#every 15 minutes the lights go off and the killer has to kill someone

[pangloss-artee]

i had an idea

[winterpinetrees]

Weighing the risks (The Gap Years part 15)

June 24th 2019

Las Vegas, NV

The humans have a much needed conversation and discuss a couple of dangerous plans. These keep getting longer and longer. This is, as always, pure unedited brainrot.

………………

Las Vegas is a monument to the human world. It is a city of electric lights, shaking air conditioners, and carefully manufactured myth. It has towering fountains, but 4 inches of rainfall each year. Billions of dollars are gambled and lost on casino floors and show tickets and the dozens of planes that land every day. Strictly speaking, Las Vegas does not even exist. It’s a patch of dirt called Paradise that was never incorporated into a real town because towns have higher taxes and more to lose. It is a place of mad complexity and beautiful waste, and that is why it is a monument to everything that may soon be lost forever.

Zerada and Marin, old heirs to the elven throne, are off somewhere else. Maybe they’re robbing another casino or maybe they’re speaking in elvish about things that they refuse to share. There’s no way of knowing, so the three human friends sit in their hotel room. It has been nearly two weeks since they set off on their quest. In that time, they have been shot at, cursed and charmed. They’ve learned impossible truths about the universe and nearly died multiple times. This little Vegas stopover is a necessary rest, but it’s also terrifying. Each passing day the world gets closer to ending. They can’t agree if that’s a good thing.

The evening where he learned about the laboratory was not the last time that Brain split off from the group. This morning he met back up with his old friends for breakfast with his blond hair a mess and no concrete answers about where he’d been. (It’s not difficult to guess. Zerada arrived a few minutes later). He dragged them onto this quest and by god if he isn’t going to try and enjoy it. They’ll probably be dead soon anyway, but he has to try. Brian has been brainwashed once to his knowledge. He knows that there’s no visible signs if an enemy does it well. Despite his family history, Brian isn’t good at being at someone else’s mercy.

Sierra types slowly on her battered computer. Her calloused hands twitch from magic and there are moments where her vision goes that horrible blood red. She swears that the curse is trying to possess her, but the one time Zerada tried to fix it left both of them with a killer headache. She says that removing the spell through brute force might have serious consequences, but the elf did what she could. Sierra is a little annoyed to be so out of the loop. She’s always been the one who tinkers with things, but she isn’t much help with magic. Sierra always imagined that she’d be more than just the damsel in distress on a sci-fi adventure. She pours over old forums to find what she already knows. Ten years ago a team of elves destroyed a state of the art physics lab in the desert. She wants to ask Marin, but the prince has been silent. The ruins lie two hours to the northwest.

Clay’s sunburns have healed, but he wears the rifle over one shoulder whenever he can. Every stranger is a possible threat. They are hopelessly outgunned. Clay knows he isn’t a fighter though. Brian is the one who can wrestle, lock arms with a problem and keep fighting until he’s won or bleeding. Clay is a runner and a liar. Sure, he’ll face his father or stare down Marin when he’s being absurd, what can he do against actual soldiers? Someday they’ll be backed into a corner and someone will demand his surrender. Clay wonders what he will do if he lays down his arms and Brian goes down fighting. They did still kill that nobleman, back home in San Francisco. He might not be able to talk his way out of this.

This was supposed to be a fun road trip.

The three gather around the computer at a table covered with hand drawn maps. There’s a laboratory somewhere close, but they know so little. Like, who was the blond elf who shot Sierra as they fled from Vya? They’d yelled something at Marin before fleeing but he hasn’t been clear what. The humans have been piecing a story together from fragments. The archer didn’t kill Sierra when they had the chance, so the elves must want all of them alive, not just Marin. Their wrist computer is a sign of nobility, but the archer isn’t from one of the big enemy houses. Too many elves here are unaffiliated. Brian explained that two nights ago, while still wearing his too-tight suit.

