#been a bit manic lately with my sister moving out

[withclawandvine]

‘tis the damn season my friends. and what do you know, i actually have something to share this year, it’s a christmas  elriel month miracle! so without further ado, allow me to present—

elriel month, week 1: shy glances & restricted touches

summary: elain and azriel share a dance at nesta and cassian’s mating ceremony 

tags: post-acosf, established relationship (they worked things out ok), forbidden love, meddling sisters, feyre being a busybody and rhys being a pill  wc: 2.1k

read on ao3 here! 

While decorated every bit as ostentatiously as Nesta had promised, the ceremony itself had been small and intimate. The same was true for the celebration that came after. The structure at the heart of Rhysand’s gardens shone like a beacon against the darkening sky. To call it a tent would be doing it a disservice. Although the walls were made of sheer, breezy fabric, the space was as grand as any ballroom. The cobblestone paths were lined with faelights, all winding their way through flora and statues, leading up to the large fountain at its center. The water itself seemed to glow, the streams reflecting the light of the candles floating in the water. Faelights and flowers hung above, moving with the waves of fabric high above everyone’s heads. 

Despite knowing mostly everyone, Azriel was standing alone, quietly uncomfortable. He sipped his sparkling wine out of a gilded flute, as close to the corner of the space as he could get without getting his wings tangled up in the gossamer panels.

And he was watching Elain. 

He watched her through windows and over dining tables. Across ballrooms. The place didn’t matter. Azriel’s eyes could pick Elain out of any crowd, bring her to the foreground of any landscape. She was hardly more than a blur of lilac chiffon and bronze curls as Cassian whipped her around and around and around. Petals fell out of the laurel around her head, getting whisked around her by the moving air, as if they were dancing with her. Elain’s laugh was breathless and manic—Azriel shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the music and the conversation. But he could. 

When the music slowed to a stop, Elain stumbled out of Cassian’s grasp and into a wobbly curtsy. She wasn’t looking at Azriel when that grin stretched across her face, but he felt his own lips twitch in response. A near smile, small and involuntary. 

A shadow curled around his ear, whispering. Azriel schooled his expression back into neutrality, but it was too late, because when he looked to where the shadow had indicated, Feyre was already looking from him to the dancefloor. Her brows flicked up at him as she took another sip of wine. Azriel looked away. Busybody. 

But his shadows restlessly tugged at him, urging his attention back to Feyre. Azriel’s stomach dropped at the sight of his High Lady weaving through the small crowd toward him. Azriel debated melting into his shadows, and as if reading the decision on his face, Feyre disappeared. Within a blink, she was standing right beside him. Her posture deceptively casual, arms crossed and a hip popped. 

She angled her chin to look up at him, eyes dancing. “I’m sure she’d say yes if you asked.”  

As if asking was even an option. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Azriel said, not looking at Feyre, but rather at Rhys’s approaching figure. There was no doubt the bastard had been poking around in Feyre’s mind. She tended to let her guard down when spirits were involved. 

Feyre rose a brow. “You’d think that half a millenia of experience would make you a better liar, Az.” 

Rhys stopped behind Feyre, encircling her in his arms. They both relaxed into one another, making it impossible to tell who was supporting who. Rhys playfully chided, “Leave the poor man be, Feyre darling.”  

“Why? So he can brood alone in the corner?” 

Azriel wished it had merely been a joke at his expense. He looked to Rhys, all but pleading with him to pretend it had been. But the High Lord had straightened, and was regarding Feyre with a slight frown when he answered her question, as if it had been in earnest, “Need I remind you that Lucien—Elain’s mate—is here?”  

Azriel felt himself flinch at the word, but Feyre was utterly unmoved. She rolled her eyes, turning to face her mate.  “She’s already danced with Cassian.” 

“That’s different,” Rhys said stiffly. “We’re at his wedding.” 

Feyre took a step closer to her mate. Her voice was low and serious, “They haven’t spoken all night. All year, even.” 

 Rhys looked ready to argue, but Azriel cleared his throat. “Do I need to be a part of this conversation, or may I find another corner to brood alone in?” 

Feyre at least had the decency to blush, but it didn’t stop her from answering him, “No, you may not. It’s my sister’s wedding and as your High Lady, I order you to at least act like you’re having a good time.” 

Azriel was tiring of being ordered to do things. 

“I am having a good time.” 

Feyre rolled her eyes at his flat tone, but instead of calling him out on another lie, she grabbed him by the elbow, and grinned up at him, “Then let’s make it a great time.” 

She started walking without any agreement from Azriel, and before Rhys could make another argument. Although he did have enough time to level a warning glare over Feyre’s head. Azriel met it blankly, and allowed himself to be escorted—or rather, dragged—across the floor.

Elain was still breathing heavily and fanning herself when they approached her at the refreshment table. Her eyes widened when she noticed them, darting between Feyre and Azriel a few times before she seemed to remember the drink she was pouring. Another second and the glass would have overflowed. 

“Feyre!” She greeted her sister cheerily, before turning to him, as if he were an afterthought, “Azriel.” 

Feeling Feyre’s keen eyes on him, Azriel kept his response equally bland, dipping his chin in a polite nod. 

“Azriel was just telling me how much he wanted to dance.” Feyre lied, about as convincingly as he had to her. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. 

“Is that where you’re headed?” Elain asked. She was much better at this than Azriel. “Try not to step on his toes too much.” 

Feyre graced her sister with an obscene gesture, but was smiling when she continued, “He won’t have to worry about me or his feet, because I told him you’d be happy to accompany him.” 

“Did you see the way Cassian was spinning me? I might lose my meal if I go for another so soon,” Elain deflected, polite as anything. 

“Azriel is a gentleman,” Feyre said, simultaneously reassuring and dismissive, as she took her sister by the wrist. 

He barely had time to wince apologetically behind Feyre as she all but tossed Elain into him. And as they took to the floor, Azriel saw Feyre out of the corner of his eye, looking like the cat who got the cream, before she winked out of existence. Azriel did a double-take, looking again to to spot she’d disappeared from. 

A shadow nudged his attention to the string quartet, and Feyre, talking to the violinist. He watched the musician nod with a smile before signaling to her band. The strings sighed through the room, a slow, tender melody. 

Azriel couldn’t decide if Feyre was trying to help him or punish him. 

Elain’s face was still flushed from her wild dance with Cassian, and the front pieces of her hair had come loose. All he wanted was to tuck it behind her ear and let his fingers linger. Instead, he reached for her hand. The other hovered over her waist, touching only the fabric of her skirts that fluttered with each step. The music flowed, but they were a branch caught in an eddy—stiffly spinning, every step jerking and awkward and so unlike the easy, fluid movements of the other couples around them. Nothing about this was easy. 

Azriel struggled to look at Elain while she was regarding him with carefully polite indifference, and with imitating the expression himself. Especially as her hand gradually traveled from his shoulder to the back of his neck, drawing herself infinitesimally closer. Her thumb gently stroked the sliver of exposed skin just above his collar. The gesture—undetectable through the shadows that clung to him like smoke—was small, but it sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes fell closed, indulging in it. 

With everything else blocked out, it was tempting to pretend it was just the two of them. That they were swaying to a music box's tune in low lamplight, no steps to count or guests to sidestep. No High Lord, who would almost certainly be suspicious Azriel was using his shadows to obscure something forbidden. Coming back to himself, Azriel banished the shadows and took half a step back, nearly out of her range. Cool air replaced her touch on his neck as her hand slipped to his bicep. 

The lovely veneer of Elain’s face—her mask—fell. Azriel could read the anger and frustration in the twitch of her jaw, and the resigned understanding in her eyes. Those eyes, impossibly expressive and rich as freshly-tilled earth. Sometimes, looking into them felt like being buried alive. 

He managed to break her gaze, only to find himself looking instead at Feyre, engaged in conversation with Lucien Vanserra. Azriel almost had to admire the craftiness of his High Lady, even if he knew it was in vain. 

This waltz would lead nowhere, and Vanserra was far from distracted. Azriel didn't want to look at him, either—he was all too familiar with the shadow looming in the Autumn prince's remaining eye. He too knew the ache of longing; it crept up in him even now. 

His hand was on the small of her back, but in the way that mattered, Elain was out of his reach. Less distance, more time—there was always something to long for, some part of her he couldn’t have. Even the warm pressure of her hand in his was dulled by his damaged nerves. Her voice was distant, too, as they talked about the food and how much Cassian cried during his vows. Dull, safe topics that could be overheard by anyone. Until there was nothing left to comment idly on, and silence stretched between them, tight as a bowstring. Azriel’s eyes drifted up to the heavens for help. Or at least some inspiration. He marveled at how he could have everything and nothing to say, all at once. The stars were hidden by gauzy panels of fabric, swooping overhead, decorated with the elaborate floral garlands Elain had spent the last few days constructing. 

“The flowers are beautiful.” He’d already said as much, while he watched her work on them late into the night. But she still beamed at him. 

“I should hope so, after all that work,” she said. “I don't think I'll ever get the smell of gardenias off my hands.” 

Azriel lifted a brow, painting an expression of skepticism as he drew their joined hands in. Adjusting his grip so her hand covered his, he pressed his nose gently to her knuckles, his lips brushing her skin as he inhaled. Elain smiled. Her fingers unfurled, smoothing over his cheek and until his face was cradled in her open palm. Azriel leaned into it, kissing the delicate skin of the inside of her wrist. She was warm and soft and definitely smelled faintly of gardenias. His hand covered hers, holding it against his cheek. 

The hair on the back of his neck prickled with the chill of his shadows coming back to him, unbidden, as they did when there was danger. He’s coming. In the same breath, Elain went completely still, except for her heart. Azriel felt her pulse quicken against his bottom lip right before she snatched her hand away. With a vise-like grip on his hand, Elain hauled them back into a proper waltz for all of six counts before Rhysand tapped him on the shoulder. 

His drawl was charming as ever, but his eyes were cold as he said, “Mind if I cut in?” 

It wasn’t really a question, so Azriel didn’t answer. He merely stepped away, ducking into a cursory bow. Elain’s curtsy was smooth and elegant, but her eyes were on Rhys. He was smiling at her, all of his fury banished from his countenance. “After seeing you with my brothers, I must confess I’m starting to feel a little left out.” 

Elain’s returning smile was so lovely, it was almost impossible to tell that it didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” 

Rhys offered his elbow, and Elain's fingers had barely brushed his sleeve before he was whisking her away, further into the crowd of revelers. She knew better than to look back, but Azriel’s eyes followed her until he was left staring blankly at gap the High Lord of the Night Court had left in their wake.

[darkwaveho]

What do you think would happen if Anastasia got hurt of kidnapped by one of Natasha’s enemies?

-Sorry, this is hella late I also kinda went off tangent a bit and I haven't written anything in a while so hopefully this is okay.💜

Damage control/Mini burden masterlist

Oh man... First off whoever kidnaps those two crazy lesbians' daughter has a death wish. Obviously, Natasha wouldn’t be the only one furious about it, but I think it would also cause R to revert back to her violent tendencies and after she’s controlled more of her saddened emotions, she shifts gears and basically takes lead in finding their daughter.

When they do find Anastasia her face is stained with dry tears and her school uniform is dirty. What sets R off is the scrape on Anastasia’s knee and the dirt one grime on her uniform, clearly signs of struggle and that her daughter was fighting. When Natasha sees the state of her daughter’s appearance it burns a different kind of fire within her. Sure, she’s been mad, unhinged and manic plenty of times, but this motherly rage was on another level. When you both seem to calm Anastasia down you lead her out of the unfamiliar basement and guiding her into the arms of her aunt. “Take her home and do not leave her out of your sight! We’ll be back late.” Is all you say as you kiss Anastasia’s cheek once more before turning around and going back into the soon to be dead man’s house. Natasha only gives her sister a look that doesn’t need words, they do that often, having conversations without even uttering a word. Natasha knows Yelena wants to stay and have a turn with this incredibly stupid man who thought he was brave enough to kidnap her niece. With a subtle shake of her head Natasha prompts Yelena to finally get into the car and take Anastasia home, where it’s safe. You and Natasha both know that there will be a serious conversation later on about the school’s safety and whether or not Anastasia should be homeschooled.

It’s not enough that you tortured the man here in what you assume to be his home, no you tell Natasha’s men to put him in the trunk of the car and bring him to Natasha’s warehouse. It's no secret that you liked to drag things out and Natasha was more of a get in, get out, and get it done type but in this instance, she doesn’t dare protest against you. Also, the fact that she likes seeing you take lead whenever mob activities present themselves. the torture seems to go on for hours.

Like one of the main torture methods Natasha and R use is making things into a game/ competition...most of the time. since this one is drawled out, I think Natasha and R would say something like. "Let's see who can pull his teeth out the fastest."

or the play tic tac toe on his skin and argue about who gets to be X's and who gets to be O's. "That's not fair, Tash you know I like being O's." you show your displeased emotion clear as day, but it does nothing for Natasha to relent and giving you what you want. Natasha was set on being O's Because everyone knows that it gives you more access to go deeper into flesh.

After hours of torture, you and Natasha gave the man a slight break not for his benefit but simply because Natasha realized you haven't eaten anything since this morning, so she had to practically drag you away from the man and demand that you eat something. Now feeling refreshed you and Natasha wait patiently as the man regains consciousness. After his eyesight is more focused and he's aware of his unfamiliar surroundings he panics internally but the tingling sensation he feels in his face made his heart drop. “What did you do to my face?!” he tries to touch his cheek as the restraint fight against that action. “Why can’t I feel my face?? What the fuck did you do to me.”

“See, and here I thought you would be grateful for numbing your face...You'll wished you thanked me for numbing it in a few minutes though.” You give the man an exhausted sigh as you move around the cold and empty concrete room.

“Tash told me not to, but I told her it takes the fun out of things.” You look over your shoulder towards Natasha flashing an "I told you so." look before turn back to the beaten and battered man with a small mirror that you place in front of his face. the soft gasp of air as a result of seeing his unrecognizable face made you gloat. Natasha takes calculated steps toward the seated man and in swift movements her pocketknife was out and if you blinked you missed her fast and precise movements with the edge of the knife. she starts off with basic attacks she wants to build up the man's fear. it's not until she's aware anastatic wearing off that she finally let's go. Natasha doesn't hold back her anger and frustration. she blocks out the loud screams and pleas for forgiveness. Each time a splatter of blood leaks from his body it rewards her. At the end Natasha contemplated letting him go so he could return to whoever told him to stupidly kidnap her child and hurt her in the process, but she thought if someone else was stupid enough to kidnap her child and live to talk about it then she wasn't doing her job. When you both got through with him it'll be like he never existed, no one would remember and if someone did ask around about him then that was for sure going to be the next target of interest. Everyone will know not to fuck with the Romanoffs.

[notafossil]

.

[wallflowerimagines]

I love your writing so much, it's very great! Anyways, can you make one with the lords with a s/o who can see ghosts, but everytime they see one they tensed up ? Thanks alot! <3 <3 <3

In a horror game???? With a horror villain s/o?????

Anon, you are so brave 😔✊ let's get spooky.

Alcina Dimitrescu

There are SO many ghosts in Castle Dimitrescu. And they're all so LOUD.

The majority seem to be victims of House Dimitrescu. All of them drift through the air, drained and skeletal, eyes sightless, and they just wail non stop. The wailing itself is actually kind of a lower volume, but because there are so many ghosts around, the sound layers and echoes through the space until you can barely hear yourself think.

They remind you of jellyfish in a way. They just aimlessly drift through the air, clothes billowing around them, sliding through the walls. Constantly screaming.

You actually prefer the ghosts of the victims of the Cadou experiments. They might be horrible, shuffling abominations of flesh and oozing blood, but at least they're quiet.

Alcina notices you flinch without any kind of visible stimulus, and immediately gets suspicious. She pulls you into a room and demands an explanation of your behavior.

If there is a problem, she's going to fix it.

When you tell her about the ghosts, her lips press into a fine line. You mean to tell her that these worthless wastes of space are crowding her halls, polluting her home even after their death?

They dare to not only crowd the noble house of Dimitrescu under her nose for years, but they're bothering you while they do it?

Yeah, Alcina is Furious.

She gets a couple exorcists on Retainer. Every month or so, priests of various religions are paraded through the house and cleanse the place from top to bottom. She has you follow them around and check their work, too. If any of them happen to be charlatans, they'll just join the horde of ghosts. No skin off her nose.

It is a little annoying that she has to hire even more people to clean up the mess in her Castle, but Alcina is a highborn lady. Any kind of clutter (living or dead) is unacceptable. Her home should be pristine.

Besides, her favorite reward is seeing you fall asleep in her arms, entirely peaceful. You had been so obviously stressed by the situation. It's such a relief to have you relaxed and calm once again.

Donna Beneviento

When Donna finds out you can see ghosts, she gets a bit ...manic.

This is a woman who lost her entire family, and is unable to deal with grief in a healthy way. She's constantly in mourning garb, and her veil rarely comes off. Hell, her grief was the catalyst for her current hobby-- which is what turned it into a hyperfixation.

I'm not going to lie to you, this revelation puts your relationship on pause. She's going to use you to get what she wants, and she wants her family back.

Donna pulls out all the family photo albums and portraits. She coaches you on her mother's laugh, her father's focused expression. She gets the projector and plays you home movies to show you how they walk and talk. Anything she can show you to help identify the ghosts of her family, she does it.

If you tense up, Donna gets so excited. Is it someone she knew? Her sister, maybe?

Unfortunately, most of the ghosts around are Donna's victims. They huddle in the corners of her home, rocking back and forth in terror, clawing at the walls in a futile attempt to escape whatever horror they've been eternally trapped in.

Sometimes, at night, you hear soft whimpers and scratches at your door...

If there is a ghost that isn't a member of her family around, Donna gets frustrated with it. She will banish any ghost that isn't a member of her family, or a member of the previous staff that could help them in the afterlife.

Eventually you need to sit her down and have a serious conversation with her. You're not something she can use to connect to her family. You might be willing to help, but all she's done lately is treat you like an object, not a partner. It has to stop.

It's the wake up call Donna needs. You both hold each other and cry for a long time, because the last thing she ever wanted to do is hurt you, but... She misses them. So much.

You still look for their ghosts for her, still tense in the hallway, but Donna stops asking you to describe them to her. She trusts you to tell her if they look familiar now. She can be patient.

Salvatore Moreau

Fish man might have been a doctor once, but he is a Small Town Doctor from a small fishing Hamlet. I don't care how much "logic" and "reason" you might think he has. This man is SUPER-fucking-STICIOUS.

Salt over your shoulder, four leaf clover carrying, fear of curse having man DOES NOT LIKE the idea of being haunted.

The ghosts of the reservoir are extra spooky too. Some of them are mid-mutation from the failed Cadou experiments...But the drowning victims are more common.

There aren't many ghosts around, but when they do appear, they're bloated, skin slipping off their bones, clothes dissolving around them as they glide through the air. They move much slower than other ghosts too, like the fact that they died in the water has permanently trapped them in that state.

If you tense up out of nowhere, Moreau does too.

What did you see?? Are they close?? Do they look bound to an object??

Salvatore will turn into his giant fish form and yeet anything that you might feel to be haunted over the mountain range. He takes no chances with that shit.

You two both are regular customers of the Duke's specifically for new exorcism methods. The Duke doesn't scam you guys either-- he provides candles, scriptures, holy water, perfumes, all of it works to keep the spirits at bay.

You and Moreau will walk around the reservoir, on guard for any hauntings, and clean up any area that might possibly have a ghost attached to it. It's a incredibly weird and very niche bonding experience.

By the end of the day, the reservoir is the least haunted place in the whole Village. Just how you and Salvatore like it.

Karl Heisenberg

Eat my ass, spirits

Heisenberg is not afraid of ghosts. He actually makes fun of you a little bit for even believing in them, until he sees you tense up out of the blue.

He trusts you enough to know you're not lying to him, so he knows that you are seeing something. He just doesn't know if they're really ghosts.

There aren't as many ghosts in the factory as there are at the Castle, but there is still quite a few.

A lot of them are missing limbs, unsurprisingly. They gasp and scramble around, eyes (if they are even there) bulging out of rotting faces as they scan the surrounding area for their missing pieces. They scuttle around like spiders up and through the walls, poking their heads into random rooms and constantly searching for something, anything to make them whole.

The worst thing about them is that they ALL scream when they see Heisenberg. It's not even a wail like from a normal ghost-- this is a full on shriek of rage and grief. They know who he is. They know what he's done. And they can't do anything about it.

Is it any wonder that you tense up all the time?

After you describe the ghosts in more detail to your partner, Heisenberg sets his jaw, gets pissed, and finds a way to exorcise the lot of them. While he can't see them, you can, and they might make you think less of him. He can't have that.

Plus, they're obviously bothering you. Karl does not tolerate some dumb spirits harassing his partner. If he has to nail a couple crucifixes to the wall and get a spray bottle of holy water, he will.

He also sees if he can kill his victims in an isolated section of the factory. Maybe having one specific room might limit the range on these things? It also makes for easier clean up.

[ca-8]

Yakko x Reader Scenario: When You First Meet

'This is it. The beginning of the end.' 

Gripping on the straps of her backpack, (Y/n) exited the bus and stared up at the water tower that displayed the famous Warner Bros. logo. As expected, it emitted a smug aura onto the entire area; however, surprisingly, there was a slight twinge of mystery to it as well. But she didn't have time to ponder about it, so she only gave it an uneasy look and headed straight for the entrance.

Her heart stopped. She knew the place was going to be busy, but it was like an entire New York City packed in one section! So many writers, producers, actors, large men carrying heavy sets, every type of person working in film was scattered all over the place. It was like an ocean, with the people as marine life doing what they're designed to do, and (Y/n) being the puppy that was abandoned at sea.

The moment it all settled in, an involuntary realization invaded her thoughts. 'I don't belong here.'

The young girl reminded herself to breathe and rushed over to a vacant wall, then pulled out her phone. She had already sent her mother about a thousand messages telling her she was here, but since she hasn't responded, a few more shouldn't hurt. Fingers rapidly typing away, she bit her lower lip, already wishing she had stayed on that bus. 

"Oh, you're just gonna love it!" Her mother's squealing voice had already filled her skull. "You're so talented, I know you're gonna fit right in."

'Yeah, standing around all day with a bunch of people I don't know while doing something I suck at is exactly how I wanna spend my summer.' She let out a soft sigh. 'It's fine. Just shut up and make her happy, (Y/n).'

Several attempts of calling and texting later, no response. (Y/n) sighed again, and her eyes wandered over to the bustling crowd. 'No way. Absolutely no way.' But if she wanted to get the day over with, absolutely yes way.

First, she walked up to a lady looking down at the clipboard in her hands. "Um, excuse me," (Y/n) said. 

The lady's head snatched up. "KYLE!" she yelled, her eyes now ablaze with fury, "YOU IDIOT! THAT GOES IN THE WAREHOUSE ACROSS THE STUDIO!" And like there was nothing but a breeze behind her, the lady stomped off to the poor soul that had to face her wrath.

The breeze took a step back and ran around the corner. 'Maybe I'll find someone else instead…!' (Y/n) stopped and spotted a man sitting on the steps that lead to the entrance of a small building. She swallowed whatever was left in her mouth and reluctantly approached him. 

"E-Excuse me, sir?" she stuttered, hoping her voice was louder than the last time. As she got closer, (Y/n) noticed he was chuckling, and his gaze was glued onto a small piece of paper. 

"I...I did it…!" he said. She yelped and shrinked back when he suddenly jumped to his feet. "I FINALLY DID IT! WE'LL SEE WHO'S REGRETTING THE DIVORCE NOW, MARGARET!" And with a manic laugh, the man dashed into the building. 

'...Or maybe I'll just find it myself.'

It wasn't too long before (Y/n) got herself lost. Despite the help of maps that were stuck to some of the buildings, all of them seemed exactly the same. It was like a maze, and with each passing minute, she was more and more convinced that there was no finish line. Even worse, her mother was too busy to respond to anything she sent her. 

'Oh, what should I do?' (Y/n) thought for the thousandth time. No matter how hard she pinched or held them, her arms refused to stop trembling. Not too long ago, the outside of the studio became deserted and she'd hate to walk in a warehouse and possibly interrupt something important, so asking for help again was out of the question.

...Or, perhaps it wasn't. 

A tiny, hopeful smile crossed (Y/n)'s face when she heard the sounds of frustrated grunts around the corner. It was the first time she was so relieved to see a stranger. 

And thank god that stranger was a security guard. Though she wondered why he had a giant net in his hand, she shoved the curiosity as far in the back of her mind as she could and reached up to gently tap his shoulder. 

