming into this totally blind I find myself in a quandry.  Most people would tell you I have no morals to speak of, and they’re typically correct, but I cannot in good faith let you take part in this without your understanding and consent.”

Grimmjow was shifting on his cushion clearly wanting to get to the next stage of the action, whatever that action was, but Ichigo couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that Kisuke was at least trying not to take advantage of the big idiot.

“Yeah, yeah, so what’s this going to do?  Make me howl at the moon?  I already do that sometimes, you know. Roar, not howl, but it’s pretty close.”  He grinned, and Ichigo could just imagine him on the dunes of Hueco Mundo roaring into the night, all the other hollows running in fear from the sound.

“Yes, it isn’t quite that simple, Grimmjow-san.”  Kisuke knelt in a graceful seiza and reached for one of the vials. “If I asked you what drives you, what would you say?”

It only took a second for him to answer. “The fight.  Being the one that’s still standing. That’s what it all comes down to.”

“This,” Kisuke waggled the vial, “will change that.  You’ll still have a drive, and it’ll ride you as hard as your desire to fight, but it won’t be the same.  You may want to run—to flee from whatever you see as danger.   You may want to fuck your way through it, to survive and thrive by spreading your seed as far and wide as you can.  I don’t know.  All I know is that while you’re under the effects of the formula, you *should* react differently than you normally do.”

Grimmjow made a sound in his throat like he had a hairball. “Flee my ass.  I’ve never run from anything in my life and no fucking formula is going to change that.  Fucking?  I don’t care about that, but who’m I going to fuck?   You?  The Berry over here? If you’re saying I’m going to sit around with blue-er balls than usual, I’m going to reconsider this whole thing.”

Kisuke didn’t say anything, but Ichigo couldn’t help but shift his weight slightly and Grimmjow’s eyes widened a fraction when they landed on him. His face was red, he knew, but he wasn’t going to be the one to back out of this.

“Well, well, well,” Grimmjow said, his voice dropping a little lower, his eyes moving from blond to redhead and back again, “not the wrestling match I expected, but I’m game.  Any other side-effects you want to mention before we get this show started?”

Kisuke shook his head and shifted until he could lounge more comfortably. “Well, there are always unforeseen side effects, but they should be minimal.”

Grimmjow looked back and forth between them once more and then took the vial and downed it before raising his cup of tea in a salute.  “Good enough.  If I end up bald or with an extra leg, I’ll just kill you tomorrow.”

“Fair enough,” Kisuke laughed and removed his hat back in a show of rare openness.  “If that happens, you are more than welcome to try.”

Ichigo reached for his matcha and the other vial. “You’re lucky you’re not getting the pink spotted camouflage tea, Grimm. I should’ve gotten a medal for that one.” He slugged back his dose and made a face.  It tasted terrible.  Again.

“Pink spotted camouflage?” Grimmjow’s voice cracked and Ichigo thought he looked a little panicked at the idea. “What the actual fuck?”

“I don’t know, Grimm,” he said and settled back to sip his tea. “It’s Kisuke. What can you expect?”

***

Zangetsu was quiet, and it was making Ichigo nervous.

“Kisuke?” He looked across the table at the blond and sighed. They’d shifted from tea to sake, but he was still not feeling anything but a little warm around the edges. “I don’t think this is working.  How certain are you about the formula’s projected outcome?”

Kisuke took a sip from his cup and very pointedly did not look at Grimmjow. “Oh, fairly certain, Ichigo-kun.  I expect that you’ll be noticing something shortly.”

The Arrancar growled and sucked in a shaky sounding breath. “Yeah, I can pretty much guarantee that if the bleached bastard isn’t making noise in that noggin of yours, it isn’t because he isn’t feeling it.”

Ichigo couldn’t stop his smirk. “Does that mean you’re feeling something Grimm?  Still want to see what Pantera looks like with a high-gloss coat of blood, or have you lost your taste for it?”

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed and Ichigo could see his throat move in a convulsive swallow. “Not sure you want to tease, Kurosaki,” his voice sounded like it was being dragged across broken glass, “I may want to swing something other than a sword right now, but you covered in blood wouldn’t be a deal breaker.”

Ichigo’s throat worked on its own swallow at that.

Fuck yeah, Zan finally pushed through and Ichigo felt his breath catch at the overwhelming wave of awareness that came with him. Hold him down and lick him open. Stab his pretty hole with my tongue, stab him with my cock. Make him beg.  Make him cry.  Make him come all over himself.  Pull his hair and fuck his mouth and stripe that face with come until he smells like me, tastes like me, aches for me…  fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Ichigo must’ve made a noise because suddenly Kisuke’s eyes were focused on him, measuring. “Ichigo-kun? Everything okay?”

He was too far away.  Ichigo couldn’t feel him.  Couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin.  Couldn’t smell the ink and sandalwood and sword oil that meant Kisuke.

“Finally hit ya, huh?” Grimmjow asked, tossing back the dregs of sake in his cup. “Wondered how long I’d have to wait.”

Ichigo turned to face the Arrancar and could see the wildness flickering in the depths of his gaze.  His face burned because he knew what Zan was saying.  What he was thinking.

“Kisuke?” He pried his gaze away from Grimmjow long enough to ask, “You still have the wards up on the bedroom?”

The blond was already half-way to his feet as he answered, “Yes.”

“Good,” he said, holding on to his control by a thread. “It’s time to move.” He bared his teeth and lunged at Grimmjow with a growl, sinking his teeth into the long tendon there that had been tempting him for longer than he wanted to admit.  “Now.”

***

The futon was barely big enough for the three of them.

Kisuke had hesitated, standing to one side while his measured gaze following Ichigo and Grimmjow as they’d all but attacked each other, but Grimmjow stopped and reached out, his long fingers twisting in the front of his samue, pulling him inexorably closer.

“You don’t get off that easily,” he laughed, dark and suggestive, “or maybe you will, I don’t know.  What does it take to get a mad scientist off, Kurosaki?”

Ichigo pried himself away from Grimmjow’s neck long enough to answer. “He likes it all, Grimm, but if you want to knock his geta off, rubbing his prostate while you’re sucking his cock as deep as possible usually works for me.”

Kisuke visibly shuddered at the words and Grimmjow and Ichigo shared a grin.  “Can’t say I blame him.  Nothing like a good face-fucking to get things started.”

Another time Ichigo might have snarked about how quickly Grimm went to his knees, but watching him strip Kisuke so efficiently, pulling his cock out and licking a strip from crown to balls and back again, drove everything from his head except, “Fuck, yeah.  Just like that. Holy shit that looks amazing.”

Kisuke groaned along with him as he grabbed two handfuls of blue hair, jerking his hips forward just as Grimmjow wrapped his lips around him, the glistening tip of his prick disappearing and then reappearing with a lewdly wet pop. “It feels amazing as well, Ichigo-kun.” He pulled back and angled himself so that his next thrust slid his length along Grimmjow’s jaw, smooth in a gigai, but they were all thinking about the sharp edges of the bone mask that should’ve been there.  Instead, there was a trail of pre-come tracing his jawline that made Ichigo itch to kiss it and taste the combination of slick and skin.

Kisuke reached down and stuck a thumb in the side of Grimmjow’s mouth, “I can’t wait to ruin this pretty mouth,” he said, pumping his cock in alongside it, the tips of his fingers pressing against the hinge of Grimmjow’s jaw holding it open as he fucked into it, “fill your mouth until you can’t breathe.  Let those blue eyes beg enough and maybe I’ll let you.”

The tone, threatening enough that normally Grimmjow would be raring to strike out at anyone who dared to talk to him that way, was clearly pressing different buttons.  His eyes fluttered closed and his tongue lolled out beneath Kisuke’s cock, drool leaking from the corners of his mouth.

Ichigo watched the scene unfold, Zan howling in the dark corners of his mind as he watched the two men, deadly and beautiful, and all he could hear was the drumbeat of mine, mine, mine, drowning out every other thought.

Grimmjow had worn regular human clothes for the tournament and the tight black trousers clearly showed the outline of his hard-on, huge and heavy, pressing against his zipper. Ichigo sucked a breath in through his mouth, the musk of Kisuke’s arousal and the heady scent of Grimmjow going straight to his head, and he knew had to see it, to touch it, to taste it.

“Shift your leg, Grimm,” he said, trying to pull the fabric down and out of the way without tangling Grimmjow’s legs up painfully.  Finally he managed, and his mouth literally watered when he got his first glimpse of the Arrancar’s cock.  A hot spurt of pre-come squirted out of his own, and he pressed a hand into it to try to minimize the wave of sensations that swamped him.

“Like what you’ve uncovered, Ichigo-kun?” Kisuke managed to sound mostly unmoved, but Ichigo could hear the hint of breathiness that was the first sign of his loss of control.  He and Grimm may have been the ones dosed, but none of them were getting out of this unscathed. “He has an impressive cock, doesn’t he?  I can’t wait to see it disappearing into your slick, stretched hole.  Zangetsu-san will hate that, watching you allow another hollow to ride you, to fuck you…”

He swallowed the last word on a strangled groan as Grimmjow took him deep into his throat, and Ichigo could just imagine what that tight ring of muscle felt like, wrapped so tightly around him that it stroked him with every millimeter he moved.

The redhead couldn’t wait anymore.  He stood and shucked his clothing, not caring where it landed, and he wrapped his hand around his own length, pumping it in counterpoint to Grimmjow’s movements. The blond watched him, eyes hooded, and Ichigo could see the wheels within wheels moving in his head.

“You should take care of our guest,” the words were mild, but they triggered a wave of hunger that consumed him, the idea of touching Grimmjow’s muscular ass suddenly becoming the most important thing ever.

“Fuck, Kisuke,” he said, breath stuttering on the upstroke, “yes. Yes.”

He stumbled over Grimmjow’s legs where he was kneeling on the futon and grabbed the pot of slick from the bedside table, somehow managing to open it without spilling it everywhere.

Grimmjow was working up and down Kisuke’s cock like it was the only thing in the world, his chin dripping with saliva and pre-come, until Ichigo’s weight fell against him. He pulled off with a wet pop and glared.

“Watch it, Ichigo,” he said, hoarse from the fucking Kisuke’d given his throat, and Ichigo felt a shudder ripple through him both at the sound of Grimm’s broken voice and the sound of his name being said with it.

“I am watching it,” he said, hiding behind a little of his standard bravado, “and if I can say so, it’s well worth watching.”

He ogled Grimmjow’s ass and waggled his eyebrows until both the big Arrancar and Kisuke let out rough laughs.

“Watching isn’t going to cut it tonight,” Grimmjow arched his back a little and spread his knees, balls hanging heavy between his thighs and Ichigo just wanted…  everything.

“Want to fuck you, Grimm,” he said as he ran a sword-calloused finger down the graceful line of the other man’s spine, “Zan’s going a little crazy about it, but this…  this is what I want.” He dipped three fingers in the pot of slick and let the other man see them for a moment, and then, before he could react, Kisuke grabbed him by the sides of his head and thrust his cock between his gasp-opened lips.