“On earth, coups become cyclical when the common people stop believing that changes in government mean anything”. He’d explained with the advertisements of the city flashing behind him. “That matches what we know about elves. The nobles do their own thing without really affecting the people”.

Clay nodded grimly. He’s seen what happens when human governments leave their people behind. “But now the commoners care. That’s new”.

That fact has been weighing on them for days. They’re all smart enough to know that taking back the throne will be harder than Marin thinks. Clay takes a deep breath and looks up to the ceiling (they’ve meticulously blocked every security camera in the suite and turned off their phones).

“The elves seem decent. We could go talk to the lab techs. We could tell them what’s happening”.

Brian looks up from the papers in shock. “And get them killed? Jesus, Dirtboy! We’ve been living with Marin for two weeks! They’ll behead him! Or worse!”

Sierra spins the wire around her wrists. “How do you get worse than that? Elves don’t seem like the forgiving type either. We’re like dogs to them”.

“We got lucky in Vya. We got lucky when I was charmed and we got-“ Clay keeps talking. He’s keeping his voice very level.

Brian is shouting “And we have Zerada now!”

“The fact that you hooked up with an alien isn’t going to fix everything! This is our world, Sierra’s right, we have to remember the stakes here”.

Brian looks wildly between the two of them. He’s alone and outnumbered. “Remember the stakes? They’re going to enslave the human race, Clay. What do you think their mercy looks like?”

Born in the same six months, the three have been friends for longer than they can remember. They have run across the rooftops and assembled drones and sat in the bleachers of baseball games for eachother. They have cried over relationships, and standardized tests, and the way that the world always, always, seems to be about to end without anyone caring. Their fathers graduated Princeton together as a triumvirate to change the world. The men have no idea that their children hold more power than they ever could. It’s a random Monday night in Las Vegas. They can doom the entire human race by dawn.

Clay grits his teeth. “You dramatic, glory-chasing, idiot. What would a-“

“Boys!” Sierra stands. “We’re not backing out tonight. We’re going to find the lab,” Brian, the handsome action hero, smiles. “And we’re going to see if they’re actually making a plague,” Clay nods as well. “And then we’re going to have another conversation and decide how to run this”.

He slumps over the table and papers rustle. “Brian. Listen to me. We don’t tell them what we discussed tonight”.

He laughs, but his face is grim. “Of course. I’m not an idiot! I’m going to Princeton, remember?”

The three all nervously. Right. They just graduated high school. There’s a whole world out there that used to mean everything. Were they really sitting in math class just last month?

“If we win, we’ll be legends. We can’t just go back to school,” Sierra says.

“That’s the hero’s journey,” Brian replies. “You save the world, but not for you”.

Clay rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “I’d be alright with a different world…”

“No! No you wouldn’t be!”

They’re going to be fighting over this for a while.

The humans don’t see Marin and Zerada until the next day. In spite of everything, the humans know each other well, and they let nothing slip. Reconnaissance has been going well, research has been going well. Nothing suspicious at all! Sierra lays out the papers to propose a plan. The elves will steal them something that can go offroad, and they’ll drive out into the desert to the ruins of Project Excalibur. Worst case scenario, it’s just a dead end, but she knows that a lab with dozens and dozens of workers wouldn’t be operational if work only started with the coup on the 10th. It must have existed, secretly, for months, and the technicians only got the ok to visit Vegas after their faction had control. What better place for radiation-resistant aliens to hide a lab than in nuclear ruins?

Marin thinks for a moment. Creating a plague in the wreckage of the place where humans tried to understand magic seems like something the Mercurali would do. The youngest prince has a name so full of ancient meaning that he doubts they’d be able to turn down that sort of symbolism. So that’s the plan. Marin and Zerada will steal a jeep and meet them at a predetermined parking lot north of the city. Then they’ll do a bit of investigating.