"Um, excuse me sir?" she asked as loud as she could. 

His head whipped around, revealing angry eyes and a scowl that said he was ready to kill. But right as his gaze landed on her, it changed within an instant. 

"Oh, hello!" he said with a bright smile. 

(Y/n) blinked, cocking her head. ‘What was this guy up to?’

"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where (M/n) (L/n) is filming? I'm her daughter, (Y/n), and I'm trying to look for her. She's not answering her phone either."

His joyful expression slowly melted into a confused one. "Uuhhh…(M/n) (L/n)?”

“Yes. She’s a part of Animal Kingdom? Do you know where that’s being filmed?”

“Oh! I know there’s a zoo around here called Animal Kingdom! I don’t think you’ll find it in a film studio, though.”

(Y/n) frowned. “...No, I mean the show. Aren’t they filming in a warehouse today? Do you know where that is?”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

Her eye twitched, and she was just about ready to drown the entire studio in the nearest ocean. “N-Nevermind, I’ll just-”

As if the universe wasn’t satisfied with tormenting her enough, the security guard suddenly launched up into the air and flew into the sky. Right before her eyes, the heavens were coated with explosives of every color that ever existed. 

“Oh my god!” (Y/n) yelled. ‘Who strapped fireworks on that guy?!’

“Oh, I knew you’d love it!”

Her eyes were ripped from the loud fireworks show as she was immediately smothered in a hug. “It’s so nice that another girl’s here! All the other ones here are either too busy or just keep shouting about a restraining order for some reason. I dunno, but anyway, I just know you're gonna love it here! Anyway, my name’s Princess Angelina Louisa Cantessa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third! But since we're friends now, you can just call me Dot.”

This confirmed it. This was a trap set up by her mother to deliberately drive her insane, because how else can someone explain the nut jobs and talking dogs in pink dresses? 

A combination of those two things happened to be clutching her head and digging her face into hers. “...Huh?” (Y/n) mumbled.

‘Dot’ jumped off of her and smiled widely. “Sorry about Ralph by the way. I figured out you were coming at the last second and I really needed someone for your welcoming gift.” she said.

(Y/n) glanced up at the sky where the fireworks were slowly dying down. “Um...Is he gonna be okay?” she asked.  

“Of course he will!” her backpack said.

The teen screamed and threw her bag on the ground. A hand popped out and unzipped it with impossible ease, then a taller boy version of Dot jumped out, pulling up his long brown pants and flashing a grin. 

“H-...H-H-How did you…?!” (Y/n) stuttered, pointing at him. 

“What? Never heard of cartoon logic?” he said, approaching her. “And Ralph’ll be fine. His skull’s so thick, concrete’s the last thing that can kill him.”

“What-?”

“Anyhow,” he walked over to Dot and put an arm over her shoulder, “The name’s Yakko, this here’s my beloved baby sister Dot, and this is-” He stopped, staring at the empty space to his left. He leaned into Dot, whispering, “Say, uh, you don't mind looking for Wakko, do ya sis?”

Dot glanced at (Y/n) for an uncomfortable moment and suddenly shot her brother a glare. "I've got eyes all over this studio, Yakko," she warned, slowly stepping away.

Now (Y/n) certainly knew she didn't see pairs of eyes appear around every inch of her sight. 'Oh god, I didn't breath in drugs on the way here, did I? Actually, that would explain whatever the heck's going on.'

Yakko smiled as he watched his sister leave and turned to (Y/n). He walked closer to her, and she realized that his half-lidded eyes had a strange glint in them. “Sooo, your name’s (Y/n), right? A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

(Y/n)’s face heated up. ‘First I get lost, then see a guy get blown up, and now some other guy’s flirting with me? ...To be honest, this is still better than what Mom had planned for today.’

“So what brings ya’ here?” he asked.

“O-Oh, well, my Mom was supposed to give me a tour of the studio, but I’ve been giving that to myself all day. I tried finding her, but I’m pretty sure I’m nowhere near it by now.” Her eyes wandered over to the ground, but a realization made them perk back up and over to Yakko. “Hey, do you happen to know this place by any chance?”

“Know it? Please, my sibs and I live here, we know this place by heart and soul!” He mumbled something else, along the lines of “Basically made our hearts and souls”. 

Her heart jumped; finally, a piece of good news. “Really?” she said, a smile spreading across her face.

He nodded. “So where do ya’ need to go?” Before she could answer, he pulled out a piece of folded paper and moved in so close, their shoulders were smooshed together. Yakko unfolded it, and it turned out to be the biggest map (Y/n) has ever seen. “Well, from here, you’re gonna need to take a right and continue straight until you get to the Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts exhibit. But be careful, I heard some of them escaped, and if anyone asks if you’ve seen any of them, don’t tell them I gave one to Dot as a late birthday gift. Anyway, you take a left from there, then a right where you’ll see the lot where they used to shoot Game of Thrones. Now this is only a rumour I’ve heard, but I think some of the producers are still on that set. If you happen to see them, do not, I repeat, DO NOT mention season eight, or maybe just don’t mention the show at all. Actually, don’t even look at them. As a matter of fact, you probably shouldn’t even go there at all, just keep heading straight until you get to the D.C. Universe lot. Then you just take left there, then a sharp right over over, then you keep going straight until you get to here, turn up over there, turn right there, and then you’re there. Did ya’ follow all that?”

(Y/n) stared at his face, which was practically radiating with enthusiasm, and she felt her eye twitch again. “...No,” she said, shaking her head.

His smile dimmed, but it became just as bright as the sun again a split-second later. “Ah well, maps are gettin' old anyways,” he said, throwing the map over his shoulder. “WAKKO!!”

And, low and behold, another anthropomorphic dog popped out of nowhere, and (Y/n) was starting to question if there was an army of them hidden somewhere. But she had to admit, it was pretty cute how this one was dressed in an oversized blue sweater and red hat. 

“Tablet, please,” Yakko said politely, holding out his hand. 

‘You're not gonna walk me there-?'

Wakko suddenly held his head back with his cheeks puffed out, then leaned into Yakko’s hand as he forced out a small object from his mouth. After an incredibly uneasy moment, a tablet glazed in spit was in Yakko's grasp. While he praised the little guy, (Y/n) forced back the urge to vomit.

“E-Ehhhh…?” She couldn’t say anything else while her gaze frantically went back and forth from Wakko and the regurgitated tablet. 

“Oh! Where are my manners?” Yakko said. “(Y/n), this is my dear little brother, Wakko. Wakko, this here’s our new special friend, (Y/n).” 

“Hello!” Wakko greeted, who was suddenly in her arms. “You’re really pretty!”

“Ehh? Thank you? I guess??” she said apprehensively, and finally managed to make eye contact. Despite his...quirks, he's actually a little adorable... She let herself grin a little.

The moment of semi-peace was ruined when she took notice of Yakko’s narrowed eyes. “ALrighty, (Y/n)!” he said loudly, grabbing his little brother by the collar and gently setting him on the ground. “Animal Kingdom, right? Let’s get ya’ right over there.” He moved right beside her and taped the screen a couple times. 

“Um, what’re you doing exactly?” she asked.

“Doing what every person does to get somewhere nowadays.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, and (Y/n) flinched from his touch. “Please keep your arms, legs, and personal items inside the tablet at all times.”

Just when she was about to question him for the hundredth time, he pressed the screen again, and her vision became nothing but white. Her body felt like it was launched into a tornado; a strong force of wind thrusted her back, and somehow, the boy’s arm kept her from flying off from his side. A second later, her feet were back on the ground, the sky was where it needed to be, and reality was back in place. 

Except for (Y/n)’s mentality. 

She stumbled around, trying to find her balance as the world unbearably whirled around her. Finally, she shook her head, and quickly turned back towards Yakko, whose face tried to tell her whatever happened was perfectly fine and normal. 

“What was THAT?” she yelled, staggering towards him and gripping his shoulders.

And he still had the audacity to have that 'why-are-you-freaking-out-so-much-we-do-this-every-Friday' smile. “Thank you for attending Warner’s Travel Tours! I would say my Agent Ralph’ll take your bags, but I left him alone with my sibs, so he’s probably in the middle of the Pacific Ocean by now.”

(Y/n) could only stare at him. Her mind was twisting and turning, trying so hard to make any sense of what happened but only making her headache grow larger and larger. And then, her thoughts just went blank.

She smirked. Then giggled. And a few seconds later, she had burst out laughing whilst holding her stomach. (Y/n) looked back up at Yakko, wiping a tear from her eye. “Th-Thank you…” she said, catching her breath. 

His smile had grown and she thought his white cheeks were red for a moment. Yakko had opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a net suddenly covering his entire body. Ralph was behind him, his skin and clothes burnt and ears practically smoking. “You’re coming with me, Warner!” he said.

And yet, Yakko only grinned. Like physics was his enemy, he disappeared from inside the net and appeared sprouting from the security guard’s back, cheerfully waving at (Y/n). “I’ll see ya’ around, yeah?” he said, then ran around the corner with Ralph sprinting right after him.

(Y/n) giggled and reached for the straps around her back. But when she only felt the (f/c) fabric of her shirt, her smile dropped, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. “Great…” she whispered.

“(Y/N)!” 

She gasped as a pair of arms squeezed the life out of her. Her mother spun her around to face her gleaming smile, which was immediately replaced by an apologetic frown. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get your texts! That scene took forever, but I’m glad you found your way here! You’re so smart! Anyway, I know we don’t get as much time now, but there’s still so much we’ll be able to see!...”

She rambled on and on and on and on. Her daughter’s shoulders slumped and she followed her to where she wanted her to go, but the frown on her face didn’t last long when she remembered the fun she had just a few seconds ago. ‘Maybe this summer won’t be that bad.’

[youryanderedaddy]

Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

I didn't really include the doll, but the overall idea is here ;)

Tw: nsfw, non - con, underage sex? (The reader is meant to be around 18, her brother is 16 - 17, but the ghost is 100+ so idk), (technically) incest, ghosts, possession, possessive/obsessive behavior, slight parental neglect ig

You knew it was a mistake moving into the old house up the hill. You tried arguing with your parents so many times about the mansion being hidden in the woods, so far away from any civilization, bringing up the fact it hadn't been bought for the last 8 years despite the insanely low price or the news about the previous owners dying in their sleep just like that, from "natural causes" even though they were an young energetic couple. But of course your worries had been discarded so easily since your younger siblings were ecstatic, constantly talking about finally living in a castle, which was obviously pushing it too far, but kids will be kids.

Your family was big, consisting of your mother, father, two younger sisters and a brother currently in his late teens. Your siblings managed to take all the nice bright rooms on the second floor so you were forced to sleep in the attic. At first it didn't seem so bad, yes, the place was dark and dusty, the space was limited, but it was a quiet spot and there were many interesting things left there to explore and discover.

The first week you discovered a huge box full of old books, medals, notebooks and different souvenirs from all over the world. The second week you found a few paintings covered by a thin disheveled cloak, most of them depicting a pretty young boy with golden locks and sad green eyes, dresses in an expensive silky clothing resembling what was nowadays considered an elegant suit. You didn't pay it much mind yet the miserable longing gaze of the kid haunted your dreams in the following days.

During the third week you noticed that things were going missing one by one. First it was your favorite lipstick, then your new dress, and suddenly your favorite items were gone just like that. On top of all, almost as if fate was tickling your paranoia, you could hear certain sounds at night that were too distorted be natural and too human to belong to an animal. There were sobs, loud and tormented, sometimes you could make up a few words in a language no one spoke anymore. You slept less and less each night, you could swear you felt someone's lingering touch on your shoulders, them gently stroking your hair and even pressing their cold unmoving lips on yours. This was usually the point when you opened your eyes and screamed in fear only to realize you were alone in the room. There was nobody there.

Still you decided to speak with your parents about the creepy events taking place in the attic. Much to your dismay they brushed your concerns off once again, laughing softly and calling you a scaredy - cat, going as far as to joke around about your "oh so creative" imagination getting the best of you just like it did in your childhood. But this time you insisted on holding your ground, almost begging them to take action and help you. At the end your mother decided to let you sleep in your brother's room for a while until you calm down, and as embarrassing it was to share a room with a hormonal teen, it was better than constantly being on the edge and losing sleep. Or so you thought.

The first night you slept in Steve's room nothing out of the ordinary happened and for the first time in weeks you actually managed to rest. The second night was blissfully peaceful as well and you quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The third night started well, just like the previous two. Your brother was tired from studying all day and went to bed early, giving you the freedom to relax a little bit before following his example. You could read a book or try to revise for your exam tomorrow, maybe even call your bestfriend and finally let her know all about your new classmates and just how boring life in the village was. But in that moment all these suggestion sounded annoying, nothing was interesting enough to hold your interest for more than a minute. Thinking about what to do next, you suddenly became aware that your body was tense and tired, but your mind was restless. After all you hadn't had time for self - care between the paranoia episodes and the fear, maybe it was finally time to do something nice and therapeutic for yourself.

You snatched a quick look at Steve and he was sleeping soundly, snoring from time to time, his usually angry face now calm and childlike. Making sure there was no one in the room awake, you finally slipped a hand down your pajama bottom until you felt the soft fabric of your panties. You closed your eyes and run a finger up and down your clothed sex, following the line of your slit. Your pussy throbbed at the sudden contact, the lack of pleasure in the last few weeks making it sensitive to the touch. You pushed your underwear lower so it hanged around your legs, and shoved one finger into your warm hole, enjoy the way your walls clenched around the digit. You flicked your clit gently, feeling it swell from the arousal, rubbing slow circles and pressing on your sweet spot every once in a while.

Your free hand went to your breasts, bare under the comfy oversized shirt, and awoke the cherry nipples with subtle pinches causing them to harden. You couldn't help but moan quietly as you decreased the pace of which you teased your hole and added a second finger in your pussy, fucking yourself on it. You were so focused on chasing your pleasure you didn't even notice the hand on your thigh pulling your own away from your excited throbbing core and replacing it with a big hard cock. Only once its head reached your tight entrance and pressed on it did your mind register the atrocious size difference. Your words stilled in your throat, the sudden panic rising in your chest, making your vision blurry and your cheeks rosy pink. You finally opened your eyes, your heart racing at the image of your younger brother towering above you with his member so close to entering your heat.

"Steve, what are you doing?" You whispered as you tried to squirm away from the boy, but he was quicker in pinning your wrists above your head in a deadlock. When did the male become so strong? Just yesterday he would ask you to open up his water bottle and help him with his math homework and now he was doing this...

"My name is Henry, my love." The voice was different from your brother's, lower and huskier, gentler in a way. You narrowed your eyes and observed the teenager's face, gasping as you noticed that his eyes had changed from black to green, yet all his other features had stayed stayed the same. You wanted to ask so many questions - who is Henry, why were your sibling's eyes and voice different from before - but you were quickly shut by one stern gaze. "I used to live here 80 years ago." The stranger started off with an unexpectedly soft tone as his grip on your wrists loosened. "I'm a ghost. I possessed your brother." He confessed calmly while you watched his pink lips part slightly with each breath as if you were in a trance before you found the strength to break your silence.

"Why are doing this to me? Why did you take my brother's body?" You questioned him manically, feeling like a confused little lamb sent to the slaughter, trembling and stuttering in front of a knife. Henry simply chuckled at your adorable dumbfounded expression and lowered his torso until his face was mere inches away from yours and you could feel his ice - cold breath on your warm red cheek. "Because I love you, darling." The ghost replied with a confident smirk that looked so weird and unnatural on the younger boy's face you almost gagged. Before you had the chance to say anything, he continued. "I've been wanting you for a while now, little girl. And with this body I can finally have you all to myself." You opened your mouth in a protest but your screams were easily muffled by a harsh kiss and a wet tongue down your throat. Next thing you knew the man had pushed your brother's manhood into your wet sloppy cunt in one sharp thurst and in your despair you had yelled for help once again, the ghost taking your whimpers greedily and shushing them away. Struggling was pointless.

In the next hour you were reduced to a sweaty whimpering mess of pain and arousal, fear and pleasure. The ghost was fucking you in a fast brutal pace while his free hand was playing with your clit, bringing you so damn close but never enough to send you over the edge. You were crying and your whole body was aching, your tits red from the rough manhandlind, your lips bruised and swollen from the rough kisses and bites. There were purple hickeys adorning your neck, belly and thighs and you went quiet in embarrassment every time you wondered how you would be able to hide them the next day.

"Please, whoever you are, let me come, I'm begging you." You pleaded desperately as you arched your back to meet the next couple of deep thrusts. Your cheeks were wet with tears and you could even taste the bitter salty flavor in your mouth mixed with your own drool and saliva. Upon hearing your meek pleas the man mercifully started hitting your cervix with each shove until his moves became sharp and quick, targeting your g-spot. You were so close you could feel your abdomen clench and tighten from the tingling sensitations. "Please..." You uttered weakly again, making doe eyes at your brother.

"Say you love me. Tie your soul to mine forever and I'll give you exactly what you want, beloved." Henry basically growled in your ear as he groped your breasts, squizing lightly the soft flesh. Your mind was so hazy and clouded you weren't sure how to respond so you just repeated the words easiest to grasp. "Love... you... forever, ngggh..." You muttered under your breath before moaning wantonly when the forceful thrusts finally sent you over the edge and your pussy clamped down in a big, satisfying orgasm. Your bliss was short - lived because soon the ghost was pounding into you again and again, keeping you too tired to move, struggle or even speak properly besides whimpering every once in a while. The rest of the night was a blur but eventually you fell asleep from the exhausting and the pleasure.

You woke up sore, your eyes red and puffy, your muscles tense and unnatentive. You rushed to look at your brother, but the teenager was sleeping just as peacefully as he did eight hours ago. One side of you was more than glad to know everything that had happened was simply a bad, terrible dream, while the other one still felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. You couldn't bear staying in the room any longer so you got dressed and went into the hall. Everyone else was still asleep and you felt as restless as if you hadn't caught a blink at all. You finally gave in to your paranoia and climbed the stars leading to the third floor.

You knelt on the ground where you had found the beautiful paintings. Those green eyes from your dream seemed way too familiar for it to be a coincidence. When you finally got a hold of your favorite piece, the one with the sad young boy, you had to cover your mouth to suppress the shock. There wasn't an aristocrat with golden locks on the picture anymore.

Now the one trapped in the painting was none other than you own brother, Steve. Instead of misery and pain in mysterious blue eyes, there was only terror in his tormented black ones. You screamed for the last time before you dropped the picture on the ground and ran away from the attic, the tears streaming down your face, but unfortunately, there was no escape from the restless dead souls.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, toy play, forced masturbation, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Again, I’m always grateful to anyone who reads. Take care.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Wayward ho, away we go

💀💀💀

You bent and picked up your phone. The screen protector was cracked and peeling. You lifted it off and checked for any real damage. The stream had ended but it was still operational. You tucked it away as you looked between the bikers and grabbed your jacket.

“Well, thanks for the show,” you headed for the door but found yourself shadowed.

You swung the door out into the cold and that man, Sam, followed you onto the beaten down snow across the sidewalk. He stopped you before you could evade him and cross the street. You turned back and squinted at him.

“You know, I didn’t even get to pay my tab,” you pulled away from him roughly.

“So, do I get a name yet?” he asked.

“You guys are weird,” you grimaced, “no.”

“Come on, I just saved your ass,” he crossed his arms as his breath fogged before him, “I mean, you kinda owe me.”

“Maybe your friends need to learn to control their tempers,” you scoffed and hopped over the snow to cross the street. As you expected, he kept on and as you came to the other side, you turned on him. “Look, dude, you know that whole hard-to-get thing is a myth. I’m not interested.”

He chuckled under his breath and shoved his hands into his coat, “sure,” he smirked, “I can’t let you walk home alone. Not after you go and insult the whole club. Do you really not know the shit that is aimed in your direction right now?”

“Are you talking about yourself or…” you said wryly and spun back to your path, “it’s a small town, I’ll make it home.”

“Oh yeah, it is a small town,” he caught up to you and kept step with you, “you think I don’t already know where you live?”

You ignored him and zipped up your jacket as the cold began to seep in. As he said your name, you stopped short. A chill went through you that wasn’t the winter.

“You’re a creep,” you said.

He laughed again and slung his arm over your shoulder. You tried to wiggle him off but he kept you firmly in place against him. He began to walk, pushing you forward across cracked edges of ice left from diligent shovels.

“Honey, let me tell you something, what I did back there, you’re not just walking away scot-free, you get that? You want me gone? Well, then you can find out what happens without me watching your back,” he said as he squeezed you, “I can go back right now and tell those boys it’s free hunting. You won’t make it past the corner.”

You stiffened and shifted. You were never the brightest, you made dumb decisions, but you knew then this was worse than any before. Your fun time was really a big fucking mistake. How many warnings did you need before you realised how stupid you really were? It wasn’t just a meme, it was like the godfather sent a horse head straight to your door.

“Hmm, don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet,” he mused as his arm slipped and his hand went to the small of your back. He turned you down your street and you glanced around at the familiar houses, “listen, you’re probably scared shitless right now? Or should be if you were smart enough to notice the gun on my buddy’s hip? Or the one on mine?”

“Is this how you always get girls?” you croaked through your dry mouth as you closed in on your nan’s house.

“I’m sure other guys like the whole snarky manic pixie dream girl thing you got going on, but I’m not other guys,” he returned as he stopped you just at the end of your grandmother’s walk, “and you didn’t just fuck around with a couple of bikers tonight, you insulted the whole club. In fact, I’m a little pressed about it myself.”

He reached out and slid two fingers into your jacket pocket. He took your phone out and turned it in his hand.

“No more of this,” he put it in his back jean pocket, “not tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll go over the rest of it but… if I see one TikTok or one meme, I’m going to be knocking on that window just above your bed.”

You blanched and peeked over your shoulder. The curtains moved as you caught your nan’s grey hair disappear behind it. You put on that stubborn pout you always got when things didn’t go your way and narrowed your eyes.

“You know this isn’t normal, right?” you whined.

He snickered and puffed out his chest, “this is Birch. This is how things go.” He reached out and ran his thumb over your chin, “you’re young, you’ll learn.” He winked and looked over at your nan’s house and waved with two fingers. “Tell the old lady I say hi,” he grinned, “but I can always tell her tomorrow.”

You scrunched your lips as felt like folding inward. He turned and strode off back down the street, his shadow fading into those cast by the streetlights. You sighed and headed up the walk and pounded your soles up the stairs. You let yourself in but faced another obstacle in your night.

Your nan sucked on a cigarette as she watched you unzip your coat.

“I thought you quit,” you said as you hung your coat on the rack.

“I thought I told you to stay away from the club,” she sniffed.

“Well… I tried,” you lied poorly.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you did,” she flicked the ash into the carpet without concern, “I’m an old lady now, I can’t help you.”

“He’ll go away. He’s just… you know how guys are,” you knelt to undo your boots.

“I do, do you?” she challenged, “I don’t remember many boyfriends gracing my stoop.”

“He’s not--”

“That man will make himself whatever he wants to be,” she gristled, “that’s how they work.”

“Look,” you stood and rubbed your forehead, “I know I fucked up. Can you just--”

“Oh, I won’t just,” she snapped, “let me tell you something, don’t be afraid to grab a man by the balls and twist. It saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Nan--”

“I’m not saying you should, just giving you options,” she puffed out smoke, “but you gotta be smart and make the shot count.”

“I don’t… get it,” you blinked.

“You will know,” she tilted her head, “women got a sixth sense. You’ll find out soon enough.”

💀

Your nan’s words stuck in your head. Your day off was no longer as exciting. You woke with a knot in your stomach and a dull stone behind your eye. You descended to join your grandmother for coffee, restless as you didn’t have your phone to keep you busy. You fidgeted and drank the bitter brew without a hit of sugar or milk.

There was a lingering shade of dread as the wise widow’s words swirled in your head with the strange man’s promise. He said he’d be back, he didn’t say what time, he didn’t say for what, but he said he would. As much as you rolled your eyes at the club, those men proved they had conviction and Sam had shown himself to be persistent.

You ate porridge with cinnamon and fake sugar. Your grandmother’s daily fare. You left her to her crosswords and her ramblings about the daily news. You told her to change the channel and lighten up before you went. She quipped back at you to “smarten up” and for once, you had no rebuttal; she was right, it was only that it was likely too late.

You sat in bed and watched Netflix. You had your laptop but you didn’t dare look at your TikTok as it just reminded you of the night before. It all began to sink in as you felt the thick arm around your neck and heard the rough gristle of the boss’ voice. You only realised then how close you’d been to biting it and it made your skin crawl.