Fuck, Kisuke. Zangetsu was as turned on by the blond’s move as Ichigo was, So hot.  Fuck his face.  Choke him on your cock.  

Ichigo pressed the tip of one finger against Grimmjow’s entrance, the muscle there tight and hot, and all three of them groaned from the domino effect of the sensation.  A second finger quickly followed the first, and then a third, the knowledge that Grimmjow was probably the most durable person he could ever fuck soothing whatever pangs of conscience he might have about proper prep.

Kisuke watched his progress closely, eyes glittering as he relentlessly slid his rigid prick between Grimmjow’s lips, pressing so deeply that it brought tears to the Arrancar’s eyes, and then backing off just enough for him to catch his breath before starting the cycle over again, timing every thrust to coincide with Ichigo’s fingers. The harder Kisuke pressed him, though, the hungrier he seemed, opening wider, swallowing harder, hips rocking back against Ichigo’s fingers as he strained for more, every bit as wild and driven he’d ever been in battle, and the redhead wondered if just that would be enough to get him off.

Then, Kisuke changed the game.

“As lovely as this has been, Grimmjow, I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed.” He pulled his cock out of Grimmjow’s mouth, but didn’t move far, his cock still ruby red and glistening mere finger’s-widths away. Ichigo watched, fascinated, as he gripped his own length and pumped it slowly, teasing the other man. “You’ve always talked such a good game I thought you’d be a sexual force to be reckoned with, but you’re just a little too…  passive for me.”

He smiled at Ichigo over the blue head. “Maybe I’ll just watch you try to top from the bottom with Ichigo-kun.”

Grimmjow erupted into motion, his lethal body moving faster than he had all night, leaving Ichigo wide-eyed and slick-fingered on the side-lines as he swept Kisuke into a hold that had to knock the air out of him.

“Can’t come up with a better insult than topping from the bottom, Shinigami?” He grabbed Kisuke’s legs and dropped him onto his back with a growl, pinning him there with his full body weight as he slotted his hips between Kisuke’s legs and lodged his cock between Kisuke’s ass cheeks. “I know what you’re doing, pushing me, pissing me off.  You and your fucking experiments.  You want to see what happens when you piss me off enough that I lose control? I’ll tell you. I’m going to fuck you so hard they’ll hear you in Hueco Mundo, so hard your crimson bitch won’t be able to sit down. And then? Then, I’m going to fuck Ichigo until he can’t remember his fucking name, and make you watch while my come leaks out of your ass and you can barely crawl across the futon to beg for more.”

Slick fingers pressed into Kisuke’s hole and the blond squirmed and gasped, but his cock was still jutting up, hard and demanding, and Ichigo knew he was enjoying it.

Grimmjow looked over at him and grinned triumphantly, a wild, beautiful thing, and Ichigo leaned in and caught his mouth in a filthy kiss that tasted of lust and violence and Kisuke’s cock.  He licked into Grimm’s mouth again and again, eating at the heat there, listening to Kisuke groan and hiss and sigh under the demanding fingers that were stretching him wide for fucking, and knew he’d never again be able to see Grimmjow’s battle grin without getting hard.

Zangetsu was vibrating at the edge of his inner world, cursing Grimmjow and Kisuke by turns, and Ichigo swatted him away, because these two were his, and Zan could just go fuck himself and the horse he identified as.

He leaned over Grimmjow’s shoulder and looked at his cock, ruddy and huge, dripping pre-come, and breathed into his ear. “Go on. Fuck him, Grimm. He’s a fucking slut for it.  He’ll love it.  Love the stretch and burn as you pound into him.  Love it when you hit that spot that makes his cock leak and his eyes roll back in his head.”

Grimmjow growled and pressed against the ring of muscle that was the last barrier between him and Kisuke’s heat. Then, with one rapid rock of his hips he breached his ass, dragging a low groan from the Shinigami beneath him.

“Fuck yes,” Kisuke hissed the words and rolled into the thrust, silently demanding more.  Grimmjow was more than willing to provide.

“Isn’t he perfect?” Ichigo asked, hot breath stirring the fine blue hair around Grimm’s ear. “He’s made for fucking.  Tight ass. Hard cock.   Smart enough to know exactly what to do to make you see stars.  Wait until you feel him in your ass. You’ll want him again and again.”

Kisuke let out a little moan as Grimmjow bottomed out forcefully and he flexed his muscles around the Arrancar’s length.

“Fuck,” Grimm gutted the word out. “You’re so fucking tight.  It’s like fucking a velvet vise.”

Kisuke let out a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh and Ichigo couldn’t help but feel a pulse of envy.

“Lean forward, Grimm.  Hold him down.” He wrapped himself over Grimmjow’s broad back and held on as he bucked into Kisuke, and Ichigo found his hole with questing fingers again.  He was still loose from earlier but Ichigo took his time, curling his fingers and sliding them along the rim before twisting so that he could find that spot, that incredible little spot that would make even Grimmjow whimper and whine.

He angled himself to capture Grimmjow’s lips in another kiss, this one sloppy and breathless, distracted by the pistoning of Grimm’s hips as he fucked Kisuke so hard Ichigo was almost afraid for his gigai, but Ichigo had pounded Kisuke’s ass often enough to know that a day or two of rest was all the blond needed before he was back in form, turning the tables and driving him to the edge and over.

“Want to see you fuck him, Ichigo-kun,” Kisuke’s voice broke on the words, desire so thick he could hardly speak around it.  “Want to see his face.  Want to hear you both.” He reached out with a scrabbling hand and Ichigo grabbed it and squeezed.

“Grimm?” Ichigo asked, unwilling to force the Arrancar into something he didn’t want, but apparently it wasn’t a problem.

“You heard him. You need an engraved invitation?” was all he said, but the answer rattled through Ichigo and he groaned, dragging clawed fingers down Grimmjow’s flank, digging into the dimples above his hipbones as he settled his weight behind the bigger man.

The heat pouring off Grimmjow was amazing, and Ichigo rubbed his face against the plane of his back, nipping along the bumps of vertebra, his knees splayed obscenely to either side of the well-muscled ass.  Grimmjow leaned farther forward and dropped down to catch Kisuke’s lips in a kiss, something Ichigo had never thought to see, stilling the motion of his own hips to allow Ichigo to maneuver into place, his cock pressed against the puffy red furl of his opening, slick and soft and worked loose until it practically sucked him in.

“Fuck.”  He breathed the word against Grimmjow’s skin and felt rather than hear a rumble in response.

“What are you waiting for, Kurosaki?” A dry, raspy need threaded through Grimmjow’s voice that hadn’t been there before and it made something predatory in Ichigo sit up and take notice. “Just put it in me, you son of a bitch. Fuck me with that cock.  I know you want it.  Show your boyfriend here what fucking a hollow is really like.  Let the hunger out.  I won’t break.”

Ichigo couldn’t pass up an offer like that. He snaked a hand down beneath them to where Grimm’s balls were tight against him and rolled them once, twice, gently and then buried himself deep in his ass in one thrust.

Grimmjow roared and Ichigo howled along with him.

Sweet heat exploded around his cock, and he could feel the shock waves as he lost control of his reiatsu, the waves of it pounding against the others. He rocked forward and down, forcing Grimmjow deeper into Kisuke, and the moans that broke from them both only fed the flames of his hunger. He loved that sound, loved that he was the one wringing it from them, and wanted to hear it again and again, until they were too hoarse to speak.

“Look at us, Kisuke,” he reached around Grimmjow and grasped the blond’s cock, the drooling, dripping length of it hot in his hand, “this is what you said you wanted so open those pretty eyes and watch carefully.  I’m going to fuck him now.  Fuck him and let him take you apart until you’re nothing but a quivering, come-soaked mess.”

He couldn’t have stopped now if someone had held a sword to his throat.   He started with a quick motion, rocking deeper and deeper into Grimmjow until he was working at a constant pace, shifting after every third or fourth stroke to aim for his prostate, pulling moans and curses from the Arrancar as he also almost brutally stroked Kisuke’s cock.

“Fuck, Kurosaki. Harder. Harder.” Grimmjow was holding himself up over Kisuke, the muscles in his arms rippling as he panted and bucked, his own cock plunging in and out of Kisuke at a wicked pace spurred on by Ichigo’s fucking and the redhead couldn’t tell if he was begging or threatening him. “I’m almost there.   Fuck.  That’s it.  Come on.  Fuck it out of me. Yes, yes…  right… there! Fuck!”

He jerked as if electrified, his whole body locking up as he poured his come into the blond beneath him, but Ichigo kept moving, slamming his hips against him until he was sure Grimmjow would have bruises on his ass.  He could feel his own orgasm just beyond his reach, and he stroked Kisuke’s cock in time with his own rhythm, determined to bring him off. His thighs trembled and he could feel his balls tighten as he dragged his thumb through the wet slit at the tip of Kisuke’s cock and then he heard it, that sob and gasp that he sometimes heard in his best dreams, and as Kisuke came, so did he.  Pulse after pulse of come striped Grimmjow’s chest and pooled on Kisuke’s belly and Ichigo filled Grimm’s ass as the reiatsu waves of a truly earth-shattering orgasm ripped through all three of them.

Later when consciousness had crept slowly back, they pulled themselves apart like pieces of a come-covered jigsaw puzzle, breathing heavily in the dim bedroom.

“So,” Grimmjow said, scrubbing a hand through his wild blue mane and looking at Ichigo, “I’d say the mad scientist’s experiment was a success.  What about you?”

Ichigo smothered a grin.  “I’d agree. Kisuke?”

The blond rolled over sleepily and settled between them, spooning back into the big Arrancar’s body while wrapping an arm around the redhead.   “Well, first impressions are positive, but you know how it is with these things.  One has to be able to recreate the results of an experiment several times before being certain of anything.”

In the recesses of Ichigo’s inner world, Zangetsu laughed.

[slapshotsandoneshots]

Player: Auston Matthews - Toronto Maple Leafs

Mentions:. Marner, Marleau, Anderson

Warnings: Cursing Pregnancy Angst

Preview:.Jake laughed once more and looked towards the boys. “So when are we going to get another to add to the roster one of you two rooks is next?” Mitch only smiled but Auston laughed so hard it was almost harsh.“That won’t be for a very long time, Jake.” He gets through his chuckles. “Y/N, don’t get any ideas.” He glanced at you and you knew he meant it. Just like that, the small bit of baby fever dissipated.

Word Count: 5217  Words

Find the First Two Parts on the Masterlist

You couldn’t believe what you were really staring at. Was there really a positive pregnancy test in your hands? You wanted so badly to believe that this was just a horrible dream or some twisted figment of your imagination but the growing pit in your stomach told you otherwise. Right next to the pit was a small little bean of a baby. Your thoughts jumped straight to Auston. How was he going to take this? The pit grew bigger.  