There’s only one catch. Sierra is still cursed. If she turns on them, then everyone is dead.

“You could stay behind?” Marin suggests. She’s not going to do that.

Sierra scowls, “I can handle it”. The spell is spreading, which at least to her implies that it isn’t as dangerous as it could be. The only symptoms have been tremors and the occasional magical flare in her vision. She’s fine.

Zerada doesn’t scowl. She’s far too elegant and composed for that, but her reaction is still skeptical. “Then we’re not giving you a gun”.

“I don’t need one”.

So the elves leave and the humans pack their bags. They have Clay’s concussion rifle, emerald green and capable of hitting like a cannonball. He’s also carrying a human sidearm now, a pistol that he bought a few towns over. Brian is armed with a magical pistol and a baseball bat. Both boys also carry foam earplugs because Sierra has kept tinkering with her siren. It won’t be much help against soldiers anymore, but it could stop lab techs if they get desperate. Sierra has her magic detector, but she’s bought a normal Geiger counter as well. The elves have promised to protect them from radiation using their magic, but she’s skeptical. The Excalibur exclusion zone isn’t as bad as Chernobyl, but it’s still a bit scary to walk into. They’re probably going to die in the next few months, but they certainly don’t want to die of radiation poisoning if they win. As a result, they’ve followed Sierra’s orders and bought new clothes that cover as much skin as possible. They’ll throw it all away afterwards. (Money was never an issue) Sierra and Clay even drove out to a hardware store and bought masks, an act that the elves couldn’t help but roll their eyes at.

They also have snacks. Lots of snacks.

………………………

A world and five hundred miles away, Amedi Kebero meditates in their chambers. The sound of the ocean is still a bit distracting, but they’re getting used to it. (They are a bit woried about rust on their vambrace from the humidity though) The spell they cast on the human girl was a tracker’s mark from the mountains of home. With focus, they can see through their quarry’s eyes, and the spell will spread until it paralyzes the victim completely. Unfortunately, the Adust heir got in the way, and everything is working worse than Amedi would like. They’ve been spending most of their free time trying to get a clear connection, but have only seen flashes.

Luckily, they have something to report when Esther knocks on their door. It’s past midday and the High Council needs to reconvene in the Problem Room. The red-haired human looks at them hopefully. Amedi’s desires are Esther’s desires too. That’s the way a seneschal works, after all. The girl must be happy to hear that Amedi has had some success. They tell the council that the heirs are still in Vegas, and that they are all going to infiltrate the ruins of Project Excalibur within a few days. It causes a stir, mostly from Gullin who’s overseeing the entire operation, but not as much as they expected.

The Apex files a report. Security will be increased on base, but she’s not making offense a priority. Sondaicas and Adusts are as stealthy as she is strong, so the goal is to protect the base, not catch the heirs. So Amedi will stay with the council this time. Amedi is disappointed to not have another chance to fight, but they try not to show it. Ishtar and Ryn keep reminding them that they don’t need to prove themself anymore. They are on the high council, and there is nothing left to conquer. Well, except for the human world, that is.

But Amedi doesn’t know their seneschal as well as they think. Alone again, Esther slides a panel out of the wall of her small room. She didn’t even need to have it built. The network of crawlspaces and catwalks already covers the human quarters within the palace. She kneels behind a filing cabinet and crawls inside. The space within contains a phone and a computer, both of them slow and unreliable because of the magic nearby. Nonetheless, Esther types a memorized phone number into the keypad. If her research is right, and it is always right, then Clay Shepard’s satellite phone is attached to the other side. She can warn them. She can stop them from walking into a trap. Esther has done this little ritual before, and as always, something stops her. If these kids are going to save the human world (no, her world. She is human, and her mother was taken from the wild), then they need to get just a bit further on their own. It won’t do them any good if she gets caught, after all. Esther puts the phone down, slides the panel back into place, and returns to the paperwork of an empire.