Hours passed and you began to pace and fuss around with random pens and books. Maybe he forgot, maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe it had all been threats to make you stop. Well, it worked and you would delete your TikTok once you got the nerve to open it.

Then you heard the heavy boots on the stairs and the pounding at your door extinguished the hope disguised as doubt. You cringed and stood in one place as you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You crossed your arms and chewed your lip. 

You were very bad at thinking things through. You didn’t consider that you hardly knew this man, though the fact was plain in your mind. You didn’t consider that you’d rarely been alone with a man. You didn’t consider that you knew exactly what his vulgar looks and suave words meant and that your denial could not erase them and all of these things were obvious and unavoidable.

A tapping came at the window beside the door and he waved to you as the blur in your vision cleared. You bit down on the inside of your lip and made yourself cross to the door. He turned the handle as you did and pushed his way past your reticence. He stepped in as you stumbled back.

You were good at acting cool, at being the quirky friend, the goofball, but when it came down to it, you were just clueless. It was better to seem apathetic and not let on how much of a loner you really were. You always wanted to be one of the cool kids but never really were.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he kicked the snow off his boots and it powdered over the mat, “this is a cute little place you have.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m scared, okay? I’ll delete everything and won’t do it again,” you raised your hands defenselessly, “you made your point--”

“Have I?” he sniffed as he let his leather jacket fall down his arms, “because I’ve been thinking all day. How to punish you. You see, these things, you have to be punished. That’s the rules.”

“I…” you backed away from him slowly as he sat in the wicker chair behind the door and unlaced his boots.

“Not my rules, the club’s,” he said flatly, “now, don’t be lookin’ at me like that because if I’d left you with those other boys, you’d be in the rubble of that garage.”

You gulped and hugged yourself as your eyes rounded. His eyes clung to you and he grinned as he stood.

“Well, I know you’re telling the truth at least,” he said, “you’re scared.”

He neared and walked past you. He circled you and slapped your ass. You flinched and he chuckled. You were startled at how quickly he’d disassembled you. You tried to ready yourself mentally all day for his arrival and yet you could never be prepared for that instance.

He strode along the other side of the bed and pulled out the top drawer of your night stand. He shuffled through your things and slammed it. He turned back and went to your dresser and slid out the slender drawer of necklaces and random receipts. He felt around blindly and you heard the familiar roll against the wooden bottom.

“Ah, jackpot,” he pulled out the silicone vibe and spun it between his fingers as you watched him over your shoulder, “I knew a girl once, kept it hidden under her mattress, another had this vase on her desk… but mostly, no one puts much thought into hiding when no one’s looking.”

“What are--”

“Shhhh,” he hushed you as he put his finger against his lips, “it’s a very simple punishment and if I’m being honest, and let’s be clear I’m being very generous here, it’s not much punishment at all.” He took your hand and pushed the vibe against your palm, “you just gotta use that.”

You furrowed your brows as his warm hand closed yours around the silicone and he squeezed. You trembled and he let you go as he winked.

“Chop, chop,” he clapped his hands, “I can always come up with something else.”

You searched his face as he backed up and leaned on your dresser, arms crossed over his thick chest as his biceps bulged through his long sleeves. You peered down at the toy in your hands and traced the subtle curve with your thumb.

“Get comfortable, honey,” he coaxed, “when you finish, we’re done… for tonight.”

You were breathless as you turned away from him. Your head spun and you recounted all your mistakes as they rushed over you. You were so stupid. You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself but that didn’t make it any easier. 

And you couldn’t do it. Even alone, you were always filled with the sense that everyone knew what you were doing with the vibe. That some lurker would hear you and expose your secret. A guilt atoned only in your pleasure.

“Tick, tock,” he chirped as you heard the wood groan against his weight, “you need help?”

“N-no,” you stuttered and dropped the toy on the bed.

You fumbled with your fly for what felt like forever. Your hands were shaking so bad and stopped as you asked yourself what you were doing. What you had to. You had no doubt in his promises. You were learning the hard way like you always did.

You shimmied your jeans down and slid them to your ankles. You got up on the bed and he tutted. 

“Panties,” he snapped his fingers, “don’t be shy.”

You didn’t look at him as you lifted your ass and tugged down your panties. You kept your legs together as you unhooked them from your ankles and shoved them aside. You cleared your throat and reached for the toy as his figure loomed along the top of your vision. You clicked the button and stared at the buzzing vibrator.

“Almost there, honey,” he purred, “I’m starting to think you’re liking this already.”

You sucked in your breath and pushed your legs apart as you closed your eyes. You put your hand on the bed behind you and leaned back as you shoved the toy against your cunt and hissed as it rolled over your clit. You cupped it with your palm and moved it over your bud as the ripples flowed from your core.

You clamped your lips in your usual habit. You held in the moans that threatened and tried to ignore the soft breath of the man in the room. Your whole body was alight with shame and lust fed by the vibrations. You dropped your head forward and winced as you sensed him come closer.

“Oh, honey, look at you just diving right in,” he taunted, “that’s it… you don’t gotta be quiet with me.”

“St-st-stop,” you rasped out, “I can’t--”

“You are,” he slithered, “now keep going. I see you getting close already.”

You squeezed your eyes tight and gripped the toy between two fingers and swirled the tip around your clit. You wanted it to be over and despite yourself, his voice fed your need for release. You hummed between your teeth and arched your back as you rocked your hips against the vibe hungrily.

“Mm mm mm, honey, I don’t think you could handle a man,” he teased.

You gasped and panted as you felt the pressure pulse and you sped up. Your other arm shook and collapsed as you fell onto your back and writhed as you closed your legs around your hand and the toy. You came with a whimper as your body shook and you turned onto your side as the orgasm echoed through you.

“Very good,” he cooed and you felt a dip in the bed. You opened your eyes as he leaned his knee on the edge, “smile for the camera, honey.” You gaped at the lens of your phone and snickered as he lowered it, “now that… I think that might go viral.”

“Wha-- No,” you sat up and reached out as he stepped back and you nearly toppled over the side of the bed.

“Hmm, I might keep it to myself,” he tapped his fingertip against the back of the phone, “I don’t really like to share…” he faced you again and tucked the phone away, “I usually keep my girls to myself.” You blinked and bent your legs as you tried to cover your bottom half. He pushed his chest out and exhaled, “you are mine, right, honey?”

[you-show-me-love]

How Tami Met Mickey

I really just wanted to write a headcanon of when Tami understood Mickey's existence since we were deprived of their interaction in the show okay bye

Tami was going to kill Lip. She was going to kill him and leave Fred on the dirty floor of the Gallagher house and she was going to disappear from their lives, head out west and hide out in a hair salon under a false identity, because Lip swore up and down Fred's teething ring was here somewhere and the kid was screaming his head off and had been for the last hour.

"Where the hell is it?" She whined, feeling like crying herself as she pushed aside random junk on the floor near where they sometimes set up the playpen. 

Mickey descended the stairs into the kitchen, still in his tank top and boxers even though it was well past noon. He grimaced at the sound of the crying baby. 

"Will you shut that kid up? Some of us are trying to sleep." 

Tami rolled her eyes, disrupting her search of the coffee table covered in crayons and paper. She loved Ian, she did, but she couldn't comprehend why the sweetest Gallagher had up and married this surly, foul mouthed convict. She chose to ignore him most of the time, especially after Lip told her he had been in for attempted murder of one of their family members.

"Believe me if I could I would but he's teething and I can't find his teething ring anywhere and Lip said it was here in this mess somewhere..." 

She was rambling, losing her sanity as Fred screamed louder and pulled a fist full of her blonde hair. Maybe Mickey could put her out of her misery since he apparently had no problem killing family members. Afraid to ask in case he took her seriously she shifted Fred to her other hip and pushed her fingers into the couch cushions, trying not to think of what they might come in contact with in the process.

Mickey watched the tall blonde with apathy as he chugged orange juice straight from the carton. He belched loudly and moved back out of sight, running some water and opening the refrigerator. A few more minutes of fruitless searching and Tami decided to give up. She turned to head to the backdoor only to find Mickey there, a wash cloth in hand. She watched, rapt, as Mickey pushed the chilled, damp cloth into Fred's open, wailing mouth, watched as her son clamped down immediately and began to suck. Her ears rang in the blissful silence and she stared at Mickey in awe. 

Mickey wasn't looking at her, he was cradling the back of Fred's head and running his thumb along his baby soft hair, a small almost sad smile on his face.

"How did you know to do that?" Tami couldn't help but ask. 

"My kid used to cry like that, had to keep this shit on standby for him, twenty-four seven."

Mickey seemed to come back to himself, dropping his hand from Fred's head and stepping back from mother and son. He was back up the stairs before Tami couldn't say anything.

==

Tami had stopped by too late to have breakfast with the Gallaghers, Lip giving her the extra hour of much needed sleep after Fred kept her up most of the night. She accepted Franny's hug around her knees and gave Fred a tickle and a kiss to the forehead. He smiled around his squishy teething ring and wiggled in the high chair. 

Debbie paused her cleaning to pull Tami's plate from the microwave and Tami decided to ask Debbie something that had been on her mind since yesterday.

"So, Mickey has a kid?"

Debbie looked up at her, face twisted in confusion, but she nodded. 

"Yeah, Yevgeny. Why?"

Tami didn't know how to answer that. Why did she want to know? Maybe it was because of the obvious.

"But…he's gay."

Debbie rolled her eyes.

"Gay people can have kids." She seethed, indicating to her own mini-me. She shoulder checked Tami on her way upstairs muttering bitch under her breath as she did so.

==

Fred had been just put down and Lip and Tami were laying in bed, trying to decide if they should use this opportunity to fuck or to sleep. Lip made the decision for them when he pulled off his shirt and rolled onto Tami.

They were kissing, hands roaming, but Tami's mind was on someone else entirely. The trail of kisses Lip was leaving down her body stopped as she asked him what had been on her mind.

"So, Mickey has a kid?" 

"Uhhh, yeah." Lip affirmed, looking up at Tami in confusion. "With a Russian hand-whore." He concluded with a light chuckle.

"What?!" Tami sat up, Lip further away from his destination. He sighed and joined her at the head of the bed. 

"You good Tamietti?" Lip asked as he watched his girlfriend's face pass through a range of emotions. She eventually shook her head. Lip licked his lips and leaned closer to her, keeping his voice low even though it was only the two of them.

"Look, it's a touchy subject for Ian and Mickey both. Broke Ian's heart to see him marry her. Then Ian stole the baby-"

"Wait wait wait." Tami interrupted, too loud considering their own sleeping baby was just one room over. "Mickey was married before? Ian stole a baby? What-"

"It's best if you don't know just...don't bring it up okay?"

Tami nodded, accepting a few more soft kisses from Lip before they both settled into bed and fell asleep while they had the chance.

==

Tami couldn't not bring it up, not when Ian was right there, bouncing Fred on his hip and making silly faces. Tami had to get to work but she could spare a moment to ask what had been eating away at her for a week now.

"Ian, can I ask you something about Mickey?"

Ian regarded her hesitantly but nodded. She let out a breath and resolved to satisfy her need to know once and for all.

"He has a kid. He's gay but he has a kid and used to be married to a woman? And you stole his baby? I mean, what is the story here?" She ended with a hysterical giggle, arms smacking against her thighs in exasperation.

Ian went paler than usual, his chin jutting out in a hard line. He stared at his nephew, watched his tiny fingers wrap around one of his own. Tami swallowed at the dark look on Ian's face, sudden regret for not following Lip's advice filling her.

"Back when we were kids Mickey's dad caught us. The homphobic prick beat Mickey bad and forced him to fuck a woman in front of me." Ian's voice was rough as sandpaper only making Tami feel worse.

"Mickey got her knocked up, married her, thought we could still bang in secret, but I took off. I came back and we tried to make it work but then I had a manic episode and took off with Yevgeny. I wanted him to be mine, be ours. My brain just ran away with the idea."

Tami's knees were weak and she backed herself into the nearest chair. She knew about Ian's disorder, but had never witnessed it, never heard them talk about it much at all, and she understood why looking at Ian now, seeing how much guilt and pain he internalized over what he did when he had no control. 

"Svetlana filed for divorce while Mickey was in prison, married some old rich bastard, and disappeared. Mickey's never tried to find them, don't think either of us deserve to at this point."

Ian sighed, finally looking Tami in the eye. She could only stare helplessly back in the wake of his words. Mickey wasn't just some convict Ian brought home after his stint in prison after all. Mouth dry she figured she had already dug herself this deep, what's a bit more.

"He really go to prison for trying to kill your sister?"

Ian made a face of knowing, standing taller and squaring his shoulders, jutting his chin even further in defence. 

"Yeah, he did." And with a bit of softening creeping into his hard features he whispered, "He did it for me. Because he loves me."

Tami left a few minutes later, assured by Ian he was fine to watch Fred until Lip came home. She totally cut a client's hair uneven as her mind drifted back to Mickey and what she now knew about the man before today. Turns out she knew jack shit.

Now she knew he was so much more. 

==

Tami threw open the front door of the Gallagher home, Fred crying in her ear after refusing to take his afternoon nap. Two heads turned at the commotion. Quickly Ian halfway off the couch to rescue his brother's girlfriend. Tami ignored him entirely and dropped Fred in Mickey's lap.

"He needs some more of that Mickey magic." Tami explained as the husbands stared wide-eyed between mother, crying son, and each other.

She left them to take a much needed bathroom break. After she was done she grabbed a beer and leaned against the doorway, watching the way Fred squirmed in Mickey's arms as he held him close and rubbed his back. Ian watched the pair with adoration before looking up at Tami and mouthing a simple thank you.

And that's how Tami Tamietti met the real Mickey Milkovich.

[goldenspecter]

Cosmo’s TMNT Masterpost

(Rise, 2003, 2012, and others)

Here’s where you can find pretty much everything I’ve ever made for the TMNT fandom! Fanfics here[haven’t gotten the courage to post fanart here yet], hope you guys enjoy my work. Reblogs are appreciated!

Fanfics

1. Finding my way home(and moving forward)

Out of sheer curiosity, Leonardo and Donatello looked up, and there it was.

A portal.

Had the Universe really taken pity on them? Had it really heard his desperate prayers for one more chance?

It was not like the ones they had seen before, it was an irregular circle made up of several shades of blue, completely different from the perfect and symmetrical pink triangles of the Kraang.

Leonardo and Donatello looked into each other's eyes for a few moments, "Should we go in?" Donatello asked, almost shouting, drawing the attention of the others, who quickly turned to the portal and to see each other, then the two brothers in question.

"It's our best bet, and our only chance," replied Leonardo.

Or rather, with the 2012 kids' home gone, they end up in the Rise verse after a strange portal shows up. Therapy is needed, and start the slow process of healing from their trauma.

(Rise/2012, Work in Progress, written with @keeryd​ )

2. Strawberry Cookies:

"Mikey here was just about to tell me what we could do to cheer Raph up while he's sick," Donnie says. "Mikey continue?"

Now that Mikey had both of his older brothers attention, he grins. "I was thinking we make strawberry cookies!" He does his jazz hands as he says this and is met with looks of something that he can only put as disapproval. "What?"

"You do know that everytime that we have tried to make it-" Donnie starts.

"We mess it up and Raph has to come in and save our butts from burning the cookies?" Leo finishes, "What would be different this time?"

Mikey huffs, "We are doing this so we can cheer him up and to prove that we can do something on our own!" he says, "That's what got Raph sick in the first place!"

Or rather, Raph gets sick after helping his brothers recover from the poisoned pizza puffs. Mikey, Donnie, and Leo take a shot at baking cookies for Raph while trying not to burn their kitchen down.

(One shot, complete)

 3. Chicken Fried Rice:

“I only poured in half a pot of rice,” Donnie complained.

Mikey stared at him, really stared at him before he spoke. “You do realize that rice expands when cooked right?” he said, “You do realize that?”

Donnie was silent, looking away from Mikey.

“Donnie!”

Donnie makes chicken fried rice. Mikey watches over. Shenanigans and brotherly fluff ensue.

one shot in which Donnie is in the kitchen, cooking rice and Mikey, Mikey is positive he should have gotten Donnies braincell. 

(One shot, complete)

 4. Tea Time with Hortense and Patty: 

"Sooo," Raph starts. She's always been weird with awkward silences. "Are these grandma kinning hours?"

"Grandma hours!" Mikey exclaims excitedly. "Grandma time!!!"

"Ah, if it isn't our favorite girl and her little brother!" Hortense tilts her head over in their direction slightly. "Are you going to join us? We were just about done arguing," she says.

---

Today is Tea Time. Two old ladies have a tea party, one of them forgets to bring the food, and they are joined by Mikey and Raph. A good time is still had.

(One Shot, Complete)

5. One of those Days

When Donnie woke up this morning, he woke up with the familiar thrum of anger and irritation running through his body with more intensity than normal. Rubbing the crust out of the corners of his sleep-addled eyes, he jerkily grabbed his phone and turned off the alarm. It's one of Those Days, Donnie noted. Those Days where Donnie isn't capable of handling Mikey's over-enthusiastic optimism or Leon's chaotic trickster nature. His safest bet is to hang out with Raph, his calm and mellow demeanor always helped calm down before Donnie went on a rage fest and say anything he couldn't take back.

Or, Donnie and Raph help each other out, balance each other, and make things a little less difficult.

(One Shot, Complete) 

 6. Gift Hunting: 

“It’s Leo. Tiny Leo,” the voice answers. “I need your help with something.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t say until you say yes first,” Leo says. “It’s really important though.”

Angelo is silent, weighing his options. He could say no, he really could-

“Please, Angelo, you’re the only one who can really help me with this,” Leo pleads.

Rather, Angelo and Leonardo go out in the streets of New York to help the blue banded turtle find gifts for his brothers' sixteenth mutation day. Bonding and fluff ensues.

(One Shot, Complete)

 7. Aftermath:

“Raphie bear?” Mikey called out, gently tapping Raph, with relief washing him when Raph turned his head to face him. “What’s the matter teddy bear?”

“Th-thi-this doesn’t feel real.” Raph stuttered out, his voice cracking as a sob broke through. “I’m not really here. Neither are you and everyone else. I’m still alone with Draxum and his minions. No one’s coming to save me because I was stupid enough to get captured and no one wants such a worthless turtle like me.”

In which Raph was kidnapped and tortured by Baron Draxum and his family has to deal with the aftermath of it.

(One Shot, Complete)

 8. To Be the Eldest

Donnie, the second youngest in his family, wishes he was the eldest for once. Then one night, Donnie gets his wish granted and now he was three small turtles in his care.

Donnie adjusts to being the eldest, comes to some realizations, and makes a promise to his (now) younger brothers.

(Work In Progress)

 9. Wanted: Snaggletooth 

Dr. Noel bent down on his knees in front of Raph, a manic smile that showed too many teeth coming about on his face speaking of pain and suffering that has yet to come. He stretched out his hand towards Raph’s face, placing a thumb under his mouth, pressing into his snaggletooth. “Beautiful. Just as I expected,” he crooned, pulling out a syringe and injecting it into Raph’s neck, pushing the contents of the syringe into his system.

Raph’s eyes fluttered as he started losing consciousness, watching through hooded eyes as Dr. Noel's smile grew even wider, with his last thought right as darkness consumed him being that he hoped his family would find him before it was too late.

Post S2 Finale, Dr. Noel remembers Raphael, his snaggletooth, and manages to find and capture the red masked turtle. It doesn't end well for Raphael.

(Work In Progress)

 10. Dimensional Differences:

They bow. Not like one of those pretentious bows like she would do at Yokai parties and not like the ones she would do with her brothers when they hosted tea parties. They bowed deeply, heads stopping at her stomach, one hand closing around their fists. This spoke of respect and honor.

And that unnerved her a little bit. Why are they bowing so deeply?

“Thank you,” they said in unison. It’s unnerving to April and she felt the uneasiness coming from her brothers too.

“Why are you thanking me?” She said finally, voice sounding foreign to her.

“You saved my life?” Baby Leo said slowly, voice tinged with confusion. “That was an honorable thing to do?”

April blinked, “It shouldn’t be considered honorable for doing what any big sister would do,” she said. “That’s not honor, that’s just being a good older sibling.”

In which April, Sunita, Casey, and the turtles end up in the 2012 verse after a mishap with Leo's ōdachi and stay with the 2012 turtles until they can go home. They find out a lot of things that don't quite jive with them. Some things are the same, some things are different and they're not quite sure how to handle those differences.

(Rise/2012, Work In Progress)

 11. Mind Meld Part Deux:

“Oh thank Galileo that you all are back to normal!”

“What do you mean we’re back to normal?” Raph questioned, pulling back from the hug. Mikey and Leo also pulled back to stare at Donnie. “We’ve-we’ve always been like this?”

Donnie went quiet. He shouldn’t have said that.

“Donnie, what did you do?”

The brothers found out about Donnie’s Mental Intelligence Reprogrammulator. Arguments are had, words are said, words that tear a rift between him and his family, and it’s up to Donnie to earn his brothers’ forgiveness. The only thing is, will he get it?

(Work In Progress)

 12. I'm a little kid and so are you(don't you go and grow up before I do):

The 2003 turtles somehow, someway ended up in the Rise verse, with Rise Splinter and his turtle tots, and stay with them while the boys try to figure out their way home. 2003 Raphael got attached to his tiny counterpart the moment he laid eyes on the tot. (Raph centric)

(Rise/2003, Work In Progress)

 13. Dimensional Self-Isolation

Post S2 Finale, Raph finds himself trapped in the 2012 universe and has a difficult time coping with all of the differences that this world has in store for him. From new villains, unfamiliar familiar faces, and the way the 2012 boys and Splinter treat each other and him, Raph has a heavy plate on his hands during his long term stay.

(Rise/2012, Work In Progress)

14. A Collection of Turtle Thoughts

A collection of drabbles and ficlets about Turtles I've been writing since October 2020. Ranges from humor to hurt/comfort, I have it all.

Requests are open. SFW only though.

(All Iterations, Work in Progress)

If y’all reblog, read, and share my work, I’d really appreciate that! Anything and everything is appreciated, money or not! Thanks folks 🐢💕

[myhauntedsalem]

13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane?

We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. The Vampire

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter

I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. The Only One

I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed

Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death

Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way.

They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. The Test Subject

I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives

As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom

I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. Bugs

Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

So I wrote a one shot. I watched the film 10 Years a few days ago and it inspired me to write a Star Wars version 🤣 it just focuses on Poe though let’s face it. This is me after all! Poe Dameron lover forever! I didn’t even name it anything interesting.

Yavin High Reunion.

Modern!Poe Dameron x Female Reader

Warnings: mention of divorce, mention of a child, angst! Fluff, smut NSFW 18+, alcohol, did I mention angst? Swearing and possibly a happy ending 👀 Apologises for any mistakes I cannot be bothered to reread it.

Word Count: 7759

You straightened your dress as you got out of the cab, passing money to the driver before turning to look down the high street of your old town. The sky was dark and the shops you had haunted most of your youth were lit by the garish orange street lamps, you smiled slightly as echoes of memories came to you. You had lived in this high street, spending holidays, or a few hours here and there after school, you could always be found here with your friends. But this was the first time you’d seen it since you left when you were 18.

You were late with everyone inside already, just the way you wanted. You placed a hand on your stomach as you breathed deeply trying to control the butterflies that fluttered manically inside you. As soon as High School had finished you left, the only person you really stayed in touch with was your best friend Jess. She had kept you up to date with what everyone else in your group of friends had been doing and you went through stages of missing them, longing for the summer days where you all hung out at the beach, eating picnics, barbecues and getting drunk as the sun finally set.

You closed your eyes briefly before turning to look at the hotel where the reunion was taking place. The grey bricks gave the impression it was a lot fancier than it looked but this hotel hadn’t changed on the outside at all. Music and laughter floated out of the open windows above you and again your stomach cramped nervously. Your last year at school had been a difficult one and you were ashamed with how you dealt with what happened….Jess had said he was coming and really he was the only reason you had come. Steeling yourself you finally took the last steps towards the entrance of the hotel pushing the door open and letting the warm air wash over you.

The foyer was empty, you wrote your name on a sticker and placed it gently on your dress, you could see some class mates had scribbled in the memory book already and you smiled slightly as you read it realising that no one had really grown up in 10 years. Stands displaying photos stood behind the desk and you made a note to come and look at those later. You saw a camera but no camera man and you wondered if that was better, you were leaving straight after this anyway. Your heels rang out on the stairs as you made your way towards the noise of the reunion.