You and Auston had been dating for years now, you had grown up with him, and he was your best friend. You both had gone through so much together. You got through him moving to Europe, The Draft, His rookie season being with the Leafs, his demanding role as their all-star, along with any other trouble that comes along with the territory of being in a relationship. But could your relationship survive a baby? You were both still so young. You basically grimaced when you thought about the last time the word baby was mentioned.

It was a few seasons back, Jake and Lucy had just welcomed their beautiful baby in the world. You stood in the hospital room ogling over the baby in Stephanie’s arm. They were so cute and you had the smallest tinge of baby fever. You heard the boys laugh from where you stood. Auston was standing with Mitch and Morgan watching you and Stephanie fawn over the small bundle in your arms. Jake laughed once more and looked towards the boys. “So when are we going to get another to add to the roster one of you two rooks is next?” Mitch only smiled but Auston laughed so hard it was almost harsh.

“That won’t be for a very long time, Jake.” He gets through his chuckles. “Y/N, don’t get any ideas.” He glanced at you and you knew he meant it. Just like that, the small bit of baby fever dissipated.

That had been seasons ago, but you knew Auston still didn’t have any inclination to have kids even in the remote future. Man, were you about to throw a wrench in those plans. You took a deep breath. You could get through this. You and Auston had always said you would be the ones to make it, No matter what you two would survive. That you would beat the odds.

You could do this, it wouldn’t be easy and Auston might take some time to come around but it would all come together. You were Auston and Y/N, the two of you against the world. Well, three of you now. You would be lying if you suddenly pictured your small family and smiled. You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the door unlocking. You quickly stuffed the test in your back pocket and hid the trash in your makeup bags. You emerged from the bathroom just as Auston had made his way upstairs and into your bedroom.

“Hey Babes” he chimed as you gave him a smile hoping he wouldn’t notice the panic and stress in your eyes. That was the thing about Auston, you could not get a single thing past him. It was like you were his favorite book that he would read over and over again, getting to the point where he could read it with his eyes closed.

Whatever was having him so cheery must have helped you, because he just smiled and planted a kiss on your lips before turning around into the bathroom to take a shower. You let out a breath as you heard the water switch on. You headed downstairs to clean up your work on the coffee table from earlier in the morning. You closed your laptop and gathered the drafts you had scattered around. You were headed into the office with all your things when Auston had emerged from the shower.

“Hey everyone is coming over to just hang out before the season starts, that’s okay right?” he smiled guiltily. You knew he already had invited everyone and there was no way you would turn them away.

“Of course it’s fine bub. I love having everyone over, just as long as there are no repeats of the last time” You glared at him recalling Willy ripping your favorite dress when they were raiding your closet out of boredom.

Auston simply chuckled and pulled you into a tight hug.

Just a few hours later, your loft was filled with people you considered family. Everyone was having a good time enjoying the food you had ordered and the drinks were flowing. Mitch was trying to make you his famous margarita but you avoided it by saying you needed to finish some designs before bed.

You were standing in the living room talking to Kappy about the show you were both watching when Auston had slipped between the two of you. Auston’s hands went straight to your ass and suddenly you were aware of the forgotten stick in your pocket.  

“What is in your pocket?” he questioned and before you could stop him, he had pulled it out and was now staring at the positive test in his large hands.

“Auston…” you started. His face was unreadable. That was the thing about Auston, unlike yourself Auston was sometimes a closed book in the restricted section. The tears welled in your eyes as you searched Auston’s face for anything. You could feel the various sets of eyes locked on the two of you.

Before you could muster up any words, Auston turned on his heels and was out the door with a slam. You flinched at the sound. Freddie, Patty, and Mitch followed Auston each giving you a sympathetic look as they left your home. Stephanie and Christina rushed to your side trying to usher you into the guest room.  

You put only smiled “I’m fine, I have a kitchen that needs to be picked up.” You offered a smile to the other sets of eyes still in shock of had just happened as you made your way to the kitchen. You started to clean up the food that was spread out across the island. Stephanie and Christina just simply came in and quietly started to help you. You appreciated it, just their presence was something you didn’t know you needed. Slowly the loft emptied, each person leaving wrapping you in a hug and telling you Auston would be back and that they were there for you. You thanked each one and offered them the best smile you could muster. As the night continued, your brave front dwindled down and with each second you were closer to tears. Once only Stephanie and Christina were left you made your way to the balcony overlooking the shining skyline of Toronto. You stood gripping the railing afraid if you let go you would finally crumble to the ground.

Your body let out a sob that racked your entire body. You trembled as the girls rushed to your side. Christina rubbed your back as you finally let go of the emotions you had been holding in all night. You only stopped when you heard the front door open and shut. A whole new set of sobs left your body when it was only Mitch and Patty who made their way into the house. You sobbed into you were basically dry heaving. Patty had carried you into the living room and they gathered around you comforting you until finally, you had calmed down enough to be coherent.

“Where is he?” you finally choked out. “I just need to know he’s okay..” you started wiping the tears with the sleeve of Mitch’s Jacket that he had wrapped around you outside.

Patty sighed. “He is with Freddie, He said to tell you that he would be staying there. He didn’t want you to leave the loft.”

You looked at him confused. “For how long? Why would I leave?” you questioned scared to know the answers. You felt as if your life was ripping at the seams and you were reaching for any last thread to hold on to.

Patty exchanged looks with Mitch and Mitch grabbed your hand. “Right now he says he doesn’t want to be a part of this.”

Patty interjected quickly. “Honey he says that now, give him time he is going to come around.” He tried placing his hand on your shoulder.

You were in shock. Auston had left you. No Auston had left you and your baby.

It had now been over a week since you had last seen or talked to Auston. You were still reaching for any tiny thread of hope that things would change but it was faltering. To make the matters of heartbreak worse, the sudden morning sickness had hit you like a truck. You were in the bathroom for 80% of your day. The smell of most foods would leave you reeling. You were sore, sick, and hurting. Christina was always extremely helpful as having all the boys at home but the one person you wanted to talk to, you didn’t think you could.

You weren’t sure if Auston had even told Ema about the pregnancy and you didn’t think it was your place to tell her yourself. She was his mom, not yours, you thought to yourself as much as it hurt. Ema was like a mother to you. Ever since your mother had died when you were young, Ema had taken you under her wing like another child. You wanted to hear her voice and ask her a million questions but you were honestly scared she might have a similar reaction to Auston. You couldn’t handle losing another person in your life.

You had scheduled your first OBGYN appointment for this afternoon. You had already been to your regular doctor to confirm your pregnancy with bloodwork. The doctor confirmed what you already knew with your extremely high hCG levels.

You planned on going by yourself but Stephanie and Mitch refused to let you go alone. Mitch walked into the living room where you were putting on your shoes when he placed the bag of dum dum lollipops in your lap.

“You are the best” you smiled as you broke open the bag. Lollipops seemed to be the only thing you could stomach these days.

You popped the lollipop in your mouth as you walked out the door handing one to both him and Steph. The ride to the office was quick. You hopped out of the car trying your best to hide your nerves. Steph must have sensed it and grabbed your hands in hers.

You checked in and were quickly called back, they allowed Steph and Mitch come with you despite the weird looks you received at the front desk.

“They must think you are our surrogate or something” Mitch chuckled as he played with the model baby in the exam room.

Steph hit his shoulder but you laughed as the doctor made her way into the exam room. “Okay Ms. Y/L/N, let’s see us a baby.” She smiled.

You felt so conflicted. You were happy and nervous to finally see your baby for the first time but at the same time, you were devastated that you were sharing this with his teammates and not Auston.  You just wanted something from Auston, anything really. The radio silence was slowly killing you.

You pulled from your thoughts when the cold gel was being placed on your stomach. Slowly the doctor glided the wand across your stomach. And then you heard it the beating sound ringing through the speakers and for the first time in a week, the tears welling in your eyes were happy ones. Suddenly the sound seemed like it was echoing. You immediately looked at the doctor worriedly. Her grin only grew, “Y/N you’re having twins, that’s two heartbeats.”

She laughed at the expression now on all three of your faces. “And here they are,” she said as she had finally found the right spot. You looked at the screen and there you saw it. Two little beans in black and while and suddenly your heart swelled. You had two living things inside you and they needed you. You smiled as you glanced at Mitch and Steph. They were both in tears, Mitch holding on to Steph. You wished you were glancing at Auston but you were happy they were here.

The doctor updated you on everything, you were actually further along than they originally thought already being 11 weeks. She then offered you your pictures of your sonogram. Mitch insisted on a million copies. He told you that a few of the guys wanted one. You had hoped one of them would show Auston but you didn’t dare ask. Once the doctor had printed the pictures and handed them over, the three of you headed to at least try and get some lunch. You ordered a small sandwich and salad and the three of you sat in silence for a few minutes. You finally spoke up.

“How is he…” you started. Looking towards Mitch and taking a sip of your drink before continuing. “I just want to know how he is, it will make me feel better. I know you guys started training camp.”

Mitch sighed before he started. “He’s alive if that’s what you’re asking Hun. He just seems to always be in a grumpy mood, doesn’t talk much, and takes it out on the ice. Gave Freddie a few hard shots yesterday morning.”

“He’s going to come around girl, I just know it” Steph stated matter of factly grabbing your hand from across the table. You just nodded and smiled as your food arrived.

A few days later Mitch had invited Auston over to play some video games after practice. They both entered the kitchen to grab a quick bite when Auston got a glance of the fridge Mitch was opening.

“What the hell is that?” He asked coldly staring at the sonograms Steph had tapped to the fridge surrounded by little hearts.

Mitch just shook his head as he closed the fridge and took a look at the sonograms himself. He couldn’t believe his best friend was being so cold towards you and your unborn children. He himself was so excited he found himself downloading a pregnancy app to see what size the babies would be as they grew.

“You know exactly what they are Auston. Don’t deny it.”

Auston just huffed but didn’t take his eyes from the fridge.

“She’s having twins you know. Me and Steph went with her a few days ago. She asked about you, with everything going on with her she still wanted to make sure you were okay. Maybe you should at least talk with her…” Mitch tried.

“Are we playing or what Mitch?” Auston asked as he grabbed water from the fridge.

Mitch ran a hand over his face and just nodded as Auston made his way to the living room. Mitch glanced at the fridge once more and smiled when he saw that one of the sonograms was missing. Maybe he was getting somewhere.

More weeks passed and still no word from Auston, against the team’s best efforts. You would be going to find out the gender of your babies in just a few days. You had hoped since your last doctor’s appointment that somehow Auston would have changed his mind by now and would be there but the days dwindled closer you were losing sight of that happening.

You tried to be strong most days. As the boys or their significant others would visit you would allow yourself a small tinge of happiness smiling and laughing alongside them. You wanted to be strong for your babies, for you were all they had at the moment. You knew no matter what happened these babies were going to be loved. The boys were always fawning over your now showing baby bump. And as much as you appreciated it, you were missing the one person who should have been.