……………

no authors notes other than the fact that I wanted to establish that Clay’s nickname is every possible variant of “Dirt” (and occasionally other synonyms for clay) earlier than this.

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Murderer! Reader - Headcannons - "Death Card"

Also, thank you (Wattpad Person) for requesting this :) I know your the last request I got, so I prolly should have done someone else's request first, but your's was just easiest to find. (Also, I have it bad for Michael so )

Have fun reading this! I'm writing this on my laptop instead of computer so sorry if the formatting turns out worse than usual :/

Also...someone made fun of me for putting, "eight," and, "11," in the same sentence. I guess not many people know this, but anything under ten is supposed to be written out unless their fractions or decimals.

By the way, these basically aren't headcannons lol. It's just me wanting to write out a story but not being good enough to so I just write it down in simpler terms.

Enjoy~

Not only is Y/N just another famous murder who casually takes the lives of people, but she's amazing at hiding

..........until-

Y/N was an abusive home after her parents died when she was a toddler. Her aunt and uncle neglected her but karma came back at them when their car fell off a bridge, causing the pair to drown. The downside for the young Y/N was that she was put into a foster institution. And we all know by now that foster care are full of fights, drugs, weed, alcohol, and shitty employees.

As a young girl entering such a bad place, she was always a target. You know that sense of fear, worthlessness, and loneliness fucked with her head to where she felt lashing out felt great.

She would be unable to stop herself as she plunged a sharp object in and out of this prick that held her down for so long. But once she heard voices from other kids, she ran.

The story made headlines as the next big attack from yet another child. That's right, next. There was someone who inspired her to do what she did.

Of course, she always had that memory in the back of her head. That boy's violent actions filled her with immeasurable awe when she saw the news. However, she always had something more important to think about.

With so much dissatisfaction with her past, she could only fill herself up with adding things on to her in the present, and more in the future.

Y/N would steal Poker cards from people and always use the Ace of Spades to mark her kills by sliding the card into a wound. After all, betting games were the highlight of her day in the foster institution. She was always so good at it that it became her pride.

All these headlines and stories about how evil she is became such a big deal in her head. Such an overwhelming feeling of adrenaline every time she heard the name people would call her.

"The Death Card," is another name for Ace of Spades in most English countries. It was the perfect fit for Y/N.

(Ya'll, I feel like a fucking genius for coming up with that lol)

She was so good at hiding, truly. Kill someone in Kentucky, then move to Missouri. Killing someone there and move to Georgia, and so on.

Only in her hometown was she caught.

Michael was the one who started it all for her, as their same age and hometown made her feel connected to him, and finally where he got caught would be the same place she did.

14 years of hiding and killing led her to meeting him

Michael spent these 14 years sitting in complete silence. No talking, no humming, no singing, nothing. It's like he was always in his own world of thought, too busy in his imagination to interact with the real world.

Of course, there was times when he did pay attention to what's around him.

The news was the only thing he'd really pay close attention to. After all, what if something happens to Haddonfield while's he's stuck in there, and that causes plenty of people he once knew to move away?

But per usual, there was nothing about it

But there was something that caught his attention even by a little

"After 14 years, the notorious Death Card or Card of Death has finally been caught," says the Haddonfield Police Department. "While we're unsure of her motives thus far, we have been able to learn of who she is. Y/N L/N made the headlines once in 1980 at the age of eight as one of America's biggest crime cases with children as the culprit, having brutally stabbed a 15 year old boy. This happened just two years after the Michael Myers case, when a six year old boy stabbed his older sister in 1978. All else the HPD are saying is that her frantic behavior may lead her to a mental institution rather than letting her make legal decisions in court."

Michael paid attention to all the details of the report. For this report to be made about Haddonfield, chances are they'll be meeting each other soon.

The Death Card was a violent killer Michael heard of plenty of times however he never paid close attention to.