As soon as you opened the door you felt overwhelmed, the beat from the music thrummed through you and you instantly headed towards the bar ordering a double gin and tonic to calm your nerves. You surveyed your surroundings, it had been decorated with the school colours and you winced at the mix of orange, white, red and black realising how much you hated the colours together. You took your glass as your eyes searched the crowd trying to find a face you recognised, well you knew most of them, older but you knew them as they danced smiling at one another. You spied another room and you hoped there was food in that one, you made your way round the edge of the room quickly slipping into the larger room. This room was quieter, long tables laid out with hot plates of food and round tables that were littered with little pockets of people as they caught up.

Some double doors lead outside onto a balcony and you saw the crowd standing out there, you’d never really mixed with them at school but one caught your attention. From where you were standing you could see him perfectly as he lounged on the sofa, his long legs taking up so much room, he looked smart in his suit his long dark hair hadn’t changed in the passing years but he had a serious look on his expression, gone were smiles he used to have at school. You froze as his hazel eyes caught sight of you and he tipped his head slightly in recognition. Kylo Ren had been the one you turned to all those years ago, he had been the one to drive you to the airport even giving you money and helping you get a job so you could flee. You thought about going over but then the blonde head of Phasma came into view as she laid herself all over him and you quickly moved out of sight. Not much had changed in 10 years at all. You felt sad and you debated leaving as you lost your appetite when all of a sudden you were grabbed. You grinned as her dark hair fell all over your face and she squealed loudly in your ear making you grimace in pain .

‘Jess! Ouch!’

‘Oh my god you came!!’ She almost screamed at you .

‘Yes yes! I told you I would!’ She grabbed you for another hug and you squeezed her back, oh how you had missed her! Video calls had nothing on giving your friend a solid hug in person. ‘Where is everyone else?’ You heard yourself ask and she smirked knowing you weren’t really bothered about everyone else. You just wanted to see him.

‘There’s another room, this one has desserts in so clearly we camped in there,’ she winked and you smiled back but your stomach just went into overdrive as she led you back into the bar and across the dance floor. Of course they were in the dessert room, he had such a sweet tooth. You saw them straight away and a wave of people rose to greet you, Finn was first lifting you off the floor as he squeezed the air out of your chest, then Rose and her sister Paige.

‘Aren’t you too old to be here?’ You whispered to her and she laughed.

‘I snuck in no one saw me,’ she winked and let Snap spin you into a dizzying embrace, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before letting your feet touch the floor again. Next you were embraced by his wife Kare, followed by the clowns of the group Beaumont and Ronith. The group parted as they all sat back down and your breath was taken from you as you laid eyes on the love of your life for the first time in so long. Everything melted away as his intense brown eyes blazed into yours, his curls a dark unruly mess on top of his head and you saw he still wore his Dad’s leather jacket; it just fitted him now, perfectly. He rested one leg on his knee, one of his arms was draped over an empty chair and he didn’t get up to greet you. You swallowed plastering a smile on your face and you felt eternally grateful to Jess as she dragged you over the tables to look at the cakes. But you couldn’t see them, your vision swam and you tried desperately to compose yourself.

‘Well, that was intense,’ Jess mumbled as she passed you a plate. You jumped slightly as you heard his rich laugh rise up from the group, you didn’t know you were going to feel this so strongly, the guilt ripped through you and now you really wished you hadn’t come.

‘He hates me,’ you whispered mindlessly spooning some chocolate cake onto your plate.

‘He doesn’t…’

‘Well he should,’ you snapped softly. You slowly walked back to the table with her heading for the empty chair next to Snap but Jess was just a step ahead of you leaving the only chair available was the one Poe had his arm thrown possessively over.

‘C-can I sit here?’ You were acutely aware the group was watching you both as they talked extra loudly trying to cover up the tension. He moved his arm and you slipped into the chair moving it into the table and slightly away from him. You were immediately pulled into the conversation as Beaumont started recounting some funny drunk story and finally you felt yourself relax but only slightly. Your skin tingled every time he spoke or joined it but it was never directly to you and you desperately tried to ignore that.

‘Oh god and then there was prom!’ Ronith blurted out and you instantly felt Poe tense up. A buzzing noise started in your ears as everything drained away, the memory replaying like it was yesterday in your mind.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your hair looked amazing, your makeup was perfect and your dress was stunning hugging you in all the right places. You looked up at the knock on the door and you knew it was Poe, you bit your lip as you stood at the top of the stairs, your Dad letting him in. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but you didn’t care as Poe caught sight of you. His jaw went slack and his brown eyes widened as he swallowed nervously, your eyes raked over his outfit and his navy suit matched your dress perfectly. You slowly made your way down your hand dragging lightly on the banister until he stepped round your Dad a lopsided smile now spreading over his face as he offered you his arm.

‘You look stunning my love,’ he murmured before shooting a nervous glance at your Dad.

‘The limo is here!’ Called your mum and you both stepped outside, your parents took so many photos you tried to hurry them up but Poe was loving it. His eyes barely left you and neither did his hands, until the glare of blue lights chased away the descending darkness. You all frowned as an officer got out of the car along with Poe’s father, you knew something was instantly wrong by the look on Kes’s face.

‘Can we talk inside?’ The officer asked and your parents ushered you all inside. You had sat next to Poe holding his hand when they broke the news to him that his mother had died in a car crash, she was driving back from work hoping to catch him before he left for prom but she never made it. In that moment you had seen him break, completely fall apart before your very eyes and there was nothing you could do to help him. Shara had been a wonderful person and you adored Poe’s parents having grown up in their house as a second home. Seeing his pain had damaged something inside you and all you could think about was running away.

‘Am I right? You two,’ your eyes rose as he gestured to you both of you, ‘must have had a great time at prom we barely saw you…’ Snap punched Beaumont on the shoulder as silence settled on the table. You and Poe had never made it to prom, instead heading to the hospital so he could say a final goodbye. You got up, fumbling a quiet excuse as you hurried away from the group. You needed out, the noise cascaded over you from the bar and you could feel yourself panicking as you raced down the large staircase to head outside to the gardens. They were only small but you found a bench tucked away and you finally allowed yourself to feel. Tears slid down your face as you silently cried. You remembered everything, all the promises you made him saying you’d be there and help him through his pain but really you should have looked to yours. You didn’t even attend her funeral, turning to Kylo Ren of all people. His parents own a huge company and they got you a job in England, an apprenticeship and you took it, fleeing your old life and falling head first into a new one. Poe had every right to hate you, you hated yourself enough, hated for running out as soon as you could.

You had tried to forget Poe in England and for a time you did, you fell for someone and he swept you off your feet and you got married. But the cracks that started off tiny just got bigger and one of the last things he said to you was your heart clearly wasn’t in it. And it wasn’t, you’d left your heart here with Poe you just didn’t want to acknowledge it. You blotted your eyes trying to gather up the courage to go back inside when someone materialised out of the shadows, his hands in his pockets as he stood a few paces away from you.

‘Hi,’ he said as he stood awkwardly. You slid across the bench silently inviting him to sit with you and he did.

‘Hi,’ you whispered, clasping your hands in your lap as you turned to face him. ‘Poe…’ he shook his head interrupting you.

‘Let’s not,’ he looked up at the sky. ‘Let’s not drag that up.’

‘Good idea.’ You both sat together falling into a familiar silence but not really looking at each other until he spoke again.

‘So you went to England? Jess said…’

‘Yeah, I quite like it over there.’ He smirked slightly.

‘You have an accent.’

‘Poe Dameron I do not!’ His smile got wider as he ran a hand through his curls, a motion you had adored in High School and still did it seemed.

‘It’s cute.’ You swallowed as the butterflies restarted in your stomach and you tried to find anything else to talk about.

‘So what about you? What do you do now?’

‘I followed Dad didn’t I, became a mechanic but I work on planes rather than cars.’

‘Wow that’s impressive,’ you fiddled with the material of your dress as the next question fell from your mouth and even to your ears it sounded strained. ‘Got a wife?’ He looked down at his shoes as he shuffled them in the dirt.

‘Nope, apparently my heart wasn’t in it,’ he said bitterly and you froze hearing those words again, letting out a shaky laugh as he looked at you.

‘Well I’ve been told the exact same thing,’ he frowned as you glanced at him quickly. ‘My hus….ex husband said the same thing to me and he was right.’

‘Husband….you got married?’ You could hear the hurt in his voice and you felt the well of sadness threaten to rise inside you again.

‘Not that it worked out. I left my heart here anyway.’ He opened his mouth to reply when a shout caught both your attention, it was Snap.

‘Guys! We’re heading to Maz’s place, you coming?’

‘Yeah sure,’ you coursed together. ‘Though I want to look at the photos before we go.’ You smiled slightly at him as you stood.

‘Come on then.’ You followed him back inside and you joined Jess at a photo of the pair of you.

‘You ok?’ She asked quietly as she pointed out one of Poe and Snap looking all fresh faced and happy.

‘Yeah I’m ok,’ you replied. You paused at a photo of you all, Poe was standing next to you and he was looking down at you as you smiled at the camera.

How different your life would have been if you’d just stayed, but you had come across Kylo one night at the beach. About 1am in the morning and even though you weren’t what you would call friends you had been so desperate to talk to someone you had spilled everything to him and he gave you the way out you so desperately craved. You looked up as Poe came up behind you.

‘Come on, let’s get drunk,’ he suggested. ‘It will be like the old days,’ he said as he nudged you in a playful way. You went to step away when his hand caught your arm and he held you back from the group. ‘For the record, your ex husband doesn’t know what he’s losing,’ your breath hitched as his warm hand slid up your neck and he planted a kiss against your cheek, his stubble rubbing against you slightly before moving away and you fell into step beside him.

You noticed how suddenly the dynamic had changed between you, now he wanted to sit next to you, he followed you, his hand lightly touching you now and again as he spoke to you. You tried not to think about the way his body pressed against you as you all squeezed into two cars, the scent rolling off his leather was undeniably Poe and it made you swoon slightly. Finally spilling out of the car you gulped in some fresh air trying to curb the feelings you had creeping up on you.

The bar was exactly how you remembered it, dingy and dark perfect for making out in without getting caught. Your eyes were drawn to a booth in the corner and Poe saw you looking.

‘You remember?’ He murmured.

‘Of course I remember,’ you whispered in reply looking up at him. It had been the first place you’d kissed and right now you felt exactly as you did then as you caught up in his eyes, his scent, his expression.

‘Guys! Shots!’ You dragged your gaze away from the man next to you as you grabbed a glass off the bar, all downing the burning liquid before Jess gestured for another lot. You ordered a gin and tonic and took the glasses over to the empty booth, you slipped in and Poe slid in next to you. The rest joined and you couldn’t help the little flutter in your chest as he brushed up against you when he took his leather jacket off, his white shirt top buttons were undone and you caught sight of a necklace. Poe had never been one for jewellery and you pointed feeling curious.

‘What’s this?’ He pulled the chain out and you recognised the silver ring instantly. ‘It’s Shara’s.’ He smiled and let you take it in your hands, turning it over with your fingers as you felt how warm it was from being against his chest.

‘Pack it in you two! I want to hear all about England!’ You let the ring drop and your eyes flew to Poe’s in panic. You hadn’t told any of them except Jess you were married and you had only just told Poe you were divorcing.

‘Let’s get another round in,’ Poe said loudly trying to draw attention off of you but Kare was relentless.

‘Sure sure get some drinks, but I want to hear about it, you’ve been out there for 10 years not even heard a peep from you. What’s so captivating over there?’

‘Oh you know, I’ve just been working hard, I was offered an opportunity and I couldn’t pass it up.’ You rubbed your arm feeling a chill as Poe got up from the table, Snap going with him to the bar.

‘Doing what?’ You shifted uncomfortably as you looked at your friends faces.

‘Well, I help run the British side of the Alderaan Haulage company.’

‘Wait wait,’ said Beaumont holding his hands up. ‘You work for Kylo Ren?’ You could feel the blush creeping over your cheeks as Poe started heading back to the table.

‘He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,’ you said trying to keep your voice low.

‘Is he still as much of a douche as he was at school?’ Poe’s attention snapped to the table at Ronith’s very loud question and you felt yourself die inside a little bit.

‘I don’t have any problems with him,’ you said shrugging.

‘But then he left you alone at school,’ sneered Kare. ‘He had a crush on you soooo bad,’ said Jess.

‘Who are we talking about?’ Said Poe as he slipped a drink over to you and sat back next to you, his shoulder nudging yours.

‘Kylo Ren,’ said Kare as Snap sat down gently beside her. ‘He had a crush on the traitor here.’

‘Guys that’s my boss you’re talking about and he just walked in,’ you hissed, sinking into your seat slightly as Poe flung a possessive arm around your shoulders. You felt surprised as the sudden obvious contact and you saw Jess smirk as she sipped her drink.

You all watched as the crowd piled in, they had been the popular cool kids at school, Kylo with his rich parents had ruled the year, Armitage Hux was still hanging onto his every word, Phasma still shamelessly thirsting after him. Then there were the guys, you and your friends had called them the Knights as they always surrounded Kylo like a beefy entourage, as if he needed protecting. Kylo clocked you before they swarmed the bar and you did a stupid hand wave in acknowledgement.

‘That was embarrassing for you,’ sniggered Jess as they all started laughing into their drinks.

‘Laugh it up fuzzballs! I bet I’m making more money than all of you combined!’ Thankfully that started a new debate and you sat back into Poe’s side as you let them argue. You shivered as his hand gently brushed up your arm, you were sure he didn’t even know he was doing it but you didn’t mind. You had daydreamed so much over the last few years and every time you hit a low point, memories of Poe had helped you through. Your phone buzzed and you cursed as the name came up on the screen.

‘I need to take this,’ you mumbled, climbing over Poe not even getting to enjoy the way his hands helped you out as all you could think about is why he was ringing now.

‘Hello?’

‘Mummy?’ You instantly grinned hearing your daughter's little voice.

‘Hey baby, you ok?’

‘Yeah,’ your 4 year old daughter's voice brought tears to your eyes and you remembered why you had hesitated in coming. ‘Just missing you mummy.’

‘I’ll be home in a couple of days baby. Is daddy being good?’

‘Nope, he won’t let me eat chocolate before bed.’

‘Well that’s good…’

‘Mummy...bye.’

‘Bye baby…’ you heard some rustling on the other end of the line and you frowned as you heard your ex husband speak.

‘So when will you be back?’ He demanded.

‘Well my flights in just over 24 hours then I’ll be home soon after that.’

‘I don’t see why you had to go…’

‘Yeah well maybe I needed a break from it all,’ you snapped, already feeling weary from talking to him.

‘I’ve got papers for you to sign.’

‘Can we talk about this when I get back? And not in front of Flick?’ You looked up at the night sky blinking back tears, fed up with the fights, the paperwork and hiding it all from your daughter as best you could. For now anyway.

‘Say goodnight to mummy it’s dark over there…’ you grinned at your daughters sing song voice before wishing her a goodnight and putting the phone down.

‘You ok?’ You wiped your eyes hurriedly as Poe stood by the door to the bar.

‘Yeah I’ll be in a minute.’ But he came up to you, pulling your hands away from your face.

‘I know you. I know when you’re upset. What did he say?’ You could hear a hint of annoyance in his tone and it warmed you inside that he still felt protective over you.

‘Not much, he was just reminding me I have papers to sign and letting our daughter say goodnight to me,’ the words left your mouth before you could think of what you were saying, not that you were ashamed of your child but you just wanted to have a night and be that person you’d been 10 years ago, now you thought with a heavy heart, Poe would look at you differently.

‘A daughter?’ His voice was monotone almost like he was trying to cover up his shock.

‘Yeah, maybe I should have brought her up before, I don’t know I just wanted to be me for a night.’

‘And you flew all the way out here to do it?’ He asked.

‘It’s been hell,’ you stated simply. You took a shuddery breath trying to quell the rising storm inside you but you felt Poe was the one person you could really be yourself around and at a touch of his hand your barriers fell. He pulled you to him and you cried loudly into his shirt, you hated this and you wished you’d never come but you so desperately needed to escape your situation at home even if it was just for a few days. You felt confused as you clutched Poe’s shirt and he just held you, ever dependable Poe. You pulled away not wanting to rely on him like this.

‘I’m ok, I just need to compose myself,’ you said sniffing.

‘Do you want to get out of here?’ He asked his voice slightly husky as he looked down at you.

‘Yeah I should probably find a motel or something.’

‘Come back to mine, I’ve got a spare room. You’re not here for long, call me selfish but we have some catching up to do. I want to spend time with just you.’ You looked at him, you wanted to, oh god you wanted to go. Your brain said no but your heart said yes and today your heart won.

‘Sure, I’d like that.’

‘Let me get my jacket, stay here. I’ll be subtle.’ He planted a kiss on your head and you closed your eyes still warring with yourself. You told yourself you deserved this, even if a small voice at the back of your mind said you were going to break his heart all over again. He returned within minutes, his hand firmly pressing against the small of your back as he led you away from the bar. ‘Jess clocked me,’ he said just as the door opened. He grabbed you as he darted down an alleyway, he clutched you to him tightly as he peered round the corner. ‘She’s looking for us,’ he whispered and you couldn’t help but grin remembering you used to this back when you were dating. He looked down at you, his hand coming up, brushing the hair over your shoulder before gently swiping your cheek, his thumb trailed softly over your bottom lip and you ran it through your teeth as he tickled you.

You gasped as his lips connected with yours, the kiss was quick as he pulled away seeing your reaction. Your brain froze as long gone feelings rushed to the forefront.

‘I can’t….I only have tonight. I have to go back…’ you whispered feeling sad that you couldn’t just get lost in his arms without hurting him. He rested against the wall with a sigh as he thought about what you said, his curls flopping over his forehead in the way you loved so much.

‘What if we just take tonight. Don’t think ahead, let’s just have tonight.’ His voice was low and you heard the edge of need in his tone stoking the fire inside you.

‘Just tonight…’ you whispered as his hand wrapped around the base of your neck pulling you to him but he paused, his eyes looking deeply into yours as his lips brushed you gently.

‘Just tonight,’ he whispered back. He pulled away dragging you into the night.

Once you were inside his house you felt nervous, like a teenager and your parents were away but they had expressly said no partners. Yet you broke the rules anyway. That’s exactly how you felt, the air of anticipation surrounded you both as you silently slipped your shoes off at the front door. His house was homely, slightly messy but you didn’t care, grinning as he grabbed some stuff to throw in the washing machine.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting visitors.’

‘You were never the tidiest person,’ you said following him into the kitchen and you couldn’t help the smile spreading over your face at the noise of indignation he made.

‘I am an adult! I can live how I like!’ You laughed remembering his Dad used to say that.

‘When you grow up you can live how you like, but until then! It’s my rules!’ You both descended into laughter as you finished off Kes’s phrase. He opened the fridge and pulled out some bottles.

‘What would you prefer, cider or beer?’

‘Ooh cider!’

‘Think fast!’ Your hand shot out as he threw the bottle at you and thankfully you caught it.

‘Poe Dameron! I was not ready!’ You said punching him gently on the shoulder, he held out his bottle and you took it automatically snapping the metal cap off with your teeth.

‘I’m glad that never changed,’ he said before taking a swig, his dark eyes trained on you. You snapped the cap off your bottle and took a sip feeling the cool fruity liquid flood your mouth. You were going to have a headache tomorrow.

‘Can I have a snoop?’ He shrugged and you slowly made your way to the living room. It was clear only Poe had lived here, you paused at the sofa, your fingers threading into the blanket thrown over the back. You recognised it instantly, your nan had taught you how to crochet and you had made a blanket with orange and white colours to create some circular patterns. You had been so shy giving it to him sure he was going to think it was stupid but he took it giving you a hug and saying thanks. And here it was 15 years later on the back of his sofa.

‘Poe..’ you looked at him leaning on the doorframe as he watched you.

‘It was all I had of you after you left.’ You took a steady breath at the sadness lacing his tone as you fisted your hand into the blanket. You took a long drink out of your bottle hoping to fight back the tears as you chucked your head back, the bubbles danced on your tongue and you tried to concentrate on that sensation but you could feel him behind you.

His hand took the bottle from your grasp and you let it slide from your fingers as you watched him over your shoulder. Next he removed your coat softly dragging it down your arms and you got goosebumps as his fingers trailed over your skin. He gently brushed your hair to the side and you had to bite your lip as he kissed the hollow in your neck. His hand tracked down your body as you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. You stayed like that for a moment as his arms tightened around you and he breathed softly against your neck, his nose buried in your hair. You could feel the tension building inside you and you shifted against him, biting your lip again when you felt how hard he was through his trousers already.

You could feel your heart racing as you spun in his embrace, you could feel the edge of the sofa digging into your lower back as he pressed into you. You slipped your hands into his leather jacket, teasing it off his shoulders and laying it down over the sofa. His hands went back to your hips and his eyes roamed over your face, your chest heaved as you studied his face. A face you had desperately missed, you slowly traced his lips with your finger and his eyes glowered at you with a smouldering heat.

‘I’ve missed these,’ you whispered gently brushing his soft curls away from his eyes and he leaned into your touch.

‘I have missed you. More than you realise.’

‘Show me,’ you whispered. ‘Show me how much you've missed me.’ His lips were on you in a second, his tongue in your mouth as he pressed up against you. The kiss was fierce, full of hunger and need as his lips caressed yours, his tongue possessing your mouth in a way that left you dizzy and wanting air. Your body trembled as you pulled at his top and he tugged at your dress straps, you pulled your arms out pushing it down to expose your breasts and the smoulder in his eyes made you press your thighs together in anticipation. A fire had awoken inside you, a fire only Poe could create. It felt like his hands were everywhere at once and you groaned loudly as he sucked on your neck, kissing that spot that only he had been able to find. You pulled your dress up your thighs and wrapped your legs around his hips pulling him closer as you leaned back slightly. His hands supported your back as his mouth trailed searing hot kisses along your exposed collarbone and you worked his shirt out of his trousers, sliding your hands up his toned back. You moaned as he stepped away, his hair disheveled from your fingers, his lips red where he had kissed you hard, his eyes glittering with heat and his chest heaved as he tried to steady himself.

He pulled on your hand and you slowly followed him as he led you upstairs, he looked back giving you that lopsided smile that was always full of unspoken promises. He pulled you to him, kissing you gently as he backed into the bedroom, he turned and shoved you onto the bed and you watched with hooded eyes as he undid the buttons on his shirt, pulling it apart before he crawled between your legs, which you opened to accommodate him. His hand slid up your body, trailed up your neck and he pulled you to him for another kiss. You pulled on him and slowly he lowered his body onto yours, his skin warm to the touch and you rolled your hips into his eliciting a groan from him.

‘Baby you’re so needy,’ he whispered as his hand slowly trailed up your inner thigh, gently brushing your underwear and you almost whimpered in desperation for him to touch you. He hooked a finger in the band and began to shimmy them down your legs, leaving a line of wet kisses down your leg as he did. You were so consumed by your need for him everything else flew from your mind as he grabbed your thighs and pulled them apart. The cold air teased your wet core and you weren’t even ashamed with how wet you were, your hips bucked as he ghosted a hand over your bundle of nerves. ‘Patience.’ His brown eyes raked down your hot and bothered body before he dipped down, his face pressed into your inner thigh and you wound your fingers into his curls. You gasped, your eyes closing tightly as his tongue licked up your wet slit, your back arched as you felt a finger nudge at your entrance. ‘You are so wet,’ he murmured with a moan as he pushed a finger inside you.

‘More!’ You gasped and he obliged with another finger stretching you slightly but you wanted even more. You groaned as you tossed your head to the side just concentrating on the sensations he was giving you and the third finger that stretched you perfectly. A groan ripped from your chest as he gently swiped a thumb over your clit.

‘God, you make the best noises,’ moaned as his head dipped down again and you tightened your grip on his curls as he began to suck on you. His fingers dragged in and out of you causing cries of pleasure to bubble up from inside you. Your orgasm came at you in a rush, pleasure flooding your body as you tensed around him, you could feel just one more suck, one more motion and he’d have you tipping over the edge. Your legs shook and your mouth opened wide as the tidal wave of pleasure rocked your core, it spread through you and momentarily you didn’t know where you were, just lost in the wave of pleasure as it swept you away. You hummed as finally your legs relaxed, he crawled his way up you, kissing you as he shed his shirt and trousers in a rush. You wiggled your hips at the feel of his hardness against you burning the skin of your inner thigh, slowly he entered you and you both groaned at the sensation as he pushed into you. You were both so wet he slid in easily, slotting against you like he was made for you. His hands swiped the hair off your face as he kissed you deeply, his hips finally moving as he settled into a steady rhythm. You zoned out to the noises he made, the way his chain jingled against you both, the little huffs and groans he made when you wiggled a certain way had you moving closer to a second orgasm quicker than you’d like. His face buried in your neck and you felt him falter slightly against you and you knew he was close. You slipped a hand between you gently rubbing your clit, his eyes met yours as he quickened the pace. ‘I’m so c-close,’ he stuttered.