Tonight was one of the nights you had let it get to you. You were having a rough pregnancy, to say the least. The morning sickness had no sign of subsiding anytime soon, you were always sore, you already couldn’t get comfortable to sleep and you were just tired. Tired of everything. You had just finished some drafts for work on the balcony and you were alone. You walked in when you felt your dinner making its way back up. You rushed to the bathroom and threw up for what seemed like forever. You were now just dry heaving and your whole body ached. You just couldn’t take it anymore. You let your tears flow and couldn’t find the strength to even get up. You had no idea how long you had been sitting on your bathroom floor sobbing uncontrollably when you heard your front door open. You still couldn’t find it in you to get off the floor so you stayed there knowing whoever it was would find you eventually. You were right within a few minutes Patty had broken down the door after hearing your sobs. He picked you up as Mitch watched pulling the comforter back in your room. You hadn’t slept in here since Auston Left, either finding yourself asleep on the couch or in the guest room. You scooted onto his side, grasping his pillow and taking in the little scent that was left. Christina crawled into bed with you and rubbed your back as another round of sobs left your body. You hated being so weak in front of them but you had nothing left to fight with tonight. You let your body shake with each sob until you fell asleep.

Patty being like a second dad to both you and Auston, seeing you the way you were last night killed him. He knew how badly you were hurting and he knew who the cause was. He planned on giving it to the cause himself. The practice was over and everyone headed to the locker room. Patty had shot daggers at Auston every time they were even remotely close to one another. Freddie and Mitch tried to keep him at bay but it wasn’t very successful.

“When are you going to take your head out of your ass?” Patty stated suddenly towards Auston as he was unlacing his skates.

“What are you talking about?” Auston tried playing stupid.

“You know exactly what the fuck I am talking about Auston! You are being a selfish child while the girl you supposedly love is hurting so bad that I fucking can’t take it. You just sitting here and pretending that she not out there going through the hardest time in her life heartbroken and all of us just sitting around here letting him fucking do it while we go and see her and let her cry on our shoulders. It’s fucking bullshit!” he roared.

Patty stood up and made his way to tower over Auston in his stall. “You know she tries so hard to be strong in front of all of us. She puts on a smile and tries so hard for those babies. But last night I had to fucking break down your bathroom door because there she was sobbing and couldn’t find it in herself to stand and unlock the door. And then we all sat there while she cried herself to sleep. How do you fucking do it, Matts?”

Patty pulled out his phone and pressed a few things on the screen and then suddenly your sobs filled the locker room. The entire room was silent listening to you cry. The sobs were heart-wrenching. Auston cringed at each one. Mitch said nothing being there himself was enough. Auston needed to hear it. Freddie suddenly took the phone from Patty. “Enough Man.” He stated quietly as he cut the video off.

“I just thought he should hear it too. He can’t fucking ignore it forever. He needs to grow the fuck up Freddie.” He turned back to Auston. “Live with that Matts.”

Patty made his way back to his stall to finish getting undressed. Auston sat in his stall for a while letting the echo of your sobs ring in his ears. Suddenly he was up, he punched his stall and left without a shower. Anderson close behind.

No one told you about the confrontation to not stress you out. Mitch had gone with you to your doctor’s appointment. He insisted on finding out the gender and then keeping it a secret from you so you could have a reveal. He said it would be fun, but honestly it was just stressing you out. You just wanted to know but you allowed Mitch to have his fun. You tried to get him to break but had no luck. When you got back to your place it was a mixture of blues and pinks.

“You did such a good job guys” you stated as you looked in the kitchen at the themed snacks and dinner.

Christina and Steph showed you around and you went upstairs to get ready. You slipped into the soft dress. Your bump was now quite big since it was twice the size. You rubbed your hand over your stomach looking in the mirror.

“Daddy will figure it out, don’t you worry.” You stated in almost a whisper. You knew people would be arriving soon so you made your way downstairs.

You were walking down the stairs when you heard it, the small laugh coming from your kitchen. You had to brace yourself so you wouldn’t fall. That was Ema’s laugh. You made your way into the kitchen expecting your mind to have been playing tricks on you but it wasn’t. She was standing in your kitchen enjoying a pink Oreo while talking to Mitch.

“Mija” she started when she saw you opening her arms. You hugged her as much your bump would allow. You felt the tears flow as you let her stroke your hair. “Come here” she ushered you into the guest room as more guests arrived.

“Mija, why didn’t you call?” she asked as you both sat on the bed.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand. “I wasn’t sure what Auston had told you and I didn’t want to overstep.” You admitted.

“Mija, you are as much my child as Auston, I have watched you grow up and now you are growing my grandchildren. No matter what happens you are always a part of our family.” She stated like it was nothing and you could feel the tears once again.

“Now I will be here for a bit, so we can catch up later tonight. Let’s go see what these babies are!” Ema smiled as she helped you off the bed. You made your way back into the party and enjoyed the snacks and dinner that Christina and Steph had prepped. You were sitting talking to Lucy while Mitch was talking to your stomach. You laughed as Mitch was explaining something to them about fortnite. You were just about to get up for another helping of food when it happened. The door opened and behind Freddie, Auston made his way into a place that was technically his home. You froze where you were sitting and the air in the room seemed to change. You had wished for this to happen for what seemed like forever but now you didn’t know how to react. Mitch and Freddie exchanged looks as Auston approached you. Freddie gave a long as if he came in peace and you watched Auston without realizing placing a hand on your stomach.

“Can we talk?” he asked softly and you simply nodded. He led you out on the balcony and you sat at the patio table. You were afraid to speak first so you both sat there for a bit in silence. Finally, Auston took a deep breath.

“I’m Sorry” he finally got out and you looked at him, he looked deflated and broken and for the first time, you knew this was affecting him too.

“I was scared Y/N, and I ran and after Patty really gave it to me the other day I realized how selfish I was. Here you are alone and scared and I just ran.”

Suddenly a rush of courage hit you. “I was scared to Auston, I am literally growing two humans and I didn’t get the choice you had. I needed you and you left.”

“I know and I’m really sorry” he tried again grabbing your hand.

“Your teammates were here for me more than you Auston. I mean I thought it was me and you against the world but the minute it gets hard you bolt? That’s not fair to me or these babies.” You got out getting a little bit louder. You were upset and as much as you wanted to just forgive Auston you needed to make sure he was here for the long run. You had to think of these babies and didn’t want them going through a father being in and out of their lives as he felt like it.

Auston was silent not knowing how to respond he knew he fucked up and you were right. Mitch knew more about your pregnancy then he did. Auston reached into his pocket pulling out a crumbled picture worn from being handled so often. You immediately realized it was your first sonogram. “Do you have another one of these I could have? I stole this one off of Mitch’s fridge a while back.” He asked looking down at the picture of the two little beans.

“I have an updated one, they actually look like babies and not lima beans.” You smiled slightly.

“That would be nice,” Auston stated as he ran his finger across the piece of paper.

“I have a DVD too, we could watch it if you would like sometime.” You started when you felt it. It was a kick. You gasped reaching for your stomach. Auston was in front of you immediately.

“Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?” He tried, you noticed Mitch and Patty inching towards the glass door sensing the change. But you just smiled.

You grabbed Auston’s hand and placed it over your bump where you felt it and soon enough there it was again. Auston’s eyes immediately well up with tears.

“There’s really a baby in there...” he stated as stared at your stomach.

“There are Auston and they need you, but only if you are in it for the whole thing. I can’t have you in and out of their lives when things get hard. You can break my heart but I won’t let you break theirs.” You whispered. Auston looked up at you.

“I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you if I have too.” He said as he cupped your face in his hands. You offered him a smile and a nod.

“We should get back to the party.” You stated going to stand as Auston helped you. You were getting big enough that you were starting to wobble. Auston helped you inside and you socialized a bit more. Auston mingled with some of the guys but stayed close to you. Mitch suddenly came out of the kitchen holding multiple confetti cannons.

“Mitchell you do know that you will be cleaning up all that confetti.” You said rolling your eyes thinking of the mess your foyer was about to be in.

“It’s all in good fun Y/N” he smirked as he handed one to Morgan, Freddie, and Patty. “Now you are going to stand in the middle and Christina is going to take your picture as we shoot them to get your reaction.”

“Is this safe?” You question raising an eyebrow.

“Will you stop being a smart ass? I can’t keep this secret for much longer!” Mitch pouted.

You just laughed as you stood in the place where he wanted you, as the boys and Christina got into position, you glanced at Auston watching from the side. You suddenly motioned for him to join you. He was hesitant at first but joined you as everyone watched. You grabbed his hand and stood on your tip toes.

“You should be a part of this too” you whispered squeezing his hand. He nodded pressing a kiss to your temple as the boys twisted the tubes. Pink and Blue confetti surrounded you. You smiled brightly as everyone cheered and came in to congratulate the both of you. You gave out your rounds of hugs best to your ability and talked a bit longer to a few other guests. You were yawning just as the last few people were leaving. Mitch and Steph were still working on cleaning the confetti while Auston and Ema were in the kitchen doing dishes. You made your way into the kitchen and leaned on the island watching as Ema and Auston spoke in Spanish.

“Mija, you look tired go get some rest. I will be here in the morning she smiled drying another dish.” You smiled at the thought of her staying for a bit and catching up when you glanced at Auston wondering if he would be staying too.

And just like he had never left, he read you like an open book.

“Only if you want me to, I can go back to Freddie’s.” He stated as he grabbed a few more plates from the island.

“We want you to” you smiled reaching for his hand. He grabbed it and smiled.

“Take her to get some sleep mijo,” Ema said softly as she ushered you both out of the kitchen. You offered hugs to Mitch and Steph and thanked them for an amazing party and all they had done for you. They hugged both you and Auston and showed themselves out as Auston took you upstairs. You immediately flopped onto the bed fully dressed, you shoe clad feet resting just off the side. Auston chuckled as he lifted each foot and took off your shoe and placed them on the floor. You giggled when he tickled the bottom of your foot.

“Are you sleeping in that?” he asked headed for the closet

“Will you get me one of your shirts? A big one obviously.” You laughed and he matched with one of his own. He came out of the closet now in sweats carrying a large maple leafs shirt for you. You lifted your hands above your head and watched as Auston lifted your dress. He stared at you in awe of your stomach and for the second time placed his large hands on our growing bump. You smiled at him sleepily. He handed you the shirt and you pulled your bra off once it was on. Auston pulled back the covers and got into bed as you drew closer to him you laid at an angle placing your head on his chest.

“God I’ve missed you” he whispered almost where you couldn’t hear him as he ran his fingers through your hair.

And for the first time in a long time, you slept soundly.

[eene-fangirl]

Monster House-ED Chapter 3 (An Ed, Edd n Eddy Crossover)

Grasping his beating heart, Eddy took a deep breath. In and out, feel the ground, you are safe.

Was he safe?