‘Mmmm let go!’ He pressed his forehead against you as he pumped into you, bringing you both over the threshold, your cries mingling together as you both released at the same time. He sagged against you kissing you lazily as you both rested in the post orgasmic bubble with each other. You wrapped your arms around each other, enjoying the company but as the feelings trickled away from you both cold realisation set in that this wouldn’t last for much longer.

‘Poe…’ but he stopped you with a hand over your mouth.

‘You promised me,’ he kissed your cheek. ‘An entire,’ he kissed your other cheek. ‘Night.’

‘We best carry on then,’ you whispered as a smile crept over your face.

‘Have you got anymore in you baby?’ Before he could react you flipped him onto his back.

‘You have no idea,’ you said as you nudged his face with your nose kissing him gently.

‘Promises…’ he murmured.

You stood by the edge of the bed looking down at him still sleeping. As you had predicted you had a headache but what did you expect from mixing your drinks. You knelt down next to the bed, not wanting to wake him but not wanting to leave without saying goodbye either, not again.

‘Poe…’ you nudged him slightly. ‘Poe….’ He groaned one eye opening sleepily.

‘Is it time?’ You smiled to try and cover the tears that were threatening to well up in your eyes and you nodded. He looked at you for a moment before pulling you to him and whispering in your ear as he embraced you. ‘We said, just tonight.’

‘I know I know!’ He pulled back slightly kissing everywhere he could reach as he held your face. The tears fell silently as you kissed him back before getting up, time was marching on and you couldn’t afford to miss your flight. ‘I have to go...my flight.’

‘Let me walk you out.’ His fingertips were touching you the whole time until you were at the door when he kissed you. His tongue swiping your lips as he kissed you deeply, you felt the wall behind you as he tried to press as much of himself against you as much as possible and you tried desperately not to cry into his mouth. You felt awful, walking away yet again leaving him standing here alone. ‘I don’t hold it against you,’ he murmured as he tucked your hair behind your ear. ‘If I could have left 10 years ago, I would have.’ You cleared your throat before you spoke.

‘But I should have stayed…’

‘No. You did the right thing, I didn’t think so at the time but for you, maybe for both of us. It was the right thing.’ He lifted your head, your eyes locking with his.

‘But the life we could…’ he shrugged. His muscles rippling under his smooth skin as he held your chin.

‘So what? Don’t dwell on the past, it could have been a really great life or we could have ended up hating each other.’

‘But I love you…’ a sob gripped your throat and you fell against him wishing you didn’t have to leave, not knowing when you could come back.

‘I love you too, I always have and I always will, but.’ He placed his hands on your shoulders pushing you away as he swallowed harshly. ‘We said. Just tonight. You have to go back.’ You nodded miserably, he was right you did have to go back.

He opened the door and stepped away from you leaving you no choice but to head outside, your taxi chose that moment to pull up with a squeal of its brakes. ‘Your taxi is here.’ You nodded sniffing slightly as you looked at him.

‘Bye Poe,’ it was barely a whisper like you didn’t want to say it but you had to struggle out the goodbye this time. You owed him that.

‘Goodbye, my love.’ It took all your effort to compose yourself at the use of his old nickname for you, it was his way of saying he’d keep you close to him always and forever. As the taxi drove away you didn’t look back, you couldn’t or you’d break down, shriek at the taxi to stop, fall back into his arms and you’d never find the strength to go back to England. You pulled your phone out with shaky hands and looked at the photo of your daughter smiling up at you. You were going home for her. The streets turned into a blur around you as the taxi sped you away, back to your life and tearing you away from the one you wanted.

You opened your eyes as the weak sunlight streamed through your curtains highlighting the cardboard boxes stacked up in your room. It had been over a month since you’d got back from America and things had moved quickly, the papers were signed, the house was sold and you bought a small two bed for you and Felicity. She was with her father this weekend and in all honesty you hated when she left. You walked through the house in your baggy t-shirt cursing softly as you stubbed your toe on another box in the hallway, hopping the last few steps you managed to ease yourself into your chair and woke your computer up. With a sigh you checked your emails annoyed to see you had nothing to attend to at this ungodly hour on a Sunday. You slumped at your desk, laying your head on the table trying not to get sucked into the swirling whirlpool of dark thoughts that struck you whenever you were on your own, threatening to pull you in the murky depths of hopelessness. A ping made you sit up and you saw Kylo had sent you an email. Finally, you thought, something to do! But you paused at the words on the email.

You have this week off. Enjoy.

Regards

Kylo

You stared at the email, you didn’t book time off? You’d been working 7 days a week almost every week since you got back. Furiously you shot an email back saying he must have made a mistake but the response was almost immediate.

I do not make mistakes. Don’t make me change my mind.

Kylo

You sat back in your chair frowning, you had nothing coming up, no one's birthdays, it wasn’t Easter or Christmas, no school holidays….your mind spun wildly as you entered the kitchen putting the coffee machine on. You really had no idea why Kylo would give you this week off, maybe he was rewarding your hard work but it was so out of character for him.

You swiftly grabbed your coffee as a knock sounded at the door, you quickly ran a hand through your hair but you just successfully made it worse. You pulled the door open expecting to see you ex bringing your daughter home early but your eyes were playing tricks on you. Shock held you rigid, your fingers gripping harshly to the door but you didn’t register the pain shooting down your arm. You had no words as you blinked stupidly at the person before you all coherent thought leaving your brain as he grinned at your reaction.

‘My love, are you going to let me in?’

‘I — I, yes…..’ you finally managed to step aside noting the large bag on his back as he gently prised your fingers off the door closing it softly behind him. You still couldn’t process he was really here as he leaned against the door, his eyes heavy and weary after the long journey. ‘Here.’ You held out the coffee and he took it, his eyes darting behind you.

‘Is she here?’ You shook your head, your heart beating erratically in your chest as he took a step towards you. ‘So I can do this?’ He whispered as his hand slipped round your waist, pulling you towards him he kissed you deeply. You pushed away, your hand flying to your tingling lips as you stared wide eyed at him.

‘You’re here.’

‘I am, sorry it took me so long selling the house was a pain and convincing Dad this was the right choice…’

‘You’re moving here? For good?’ He turned to look at you, his dark eyes hesitant.

‘I can buy my own place until you’re ready..’

‘No.’ You grinned, a stupidly big grin as you stared at Poe Dameron in your hallway, in England. ‘You move in here, we have wasted enough time.’

‘Only if you’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. Holy fuck you’re actually here?’ You let out a short laugh in disbelief.

‘Tired, but I’m actually here.’

‘Jess told you where I was didn’t she?’

‘For once, yes she did.’ He held up a hand moving towards the front door. ‘I brought some extra gifts.’ Loud shouts erupted from outside as you saw all your friends standing on your doorstep. Tears filled your eyes as you greeted them all.

This is what you’d wanted, your friends and the man you had loved your whole life in your life always. Bet you’re glad you went to that reunion now.

[mmvalentine]

Home is Where You Are pt 1 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. Part 2 now up.

Rhys hadn’t seen Feyre in over ten years. It was strange for him to think about, because they had always been so close. They had grown up next door to each other, and had been best friends as children. As they got older, Rhys had flown into fits of jealous rage when Feyre suddenly had a hundred other friends and he was left behind. Then there was that one night, when they were thirteen and camping out in the Archerons' back yard, and giggling in the tent, they had decided to find out what all the fuss was about kissing.

They had leaned in, pressed their lips together, and held their breath. Five seconds went by, and then Feyre pulled back, laughing.

“It’s kind of... wet,” she had said, wiping her mouth of the back of her hand. But Rhys been too stunned to say anything. He followed Feyre’s lead as she lay back in her sleeping bag and launched into a story about a particularly annoying boy at school, and Rhys had pretended to listen. But all the while, his fists were clenched tight at his side, as he fought to get in control of the strange, hot sensation that had started where Feyre’s mouth touched his and had somehow pooled in his stomach like lava. More troublingly, it was moving further south, and the young teenage Rhys was baffled by the apparent autonomy the lower part on his anatomy had lately been growing.

And then the next day Feyre’s mother had a stroke in the kitchen, and hadn’t survived the ambulance ride. And her father, grief stricken and barely functional, and up and moved the whole family to the other side of the country to avoid any reminder of his dead wife. Hadn’t actually managed to sell the house, just abandoned it and let it sit empty and decay over the years. And Rhys, Rhys was left alone with his drunk, bitter father, and he never got to tell Feyre that he was sorry her mother had died, that he knew exactly what it felt like and wanted to be there for her, that he was pretty sure he loved her with all of his thirteen year old heart.

Over the next decade, Rhys’ father got older but not more sober. His arm weakened, thankfully, although his aim somehow never did. Rhys cared for him the best he could until he died- liver failure of course- and then up and moved to the city using the money from his fathers estate. There was a surprisingly large amount of money for the frequency with which Rhys had been fed hot meals as a kid.

He had looked Feyre up on social media, but she was working as an artist now and her photos were all of her work, very rarely with her in them. He had wanted to message so many times, but when he saw how well she was doing, it hadn’t seemed right. Not when he felt like a stark reminder of such a bad time in her life.

And then her father had passed away, leaving them both orphans, and she had reached out to him.

By email, for chrissake. Like some kind of professional courtesy.

Hi Rhys,

Long time no see. I’m guess you’ve head the news by now. Cancer, in the end. But I think he was sort of waiting to die for a long time. Anyway, Nesta and Elain have pretty much checked out of the situation, and so I’ve taken over the big job- selling the old house. My sisters basically said just do it and send us the money.

The upshot is, I’ll be travelling back to the old neighbourhood in about a week. I know it’s been forever, but you lived in that house most as much as we did. I was wondering if you wanted to come down and hang out, before we sell it. I’ve been talking to realtors and I’ll probably be there just a few days, and then leave it to them. I don’t know how any of this works to be honest.

You’re welcome to come with me if you want, but no pressure.

Feyre

Rhys had written back straight away, and before he knew it he was on a plane. Back to that sad little suburb, with its malignant houses and crumpled people. To his father's house, where there were cracks in the wall that Rhys' younger bones had bade. To the Archeron home, where he had found refuge after the old man had passed out, drunk.

To Feyre.

He had no idea what to expect. Had spent the whole flight full to the brim of jitters, and wondering what it would be like to see her again, and cursing himself for letting it get this far and then to not have been the one to reach out first.

And then his feet marched themselves down the crooked streets, knowing where to go instinctively, so before he knew it he was standing before his old house. And hers.

Actually being there was like a punch in the gut. Rhys suddenly felt eight years old again, and even the anticipation of how his old house smelled had nausea rolling in his gut. He didn't think he'd be so affected by it. He wondered if anyone had moved into the house- there were no cars or toys in the front yard, but the garden wasn't overgrown. Not like the Archeron house.

His old neighbour's place looked terrible. Mould was growing over the peeling paint, a few of the windows in the front were cracked, and weeds reigned over the garden. So different from when the girls had lived here, and Elain had been so dilligent with her botanical care.

Rhys remained in silent contemplation for another minute or so, and then, taking him quite by surprise, the front door opened. And there stood Feyre.

Rhys eyes threatened to throw themselves out of their sockets. He worked to keep his jaw shut, and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the sight of her.

Feyre was gorgeous.

Little girl Feyre had white blonde hair, skinny arms, and blue bug-eyes. Little boy Rhys had loved her exactly how she was, and had thought she was the most perfect person in the world.

Grown up Feyre was astounding.

Her hair had darkened to the colour of gold and honey, and now curled gently over her shoulders. Her frame had filled out to accommodate softly curving hips and a modest cleavage. She had grown into her eyes, the delicate grey-blue of them like rain-clouds on the horizon. Rhys had been waiting and waiting to meet Feyre again, but this... this was ridiculous.

Since leaving his father's house, Rhys had to admit he spent a lot of time on his body. He never wanted to feel so weak as when he was six years old and unable to protect his mother from his father's rage. Thankfully, as a teenager he started to pile on muscle quite easily. And then after moving out, he made sure to tattoo over the scars on his chest so that his father had no say over what his skin looked like.

And yet now he felt tiny again, and devastated that this Feyre was completely out of his league. He didn't know what to say to her.

Turned out, he didn't have to.

"Rhys!" Feyre said, seeing him standing there. She crossed the yard in a few strides, and before he got so much as a 'hello' out, Feyre had wrapped her arms around him. The smell of her neck right under his nose floored him. She pulled back, with her hands still on him.

"Rhys, I can't believe you're here!" Feyre looked him up and down, and laughed. "Well you got big, huh?"

God, her laugh. He didn't remember it being so musical.

"Hey Feyre," he said out loud. "I'm sorry about your dad." Feyre squeezed his arms. "Thanks. And thank you for coming. It's really good to see you." "It's good to see you," Rhys said. "I'm so sorry it's taken so long." "Well, we're here now," Feyre said, and in that moment Rhys was determined to never let her get that far away from him again.

"So how have you been?" Rhys started to ask. But at that moment, the door opened again, and a man with a blonde man-bun stepped out. He looked like one of those surfer dudes Rhys had never liked.

"Babe," he said. "There's definitely termites in there. It's gonna lower the price point for sure."

Rhys stared. Babe?

Feyre rolled her eyes. "Great, just add it to the list."

It was then that the man noticed Rhys. He extended a hand.

"Hey buddy, I'm Tamlin," he said. "Hey... buddy," Rhys replied tersely. Feyre jumped in. "Tamlin, this is Rhys, he used to live next door when we were kids." Feyre put her hand on Tamlin's arm, and smiled a heartbreaking smile at him.

"Rhys, this is Tamlin. My fiancé."

****

So okay, it has been one week since I hit tumblr and spewed my story telling guts all over you lovely, sweet, kind people.

I know you connected really well with Lockdown Lovers, and it seems maybe a bit less well with Circus of Dreams? So I am throwing out one more AU, a little darker this time. I will keep posting CoD, but please let me know what you think and what you guys want to read.

Anyway I have been uploading manically over the last 7 days and at the moment I feel like I'm bombarding you with my filthy daydreams, so I'm going to try very hard to take a couple days off writing and let people actually read the damn things!

Finally, thank you so, so much for the support and love. I've been using this place to escape from personal problems and you have been outstanding. Hopefully in a few days I'll post at a more reasonable rate and from a better head space.

Thank you, lovers.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies

[alittleimagine]

just a favor- prologue

derek hale x reader

derek would love if his family would stop hounding him about dating again after he’s unceremoniously dumped. he doesn’t mean to lie to his sister about a girlfriend that doesn’t exist, but it’s too late to take it back now. 

“Have you considered just telling Laura the truth?”

“He can’t tell them the truth now.”

“Why not?”

“Because then they’ll freak out about him being a big sad-sack who hasn’t gotten over being dumped half a year ago.”

“Hey!” Derek cut in. He had been content to let Scott and Stiles argue back and forth for the last few minutes, but he drew the line at being called a sad-sack. 

Stiles didn’t even look sorry. “I’m not saying you are a sad-sack, I’m saying that’s what they think.” He said.

“That doesn’t help as much as you think it does.”

Scott snorted to himself. 

Stiles was not deterred. “What we need to do is just find you a date. Erica would probably be down to go.” He said. 

Derek sighed, deep and dramatic. “Laura knows Erica is dating Boyd. Just like she knows Allison is with Scott, and Lydia is with Jordan. Malia is obviously bringing Kira to Thanksgiving. She knows all of you.” He’d already given this a great deal of thought. 

And he was screwed.

“Melissa?” 

“Hey!” Scott shot a betrayed look at Stiles. “Leave my mom out of this.” 

Stiles flailed, his arms flapping in Derek’s general direction. “I am just trying to help the sad-sack!”

“Hey!” 

Derek grabbed the nearest pillow from Stiles’s bed and chucked it at him. Years of bench-warming on the lacrosse team had not served Stiles well and the pillow hit him full force in the face, sending him tumbling backward into his desk. 

When he’d regained his balance he threw the pillow back at Derek who caught it without a problem and set it back on the bed looking not a little smug. 

Stiles didn’t seem to notice or care for Derek’s obvious physical superiority because he was snapping his fingers rapidly. Both Derek and Scott recognized what the gesture meant- there was a thought trying to make its way out.

“I’ve got it!” He said. There was a mildly manic look in his eyes. “I know the perfect person for the job. She loves these kind of shenanigans. I bet she’s a good liar, she looks like she’d be a good liar. But I don’t know if she’ll have the days off. That could be a problem.”

With every second Stiles kept arguing with himself rather than name the person he was talking about Derek could feel his tolerance slipping. He gave him an annoyed impatient look, but Stiles was too far gone in his own head to even notice. 

Scott, who had been trying so hard not to look too amused, bit his lip to keep from laughing at Derek’s frustration. 

“Stiles,” Derek said in a warning tone, “if you don’t just spit it out-”

“Y/N!” 

“Yes?”

The three of them jumped at the voice from the door. 

And there was Y/N herself. She looked like she’d been there a while, enough time at least to make herself comfortable against the door frame, a men’s dress shirt on a hanger looped casually in her hands. If she wasn’t amused before she’d scared them, she certainly was now. 

“What are you doing in my house?” Stiles squawked. “How did you get in?”

She rolled her eyes and stood up straight to dig in through the leather backpack slung on her shoulder, finding and jingling a key ring at them. “I had to pick up a shirt for your dad’s hot date tonight.” The waggle of her eyebrows was 100% intentional and successful if Stiles’s quiet “yuck” was anything to go by. “He gave me a key months ago.” 

“Of course he did.” Stiles didn’t even sound surprised. 

When Y/N had moved to Beacon Hills a little under a year ago she’d known no one in town and had described the move as an impulse brought on by a typo on a job search site. She’d been looking for jobs in Sacramento, but the zip code she’d entered was just one digit off. Instead, she’d been shown jobs in Beacon Hills, but most especially had been a listing for a Receptionist/Admin Assistant at the Sheriff’s department. 

Sheriff Stilinski had interviewed her and Kira had helped her find an apartment upon the Sheriff’s recommendation, but when she moved to town they were the only two people she knew. 

It hadn’t taken her long to settle in. Through work she’d become fast friends with Jordan and Boyd, which led to meeting Lydia and Erica. Through Kira she’d met Malia and then Allison and rounding back to Lydia.

Which was when Derek had met her. 

He’d been dating Jennifer at the time and there’d been a part of him that was concerned when he spotted the girls plus one Y/N having dinner at the local diner and he realized they had never in the past invited Jennifer to do so. In retrospect it was obvious they saw something in Jennifer that he hadn’t and they’d been right to exclude her. 

Jennifer hadn’t been too fond of her.

Derek had never spent much time with Y/N though, and it was always in the company of their other friends, but he considered her a friend- or friend adjacent. He enjoyed the way she messed with Stiles most of all. 

“It’s not my fault I’m your dad’s favorite person.” Y/N said, a teasing smile on her face. It was no secret that torturing Stiles was one of her top favorite things to do. 

But, however much teasing she had planned was not going to stop Stiles. He had a determined look in his eyes that usually spelled trouble for Derek and Scott. The look Scott sent Derek told him he’d had the same thought.

“You should date Derek.” Stiles said without preamble. 

Derek couldn’t recall ever having seen Y/N look so surprised. She turned away from Stiles to look at him and he could feel his ears start to turn pink. He was going to kill Stiles.

Her eyebrows were still high on her forehead when the look became less shock and more amusement.  

“I think if I’m going to go out with Derek he’s going to have to ask me himself.” She said like they were discussing the weather and not Stiles pimping him out. Or pimping her out. Derek wasn’t sure which.

“It’s not like that.” Derek rushed out. 

“So you don’t want to go out with me?”

Derek was going to kill Stiles. 

“Just for Thanksgiving.” Stiles said.

Y/N had a wicked gleam in her eye. It made Derek shift in his seat. 

“You want me to go out with Derek just on Thanksgiving,” she said, slow and deliberate, “and it’s ‘not like that’.” She made air quotes with her fingers. “So you want me to fake date you for, I assume, family reasons?”

It should have worried Derek that she’d put it together as quickly and gleefully as she had. The burning pink of his ears and neck should have worried him. Every part of this half-baked plan should have sent him spiraling into a panic. 

He gulped and nodded. “Yes. Please.”

The seconds before she spoke again seemed to stretch and stretch. She was watching him intently. 

At last she shrugged. “I can do that.” She said. “I have to get back to the station, but I’ll text you so we can plan. We have a lot to do in the next week.”

And just like that she flashed them a peace sign and left the doorway, calling a bye behind her. 

“I can’t believe that just worked.” Scott said.

Derek had to clear his throat before he spoke. “What did she mean by plan?”

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 82 - Silence

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 8,000

Summary: For the Ratchat, who witnessed this very first HP AU scene being written, and made it my legacy.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

The Snatchers hadn’t been sure if he was Yato, but the spell Hiyori had used proved useless as they were still being led to the Sorcerer.

Their hands had been bound and wands taken before they Disapparated into a small country lane in the middle of nowhere. Dusk cloaked them as the Snatchers pushed and shoved them into up a lane no bigger than an alley.

Yato could barely see, his face swollen and puffy from the jinx Hiyori had blasted him with, but he had heard Kazuma had also been Snatched. He heard Yukine cursing him briefly before being ordered to shut up. Their bags had been searched and taken. One of the Snatchers – a man who seemed to be stuck halfway between human and werewolf – carried the Sword of Gryffindor, using it every now and then to prod them along like cattle.

They trudged silently before being brought to a halt. Lamplight illuminated a hazy image of black and grey ahead of him, and Yato pried his eyes open. Black, wrought iron gates in the shapes of serpents latticed together stood before them, dark and tall and imposing before them.

Yato felt his heart stop. He knew those gates; they were once his prison bars.

The creak of metal sounded in their ears and the gates melted away, the snakes slithering away into the stone arches to allow the Snatchers to push their prisoners up the gravelled path. A looming shape appeared up ahead, but Yato didn’t have to squint to know what it was. A stately home – a castle, really – lay cloaked in darkness, save for the few lamps that shone on the porchway to shine down on visitors. The windows were dark with inactivity, but inside he knew there would be life and death.

The lead Snatcher banged three times on the black door, ignoring the serpent knocker. After a few moments light spilled over them, cutting through the darkness and burning Yato’s sore eyes.

“What’s this?” A gruff voice said.

“We’ve come to see the Dark Lord,” the Snatcher rasped. “We have Yato.”

A hand gripped Yato by the scalp, pulling his head back to present him to a blurred figure surrounded by the gleaming light of the manor.

“Doesn’t look like him,” the voice said. The blurred shape of a head moved to peer around Yato. “But I know those two – friends of his. Bring them in.”

It took Yato a moment to recognise the owner of the voice; he hadn’t heard it since they killed Professor Tenjin. Kugaha.

What was he doing at Father’s house? Yato thought briefly. A shove propelled him forward, stumbling through the threshold followed by Hiyori, Yukine, Kazuma, and the rest of the Snatchers.

Kugaha led them the way through the mansion, white marble gleaming on every surface. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling every few meters, dazzling his eyes painfully under the swelling. The hallway blurred from dark to light as they passed, but even without his full sight, Yato knew the walls were lined with portraits of great witches and wizards.

They passed what Yato remembered to be the drawing-room where Father took guests late at night. The fireplace was barely a flicker, but numerous lamps and candles had been lit on the mantlepiece, enshrining the portrait above it of Salazar Slytherin.

“If this is Yato, his sister will know,” Kugaha said to no one in particular, not bothering to turn his head.

Yato felt his heart twist in his chest. They were led into a vast room that Yato recognised as the main parlour, though it was more the size of a ballroom. The chandelier seemed to not have been lit in years, hanging on an iron chain above the center of the room. The fireplace was roaring, licking at bits of wood that servants – or slaves – fed into the flames. Beside it stood a girl dressed in white.

She turned at the sound of footsteps marching into the room, echoing off the empty walls. Her eyes grazed Kugaha, then flickered to Yato’s deformed face. There was a moment's confusion, but it was swept away the instant she saw Hiyori and Yukine stood behind him.

“Nora, come here,” Kugaha ordered.

Nora made no move, her profile flickering in shadow and flame as she stared at Yato. She knew exactly who he was, and it terrified him.

Kugaha ripped Yato from the Snatcher’s grip and dragged him forward towards the firelight. “Is this your brother?”

Nora didn’t reply, and Kugaha pushed Yato forward in response. He avoided eye contact, and it seemed Nora was doing the same. She looked smaller, shrunken into herself as if parts of her had been chipped away since leaving Hogwarts.

“Well?” Kugaha pressed.

“I don’t know,” Nora murmured. She stole a glance at Yato, feigning interest, but looked away just as quickly.

“Look closely!” Kugaha urged. “If this is him, the Sorcerer, your father, will reward us beyond our dreams! If we call him and it’s not him…”

“If it’s not him, it’s not him,” the half-human called from behind. He had propped the sword on his shoulder, his other hand on Yukine. “Leave his ugly mug in the dungeon and question these two, since they’re meant to be his friends.”

“Is this his girlfriend, Nora?” Kugaha gestured for Hiyori to be brought forward. she stumbled to catch herself as she was hauled up beside Yato. “And that blond boy? Are these the ones?”

“I – they were friends…” Nora mumbled, perhaps hoping that the words would be lost, and they were when the doors on the other side of the room slammed open.

A woman’s voice pierced the air, sending their hearts beating even faster. Her robes billowed around her, hair loose from its usual style though the beads remained entwined in some strands. The darkness of the room only accentuated the paleness of the skin and the fire highlighted the mad glitter in her eyes as they fell on the prisoners.

“What’s all this about?” Oshi barked.

It may have been the swelling, but Yato swore he saw Kugaha puff his chest out in pride. “The traitors, my lady,” Kugaha replied.

Oshi circled Yato and Hiyori with wary eyes. Her gaze roamed Yato’s face, taking in the pink scarring and the swelling which was beginning to lessen around his eyes. She looked between the two, noticing Hiyori’s avoidance to meet her eye. Her gaze went over their heads to Kazuma, and then Yukine.

“Oh yes, this is definitely Yato,” Oshi smiled slowly and sweetly. “He has his Mudblood pets with him.”

“I told you it was him!” Kugaha hissed to no one in particular. Nora’s eyes slid away from Yato, guilty: a silent witness to their sentencing.

Oshi raised her sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark, indelible on her arm. Her fingers hovered above it for a second, to summon her master, before Kugaha caught her wrist.

“I will be the one to inform the Dark Lord,” Kugaha said smoothly. “They were found under my watch –.”

“Actually,” the half-human cut it, “We were the ones who found them, so we will be claiming the gold –.”

“Gold!” Oshi shrieked with a manic smile, shaking Kugaha’s grip from her arm. “Take your gold, you filthy mongrel. I seek only my…. Lord’s…”

Oshi’s eyes dropped from his fanged face to his hand. Kugaha took the chance to pull his sleeve up his arm, the Dark Mark scarred but irremovable on his arm as he moved to summon the Sorcerer.

“STOP!” Oshi screeched. “DO NOT SUMMON HIM!”

Kugaha froze and the room hung in silence.

Oshi brushed past Yato, a finger raised. “What is that?”

Yato risked turning his head to the side. Despite his clearing vision, it was hard to make out that Oshi was addressing the wolf-man who held the Sword of Gryffindor.

“A sword,” he grunted.

“Give it to me.”

“Finders Keepers.”

There was an immediate flash of red and a thump of flesh on marble. There was a roar from the other three Snatchers, releasing their captives and drawing their wands to face off Oshi.

“Are you mad, woman?” Kugaha roared, all pomp and circumstance gone.

They were never a match for her; she was a witch, mad and skilled and without conscience. They all fell where they stood, laying on the marble in various degrees of injuries.

Oshi bent and picked up the sword, the hilt glimmering in the firelight. She held it before her, examining the blade. A groaned cough came from her feet. The Snatcher who had held Kazuma wheezed and tried to roll onto his back, but Oshi placed her foot on his throat and pressed down.

“Where did you get this?”

Her voice was no more than a whisper that would’ve escaped them if the room hadn’t been so quiet. A rasp came from below, and her foot pressed tighter.

“Where?! This sword is meant to be in my vault!”

“In… the girl’s… bag…” the man wheezed.

Oshi snapped her foot to the side and a crack resounded in the room. When she moved away, dark robes willowing, they saw the man’s neck bent at an unnatural angle. Yato’s heart thrummed again as he realised Oshi was heading back towards him… but her eyes weren’t on him.

They were on Hiyori.

“What does it matter they stole the sword? We have it now,” Kugaha asked, but Oshi threw up a hand in disgust to silence him.

“Shut up, I need to think,” Oshi ordered. “The Dark Lord cannot know about this, he cannot know that anything was stolen from the vault.”

Her gaze fell on Hiyori again and Yato felt her arm flinch against his.

“If this is Yato, then he must not be harmed. The Dark Lord wishes to kill him himself… But if he finds out… I have to know….”

Oshi trailed off and turned to Kugaha. “Put them to the cellars with the other one.”

“The Dark Lord –,” Kugaha argued.

“DO IT! HE’LL KILL US ALL IF I DON’T FIX THIS!” Oshi screeched back. “DO IT NOW!”

Yato felt a chill roll over his body. His eyes weren’t as swollen now, and he could see the pure, unadulterated madness and fear in Oshi’s eyes. She clutched the sword in her fists in front of her, knuckles white.

Kugaha’s jaw clenched but he didn’t argue. Holding out his wand, he gestured for Yato and Hiyori to walk ahead of him and join Yukine and Kazuma by the pile of bodies.

“Wait.”

Yato and Hiyori froze. Kugaha raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Except… except for the Mudblood.”

Kugaha’s lips twitched into a smile. He caught Yato by the arm, pulling him away from Hiyori. Oshi had her wand trained on her, a malicious glint already forming in her eyes.

“NO!” Yato shouted, his mouth cooperating with him despite the tingling swell of his lips returning to normal size. “YOU CAN HAVE ME! KEEP ME!”

A blow struck Yato across the face, hard, and the word went muffled. Between Yukine’s shouts for Hiyori, he heard words murmured in his ear.

“Welcome home, Yaboku.”

~

The cell door slammed shut behind them and the lock clicked into place. Kugaha’s footsteps echoed and receded up the stairs until silence enveloped them.

Yato gripped the bars and shook them, but they held fast despite their aged rust. He swore under his breath, turning back to Yukine and Kazuma, eyes adjusting in the dark.

“We need to get out of here,” Yato said.

“What is this place? Why have they brought us here?” Kazuma asked, wringing his hands.

“This is Father’s house,” Yato said darkly.

The gravity of those words was lost on Kazuma, but Yukine knew exactly what that meant.

“Why are we here? Where is he?” Kazuma asked.

“Hell do I know,” Yato grumbled, running a hand through his hair. His mind raced with memories: The death of his parents he couldn’t even remember, the ‘recruitment’ for Father’s army that led to nothing. Meeting Nora. The endless days where they were giving punishment worse than death for defying Father. The dying screams of those who would not surrender. The feeling of losing himself to something much stronger; a connection forming between him and Father which could not be broken.

“Do you know a way out?” Yukine asked, but Yato shook his head.

He glanced around the room, familiar and cloying with dampness that clung to his clothes. One of these dungeons had been his home for a time when Father took him, and he had no intention of staying prisoner again. Not when he knew of what may be waiting around the corner.

A scuff came from somewhere in the darkness, and they froze.

Yato reached for his wand, but cursed when his fingers remembered it had been taken by one of the Snatchers. They waited with bated breath and strained ears as a figure emerged from the darkness, stepping into the slivers of light cast by the cell door.

“Kazuma?”

Bishamon – dirty, her hair matted at the ends and completely filthy, and alive – looked at them with wide, reproachful eyes.

“Bishamon!” Kazuma cried.

Kazuma surged forward and took Bishamon’s face in his hands, not noticing the way she flinched at the contact. From the look of her, it seemed she hadn’t eaten properly in weeks, and her skin was littered with cuts and fading bruises.

“What are you doing here?” Bishamon whispered, pulling herself away from Kazuma’s embrace. Her eyes finally slid away to the shadowy figures. From the look on her face, she knew exactly who it was despite the slight swelling.

“What is he doing here?!” Bishamon exclaimed.

“He sold us out!” Yukine spat, shoving a finger at Kazuma.

Bishamon looked aghast. “What?!”

“I’m sorry!” Kazuma begged, but Yato couldn’t meet his eye. His gaze fell on the slivers of light that shone down through the cell bars. Yukine folded his arms across his chest, eyes brimming with hate.

Kazuma whirled to Bishamon, eyes pleading. “I couldn’t take it. You’ve been gone for months, I didn’t know if you were dead! I had to get you back. What have they done to you…?”

Kazuma reached a hand to touch her face again, but Bishamon knocked his hand away aggressively.

“You should’ve known not to do this! How could you turn the only hope we have of killing the Sorcerer over?!” Bishamon exclaimed.

“I’m sorry!” Kazuma begged. “We can get out of this. It’s just a few of them-.”

Yato briskly crossed the room to the cell door. He wrapped his hands around the bars again, searching the perimeter for a weakness as he did so often as a child, a chink in the rock that could work the hinges free, but found nothing.

“There isn’t a way out,” Bishamon said softly. Months of captivity had taught her that much.

A beat of silence passed between them.

“Where’s Hiyori?”

Yato’s attention snapped back to Bishamon. The realisation that Hiyori wasn’t among them gave Bishamon a sudden chill of fear. Hiyori – her friend, her teammate, her disciple – was not with them. She looked between their faces, looking for grief, but Yukine jutted his head skywards.

Fear filled Bishamon’s eyes. “Why?”

“We have the Sword of Gryffindor. Apparently, it’s meant to be locked up in Oshi’s vault?” Yukine said.

Kazuma nodded. “At Gringotts. She sent it away after we tried to steal it, to keep it safe. How did you steal it?”

Yato recalled the high halls of Gringotts bank. He’d been there a few times, but he never had reason to open a vault with his pittance of money. He had nothing worth a dragon guarding. “We didn’t steal it, the sword appeared to me.”

There was another beat of silence.

“Let’s hope that Oshi believes that,” Bishamon answered.

Yato frowned. “Why wouldn’t she? Gringotts is impenetrable. No one can steal from it.”

No one could answer that question. Not because they didn’t know of Oshi’s madness, nor because they didn’t know of her ruthlessness.

The question went unanswered because of the screaming.

~

The screaming lasted what felt like hours but could have only been five or ten minutes. It was enough to drive Yato into a frenzy.

“HIYORI!” Yato bellowed up the staircase that descended to the cell, his knuckles white as he thrashed against the cell door. “HIYORI!”

Bishamon had begun to weep, snuffled breaths against Kazuma’s shoulder. Yukine cried silently, knowing it was useless to throw himself at the bars the way Yato did.

Eventually, an eternity after the screaming stopped, footsteps echoed above them and approached down the stone steps. Grey robes appeared, and Kugaha’s face appeared at the bars.

“You fucking bastard!” Yato spat. “What have you done to her?!”

Kugaha didn’t reply. He swiftly pulled his wand from the folds of his robes and hit Yato with a spell, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Yato’s head spun, barely aware of the sound of the cell door clicking and grating open. Kugaha raised his wand against the others, herding them backward until he stopped with Yato at his feet.

Kugaha dragged Yato to his feet by his collar, pinning one arm behind his back and pressing his wand to the side of his neck.

“There’s something we want you to see, Yaboku,” Kugaha said wickedly with a manic grin on his face. He roughly pushed Yato forward and up the stairs to the hall where they had been brought to hours ago. The cell door clicked behind them with a wordless spell.

The injured Snatchers stood around the edge of the room, Nora amongst them but half-hidden in the shadows. On the ground in the center of the hall, Oshi straddled something with her wand drawn.

“Oh look, there’s our Yaboku,” Oshi smiled sweetly, surveying his face now that the swelling was gone. “Welcome home.”

Kugaha shoved Yato to the ground before he could reply, his body hitting the cold, pristine marble with a crack. Looking sideways, he squinted past the stars that had formed in his vision, and his blood ran cold.

Hiyori lay unmoving beneath Oshi, a wand pressed painfully hard into her throat. Her watery eyes stared petrified at the ceiling, arms pinned down by the knees of the witch above her.

“Hiyori?” Yato whispered shakily.

Hiyori’s eyes darted to him, terror evident in her eyes as she saw he had been dragged into whatever they were about to do next. She moved her head slightly, her lips parted slightly to speak as fresh tears leaked from the corners of her eyes before she was silenced by a slap across the face. Hiyori’s sharp gasp was following by quiet sobs, shoulders shaking as she tried to contain them.

Yato hastily moved to push himself up, seething at the witch who had made him listen to Hiyori’s agonising screams, but Kugaha’s foot planted itself into his back, pinning him down. Oshi smirked at him before slowly leaning down to Hiyori, making her flinch and try to shrink away from whatever twisted idea she had in mind.

Her lips brushing against Hiyori’s jawline up to her ear as she relished in the scent of sweat and fear, whispering quietly into her ear.

“Oh, look. Your boyfriend is here. Want to give him a little kiss?”

Hiyori gave a small shuddering sob as Oshi abruptly sat back up, bursting into a happy laugh as if she had told a funny joke. Grinning, she tilted her head to Yato who still lay trapped on the ground, his teeth gritted as he stared daggers at her.

“Well, now that you’re here, Chosen One, we can begin,” said Oshi said sweetly, her malicious eyes boring into him.

“This is how it’s going to work. You tell me how you got into my vault, else your little girlfriend here,” Oshi pressed her wand harder into Hiyori’s neck, a trickle of blood seeping out of the puncture she created. “Won’t be your girlfriend for much longer.”

“You… bitch,” Yato said heavily, trying to move his head so he could face her, but a hand fisted in his hair, pinning him back down. “Let her go.”

“Tut tut, that isn’t how you speak to your masters,” Oshi said mockingly. “I’ll have to punish your little friend for that.”

Oshi moved swiftly and gripped Hiyori’s left arm, plunging the wand deep into her flesh.

Hiyori’s head turned immediately back to face the witch, allowing Yato to see her face. Her guttural scream echoed through the hall and reverberated through the manor. Her back arched in pain and her face contorted in agony as she heaved for breath.

“STOP IT!” Yato screamed, thrashing desperately as he tried to escape his captors. Another boot kicked him in his side, winding him. Unable to move or breathe, he continued to hear Hiyori’s screams.

Tears running down her face, she frantically tried to pull free as the wand carved into her, but was subdued by the point being pressed to her throat once again as she heaved through the pain.

“Do I make myself clear, Yato?” Oshi asked him. “If you don’t answer, she gets hurt. If you haven’t answered by the time I’m done, she dies. Now, how did you get into my vault?”

“Torture me instead!” Yato pleaded, “She doesn’t know anything!”

“Wrong answer.”

She drove her wand into Hiyori’s arm once again, carving. Hiyori screamed louder than before, voice on the edge of breaking.

Yato pleaded for it to stop, uselessly twisting himself around onto his back where a fist connected with his jaw. His right temple smacked back onto the floor, blurred eyes meeting the sight of Hiyori’s legs kicking wildly as she tried to throw her torturer off of her to no avail.

When it had stopped, her head fell to the ground and lulled to the side, empty eyes looking at the blood which streamed from the growing wound.

“Stop it,” Yato whispered. “Don’t hurt her.”

“THEN ANSWER THE QUESTION!” Oshi screamed. “HOW DID YOU GET INTO MY VAULT?! WHO TOOK YOU THERE?!”

Yato fell quiet, breath rasping as he looked at Hiyori. Her unfocused eyes were looking at him, but they looked lifeless. His throat hitched at how she looked exactly like Sakura when he killed her. He felt as if he was being crushed, not by the weight of Kugaha whose weight immobilised him, but by the realisation that he was slowly killing the person he loved.

Bishamon was right; no matter what the truth was, Oshi would not believe it. Hiyori’s screams when he was locked in the dungeon was proof of that.

“Magic,” Yato croaked, hoping that the change in answer would protect Hiyori from further harm. “We used magic.”

“THAT’S ONLY HALF AN ANSWER,” Oshi screamed, losing patience with how long it was taking. “I’LL STOP WHEN YOU’VE TOLD ME EVERYTHING.”

Her hand squeezed on Hiyori’s arm, forcing more blood out and opening the wounds wider. She plunged the wand into the skin, again and again, dragging it harshly through the soft tissue as she carved her way down her arm.

Hiyori thrashed harder than before, the pain more intense as the witch branded Hiyori as what she was. She released strangled screams with every breath, her voice becoming weaker and more cracked as it went on, begging for it to end.

Yato fought weakly against Kugaha, his fists missing his target, and punches raining down on him as they asked the question again and again. Trying to push himself away, another pair of hands pinned his hands above his head to stop him from fighting or protecting himself. A great weight lay on his chest, stopping him from moving. Even if he could move, he would drag himself to Hiyori’s side and let himself die in her place.

Minutes passed and the screaming became weaker and weaker until there was silence. Hands going slack, Yato allowed himself to be beaten as his heart plummeted, oblivious to nothing but the silence. The punches slowed to a stop and a heavy silence hung in the air.

Twisting his head to look at Hiyori through blackened eyes, he could see her brown eyes staring blankly back at him but did not show any signs of their usual brightness. Slowly, they closed.

Dried and fresh tears stained her cheeks and starred her lashes, her mouth hanging open slightly as if still gasping for air. Blood trickled from the injury on her arm which had splattered blood white marble. The tarnishing streaks of blood from the brand engraved into her arm like ink on parchment read a word - a word he had come to hate.

One word that marked her as unworthy of the wizard life.

Mudblood.

Her name barely made it through his cracked lips at the first few attempts. Perhaps because he’s been beaten senseless, or perhaps because the mere sight of what he’d done to her.

“Hi... yori,” Yato said breathlessly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he spoke her name.

Oshi stood up and smirked, kicking Hiyori’s body so she rolled over to face Yato. Wiping the blood off her wand, she walked away, happy at her handiwork. Hiyori lay still, her limp body turned towards him. Blood had slowly stopped seeping out of the wounds on her arm and neck.

“HIYORI!” Yato choked, wrenching a wrist out of his captor’s grasp and thrashing wildly. A wand was instantly pressed to his heart, but still, Yato fought to reach Hiyori’s side.

“Let him go,” A quiet, familiar voice sounded from the edge of the room, from whom he did not know.

Reluctantly, Kugaha pressed his knee harshly into Yato’s stomach as he pushed himself up, leaving him alone on the blood-splattered flagstones. He rolled himself onto his stomach, straining as he began to drag himself pitifully towards Hiyori, leaving bloody marks on the floor with each movement.

Reaching her side, his arm reached out shakily, pulling her broken frame into his protection. He gently touched her cheek, but she did not react.

“Hiyori! Wake up!” Yato whispered, voice thick with emotion and tears beginning to spill. “Hiyori! We can go home now… just like you wanted...”

Yato's eyes looked into her face, praying that there would be some sign of life, but she may as well have been dead in his arms. His fingers trembled as they slid up her face and into her hair, his other hand wrapping around her waist pulling her against his chest. Her head and torn arm rested on his shirt, blood staining the fabric.

“We can go home…” Yato repeated, voice cracking. He closed his eyes and put his lips against her forehead. His hand trailed from her hair down her neck and to her back, where he held her in a gentle embrace, afraid that she would shatter entirely. “Let’s go home.”

“You killed her, Yato,” a voice said mockingly after a few moments of silence. “If only you answered the question, she would still be alive.”

Yato opened his eyes, tears distorting his vision. He turned to look at who had spoken, seeing that Oshi was taking delight in his anguish.

No, Yato thought, but it was a desperate thought that slipped through his fingers like sand. Hiyori wasn’t dead, she couldn’t be dead. Not like this. Not here.

“Take him away, we’ll start over with one of the others.”

Yato snapped, panic rising as Kugaha and a Snatcher moved towards him to drag him away from Hiyori.

“No!” Yato tried to scream, but his voice was too weak and broken to raise. He wrapped his arm tighter around Hiyori, desperately holding onto her so they wouldn’t be separated. Hands grabbed his arms and hair, trying to pry him away from her, but he wouldn’t let go.

Never.

“Petrificus Totalus.”

Yato’s muscles locked into place. He was picked up easily and slung over Kugaha’s shoulder, unable to resist or scream.

“We’ll give you some time to decide if you want to tell us or not,” Oshi called after him. “If not, we’ll start over with that little kid you’re so fond of.”

All Yato could do was look at Hiyori’s fragile body getting smaller and smaller as he was taken away.

~

Yato had been dumped back in the dungeon where his companions waited in terror, hearing the screams from above suddenly cease. They rolled Yato over, trying to ask him what happened when they saw bloodstains over his clothes.

Yato’s eyes frantically searched their faces, trying to show them that he was paralyzed. But when they asked about Hiyori, pain tore through him again and tears burned behind his fearful eyes, unable to fall.

Kazuma was beside himself. He had become a bigger mess than Bishamon as he realised the full weight of his actions; that he had led them to their torture and deaths. He begged forgiveness, and the anger that had raged inside them turned to grief and hopelessness.

Trapped in his mind, words in his Father’s voice haunted Yato.

Look how much you’ve hurt her, he taunted, you couldn’t protect her. She’s dead now because of you. You only had to do one thing, and she would have been safe.

Poor Yaboku, you just killed another. Did you love her? Did she love you? Does she hate you for not saving her? You’ll never know. Because you killed her.

All you desire is possible. All you dread is inevitable.

The thoughts tortured him endlessly, hissing sweetly about how much she must have suffered, how relieved she must have been when he arrived, thinking that he would stop the pain. How terrified she must have been when she realised, he didn’t love her enough to save her.

The curse eventually wore off and Yato weakly flexed his fingers as he worked the muscles loose.

Yukine sat him up against the wall, asking what happened. Finding his voice, still weak and cracked, Yato began to tell them what happened. Shock, anger, and fear filled their faces as they listen to what they endured, disbelieving that Hiyori could be dead. The fears that Father knew to play on had become common knowledge, and it had been used against him.

“She isn’t dead!” Yukine cried out desperately, fingernails digging into Yato’s arm, trying to cling to evaporating hope. “She can’t be dead!”

“Yukine…” Yato said brokenly, bowing his head and biting his lip as the tears threatened to spill. He couldn’t let Yukine see him like this.

A sting of pain struck Yato’s stomach, his earlier beating catching up to him and forcing him to clutch himself and double over. He felt something solid in his pocket pressing against his hand.  Realising what it was, he pulled Sakura’s two-way mirror – now cracked and missing a few pieces – from his pocket.

Yato held it up in front of his face. It was a child’s wish – one he didn’t believe he would ever outgrow – but there, a large green eye looked back at him.

“Help us,” Yato whispered, not knowing to what or who he was begging.

The eye vanished from the reflection, and Yato’s hand fell into his lap. They sat in silence, no words to console him or even offer a plan of escape. Minutes ticked by. Footsteps on the staircase alerted them of Kugaha’s return.

“Well, Yato, what’s your answer?” Kugaha asked.

“They don’t know anything. Take me to Hiyori and I’ll tell you,” Yato demanded, determined to keep his friends from harm for as long as he could.

“That’s not the agreement,” Kugaha said nastily.

The door opened and Kugaha strode across the room, wand pointed at Yukine. He roughly grabbed his hair and began dragging him towards the door. Yukine yelled in protest, hands clawing at Kugaha’s wrists as Yato tried to stand up to protect him. Falling, he grabbed Kugaha’s leg, clinging onto him like a child.

A bolt of light hit Yato’s back, making him cry out and release his grip. Kugaha’s aimed his wand at Bishamon and Kazuma as they stepped forward to stop him, grinning happily at their powerlessness. Yanking Yukine outside, Kugaha locked the door.

Yato gaped for breath as he pathetically tried to drag himself to the iron gate.

“I’ll be back when we’re finished with this one,” Kugaha’s receding voice called out to him. “Can’t make any promises that he won’t end up like your girlfriend. You better hurry up before we kill the other ones too, Yato.”

Yato collapsed on the ground, his hand stretched out to the locked door. He weakly called after Yukine, but his voice had shattered from grief.

Kazuma kneeled next to him, softly speaking words he did not hear. They’re going to die because of me, Yato thought to himself. Defeated, he lay his head on the ground, wishing he had never dragged his friends into this.

And then someone Apparated in the room.

~

Kugaha released his grip on Yukine’s hair and shoved him to the ground.

Yukine shielded his head with his arms, his curled-up body hitting the ground hard. After a moment he moved his arms apart slightly. A pair of feet lay a few meters in front of him. His head moved slowly to take in the person lying before him, sickness setting in his stomach as he saw Hiyori’s unconscious form. Bloodstained her clothes and face, skin pale as marble.