His whole room was dark. Checking the time, it was just after eleven o’clock at night. Did he really just fall asleep for five hours? It wasn’t even that late by the time he retreated to his bedroom. That happened on days when he was very stressed. One day after school about a few months ago, Eddy passed out and didn’t wake up until it was time for dinner. When his mother found out it only further worried her. Now he was going to have a heck of a time trying to fall asleep again.

The phone rang again, startling Eddy.

Ugh, why did Ed like to call late?

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Eddy picked up the phone. “What do yah want, Ed?”

On the other line, something was breathing. It sounded like a low hum like a car sitting in the driveway.

“Ed, you tryin’ to mimic a monster again? Go to bed!” And Eddy hung up the phone. 

The phone rang again, louder than ever, blaring its incessant ring through Eddy’s ears. That noise was giving him a headache!

Eddy nervously glanced around his dark room. Even with the glow from his glow lamp sitting right near the table wasn’t helping anything. Darkness was darkness. And he hated it. The set of pictures of Old Man Jonny hanging up on his wall made his stomach squirm.

Reluctantly, Eddy answered the phone again. “Yes?” Eddy barked.

Again, breathing, mixed with a low growl of an animal was on the other end. This was ridiculous! “Very funny, Ed!”

Now it was his turn. Pressing the buttons, Eddy prepared for his own ruse on Ed. Ever since he and Ed were kids they’d always call to act like monsters. It was fun. But Ed never did it this late.

The phone rang on the other line. Waiting impatiently, something caught Eddy’s attention. He could hear a phone ringing. And it was close by. Like, right next to him.

Feeling chills run up his spine, Eddy turned to his window.

Across the street, the house was staring into his soul with its glassy window eyes. It was so faint but the phone was definitely ringing. Lifting up his window, the noise was louder now. Who knew a phone ringing could be so alarming. Now he knew how those people in horror movies felt. Eddy’s breath hitched in his throat. Just like the line on his phone, it kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing. The house... was calling him...

“BOO!” Someone’s hands painfully clapped down against his shoulders. Turning around, Eddy screamed when he was met with the smashed face of a chicken with tire tracks covering it.

The person under the mask laughed mockingly, pointing a finger in Eddy’s startled face. “Happy Halloween, dork!”

And then, Marie walked into the room switching on the light. Briefly glancing at Eddy to make sure he was okay, Marie laughed in that annoying high pitched voice. “Nice one, Kev!”

Removing the mask, a young man with long, very tangled ginger hair appeared. Taking an orange hat out of his pocket, he placed it right on his head. Eddy’s nose turned up when he saw his terrible crooked teeth. Clearly, someone had never heard of going to the dentist! His ripped pants sagged and he smelled foul. Like a smell Eddy knew very well whenever his brother disappeared to be alone in his room.

“Hey, just ‘cause I’m not allowed to have people over doesn’t mean you can!” Eddy confronted Marie.

“Relax! He’d just here to keep me company! This is Kevin,” Marie introduced.

“Sup, dork!” Kevin tilted his head as if to greet him.

“He’s a professional biker.”

Kevin took out his wallet. Right in front of his picture of Marie was a bike.“Yeah! Wanna see some pics of the gorgeous gal?”

“You actually carry around a picture of your bike?” Eddy turned up his brow.

“Hey, don’t insult her!” Kevin spat. 

Marie also rolled her eyes. “Anyway, aren’t you up way past your bedtime?” Marie stood over Eddy trying to intimidate him.

Eddy shook his head. The phone was still ringing from across the street. “No, you gotta see this! Listen!” He told Marie, placing the still ringing phone in her hand and pointing across the street at the house.

Marie turned her brow up, unphased by the predicament. “Uh... wow, you called the neighbors. Good for you.” And turned the phone off and closed the window.

“No, he called me!” Eddy’s voice cracked.

“Who called you?” Marie asked briefly alarmed but annoyed at the same time.

“Old Man Jonny! P.S. he died today!”

“You lie!” Kevin confronted pointing a finger in his face. 

“No way! He died and now he’s haunting me!” Eddy claimed.

Kevin stared mesmerized at the house. “Wow, a phone call from beyond the grave. Word!”

Eddy noticed Marie and Kevin look at each other. Clearly, they didn’t believe him. Who did?

Then Kevin burst out holding his arms out in a ghoulish fashion. “OOOOOOOH!”

“Seriously, are you trying to be Marley? That guy isn’t even scary. I’m serious!” Eddy fought with them. No, his mind was no messing with him. That’s what his brother always tried to do.

Turning up his nose, Kevin spied something that made his eyes light up. “Oh, you’re serious?” Kevin took the magazine that was sticking out from underneath Eddy’s pillow.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Eddy jumped up trying to get his magazine. Kevin waved it over his head just to further mock him. Then he opened up the pages.

“What is that?” Marie turned her nose up.

“Did you know he was serious?” Kevin asked the girl on the front cover of the magazine.

Eddy jumped, trying to retrieve the magazine. “Come on, give it back!”

“Sure, but first, do you mind?” And Kevin started licking the pages.

“Gross! Stop!”

“Wait, wait, somethin’ wrong!” Kevin alerted pressing his ear to the page. “Yeah, they’re all havin’ trouble breathing due to rippled pages! Let me handle it!”

Kevin ripped up the magazine, shredding it to pieces.

“Hey, stop! My bro gave me that!” Eddy’s breath caught in his throat. Unaware that he had fallen on to the ground, Eddy’s insides shivered. Bro...

“Hey, Kevin, knock it off! Downstairs, right now!” Marie point to the door. Briefly, she glanced at Eddy to make sure that he was okay. She was about to bend down to his side to make sure he was okay. Was this the episode that Eddy’s parents were warning him about if one were to ever happen?

Kevin sneered, laughing at Eddy. “Looks like playtime’s over! See yah, dork!”

And Marie and Kevin left the room, leaving Eddy alone. He just stared at the ripped up pages of the magazine at his feet. The magazine was his brothers. He gave him his collection of magazines. Did that mean... he cared?

Fuming, Eddy collected the ripped pages. Holding them over the trash can, his fingers refused to let the pages go. So, instead, he just placed them on the desk with his investigation notes. Why? Why did his life end up this way? Was he really wasting his whole life away when he could have been out playing sports?

Why was this so hard? His brother had only been gone for a year and yet it still felt like he was here torturing him. Seeing him was out of the consequences. Of course, it’s not like Eddy really wanted to see him.

Just then, Eddy caught something peculiar. The last time he looked at the house wasn’t the shade on the window up?

And then, the shade flew up revealing the dark glass staring back at him.

Cowering behind the drape, Eddy mentally kicked himself. Slowly, Eddy caught the slightest peak at the house, just barely making it out. Now, the shade was closed again.

This was crazy. Something was wrong. There was something up with that house. And he couldn’t inspect the situation alone.

Reaching for his phone, Eddy waited and waited, pacing the room.

“Hello?” Ed answered on the other line. Just from the loud noises in the background, Eddy knew in an instant that Ed was playing a video game.

“Ed, you gotta meet me at the construction site right now! Where are your parents?”

“Well, Mom is still out and Dad passed out on the couch two hours ago,” Ed responded somewhat uncomfortable.

“Okay, meet me there! Pronto!”

Now, all Eddy had to do was sneak passed, Marie. Like that would be a problem. Unless she was actually going to do her job tonight.

As he descended the stairs, Marie and Kevin’s bickering grew louder. They were in the other room. The TV was on but they weren’t paying any attention to it. They kept the room dark. This was going to be too easy.

“Aw, come on, Marie! Lighten up!” Kevin groaned.

“I said no!”

Eddy didn’t even want to know. He was listened in on one, out of many, of his brother's dates.

Finally, Marie sighed in exasperation. “You know, I saw an ambulance on my way here today.”

Eddy saw Kevin took a swig from a bottle he knew very well. “So?”

“So, maybe Old Man Jonny really did die!”

“Yeah, and the guy is so weird! He was a mental case! Not to mention, evil!”

Again, Marie rolled her eyes, annoyed. She even hugged her legs, sitting at a distance on the couch from Kevin. “Don’t say that! The guy was just misunderstood. He was old.”

“Oh, really, Marie?” Kevin sat up catching her attention. “When I was twelve, I had this bike. Awesome bike. It was so pretty. The chains were rad! And you should have seen the brakes on that thing...”

“Get to the point!” Marie whacked him with a pillow.

“Fine! I could ride that baby for miles. And then one day, it got caught in the grass right over there,” Kevin pointed out the window across the street at the house that was staring back at them.

Marie gently smoothed his face. “Aw, did he take your bike?”

“Yeah, he takes whatever lands on his lawn! But, you know, there were rumors that he didn’t live in that house alone.”

“Who lived with him? Was he married?” Marie asked.

“He had this friend. And everyone knows what he did to him.”

“What? What did he do?” Marie asked crawling forward on the couch in anticipation.

“He killed him... and then he ate him!” Kevin threw himself on Marie to which they trampled off the couch out of sight.

Rolling his eyes, this was a good chance for Eddy to sneak out. As Marie threw Kevin out of the house, Eddy left out the back door.

“Come back when you learn some respect for women!” Marie huffed. 

“What’s her problem?” Kevin took another swig of his drink, swaying as he walked down the pathway.

The house from across the street sat in place, staring at him.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Walking over, Kevin happily stood on the property, trespassing on Jonny’s land. “Hey, I’m on your lawn! What’re you gonna do about it?”

Kevin threw his bottle across the lawn and then ripped up the grass shouting.

Catching his attention, the door to the house opened. In the doorway... his bike!

“Righteous!”

As if he were in hypnosis, Kevin walked right up to the house with this childlike smile on his face. He hadn’t seen his old bike in years. It hadn’t aged a day.

Touching the handles, the happy feeling immediately subsided when Kevin was pulled inside the house, disappearing. 

[seokoloqy]

anything but ghost hunting // myg (m)

pairing: yoongi x y/n

genre: ghost hunter!au but not ghost hunter!au, crack fic

word count: 2.9k

warnings: smut

↳summary: you’ve been teasing him all night and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna have to spend another second sleeping on the floor in some shitty house with the boys.

a/n: I wanted to do something like buzzfeed unsolved (I’m so excited for this new season) but it just became a mess enjoy I guess ~ 

—

“Why exactly did we agree to do this?” You hook your arm around Yoongi’s, trying to hold the bulky camcorder steady as you walk up the rough terrain to the infamous house. The rest of the boys—except Hoseok, who’s dragging his feet—are ahead of you, bounding up the hill eagerly with the rest of their equipment.

“I said we should stay home and eat the Halloween candy, but no,” he drawls, tilting his head back to look at the crescent moon hanging at its peak. “You wanted to come with them.”

He casts you a vengeful look for dragging him along on this goose chase—or should you say—ghost chase. He doesn’t want to spend his Saturday night exploring and sleeping in some decrepit house with a few creaky floorboards and trees that look like bony fingers, but your easily swayed heart was weakened at the sight of a pouting strawberry-haired Jungkook with his camera strap around his wrist and precious video camera in hand.