“Hiyori!” Yukine shouted, frantically scrambling towards her. He knew she couldn’t be dead; it was just a sadistic ploy. Hiyori couldn’t be dead…

A fist in his stomach stopped him from reaching her, his body crumpling to the ground as the breath was stolen from him. He knelt on the ground, head pressed against the ground as he clutched his stomach as he gaped for air, blurred tears distorting the dried streaks of blood in front of his face.

Fighting for breath, a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. Slender fingers dug into his chin, forcing him to face his friend’s unstirring body.

“That’ll happen to you if you don’t answer me,” Oshi hissed in his ear.

“Let me help her... I’m begging you!” Yukine choked out, legs weak as he noticed the word carved in Hiyori’s arm.

“How will you save a dead person without magic?” Oshi sweetly asked. A lump rose in Yukine’s throat as he realised that he was powerless to save her.

Something hard pressed into his spine, bringing his mind back from the edge.

“Crucio.”

~

Yato stared disbelieving at the short figure that had Apparated into the cell.

It was impossible. No one could Apparate into the cells – or even this house, as he had found out all too soon as a child – yet Ebisu stood before them.

“Ebisu?” Yato asked quietly.

“I have come to rescue Master Yato,” Ebisu shuffled his feet, unnerved to have so many eyes on him at once.

Yato looked at him, agape. The mirror, the eye… did Ebisu have it all this time? The questions were short-lived in his mind as Yukine’s first cries drifted down to them. Yato felt his heart shudder. They needed to be quick.

“Can you Disapparate from this room?” Yato asked quickly.

Ebisu nodded.

“Can you take humans with you?”

A nod.

Another scream reached them, and Yato’s plan bloomed to life. “Ebisu, I need you to Apparate us out of here, to… anywhere. Take Kazuma and Bishamon first -.”

“No chance, we’re not leaving you,” Bishamon interrupted.

Yato hesitated for a second, but more hands would make escape easier. “Fine. We need to get our wands and bags back from the Snatchers, then get Yukine and Hiyori.”

Ebisu nodded and reached his hands up. Yato held Kazuma’s shoulder, and he and Bishamon took them hesitantly. A second later they were at the top of the stairs of the dungeons. Yato looked around and realised they were only a few rooms away from the great hall, though Yukine’s cry and Oshi’s voice would’ve easily directed them. Yato silently beckoned them forward, sticking to the edge of the hallway, which was filled with wide, draped windows.

Yato stopped short and ducked out of sight behind one of the heavy curtains, dawn breaking over the fields in the horizon and temporarily blinding him. Ebisu tucked himself beside Yato, and Kazuma and Bishamon hid behind the other curtain. Yato twitched the curtain and peered further up the hallway.

Two Snatchers had emerged from the great hall, talking quietly to themselves at the bottom of the staircase just out of sight. Yato looked over to Kazuma and Bishamon, who nodded silently in response.

They crept forward on silent feet, leaving Ebisu beside the curtain, thankful that they were looking the other way. Yato flung himself at the taller Snatcher, clamping a hand over his mouth and hanging on as he thrashed. Kazuma had hit out at the other Snatcher in an attempt to knock him out, but it seemed that his punch had landed awkwardly.

Yato cursed inwardly. if they made any noise, someone would come looking and they would be back in the cells, or under Oshi’s wand. Kazuma’s Snatcher reared back, wand in hand and a warning call rising in his throat. A metal pitcher was against his head and the Snatcher fell to the ground in a thump.

Bishamon breathed heavily, setting the pitcher back on the small table she’d found tucked beside the staircase.

Yato rummaged in the Snatchers pocket, hands finding stickiness and finally three wands which he recognised as his own, Hiyori’s and Yukine’s. Beside him, Kazuma emerged victorious with his own wand, and Bishamon picked up the Snatcher’s fallen wand.

They crept along the hallway, looking back over their shoulders to make sure no one was there, but there was not a soul in sight. Yato briefly thought of Ebisu before the air was punctuated by another of Yukine’s cries, and Yato’s heart somersaulted again.

They pressed their backs against the doorway’s arches, wands to chests. Yato slowly peered around the door. Oshi straddled Yukine in the same fashion she had tortured Hiyori, who still lay in the center of the room. Kugaha and Nora stood to the side of the room, flanked by two Snatchers.

Yato noticed three new figures in black robes on the opposite side of the room, their arms tucked into their sleeves. The only woman among them wore an ornate headpiece unlike her companion’s black hats, but Yato instantly recognised the man to her left. His slate grey eyes watched Yukine’s torture with no sympathy: Mitsuguri, the man who had read Tenjin’s will to them. One of Amaterasu’s traitorous advisors.

Yato quickly scanned the woman and the other blond-haired man. Mikagami and Mitama, the other advisors who betrayed the Minister of Magic for the Sorcerer. They were here. Why?

Yato felt a chill run up his spine. Had the Sorcerer been summoned? Was he on his way now? No, it couldn’t be. Oshi was so desperate to know how they had acquired the sword that she wouldn’t dare bring the Sorcerer here until she could hide it.

Yukine’s broken voice pierced the air again and Yato snapped back to attention, finding Kazuma’s and Bishamon’s eyes on him, hands tensed and nostrils flaring. With a nod, Yato gave the order.

“Stupefy!”

Yato, Kazuma, and Bishamon surged into the room, wands blaring in a multitude of green and blue light that bounced from the walls, windows, and the chandelier as the room descended into chaos.

Oshi was on her feet in a second, teeth bared and wand spitting green blasts in their direction as they dived for what little cover the room offered. Nora pressed herself to the wall, mouth agape, as Kugaha slipped his wand from his sleeve. He drew his arms wide with a wicked smile, glad to finally have some fun.

Yato threw himself to the floor, his and Yukine’s wands clutched in his hands as he fired a blinding spell towards one of the Snatchers that advanced on him. In the madness he saw three plumes of blackened robes Disapparate, leaving an empty spot where the advisors had stood.

Yato swore inwardly, but Oshi’s cry caught his attention. Yukine had kicked his leg out, scattering Oshi to the floor and sending her wand spinning around the cool marble. She snarled at Yukine, but he was already up and on his feet, arm hanging by his side and limping furiously towards Yato. Yato was relieved to see no blood on him, but he could see the fury and fear in his features. Yato pressed the wand into Yukine’s hand and together they entered the fray.

The two Snatchers had engaged in a duel with Kazuma and Bishamon, spells and sparks flying as they defended each other and attacked in sync. Nora and Kugaha were moving towards them. Kugaha stepped over Hiyori’s body like she was a fallen tree, a grin on his face, but Nora looked back over her shoulder like she wanted to run.

Yato’s eyes flickered to Oshi who had grasped her wand, eyes glittering with malice, and tore at them like a wildcat.

Without a word, Yato and Yukine threw themselves forward.

The spells deflected off the shields they threw up, the onslaught of three witches' firepower pushing them back and barely giving an inch for them to fire. Oshi cursed every murderous hex she could think of at them, and Kugaha bore down on them.

On the other side of the room, one of the Snatchers had fallen, leaving one more facing down the unstoppable power Kazuma and Bishamon presented as a team. A particularly well-aimed from Kazuma sent his wand flying from his hand, and the Snatcher was knocked out by Bishamon.

Yato’s eyes flickered to Nora. She was stood back a bit, her hand raised with her wand protecting them, but when their eyes met, something in her waivered. For the briefest second the shield slip, Yukine’s stunning spell got through and hit Oshi straight in the chest, sending her flying backward and landing in a heap. Kugaha’s smile turned to a snarl and he redoubled his efforts, but it seemed that Nora’s protection was gone now. Yato hit Kugaha with a freezing spell and he fell to the ground stiff as a board.

“Drop them.”

Yato’s eyes snapped to the middle of the room. His heart stopped. Oshi held the unconscious Hiyori up to her chest, a sliver of a silver blade pressed to her neck.

“Drop them,” Oshi growled. “Drop them or she dies.”

Yato heaved, anger and desperation rising in his chest, but lowered his wand. Beside him, he saw Yukine, Kazuma, and Bishamon lower their wands too.

She snapped her head to Nora. “Summon you father!”

After the briefest internal struggle, Nora raised her sleeve, face contorted, and Yato saw the ugly scar of the Dark Mark on her arm begin to rise and coil underneath her wand.

He’s coming…. The voice from the wedding echoed in Yato’s head. They needed to get out of here. Now.

“DROP THEM!” Oshi screeched again, knife pressing further into Hiyori’s throat and drawing the barest whimper.

Her voice echoed around the room. The reverberation faded away, and a dull squeaking filled the room. Oshi’s eyes clouded for a second in confusion, as did the rest of the room.

Slowly, their eyes went up.

Ebisu clung to the thick iron chain that suspended the chandelier above Oshi’s head, his hands methodically twisting the fastening. Dust and cobwebs rained down on them, and a second before they could react, the chandelier came crashing to the ground.

Oshi threw herself backward, knife clattering to the ground as she and Hiyori fell inches away from one of the pointed edges. Yato and Yukine surged forward over Kugaha, a blasting spell knocking Oshi even further back away from Hiyori. Yukine grabbed Hiyori by the shoulders and hauled her up into his arms.

Yato crashed into Nora, sending them both sprawling the ground. He rose up over her, seeing the Dark Mark contort and writhe as if the serpent had come alive in her flesh. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before Yato wrapped his hands around Nora’s wand and wrenched it from her grasp. The Dark Mark sunk back onto Nora’s arm, shifting over the pale skin.

Yato kicked his way back up and stumbled to the back of the room, hearing Oshi stirring behind him and the sound of metal scraping stone. Ebisu stood on the fireplace with Kazuma, Bishamon, and Yukine with Hiyori in his arms.

Ebisu snapped his fingers and a second later he was holding a wand – Oshi’s wand. Shock registered in her face which was quickly filled with rage and disgust.

“How dare you take a witch's wand!” Oshi screeched. “How dare you defy your masters!”

Ebisu drew himself up taller, eyes glittering in the remnants of the fireplace and the breaking dawn through the windows. “I have no master. I am a free elf!”

Yato felt the clamp of a small hand on his shoulder and instinctively reached out for Yukine’s and Kazuma’s hands.

As the world spun and turned to darkness, he caught a glimpse of Kugaha’s frozen face, Nora’s tears, the redness of blood, and the silver of a dagger.

~

The world came back in the form of a grey sky and a biting wind that stung their cuts with saltwater. Yato stood alone, staring at the bleakness of a grey sea far from shore and an old cottage stood on the tufts of grass that edged the beach.

Bishamon and Kazuma were a few feet away, clutching each other and just as disorientated. Beside them was Yukine, untangling Hiyori’s limbs from him and laying her on the beach, frantically looking into her face. Yato took a step forward, questions on the tip of his tongue.

"Yato..."

Yato spun around, the small, weak voice catching his attention. Nothing but grey overcast skies met his view. Until he looked down.

Ebisu stood hunched over, the ornate handle of a dagger lodged in his stomach. Blood smeared his small hands and bled dark red droplets into the wet sand below as he took faltering steps forward.

Yato dived forwards, catching Ebisu as he collapsed. His mouth hung open in unmasked horror, eyes fixed on the bloody weapon buried to the hilt in Ebisu’s stomach.

"Y-you're okay, it's okay," Yato hushed, trying to keep the panic from his voice. He turned to look at Kazuma and the others. They watched him silently, morosely, already accepting what Yato could not.

"Kazuma... there must be something... that bag..." Yato’s eyes fell on the backpack slung over Kazuma’s shoulder, remembering all of the potions and salves they had. One of them at least, just something to stop the bleeding, anything. He looked back up at them, silently pleading for Ebisu's sake.

Yukine turned away, biting his lip as he stared down at the unconscious Hiyori. Bishamon's eyes were glassy as Kazuma gently shook his head.

"Yato..." Ebisu's hand gripped onto Yato's shirt as tightly as he could, mustering the last of his life force for a farewell.

Yato looked down at them, breaths shuddering and blinking away tears as he looked at his pale face.

"I'm... glad that I... met you…" Ebisu forced his sentences, staring at the sky, clinging to what remained of his time left in the world. "I don't... want to die."

Ebisu final words were stolen by the wind. His green eyes still observed the sky above, even after they dulled and didn't move again. If not for the way his body went slack, or the way his hand loosened its grip on Yato's shirt, Yato may have been able to pretend that he was only sleeping.

If not for that, Yato would have believed that he hadn’t killed the last of his family.

[eastofthemoon]

A Paladin in the Fire Nation

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Rating: PG

Series: Voltron Legendary Defender/Avatar the Last Airbender

Summary: After the fight with Zarkon, Shiro accidentally gets tossed into another reality where humans have the ability to bend the elements. His best shot at returning home is with someone called the Avatar, while he waits he might as well take on the job of being the Firelord’s bodyguard.

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

The next few hours were a chaotic dance of panic and fussing. It didn’t take long to summon the guards, and Iroh wasn’t far behind them, fretting over both Zuko and Shiro while the intruders were taken into custody. Iroh only seemed to calm down once he learned Zuko was unharmed and that Shiro only had a minor injury.

After that, Shiro was taken to see the royal physician who examined Shiro’s arm, before releasing him to rejoin the group back in the royal quarters. Breakfast had been served, but neither Sokka, Toph, Zuko or Iroh were eating as Shiro entered.

“How’s the arm?” Sokka asked.

“Sore, but at least they didn’t have to cut it off,” Shiro replied as he sat next to him.

Sokka and Zuko raised eyebrows, while Toph snickered.

“...just trying to lighten the mood,” Shiro said.

“Weird way to do it,” Zuko commented.

“Well, I could see the humour in it,” Toph commented.

“Amusing comments aside,” Iroh said as he reached for his cup, “we are glad you are alright.”

“Did you learn anything from the attackers?” Shiro asked.

“They refuse to talk,” Zuko grumbled as he crossed his arms. “Unfortunately, I have a feeling we know who they are.”

“But those other guys were always going after Ozai, right?” Sokka replied. “This is the first time we've seen them go directly after you.”

Shiro frowned. “Others?”

Sokka shut his mouth as Zuko tossed him a glare, but then sighed.

“Fine, you might as well know too,” Zuko replied as he rubbed his neck. “I owe you that much. Those men were-”

“Out of my way,” a young female voice commanded.

“Lady Katara, if you just wait-”

The group turned as a young woman wearing blue clothing appeared in the doorway.

“Katara?!” Sokka cried. “When did you get here?”

“Yeah, we figured you weren’t arriving until later,” Toph commented as she reached for her rice.

“I managed to hitch a ride with one of the farmers, but never mind that,” she said as she looked over the Zuko.

“The guards just told me you were attacked.” She grabbed Zuko’s arm and lifted a sleeve. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Zuko sighed as he took his arm back. “I’m fine,” he replied and pointed to Shiro, “but you should be asking him that.”

The woman looked and blinked as if she just noticed Shiro for the first time.

“Um..hi,” Shiro said as he waved.

“Hi,” the woman replied and looked at Sokka. “Who is this?”

Sokka cleared his throat as he stood, walked behind Shiro and patted his shoulder as he gestured dramatically.  “Shiro, meet my sister Katara.  Katara, meet Shiro, our local spaceman.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “That really doesn’t clear things up.”

“It’s a long story,” Shiro replied as Sokka returned to his seat.

Katara frowned thoughtfully as she took the seat next to Shiro. “Well, you can explain who you are while I heal you. Where are you hurt?”

“It’s just a cut on my arm,” Shiro said, pulling up his sleeve to reveal the bandages. “I’ve honestly had worse.”

Katara didn’t look convinced. “Can you unwrap it?” She patted the container hanging off her hip. “Waterbending can heal something like this without any trouble.”

Shiro blinked. “Waterbending?”

“Katara’s a waterbender, and just let her do it,” Toph commented. “It’s easier than arguing with her, Sparky's attempts aside.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Katara swore as she held up her hands. “It will feel cold and a bit odd, but there’s no pain I swear.”

“Um..alright,” Shiro said, uncertainty in his voice as he held out his arm.

Katara gently removed the bandage and frowned at Shiro’s other scars.

“I’m assuming these are old,” she commented as she pointed.

“Yes,” Shiro replied and didn’t wish to explain further.

“Sorry I can’t do anything about them,” she replied as she set the bandages aside and examined the wound. “I should be able to fix this though.”

Shiro watched as Katara waved a hand, water flowing out of her container and hovering in midair to match her movements. Man, Pidge would love to see this, Shiro thought.

“Now, hold still,” Katara instructed as she moved the water to cover the wound.

Shiro flinched in response, and was surprised to see Katara had been correct. It was cold, and felt very weird, but his wound was aching much less now. In fact, it was hurting less with each passing second.

While she worked, the group filled her in on Shiro’s predicament.

“Another universe?” Katara said as she finished, waving the water back into her container. “That’s rather hard to believe.”

Shiro couldn’t reply. He was too busy examining his arm. It didn’t hurt any more and the cut was completely healed.

“What was in that water?” he asked.

Katara raised an eyebrow. “Nothing, it’s just regular water. I just used it as a catalyst to redirect the energies of your body into the wound.”

“Bending allows you to do that?”

Katara nodded.

“That’s incredible,” Shiro muttered.

Katara frowned and crossed her arms. “While it's nice to be appreciated, I’m starting to believe it.” She glanced at Zuko. “Putting that aside for the moment, what about those attackers?”

“As we were about to tell Shiro, intruders have been trying to get to Ozai,” Toph said as she leaned over the table. “But last night was the first time they went directly after Zuko.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes and thought back how Iroh mentioned having to deal with intruders. “Ozai is Zuko’s father.”

Zuko sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why were they going after Ozai in the first place?” Katara asked. “Were they trying to free him?”

“We don’t know and so far the men we captured aren’t talking,”  Zuko replied as he sipped his tea. “Hopefully their attitude will change when I-”

A knock at the door interrupted Zuko.  Setting down his cup, he rose and faced the door.  "Enter."

A guard promptly came in and gave a quick bow. “My Lord, I regret having to bring you this news,” the guard started and swallowed hard, “but the intruders escaped.”

“WHAT?!” Everyone in the room cried, the guard flinching at the volume.

“How did this happen?” Zuko asked.

“As far as we can tell, someone knocked out the guards on duty and released the intruders,” the guard reported.

“Are you searching the grounds?” Iroh asked as he stood next to Zuko.

“Yes,” the guard replied, lowering his gaze, “but we have a feeling it’s likely too late.”

“Keep searching for now, and come to me immediately as soon as you find anything,” Zuko replied.

“Yes, my Lord,” the guard replied as he took another bow and exited the room.

Toph clicked her tongue. “Well, that’s not good.”

“How could they have gotten out?” Shiro asked.

“Not by themselves,” Zuko grumbled as he sat and rubbed his face. “The guards had searched them for any weapons or lockpicks.”

Sokka stroked his chin in thought.

“It means either there was another intruder we missed that freed them,” Sokka started with a grimace, “or worse-”

“Someone inside the palace was in on it,” Shiro finished.

Sokka sighed as he leaned back. “Yup, exactly.  Schemers in the Fire Palace, who could have guessed.”

“And I don’t suppose we have an idea on who it could have been?” Katara asked.

“Not currently,” Zuko replied as he sat back down with clenched fists. “With all the diplomats and their staff staying here it could be anyone.”

Iroh took a deep breath. “If that is true,” he said and looked at Zuko with hard eyes, “then we have no choice.”

Zuko blinked, frowned and then groaned as he massaged his forehead. “No, Uncle, not this again.”

“Zuko, this is for your own good-”

“I don’t need a personal bodyguard!”

“Uh..what’s this now?” Sokka asked as he raised a hand.

Zuko gave a deep sigh. “Uncle has been pestering me to get a personal bodyguard for the past several months.”

“Like the patient racoon-turtle, I have allowed events to pass by undisturbed - but that was when we believed they were only targeting Ozai.  After last night, however, I can wait no longer.  I must insist that you have protection until these perpetrators have been dealt with,” Iroh replied sternly.

Katara chewed her bottom lip. “I’m going to have to agree with Iroh. We need to consider your safety.”

Shiro couldn't help but nod as well. Zuko had been lucky he had been around to help him. He might not be so lucky next time.

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Zuko growled as he crossed his arms. “Besides, there aren't any good choices.”

“What do you mean?” Sokka asked.

"Traditionally, I would select someone from a noble family," Zuko replied. "But given that we suspect the assassins are in league with someone in the palace, it's possible that any of the noble families could already be working with them."

Katara paused, scowled, and folded her arms. “That is a fair point.”

“I could be your bodyguard,” Toph said with a smirk.

Zuko scoffed as he shook his head. “Thank you, but while I would survive I doubt my palace would.”

Sokka scratched his chin. “If Suki was here I would nominate her, but as far as I know she’s still with Aang.”

“Who’s Suki?” Shiro asked.

Sokka gave a smug grin. “She’s just a fully trained Kyoshi warrior who can kick anyone’s butt.”

“And Sokka’s girlfriend, for some reason,” Katara added, “but she would be a good choice if she was here.”

“But she isn’t,” Zuko said as he reached for his cup of tea. “And outside this table, there’s no one else in the palace I could trust.”

Sokka placed his hands behind his head as slowly his gaze shifted towards Shiro. Suddenly, he blinked, leaned forward and pointed.

“Wait a second! Shiro could be Zuko’s bodyguard!”

Shiro blinked at the seeming non sequitur, but was relieved to see the others just as confused.

“What?” Zuko asked.

“It’s perfect,” Sokka continued with a manic grin, jumping up for emphasis. “He literally just got here so we know he doesn’t have connections to anyone and he handled those assassins easily -”

“It was a combined effort!” Zuko shouted.

“You, ah, didn’t notice the arrow,” Shiro added dryly.

Zuko rolled his eyes.

“Point is,” Sokka cut in as he marched around Shiro and placed his hands on his shoulders. “He would be a perfect bodyguard for Zuko.   Helpful, quiet, a good fighter, has a weird space-metal arm...”

Zuko growled. “I don’t need a bodyguard!”

“The attack last night suggests otherwise,” Iroh said sternly. “You need to be protected, Zuko.” He glanced at Shiro. “And I also believe Sokka's suggestion to have merit.”

Zuko’s mouth dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“Before you answer that,” Katara cut in and crossed her arms, “maybe ask if Shiro actually WANTS to be Zuko’s bodyguard?”

Iroh frowned, but gave a nod.

“My apologies, of course,” Iroh said with a nod and looked back at Shiro. “Would you accept being Zuko’s bodyguard? I can promise you will be well paid for it.”

Shiro was quiet for a moment, and then gave a shrug. “Alright, why not.”

“Are you sure?  Zuko has a knack for getting into trouble.” Katara asked.

“I’m stuck here and have nothing else to do until I’m able to talk to Aang,” Shiro replied and narrowed his eyes. “Besides, I’m not the kind of person that can stand by and do nothing while someone is in danger.”

Iroh smiled. “Thank you, Shiro. We very much appreciate it.”

“What about my opinion here?” Zuko asked with a growl.

“Both Katara and Iroh have joined forces on this, buddy,” Sokka said with a shrug. “You fought it, but I think you've lost this one.”

Zuko glared, but finally sighed in defeat. “Fine. I still think you're all overreacting, but you can pay Shiro to stand around.”

“With that said,” Shiro asked, “you just said that traditionally a bodyguard is selected from a noble family.  I'm not exactly nobility on this world - is that going to cause any issue?”

“Oh, it's sure to offend the majority of the upper class,” Zuko replied as he raised his head, “but that’s nothing new. This'll just go on their list of their issues with me.”

Shiro felt some concern over that, but felt it best to keep it to himself for now.  He could ask the others about impending coups later.

“In any case, while Shiro is guarding Zuko the rest of us should see if we can find any leads,” Toph said as she reached for her cup of tea. "It's been way too long since I got to shake anyone down."

“Well, I can’t do any investigation on an empty stomach,” Sokka declared as he reached for his bowl. “First breakfast then I break out my hat and pipe.”

Katara sighed. “I thought we got rid of those.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”

Katara shook her head. “No, no you don’t.”

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

The first few days after the attack were relatively quiet.  This honestly didn’t surprise Shiro; whoever had sent the assassins would have to assume that the Fire Lord's entourage would be on high alert. It wouldn’t make any sense to make another attempt immediately.

Few among the palace staff were questioning Shiro’s appointment as Zuko’s new bodyguard. The story was that Shiro had come highly recommended by a close friend and was a fully trained fighter. There had been a few cautious and curious glances as he made his rounds through the palace, but any ill opinions were kept quiet.

The nobles he had encountered were a different matter. None of them protested aloud when Zuko introduced Shiro to them, but Shiro could hear whispers in the background during the meetings where he escorted Zuko, and could feel icy glares as he left the room.