You convinced Yoongi to go with you because you could see the dark circles under Jungkook’s eyes, the late nights he spends editing and perfecting his Youtube videos have started affecting him. He worked so hard to keep his viewers happy and maintain a constant uploading schedule for them, always aiming to please and never giving himself a second to breathe. But, also, Yoongi was easily swayed by your pouting face as well.

Now seeing the large dilapidated manor in person rising over the hill, you’re beginning to regret your decision to join the adventure as you curl your self closer to Yoongi for protection against the harsh winds. Scarfing down a whole bag of Halloween candy until your sick doesn’t sound too bad right now, better than stepping foot into that nightmare of a building.

Your footsteps gradually slow down into a stop in front of the steps where the rest of the boys are standing on the worn out porch, inspecting the door and how to get in.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared all of a sudden,” Yoongi teases, nudging you closer to the house.

“Never,” your voice wavers, instinctively reaching for Yoongi’s arm again for comfort. “Let’s just get this over with.”

As long as you have Yoongi by your side as a sacrifice to any demon that sneaks up on you, you feel a bit safer in his arms.

It’s Yoongi who drags you up the steps of the house, each step creaks under both your weight. Jungkook has his camera pointed at the door as he explains to his viewers exactly what the plan is for tonight and the rest of the boys standby figuring out how to use the equipment they brought along. Namjoon is holding the spirit box, a device which Jungkook claims to be a way for ghosts to communicate through radio frequencies. When they tested it at the apartment and Hoseok thought he heard a ghost say ‘hello’ through the box, he swore their home was haunted. Yoongi argued there was no real definitive evidence that what Hoseok heard was actually a ghost saying hello and the spirit box was just a waste of money, but you couldn’t deny you thought it said hello too.

You peer through the window, holding up your flashlight at the house which looks as desolate and destroyed as the outside. A few prints of graffiti are painted across the grey walls, mostly nonsensical words, and vulgar drawings. There’s no furniture besides a lone couch in the middle of the living room surrounded by debris.  

“It looks like a crack house,” Taehyung blurts, causing Jimin and Hoseok to burst into fits of giggles. Their laughter replaces the chirping crickets and ominous rustling leaves, causing the atmosphere to become lighter than before.

Seokjin wacks the three boys doubled over in laughter, scolding them for disrespecting the ghosts.

“Come on, guys let’s go already,” an impatient Jungkook tugged on the sleeve of Jimin’s jacket and drags him into the house. The rest of you follow behind closely, trying not to get separated so soon in the house.

The place smells just like it looks, old and shitty. You immediately grimace, gagging into your hand and pinching your nose to get rid of that god-awful stench.

“What the fuck is that smell?” you cough, burying your face into the hood of Yoongi’s sweater. The rest of the boys have a string of profanities to call out when the smell hits them.

“Why couldn’t we have gone to one of those five-star haunted hotels or something? At least they have beds.” Namjoon grumbles, rolling out his sleeping bag onto the floorboards. A flurry of dust and dead leaves kick up as it unravels.  

“No,” Jungkook hisses, tired of all the complaining. “Let’s just split up so we get more footage.”

“Split up?” Hoseok gawks in the middle of laying down his sleeping bag, clearly unhappy with the idea of going off alone. “That’s how you get murdered in every movie.”

After debating back and forth, Jungkook convinces everyone that it will be easier to split up and look through the house in smaller groups. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Taehyung go off to explore the lowest level, while Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jimin are in charge of the second floor. You and Yoongi are assigned to explore the attic, arguably the worst place to have to investigate. You can imagine the number of cobwebs and dust that’s probably been sitting there for decades.

“I can’t believe you lost,” you grumble, following closely behind Yoongi as you ascend the staircase. The game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got what level of the house was played between him, Seokjin and Taehyung. When Taehyung won the first round and claimed the first floor, you prayed Yoongi would win the second round, but when he lost he seemed indifferent to the outcome. Simply turning to you and shrugging as Jimin cheered for his teammate's victory behind him.

“Don’t be so upset, there’s probably nothing in there anyway,” he dismisses, looking for the door that leads to the attic.

“Probably. There could be demons in the attic.”

He gives you a look, rolling his eyes and continues through the empty hall. He opens every door in the hall, finding a bathroom, two empty bedrooms and when you come to the last door at the end there’s a stairway that leads to darkness. You peer over his shoulder with your flashlight in hand, trying to see for yourself what is lying in wait at the top. It isn’t much you can see besides the ceiling, at least there are no bats. The camera clicks on in Yoongi’s hand as he aims it to the stairs, red light blinking in the darkness.

“Let’s go.” He sticks his hand out behind him, letting you grab onto it before going up the rickety stairs. With your hands intertwined together, you feel less worried about the prospects of being surprised by a ghost. Each step you take causes the stair to bend slightly under your weight.

At the top, you shine a light, sweeping across the room. It’s practically empty, except for the bundles of blankets piled in the corner of the room and trash carelessly tossed everywhere. You were right about the cobwebs and dust, it piled in every corner.

“See, nothing here,” Yoongi says, turning the camera on you.

“Yeah, nothing you can see,” you huff, pushing the camera in your face aside. You’re slightly glad there is nothing in the attic to jump out at you but mildly disappointed there isn’t anything remotely exciting either.

There isn’t much to do in the beside stand around and make jokes together. You can hear the other boys stomping around downstairs and occasionally yelping from something unexpected happening. After a few minutes of sitting around with nothing else to explore, you sit on the floor and pull your knees up to your chest, sighing, “I’m bored.”

“Let’s go home then,” he says, pulling the hood of his sweater over his head to protect himself from the cold nipping at his ears.

“No, we promised.”

As much as you’d prefer to go home than stay here in this disease ridden trap house, you don’t want to go back on your word and disappoint Jungkook.

“Can we at least sneak out and sleep in the car? It’s warmer in there.” He tugs the strings of his hoodie to cover his ears.

It’s true the car is warmer and a lot cozier than the house. There is no glass in here to protect the wind from blowing through the windows and not to mention the number of holes in the walls that add to the problem. The floors are cold as well, and hard will no doubt be on your back, it’d be impossible to get a good night sleep.

It’s Yoongi’s turn to pout, hoping you’d fall for it just like you did for Jungkook. That sly bastard has a way of getting anyone to fall for his innocent doe eyes, but Yoongi doesn’t have the same effect on you. You’re used to that look already, having seen it every time he asked for sex and you refused, but the look on his face gives you an idea.

“But I can keep you warm too,” you whisper, as you push yourself up off the floor and press yourself against Yoongi. You teasingly brush your hand against his crotch and he groans, giving you a glare mixed with want and irritation. You grab him through his jeans, feeling him instantly harden under your firm grasp. “Don’t you want that?”

Once his jaw slackens and you know he’s about to let out a breathy moan, you let go and toss your hair back like a teasing school girl and skip out of the attic, leaving him in the dirty attic with his dirty thoughts as you rejoin the group downstairs.

Jungkook has his video camera out and is recording the Ouija board set up on the floor with the rest sitting around it. They make room for you to join in the circle and Yoongi enters a few minutes afterward, hand hovering over his dick while he glares at you and joins as well. He has a pillow over his lap the rest of the night, refusing to get up and participate in the rest of the activities.

By 1 AM everyone tucks themselves into their respective sleeping bags, trying to fall asleep despite the cold and fear of a ghost sneaking up on them. You stuff yourself into sharing one with Yoongi who is still not happy with your earlier antics. He is turned towards you with a pout, and you ignore it, closing your eyes and trying to sleep.

“I’ve had a fucking boner for the past hour, Y/N,” he hisses in your ear and you dismiss him with a soft ‘mhm’.

You’re more focused on sleeping, despite the irritation growing in Yoongi’s voice. He can deal with it himself, you think, interested to see if he’d actually do it.  

Jimin, whose bag is closest to yours, shifts to the other side to block out your conversation the best he can while holding in his giggles. He can hardly contain them, hiding it unsuccessfully behind his hands.

“What are you laughing about?” Seokjin lifts his head up, pushing up his sleeping mask to peer at the boy next to him.

“Nothing,” he coughs, choking back his laughter. He doesn’t want to expose Yoongi and his problem to everyone else. It seems like a personal matter.

“No way, you can’t not tell us!” This time it’s Taehyung sitting up in his sleeping bag, demanding answers.

For another 30 minutes, half of them begin bickering about Jimin’s dirty little secret and the other half beg them to shut up while you and Yoongi keep to yourselves. When they finally settle down and go back to bed, you try and fall asleep as well, shifting uncomfortably on the wooden floor.

The cozy sleeping bag doesn’t give you much room either. Every time you attempt to move, you’re brushing against Yoongi again and reminded of the problem you created earlier. Brushing up against him doesn’t help solve the problem either, only making it worse—prolonging his silent torture.

“Stop moving,” he grunts, trying his best to scoot himself away only to be trapped by the nylon prison.  

“But I’m uncomfortable,” You whine, shuffling closer to him for body heat and purposefully pushing your ass against his cock.

“Then let’s go sleep in the car.” He says through gritted teeth.

It doesn’t take much convincing for you to agree. The padded seats sound much more inviting when you’re laying on hardwood floors and nearly hypothermic, but that’s only part of the reason you want to leave. You’ve been teasing him all night, and once you get to the car who knows what kind of exciting things Yoongi has been planning.

Yoongi unzips the bag and tosses the covers aside, eager to get you back to the car. None of the boys stir in their sleep as you both sneak out through the back.

“This is so much better,” you sigh, sinking into the back seat. Before you’re allowed to shut your eyes for some much-needed rest, Yoongi has your hair in his hands as he pulls you back up for a quick chat.

“You fucking tease,” he snarls in your ear, hastily unzipping his pants with one hand. “Do you see what you’ve done to me?”

You manage to nod despite the tight grip he has on your hair, mouth watering at the sight of his leaking cock sticking out of the waistband of his boxers. This is not how you pictured the night going. You expected stupid ghost stories and being scared by sudden loud noises, instead, you’re sitting in the car at 2 AM about to suck Yoongi off after being a tease the whole night. You can’t say you don’t like the way the night is turning out though.

“So,” he releases your hair, pulling himself out all the way and giving it a few light strokes. He looks at you through hooded eyes, lazily lolling his head to the side. “You gonna put that pretty mouth to work or what?”

The raspiness in his voice sends shutters through you and straight to your core, finally putting your hand on his length, gliding your thumb over the tip.

He releases your neck instantly and you bend over, lips lightly brushing over the head of his cock. And when he lets out a groan, you slowly take him into your mouth, letting your saliva coat his shaft as you go down on him. When you feel him hit the back of your throat, you take the rest of him in your hand, jerking the hand over him.

Hollowing your cheeks, you start off fast and Yoongi threads his fingers through your hair again to guide you up and down his length. He knows how much of him you can take and just how much is enough to have you choking around him. He pushes your head down until he’s hitting the back of your throat over and over.

You gag around him, choking as he goes in too deep.

“You’re so good,” he releases a guttural moan, throwing his head back against the headrest.

The sloppy sounds of your saliva and lips moving around him is so arousing to you, you moan around him as your panties begin to dampen.

The feeling of your moan wrapped around him, has Yoongi shuddering, nearing his climax faster than he anticipated and he bucks his hips into your mouth as you continue. When he finally comes, you swallow every drop of his release, savoring the taste of him. He pulls you off and takes your swollen lips into a heated kiss, tasting himself as your tongue sweeps along his bottom lip.

“Good job,” he praises, pulling away to look into your tired eyes.

You yawn, “Can I go to sleep now?”

He stares at you incredulously, “What? You’re still tired after that?”

You settle your head on his shoulder and cuddle into his side, beat from all your hard work. It’s 2 in the morning and all you really want now is sleep, not dick.

“Yes, now shut up please.”

As you settle comfortably in the steam covered car, sleep takes both of you easily and when the sun rises the next morning in early dawn there’s a tap on the window.

It’s the boys, sleep deprived and disheveled, with their things clutched in their arms. Yoongi doesn’t stir from his rest so you open the door for them, welcoming them back from the house of horrors.

“You guys snuck off in the middle of the night to sleep in the car while we had to sleep on the floor?” Seokjin grumbles, tossing his bag in the back before wrinkling his nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Oh, don’t tell me-” Namjoon starts, rubbing his temples. This is his car, and he really doesn’t want the thought of you and Yoongi stuck in his head every time he drives.

“You guys…” Hoseok gapes, taking a few steps backward to avoid the smell.

“So you guys snuck out in the middle of the night to fuck in the car?” Jungkook exclaims.

The boys all start making jokes about you both being horny teenagers and claiming how unfair it was that you didn’t sleep in the house with them as they pack their things up. Yoongi finally wakes up to argue back that they’re just upset because their backs hurt and they didn’t have any proof of ghosts existing. Jimin, however, says nothing and quietly smirks to himself. Yoongi clearly got exactly what he wanted last night.

[edwardfuckasshands]

We Can Always Come Home

Here it is :v @dbhevents My Secret Santa gift for @birooksun If you absolutely hate it, feel free to tell me and I’ll gladly write you something better.

Pairing: Gavin Reed/RK900 Tropes: Hurt/Comfort. Literally. Wordcount: 4,194 Summary: Gavin gets hurt, and like the man-child he is, he initially refuses help from his nonhuman partner. Ao3 Mirror

"You never fail to surprise me, Detective Reed."

Four hours. Six minutes. Thirty eight seconds.

Not a particularly long period of time. Less than a work day. More than a movie. Just long enough to make almost anyone uncomfortable if they were to sit in place for the entire duration.

It's even less ideal when said person is physically unable to get up and leave.

"I'm meant to adapt to the vast unpredictability of humans, yet I find myself unable to track you down in a reasonable amount of time. My apologies."

"I don't need your pity, tinman."

The rough, strained voice came from a bloodied and half-frozen man that'd been handcuffed to a chain link fence. For four hours and a fistful of minutes he'd been attempting to break free. To call for help. To spit in the eyes of his attacker. Despite his determination to leave, and even in spite of how badly he wanted to beat the hell out of the guy that left him for dead in all the same ways they did to him, he refused to call his partner.

"Hold still. I'll try and make this as painless as possible."

With his hands bound above his head as he sat helplessly in an alley, Gavin Reed didn't have much of a choice. He didn't eat breakfast that day, and after the first blow to his skull, his condition only went downhill. He couldn't stop his attacker from tearing holes in his favorite maroon hoodie or from getting blood all over his jeans. With the way his head swam and his stomach churned, he could barely manage to hurl insults at the toaster he considered his partner.

...Partner.

He used that term loosely.

If you consider an untied knot loose.

"Can you stand?"

"Does it f'cking look like I can?"

Nines, Richard, Conrad... whatever people decided to call the damn thing. He didn't care. Nines stayed out of his way for the most part, kept quiet, and knew how to use a gun. Even if it was just an over glorified Connor clone, Gavin liked him better than the talkative freak.

Maybe ‘liked’ was too strong of a word. Gavin tolerated him at most. Plus, the RK900 model, in Gavin's opinion, looked a lot cooler than its predecessor. For starters, he was taller and had striking silver eyes that worked like a charm when interrogating suspects. And instead of that dopey semi formal outfit you'd expect from Connor, Nines wore a sleek white suit jacket with a fancy high collar. It... still looked kind of dumb, but most androids were pretty stupid looking by default.

"There's a hospital less than two miles from here. I'll-"

"No hospitals."

Nines looked down at the shaking man being carried in his arms like a princess. Even after being beaten and left for dead, he still seemed far too proud to admit he needed help from a machine.

"This isn't the time to let your pride get in the way, Detective."

"Ain't about pride." Gavin glared at Nines to the best of his abilities, though numbness in his face made this difficult. "I can't afford it. Even with my insurance, I'll be in debt until I die."

Nines sighed- a useless action for someone lacking the need to breathe. "Fine. I'll take you home and do what is necessary myself."

"Just leave when we get there. You're not my babysitter."

"No, I'm not-" he briefly repositioned Gavin his its arms so his head could rest comfortably on his shoulder, "-but I may as well be at this point."

Even if Gavin had all his strength, his slaps and punches against Nines would have the same effect on him- that being nothing. Still, Nines didn't particularly enjoy being poked in the optical sensor, so like the manchild he was, Gavin's shivering body had been placed as gently as possible in the back of a police cruiser so he could drive in peace. Ah, but it should have known better. While he no longer had to worry about physical assault, Gavin still managed to run his mouth for the entirety of the trip to his rundown little apartment.

"Shoulda gone faster when you rounded that corner," Gavin said while being scooped back up into Nines' arms. "People on bikes are worth ten points."

"I probably would have if murder wasn't illegal."

"Nothing's illegal if ya don't get caught."

As much as they bickered and joked about each other getting run over or falling into a woodchipper, the two undoubtable had some kind of chemistry together. While it depends on how you look at it, they got along better than they did with anyone else back at the DPD. Nines could handle any of the insults thrown at him and heave them back with twice the speed and burn, all with a nearly deadpan voice. He enjoyed Gavin's gross sense of humor and, at the very least, understood his apathetic outlook on life.

"I'm serious, though. You don't have to stay here and look after me."

"And if I want to?"

"Then you better get to fixin' before I bleed out."

Nines wanted to comment on the fact that he stopped bleeding before he un-cuffed him. Or how he really would be perfectly fine after a simple shower and a warm meal, albeit a bit sore and with a few open wounds. Unfortunately, with Nines essentially being deviant the moment he stepped out of the box, he couldn't comfortably leave a poor, defenseless, injured human all alone. With free will comes responsibility, and sometimes he wished he had neither.

Gavin clutched at his side while Nines sat him on his couch before going off to do whatever the hell he wanted. Did the couch always make such a loud noise when he sat on it? He couldn't remember. He knew his shitty one bedroom open kitchen apartment could use a good cleaning, though. He also knew he didn't have time to do more than clean himself and take out the trash every now and then. Most days he just came home, ate, maybe showered, maybe threw some laundry in the washer or dryer downstairs, and went to bed. This obviously left his residence looking a little sad, perhaps even bordering on depressing.

"I've drawn you a warm bath," Nines said upon returning.

"You're not washing me."

"I'm not. I'm going to be helping you is all."

One cautious trip to the bathroom later, Gavin began to squirm around in Nine's arms. He was a grown man- one who fell asleep with an ice cream bucket on his head once, but a grown man nonetheless.

"If you want me to let you down so badly, then here." Rather coldly, Nines allowed his arms to fall and all but forced him to stand on his own two feet. "I won't get in your way. All I ask is for you to provide proof that you will not die if I leave you alone for five minutes."

"I'm fine, goddammit. Go make yourself useful and clean something, whydont'cha?"

As much of a front he put on, it soon became painfully obvious how badly Gavin required assistance. He couldn't take his hoodie off without lifting his arms, and whenever he tried to do so he took dramatically long pauses in an attempt not to scream. Every muscle in his upper body ached, his ribs were sore, and each breath made him aware of how much effort it took to draw air into his lungs.

"I'll help you if you let me."

"F'ck off."

Gavin gritted his teeth as he grabbed the hem of his hoodie and pulled it up and over, taking his undershirt with him until the fabric tumbled off his bruised skin and onto the floor below. He shot Nines a triumphant smirk, showing it that he didn't need an overpriced ken doll's help. It wasn't easy, and he never wanted to do it again, but he proved the tincan wrong.

"I stand corrected. You didn't need my help after all."

A toothy smile made it way across Gavin's face. "Damn right." Dumb robot. Of course he could do it himself.

"I suppose you have the strength to keep your arms up long enough for proper cleaning."

Shit.

If he didn't want to half-ass his bath, he'd need to really scrub his upper body, which required him to keep his arms elevated for an extended period of time. Hell, he could barely stand on his own two feet for much longer. How did he expect to thoroughly wash up?

"If you're still eager to help and all, I mean- it's not like I need your help, but-"

"I understand, Detective. Things are naturally easier when someone else does them for you."

"Yeah! See, you get me."

Nines assumed things would go far less smoothly and would take a lot more convincing. After all, he'd never seen Gavin so exposed before. Prior knowledge of humans and their obsession with privacy lead him to believe he he'd be a little more... modest.

"I got an order for you," he began as he sat on the edge of the tub. "Don't open your eyes until I say so."

DON'T OPEN YOUR EYES UNTIL I SAY SO

Free will or not, Nines prided in being able to follow instructions to the letter- annoyingly so, most times. He very much had the ability to ignore him and do anything it pleased. If he wanted to, he could leave the DPD, become a fishman and never set foot in Detroit again.

"I won't open them until you tell me to."

However, shadowing a man who would fight a rabid raccoon for a breakfast burrito proved to be far more entertaining than the idea of catching salmon.

After waving his hands in front of Nines' face, Gavin got to work stripping down and setting foot in his bath. He groaned and bitched at his jeans and how his blood made them stick to his legs, thus causing his sore arms to cry in agony as he tugged them off. Thank fuck he worked faster with the incentive of a warm bath to soothe his aching bones.

"You just gonna stand there or what?"

"I hadn't realized you'd gotten in the water already."

"Shit, dude. You got ears, don't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. How nice of you to notice."

"Shut up."

Nines knelt down and fumbled a bit looking for a wash cloth he swore he saw hanging off the side of the tub just a second ago. He wanted to lather it up and get right to scrubbing, though Gavin's various open wounds likely wouldn't agree with such hasty actions. For the time being, he used the damp cloth to gently clean away the blood and anything else sticking to his skin.

"Easy on my back, all right?"

"Understood."