If Zuko had even noticed the nobles' actions, he had ignored them.

“A lot of them are already disgruntled with the changes I made to the court since I took over,” Zuko explained when Shiro asked him about it. “If they're going to hate me for not being my father, there's no point in trying to change their minds.”

The subject still made Shiro uneasy, and he was tempted to wear his paladin armor to be better prepared for the next knives in the dark.   Unfortunately, he was overruled by both Sokka and Zuko.

“Look, buddy, if we’re going to keep the whole ‘I’m from another universe’ thing a secret, kinda easier to do that if you’re not wearing stuff that just screams ‘Look at me! I’m not from this planet’.”

Shiro couldn’t argue against that.

In the meantime,Sokka, Toph and Katara had yet to turn up any useful leads in their investigation. They had questioned all the servants and guards, and had scoured the grounds for any evidence a master earthbender, waterbender, and 'cluebender' might uncover, but so far they hadn't found anything. Whoever the assassins were they had made certain to not leave a trace of themselves behind.

That, or someone in the palace was extremely good at covering for them.  Given the prison escape, more conspirators seemed likely.

Shiro couldn’t help but ponder this as he, Sokka, Katara and Toph went over the list as they waited for Zuko to finish getting dressed.

“All of the servants Toph and I spoke to yesterday couldn’t think of anything out of place,” Katara said with a sigh.

“Are you certain they were all telling the truth,” Shiro asked.

“They seemed to be, judging by their heart rates,” Toph said.

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Their heart rates?”

Toph lifted her foot and pointed to it. “I get around by using my earth bending to sense vibrations, and I'm awesome enough to feel people's heartbeats. If they’re lying, their heart rate tends to go up.”

Shiro frowned as he put it together. “So, you’re a walking lie detector.”

Sokka glanced up from his paper. “ Lie detector?”

“It’s a kind of machine we have that works on the same principle,” Shiro explained as he leaned over the table. “Although, it’s not perfectly accurate.”

“It’s also the same for Toph,” Katara admitted, “but I know that the servants all really like Zuko. I can’t see any of them wanting to hurt him.”

“Really?” Shiro replied, slightly surprised. “I didn’t think he was that sociable.”

“It’s less about him being sociable and more that he isn’t going to threaten to burn them for accidentally spilling water on the floor,” Sokka commented dryly. “You'd think that wouldn't be a high bar to clear, but apparently Zuko was a big relief after the last three Fire Lords - even if banishment was better than what Ozai was doing."

Shiro frowned. “You know the more I hear about this Ozai, the less I like him.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Toph grumbled.

“We still need to talk to some of the military officers,” Sokka replied as he drummed his fingers on the table. “That might get us somewhere since Zuko still hasn’t been able to replace all of the higher ranks yet.”

Shiro froze at the mention of the military. “What about Admiral Jee?”

Katara glanced up and quickly shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t be connected.”

“You’re certain?” Shiro asked.

“He's one of the few qualified replacements.  Zuko selected him specifically because he knows he can trust him,” Sokka explained. “He was the officer in charge of his boat after he got banished.”

“Banished?” Shiro asked.

Sokka, Katara and Toph went quiet as they glanced at each other.

“Right, you wouldn’t know about that,” Toph commented.

I get the feeling there is a LOT I don’t know,  Shiro thought.

Sokka straightened his posture. “Basically, Zuko got kicked out of the Fire Nation for a few years by Ozai and was sent on the quest to find the Avatar.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “He had to find Aang?”

“Yeah, but no one expected him to actually do it, because nobody had seen the Avatar in a century.”

Shiro blinked. “Wait, how old is Aang?”

“16,” Katara replied.

“Then how does a sixteen-year-old go missing for longer than he'd been alive??”

“He got frozen in an iceberg for a hundred years,” Toph added.  "Slept through all the fun stuff."

“Oh,” Shiro said softly and slowly nodded. “That makes sense.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Wait, that makes sense? There are times I have a hard time grasping it.”

Shiro shrugged. “My friends Allura and Coran got put to sleep for ten thousand years. This is pretty much business as usual.”

Sokka stared blankly before slowly raising a finger. “I have a few questions-”

“Save them for later,” Zuko said as he entered the room. “I have a meeting to get to and I can’t afford to be late.”

“I’m not sure if I can,” Sokka admitted.

Shiro gave a smirk as he patted Sokka's shoulder. “It’s not that complicated. They just have machines that can freeze them.”

“That raises more questions - I've been frozen in ice when I made Katara mad, how -,” Sokka cried, but Shiro just waved farewell as he followed Zuko.

They walked in silence until they reached the door to the meeting chambers.

“I need to explain something to you,” Zuko said as he turned. “The diplomats from the other nations are in this meeting.”

“Oh,” Shiro said as he narrowed his eyes.

“It’s an update on how the reparations from the war are going,” Zuko explained.

“Okay, good to know,” Shiro said slowly. “But that seems straightforward enough.  What else is going on?”

“I believe Zuko is concerned about the many Fire Nation generals who are also in this meeting,” Iroh explained as he approached. “And their commentary on these issues can grow quite heated,” he cleared his throat a moment before smiling. “No pun intended of course.”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed. “I’m assuming not all the generals agree with how you’ve been making amends for their conquests.”

“I have managed to replace a few of them,” Zuko asserted before sighing, “but the ones that remain from my father's reign hate the idea even more than everything else I do.” He looked at Shiro. “I’m telling you this because they won't hesitate to take advantage of an outsider to our culture.”

Shiro frowned. “So, you’re saying I need to be careful.”

“What you need to do is just sit quietly while we talk,” Zuko explained. “The important facts are that anyone in red is part of the Fire Nation, the man and woman in green are the latest diplomats from the Earth Kingdom, and the man in blue is Aput, an emissary from the Northern Water Tribe.”

“The Water Tribe,” Shiro asked. “So, Sokka and Katara’s home.”

“No, they are from the Southern Water Tribe, who I'd honestly rather be dealing with today. Sokka or Katara can explain that whole history later."  Zuko grumbled under his breath.  "Spirits willing, this meeting won't take too long - but don't hold your breath, and just...try not to draw attention to yourself if you don't have to."

“Understood,” Shiro replied as Zuko turned to open the door and enter the meeting.

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

The meeting, in spite of Zuko's pleas to the spirits, went as expected. Far longer than planned, participants shouting over each other, and most of the words being ignored by those who didn't want to hear them.

“In spite of your promises to help rebuild Water Tribe ships, we have yet to receive so much as a stick of the lumber you claim to have sent over two months ago,” Aput stated.

General Ikai sighed. “And as we said at the time, that shipment of wood was sent to where it was needed more - the Southern Water Tribe, not the Northern.”

“So once again we are being forgotten.”

“No one is forgetting you,” Yezow one of the Earth Kingdom diplomats chided.

“In spite of your efforts to be forgotten during the war,” replied Zae, the other Earth Kingdom diplomat as she gave a huff. “We should turn our attention to places that actually suffered over the past hundred years, such as the issues with the Omashu restoration project.”

“King Bumi's most recent letters gave us the impression that the project was completed,” Zuko replied as he resisted the urge to massage his forehead.  Or set something on fire.

“That is King Bumi’s opinion,” Zae replied sharply. “However, the merchants and nobles have a very different opinion on how much of Omashu warrants repair.”

“Oh really,” replied one of the Fire Nation nobles with a snort. “And do these repairs, by chance, include having their homes expanded on the Fire Nation’s coin?”

Zae glared. “Considering it was the Fire Nation that took over Omashu and forced the need to reconstruct any buildings in the first place, I don’t think you have any right to complain.”

Iroh coughed into his hand. "As Omashu is self-governed, I would suggest that we table discussion of its restoration until we petition King Bumi for a new envoy.  Perhaps this time, he might even not send a howling squirrel-monkey!  While we wait, however, might we move on to another topic?"

Yes, please, Zuko thought as he stole a glance back at Shiro.

Just as he had for the last few meetings, Shiro was keeping perfectly quiet and still. If he was feeling bored, none of that emotion showed in his face. Zuko had to admit it was somewhat impressive. It made Zuko wonder what Shiro had done to achieve such a skill.

“Yes, I concur,” Yezow said as he cleared his throat, which to Zuko wasn’t a good sign. “There is a matter I would like to introduce at this time.”

“And what is that?” Zuko asked.

The man’s face turned grim. “The nations of the world are concerned about your predecessor, the former Fire Lord Ozai, and wish to insist that he be fully punished for his part in the war.”

Zuko’s body tensed. He would rather go back to arguing about Omashu. Or arguing with one of Omashu's 'envoys'. “We have already discussed this with your predecessor, Ambassador Yezow.”

“Discussed, but were unable to reach a final agreement,” Aput added.

“He has been sentenced to remain in a prison cell for the rest of his life,” Iroh added. “And what he considered his greatest strength, his fire bending, has been taken away by the Avatar.  This was pronounced by the Avatar himself as a just punishment.”

Zae narrowed her eyes. “Is it, though? Many of the Earth Kingdom’s sons and daughters have been lost to this war and shall never return home. Farmsteads and villages have been burned to the ground on his orders - but Ozai has a secure roof over his head and receives daily meals.”

“You make it sound like he’s living a life of luxury,” Zuko retorted.  "The roof is there to keep him from climbing out, not for his comfort."

Yezow coughed. “I believe Zae is concerned that Ozai’s cell might not be a true prison given the rumors as of late.”

Zuko closed his eyes, trying not to let out a sigh as he asked the obvious question. “Which rumours?”

“The matter of Princess Azula,” Aput said coldly. “She was loyal to your father, and was credited with single-handedly conquering Ba Sing Se." He paused a moment to clear his throat.  "Despite this...record, I have heard it said that she was relocated to a private estate with her own servant. That hardly sounds like a punishment to me - do you, in fact, approve of your sister's actions during the war?”

Zuko clenched his hands into fists, taking a slow deep breath and focusing his strength on not leaving scorch marks on the table.  This was technically an international summit; setting things on fire and shouting a lot was not the method of diplomacy he wished to resume using. Zuko had worked to keep the full story of Azula’s breakdown quiet and he was not going to waste that effort.  Even though he could feel Iroh's gaze on him, he focused his iciest glare on the diplomats.

“At the end of the war my sister was not well and required special treatment, and that is all I will say regarding the matter,” Zuko said sternly. “However, this leniency was due to a number of mitigating circumstances beyond the scope of this discussion. I can promise you that our father has not received the same consideration, and is now facing the consequences of his crimes.”

“Can we truly take your word, my lord?”

Zuko paused and slowly turned to face the speaker of the comment. This interruption had not been any of the diplomats, but rather one of the Fire Nations' own generals - one of the older, well-decorated ones..

“What do you mean, General Bujing?” Zuko said with his voice full of venom.

The old general barely looked at Zuko as he ran a hand through his beard.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” he said with a sly smile, “but can we fully trust your word given your own judgment as of late?”

Zuko narrowed his eyes. “You would bring my judgement into this?”

Bujing had been one of the most vocal protests against the changes Zuko had made since he took the throne. However, he had been canny enough to speak up only around other Fire Nation generals. This was the first time he had spoken on these matters in front of foreign diplomats.

Bujing gave a smirk and gestured behind Zuko. “Your judgment is made clear by your current choice of bodyguard. You went against our tradition of hiring someone of the court and instead chose this peasant..what’s his name? Riro? To fill a high position on the court.”

“It’s Shiro,” Zuko said as he resisted the urge to turn and look at Shiro's expression. Hopefully the otherworlder was able to keep calm. “And what of it? This is hardly the first tradition I have broken since my coronation.”

“Perhaps not,” Bujing sneered. “But from what I hear this man is not even a bender. How could you expect such a commoner to defend anyone when he can’t even bend? I could strike him down with a flick of my wrist.”

The generals muttered amongst themselves. Aput looked uncertain as Yezow stroked his beard in thought and Zae’s frown tightened.

Zuko clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as he readied his words, but someone beat him to it.

“Could you, now?  Do you want to prove it?”

Zuko shut his mouth as he turned his head to Shiro. He hoped he had just misheard, but Shiro’s determined eyes showed that was far from the truth.

Bujing locked his gaze upon Shiro, seemingly surprised he had even responded. “What did you just say?”

“Do you want to prove it?” Shiro stated as clearly as a bell. “You seem confident that you could simply 'strike me down'.  Why not prove it here and now?”

Zuko swallowed hard as he looked back to Bujing.

The old general narrowed his eyes. “This meeting is hardly the place for a proper fight,” he sneered, “unless of course you mean to challenge me to an Agni Kai?”

Zuko’s eyes widened in panic. Oh no! No! No! He can’t be stupid enough to take the bait!

Shiro frowned thoughtfully. “I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with all aspects of Fire Nation culture.  Would you mind explaining what that is?”

Bujing looked amused. “It  is an honorable tradition and is a duel-”

“Between fire benders,” Zuko sharply cut in and raised his voice, “which Shiro, as you've said, is not.  This suggestion is pointless.”

“Is it,” Bujing replied, “or does it only further my point that a non-bender bodyguard is useless?” He smirked as he stroked his beard. “Besides, I believe that history shows that there has been precedent for an Agni Kai between a bender and a non-bender.”

“There is,” Iroh said slowly, “but traditionally the non-bender would invoke their right to a substitute.” He shot a glare at Bujing. “A right that has been invoked by benders, including the challenger on occasion.”

Bujing's smirk did not fade.

“This is true, but I will not be needing such a thing this time,”’ Bujing said as he raised a hand. “And as a student of history, you would of course recall duels between a fire bender and a non-bender - given the Fire Lord's approval, of course.” He grinned at Zuko. “If your new bodyguard is as capable as you claim, my lord, it would only be reasonable to approve of him showing his skills.”

The other generals and diplomats muttered amongst themselves.

Zuko fumed. It would be Bujing who pulled this. The man still resented him for returning his 'conquests' to the Earth Kingdom, and was eager to claim any chance to humiliate him. The only reason he hadn't had a forced 'retirement' was his popularity among Fire Nation nobility - specifically those most loyal to his father.  The man had cultivated a reputation, and taking direct action would spark dangerous degrees of outrage.

If he refused to approve the duel it would make Zuko's decision look weak, but if he accepted the challenge then Shiro would be put in danger. Zuko glanced at Iroh for aid, but he could tell his uncle looked as trapped as he did.

However, Shiro seemed to have decided for them as he rose and stepped towards the general.

“I need no substitute,” Shiro said, “I will gladly take you on myself.”

Shiro, I am going to strangle you later, Zuko cried out in his head.

Bujing laughed. “Well then, all that is needed is our lord’s permission.”

Zuko sighed. There really was no escaping this, was there?

“Fine,” Zuko said, shooting Shiro a glare before staring ahead. “I approve of this irregular Agni Kai.”

“Then there is no time to waste,” Bujing declared as he rose to his feet. “We shall fight at noon, at the sun's peak.” He grinned. “If you need assistance finding the arena, I believe Pr- Fire Lord Zuko knows the way.”

Zuko's nostrils flared as he clenched his fists tighter.

Iroh quickly stood. “I believe that is enough of diplomacy for today - one duel declared is far from a record, but we need not emulate the pronged goat-beetle today,” he said and gave a quick bow to the other emissaries.

Zuko wasted no time doing the same and only barely remembered not to literally drag Shiro out of the room.

Once they were safely away from the group, Zuko whipped around.

“What did I say about keeping quiet?!” he snapped.

Shiro held up his hands. “I know, but it was clear that he was trying to pick a fight.”

“Bujing tries to pick a fight over what kind of tea I drink,” Zuko snapped. “You have no idea what you just agreed to!”

“I have to fight a fire bender and I’m at a severe disadvantage since I can’t bend,” Shiro replied. “That much is obvious.  But denying his challenge was just going to lead to more problems - you would be back to trying to pick a bodyguard from the nobles you can't trust.”

“That is my problem to worry about not-”

“Enough,” Iroh shouted as he got in between them. “The decision made in haste is made all the same, and your quarrel does little but waste the morning.” He lowered his arms and tucked them into his sleeves. “Whether this was the right action is for later. Right now, we have only an hour or two to introduce Shiro to enough basics of fire bending to grant him a chance.”

Zuko scowled and sighed. “Alright, Uncle. Go find the others and tell them what happened. I’ll take Shiro and see how much we can cram into an hour.”

Iroh nodded as he quickly walked down the hall.

Zuko turned to Shiro. “Let’s go and hope we have some luck on our side.  At least you're probably not going to be as distractible as an airbender.”

“For what it’s worth,” Shiro said as he rubbed his metal arm, “I’ve been in more dangerous fights than facing a fire bender.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Zuko said.

Shiro gave a bitter smile. “I hope it stays that way.”

The way Shiro had phrased that sent uneasy chills down Zuko's spine.

[shelby-love]

JAY HALSTEAD

Stalked.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warnings: angsty

Authors note: Y/S1/N (your older sisters name), Y/S2/N (your younger sisters name)

"Your labs came back negative... I'll make sure to get you discharged immediately." You stand next to your patients bed, scrolling through his charts and scanning the monitor.

The man that lied on his bed looked lost and confused. He came in today saying that he was experiencing sharp pain in his stomach. He kept telling you he was in pain although there weren't any possible medical explanations for what he was feeling.

You consulted with Dr. Charles and you decided to discharge him.

"No...no, no, no, no. You have to do them again! Please..." His body jumped and his rough hand found your wrist. Your eyes opened wide as you snatched your hand away immediately. "I...I don't feel so good."

You watched him carefully. This wasn't the first time he forcefully grabbed you.

You almost reported him several different times but you decided against it because now you were getting rid of him. That man was sick in his head.

"Doris make sure to change the dressing on his shoulder then send him off after that." You hand the tablet to the nurse who does as you say and then you walk out.

"Tough one huh?" Dr. Charles leaned against the desk as you typed your password into the computer to access your doctors ID.

"Is it wierd if I say that I was afraid to treat that man?" A big tortured sigh escapes your mouth. "I didn't let that affect my professional judgement but still...it was horrible."

"I believe ya." He replied and stole a glance at the trauma room your freak patient was in. "I mean... He comes in with stomach pain, then he requests to be under your care specifically and after all of that...when you want to discharge him the first time suddenly there's blood pouring out of his shoulder by accident." You nod your head in agreement. "I can confirm something. You...you're not crazy. He's the one who's crazy."

His words left an uneasy feeling settle over you.

***

"Hey girls," You sing into your phone. It's 8 P.M. and your shift just ended. "What do you two want to eat? I can stop by Manny's and get us some food."

Your two sisters agrue about what to eat and whilst they're doing that you get into your car and buckle up. You then fix your rear-view mirror and notice something really odd. There's a blue sports car parked not to far away from your car. The car looks really exotic. So exotic it just doesn't blend with the other cars around yours.

"What the..." You watch closely. A man in a black hoodie is sitting in the car. The whole car is lit up like a soccer field at night and that freaks you out. This parking lot is for Chicago Med workers only. "Who's car is that?"

"What did you say Y/N??" Your sisters screech pulled you back into reality.

"Nothing." You reply quickly and take the phone in your hand. "I just though I saw something."

"Girl you spend way to much time with Jay and now you're starting to sound just like him." Your two manic sisters giggle. "Where is Jay anyway? He hasn't stopped by much lately."

You wonder off to sad places after what she said. "He's been busy." He hasn't been home much at all. Usually he always picks you up from work and drops you off at work too.

After they start to gush over you two you decide to hang up and go to Manny's whether they want to eat there or not.

***

"I'm home!" You voice as soon as you enter the house. You recognize your younger sisters footsteps as she marches down the stairs like a champion.

She snatches the food out of your arms and runs towards the dining room. "You're welcome by the way!"

You kick off your shoes and hang the car keys onto the key holder. When you make your way in the dining room you notice your other sister. She's stiff like a statue with eyes glued to the window. You poke her head, "What's up with you?"

"She's been looking out of the window like a hwak for God knows how long," Y/S2/N says while munching her sandwich.

"Because I've never seen that car before," She defends herself. You stand behind her and look out of the window yourself.

The blue sports car.

"Like that car is too exotic to be owned by someone from this neighbourhood." Your sister continues to blabber. "I just wanna see who the person is."

"Did you see someone come out?" You ask and sit down, slowly you start sinking in your chair.

"No I didn't, oh my God people that's why I'm looking!" She swings her arms in the air.

"Stalking." Y/S2/N coughs into her shoulder.

They giggle for a little bit but you're confused and scared. Jay always told you to be careful when you see the same car wherever you are. You could he paranoid but he always said that its better to be save than sorry.

You shake your head and dismiss the red flags.

"Pass me the food would you?"

***

You stand in front of the window. You hear your siblings making popcorn for your movie marathon in the kitchen.

You still feel uneasy.

Y/S1/N dropped the subject of the blue car but still looks out of the window herself a few times but you took her spot as a permanent watchman.

Your heartbeat spikes up drastically when you see the lights in the car turn on and reveal a masked man. You're reminded of the parking lot and your blood runs cold.

The car moves until its directly across the road.

You check if your windows are all locked.

***

"Did you close the window Y/S2/N?" Your sister asks casually. The three of you are sat and cuddled on your giant sofa.

"It's hot in Chicago for the first time ever, let the breeze in." She replied and stuffed her mouth with popcorn once again.

"More like let the burglars in," You couldn't laugh with them at the jokes they kept throwing. The odd feeling in the pit of your stomach just wouldn't go away.

"I'm cold." You announce and stand up. They don't bother to stop you from going upstairs so you slowly make your way up the stairs.

You walk slowly, almost tip toeing, with your breathing leveled and controlled and nervous sweat breaking out everywhere. Your instinct told you to run, call Jay, ask him to come, but you decided you were paranoid and walked in regardless. No sooner had you hit the light switch did a man grab you and you went tumbling down the flight of stairs.

There was a man standing in front of you. You couldn't make out his face, as he was completely unknown to you.

Unknown until he took the hood of his head. You screamed and tried to get away but he grabbed your ankle and yanked you towards him. By the time he fought you into his arms your two sisters stood in front of you with a phone and a number typed into it. Jay's number.

Your pajama top was ripped but it still somehow hung onto your torso like a loyal soldier.

"Drop the phone or she dies!" He yelled and pressed a knife to your throat. Your sisters shook with fear but after seeing you nod with tears in your eyes they did as they were told.

"Gavin please let me go," You begged but he didn't have any of it.

"No! Do not try to get into my pants now doc. You had your shot!" He yelled into your ear and pressed your back into his harder.

"Gavin please... We can talk about it..I-I can look at your charts again. Help you feel better." You wince as you feel the sharpness of the blade against your neck.

"I wanted to do so much to you..." He whispered, "After you helped me feel better I was going to please you to return the favor... But you did nothing!" He smashed your body against the pastel colored wall but didn't let you sink to the ground. "Nothing!!"

And that's when he did it. When he pressed the knife into you three times. Only the third time he did it and your sisters jumped on him did he notice what was going on. He dropped the knife to the ground and ran.

"Y/S2/N CALL JAY NOW!" The oldest sister after you screamed. She dropped to the ground with you and took her shirt off. She pressed it against your bleeding belly in hopes of calming down the stream of blood that was coming out of three different holes.

You felt dizzy. Your stomach burned and you slowly felt numb all over but you were still able to hear yours sisters sad cries. "C'mon Jay hurry up... Y/N please stay awake."

You lost count of time. You didn't know if you were just stabbed or if you were awake for hours with a bleeding belly.

Commotion builds up in the small neighbourhood. You make out the sounds. Police.

"Chicago PD where is he?" Voight asked your younger sister who managed to choke out that he ran away.

"Y/N? Y/N!!" Now you really felt numb to voices. But fortunately, the last thing you're ever going to be numb for is Jay Halstead. "Jesus Christ Y/N baby are you okay? Y/S1/N? It's okay don't worry I got you now..I got you."

Then you blacked out.

***

"Hey... Go easy." Jay had his strong arm wrapped behind your back as he fixed your pillow so you can lean against it and sit up.

Your whole stomach was bandaged, you had bruises all over your body and somehow you still managed to break a finger.

"How are you feeling?" Jay grabbed your healthy hand in his own two and kissed it countless times.

"Like I just came back from yoga class," Your soary laugh lit up the room.

"I'm happy your humor didn't go away." You can see the gloss in his eyes. He really really was afraid that he lost you.

"Jay..." You were cut of with an emotional kiss. Jay leaned towards you so quickly you didn't have time to process it. You cup his small subtle beard covered chin and return the kiss with just as much emotion.

You tried to push away the bad thoughts and memories from what happened. You wanted to forget it all and the first step forgetting is being able to laugh and joke about it.

And that's what you are going to do.

With Jay.