Gavin quickly settled in to the feeling of someone else's hands touching him for the first time in ages. Nines did a fairly decent job not cramming the cloth into any of his cuts, and when said injuries needed to be cleaned next, Nines was incredibly gentle. His fingers traced along his skin to feel where he'd been hurt, and in the process of getting to know him so intimately, Nines discovered he had a few bruised ribs and a distinct lack of any broken bones or internal bleeding, leading him to believe that most of his pain came from general soreness and the various superficial scrapes.

What a drama queen.

"You have impressive muscle definition, Detective."

A wet hand quickly shot up from the water to clamp over Nine's closed eyes, which, for the record, was not a pleasant sensation for either of them. "I told ya not to look!"

DON'T OPEN YOUR EYES UNTIL I SAY SO

"I haven't looked. I'm merely commenting on what I can feel."

At the word ‘feel,’ Nines traced over a seemingly sensitive spot near Gavin's side, eliciting a rather interesting noise from him, the likes of which Nines never heard before. It almost sounded as if he was in pain- the way his heart rate increased indicated as much. Despite this, he didn't quite groan nor did he lash out at Nines for hurting him.

"Sorry. Did that hurt?"

Nines felt Gavin tense up.

"I'm fine-!" In a single swift motion, Gavin pushed him with a considerable amount of force, causing him to fall backwards. "You can open your damn eyes when you shut the door behind you. I'll shout if I need anything."

Nines gave a few adjustments to his suit after leaving the bathroom. What  pain... He was just trying to help. Didn’t he see that?

Even if his words discouraged him some, Nines didn’t want to give up on being helpful just yet. Gavin would have to eat soon lest he risk his health deteriorating any further. What did he even have in that pathetic little fridge? Eggs, milk, butter... Nothing substantial, but it would have to do. He had bread somewhere, didn't he?

"Detective?" Nines knocked on the bathroom door with a free hand while the other daintily held a plate in its palm. "I made you something to eat."

The sound of frantic footsteps and rummaging through fabric rumbled on the other side. "Gimme a minute! Can't a guy get dressed in peace?"

"I'll leave this on the kitchen table, then."

"Wait, wait-" Gavin leaned against the door, causing a soft thud to resonate through it, "-uhhh can you put it on the little table in front of the couch? I don't... I don't really eat in the kitchen."

"All right. It will be here when you get out."

But what table was he talking about? He didn't have a coffee table or ottoman or... anything. Just a rundown grey couch big enough for one person to sleep on if need be. Upon closer inspection of it, leaning against on of the arms was a wooden TV tray; a simple, single-person table.

It's better than seeing him eat off the creaky hardwood floor.

Probably.

"You really went through the trouble to cook for me?"

Gavin emerged from the bathroom looking less like a greasy, bloodied weasel and more like his regular weasel self. He donned put on a less torn-up set of jeans and hoodie, and while they didn't appear clean enough to look straight from the dryer, they contained minimal holes and no visible blood.

"Of course. You haven't eaten in quite some time-" he stepped out of the way, giving Gavin room to sit down and eat, then sat beside him, "-and if memory serves correctly, all you had for breakfast was a stale bagel and a cup of black coffee."

"Yeah. Well, not all of us get our daily bread from that soylent blue stuff you suck down."

Nines remained silent as Gavin took his first few bites. The warm, sweet smell coming from his plate was unlike anything he ever experienced before. Even after downloading a cooking program and learning how French toast should look and smell in theory, being around it firsthand was an entirely different experience.

"Why you starin' like that?" Gavin asked prior to swallowing a bite of breakfast-for-lunch. "Don't tell me you're hungry."

"Physically, no. But I would be lying if I said I didn't want to try it."

Gavin furrowed his brow. "You didn't taste it before you served it?"

"There's no need since I followed a highly rated online recipe to the T."

A strong sense of... something... tightened itself into a knot in Gavin's chest. What the hell was it? It felt like guilt, just slightly to the left and upside down.

Setting down his fork, he gestured towards the plate. "You can just... go ahead and taste it if ya want. Not like you got any germs I gotta worry about. And, I mean you made it and all, so..."

His gesture, while flattering, didn't suit him at all. Where was the man who'd rather shovel the rest of the food in his mouth before sharing it with an android? Not sitting beside Nines, apparently.

"Either have some before it gets cold or f'ck off."

Ah. He didn't leave after all.

Oddly enough, the maple syrup drizzled and smeared over the ceramic plate caught Nines’ eye over everything else. What an odd concept- pouring what is essentially liquid sugar over your food. As if humans needed any more sugar in their diets, what with it lacing basically anything that isn't fresh vegetables.

"Yes. Of course." Nines scooched in close enough to touch Gavin by simply leaning an inch or so to his left. By doing so, he just so happened to notice a bit of the aforementioned syrup clinging to the corner of his mouth. At first, Nines thought nothing of this. Humans are imperfect and bound to make mistakes.

Then the theoretical lightbulb over his head couldn't have burned any brighter.

Nines grabbed ahold of Gavin's chin with enough force to move him but enough slack for him to pull away if he so desired. He briefly looked into his eyes, searching for signs of hesitation or fury, and after finding none, his own closed as he leaned in to decisively lick the corner of his mouth. The overwhelming amount of sugar from the syrup and rough stubble of his beard proved to be a unique and completely new set of sensations, and along with this new set of information he quickly found himself craving more than a lick.

Like a deer caught in headlights, Gavin froze completely up. Being touched so suddenly was one thing. Having someone like Nines behave tenderly... He didn't know what to make of it. His face burned and his heart pounded against his sore ribs. This just couldn't be happening. There's no way Nines licked his damn face. No way Gavin didn't immediately shove him off the couch and beat him with one of the cushions. No fucking way Gavin closed the distance between him and a machine until their lips were one word away from properly touching. Surely, he wouldn't be so desperate for physical affection that he'd resort to getting it from his non-human work partner.

And yet.

"You're dangerously close," Nines commented in a deep, whisper-like tone. Half-lidded eyes wandered down to Gavin's lips, hesitated, then slowly made their way back to meet his gaze. "I can back away if you're uncomfortable."

Gavin wanted to be smooth and reach up to grab the back of Nines' head or at least his neck or shoulder. With his arms in the condition they were, he hardly managed to weakly grasp at the front of his coat.

"Are you trying to push me away or pull me in?" The question fell sarcastically from his lips much like the puzzle of Gavin Reed fell into place. The noise he made after being touched, his constant insistence on being near Nines, the fact that he hadn't begged for a replacement or for him to continue his work alone all painted the most hypocritical of pictures.

Not letting go of his head, Nines dragged a finger along his jawline, earning himself the sight of his jaw clenching. "I may already know the answer, but I digress. I find myself unable to take any further action without your permission."

Gavin swallowed hard. His throat hurt. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest. The majority of his body felt as if it may spontaneously combust. What the fuck. He couldn't. He wanted to. Damn did he want to. More than anything.

"...I see. I apologize for misreading the situation."

And God help anyone or anything that got in the way of what he wanted.

Nines assumed Gavin didn't have the energy to properly turn him down. Maybe his pride got the better of him. Maybe Nines completely misunderstood his body language. No matter the case, he didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Even the least respectable of people have the basic right of personal space.

The very moment Nines backed away was the instant a shot of sheer determination ran through Gavin’s veins. In spite of the pain, he powered through it long enough to drag Nines forward until their heads nearly collided. He still couldn't reach the back of his neck like he aimed for, but he had a fairly decent grip on his shoulder, which turned out to be all he needed.

A sharp tug yanked Nines forward and he felt Gavin groan against his mouth in striking detail amidst a somewhat messy though not unwanted kiss. A momentary pang of pity stabbed him in the chest only to be rapidly washed away by his melting thoughts. He expected things to be a lot more rough- perhaps a bit of biting or being pushed up against the nearest surface that'd hold his weight. However, Gavin treated him with the same patience and gentle touch that'd been tending to him all afternoon.

Any and all pain floated outside Gavin's body just long enough for him to take everything in. From Nines' shoulder, a hand trailed up the side of his head and ran through short, tidy hair. He allowed his mind to cloud with lukewarm static as the remaining dead air between them grew smaller and smaller.

Nines nearly collapsed into his lap with as close as Gavin insisted on them being to one another. He snaked an arm around him in an attempt to keep him from falling onto his back, thus preventing any future bitching about how much it hurt to stay upright. Speaking of staying upright, Nines himself had trouble doing just that. He nearly slipped into him twice, and the moment his body decided to relax, his mind soon followed, which lead to quite a few unique thoughts popping up. Consequently, said thoughts caused both his mind and mouth to wander in places they arguably didn't belong. Lips steadily moved away from Gavin's, then took their sweet time kissing along his scruffy jaw and finally down to his neck. His head interfered with the latter, so like any sensible android, he used his free hand to tilt it and give him more room to work with.

Gavin kept shifting his weight around and making these... sounds. These soft, out of character grunts and hums that progressively became louder. His mind struggled to claw any sense of semblance together and found nothing amongst the haze of his flushed skin and the android exploring it with his mouth.

"Detective."

Air caught in his throat as the sound of a familiar, dominant voice brushed past his ear. Gavin's eyes fluttered open to see Nines pull away and stare him down with that striking silver gaze of his.

"Your temperature has increased substantially."

"Oh yeah?" The crack in his voice failed to keep his sarcasm is check. "Gee, I wonder why."

Gavin could have sworn he saw Nines smile and heard him let out the faintest laugh through his nose. If his temperature was high before, it certainly wouldn't be going down any time soon.

"Are you all right, Gavin? Were my actions too straightforward?"

Gavin.

Nines rarely ever used his first name, and when he did, the situation usually turned out to be far more serious. Gavin, don't do that or you'll get shot. Gavin, I warned you about this. He always said it in that stern, cold voice of his as well. Yet way he spoke to him on the couch didn't give of the impression of Nines being upset or annoyed in the least.

"I'm fine. Jus-" he held his abdomen and momentarily gritted his teeth "-tired and sore as shit."

Nines' LED swirled yellow. What a hassle to be able to feel pain. And what an almost equal hassle to empathize with those who suffer.

"I can carry you to bed if you'd like to rest up."

A pause.

"Yeah. Sure. Do what you want."

Bridal-style had been deemed Gavin's choice mode of transport as of late. He could easily hold onto Nines for extra support, and with him being in such a compact position, relocating him became easy as walking. But first things first, Nines needed to pull him into his arms before he could stand. Getting up first would only complicate things. So for a brief time, Gavin sat snuggly in his lap.

"Is it okay for me to stand now? Detective Reed?"

Apparently, being cradled in someone's arms while simultaneously having no energy left is the perfect recipe for even the most stubborn of men to fall asleep. Gavin's head rested comfortably up against his shoulder, and he could easily hear his deep, relaxed breathing. He failed ro recall having ever seen Gavin look so comfortable- and in the clutches of an android, no less. If he were more of the emotional type, he would have felt more joy from the smidge of pride welling up inside him.

Though he still managed to smile.

"As always, you are excellent at keeping me on my toes."