(Holy shit these are just headcannons so why am I writing long paragraphs)

He had to say, hearing about her violent stabbings were the highlight of his week. Even if he never felt strong about hearing other people having fun with their lives like she was, he couldn't help but almost feel pushed to do what she is. Living freely and ending those who cross his path...

Saying he was jealous or inspired would be a stretch though

He would spend his days painting paper mache masks while thinking of doing what she was for sure but he hated how she would show off by using those cards as if she didn't have a goal in mind, which was annoying to him. If you have nothing to live for, then kill yourself was his mindset.

Michael watched as Y/N stepped into court. He know hundreds- no thousands- of people watched as this woman of pure evil stepped into the courtroom. Her H/C hair flowed as she walked passed everyone, glaring at them with her cold E/C eyes.

A look of slight intrigue replaced his normal dull expression as he watched the girl stand up before the judge, smiling sassily at the cameras as to tell them to fuck off. Michael can recognize that look of intrusion on her face as she was practically interrogated. Clearly, she hated it there.

He watched contently as all the mystery surrounding the Card of Death was revealed to everyone in this world. Days went by of this court case before finally, she pled insanity. After all, she was known to have some underlying mental conditions as she remained so calm when talking about the varies of ways she would kill.

It's easy to see that many felt bad for the girl. Such trauma growing up led to the creation of this unfortunate human. But Michael? He didn't feel bad at all.

He never was sad or truly sympathetic however...he did feel pity. Somewhere in his soulless eyes held pity for this sad, sad girl he was soon to meet. Not exactly sympathy, but simply pity. And with that came respect.

The day that Y/N stepped foot into those doors was the day the two would meet for the very first times. Over 63 counts of first degree murder in 14 years led to the meeting of these two serial killers. At the time, they were both only 20.

Tables were scattered across the room with people talking or simply sitting alone by themselves on them. There was TV in a few different places around the room and board games in a couple of shelves. In the back of the large room was windows that showed the outside that felt so out of reach forever.

As the metal doors slammed behind her, she felt eyes on her immediately. Y/N slowly scanned the room as she gulped back the intense fear gathering in her stomach. Her lips parted open as she began to breath heavily and press her back on those metal doors.

She was so trapped and scared when she first entered that foster institution. She couldn't help but think of karma when her aunt would hurt her so badly for those five years before she died. But 63 murders are so much worse, so what could karma do to her to balance her evil deeds with punishment?

Laughter and giggled filled her ears as she shut her eyes tightly and covered her face with her arms. Her vision was going blurry; she was having a panic attack. Tears fell from her eyes as she whimpered quietly to herself.

She may be the Card of Death however she never had to be in a large group of people in so long.

Her body jerked as she was suddenly pulled away from those metal doors. She cried out when she saw a large man, around 6'7 (204cm), pull her away.

In just a few seconds, she was pulled to a metal table and forced to sit as the large man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Her body tensed unimaginably as they remained still for a few seconds, quiet aside from the occasional sobs of Y/N.

Then suddenly, the pressure on her shoulders disappeared. She heard nothing until the sound of creaking from the seat in front of her interrupted.

Y/N felt eyes on her. They were so intense over her.

A minute passed before her own eyes fluttered open, meeting the man's eyes in front of her.

A shiver ran down her spine when she came face to face with stone cold blue eyes that seemed to hold nothing within them. No light, no soul, and no sympathy. Not only that, but a orange mask made of paper mache covered the rest of his face as well.

The man tilted his head before lifting his hand onto the table, sliding something over to her. Y/N looked down at what he gave her.

"Don't speak. Write."

Michael had given her a paper with these words. His handwriting was hard to read considering he nearly never wrote anything so it took a moment before Y/N got the message. When she did, she looked back up at the man and nodded just a little so it was barely recognizable.

Obviously this conversation was to be secretive so she knew to barely show signs of interactions. The camera couldn't pick up on such a small nod to what evidence is there of them even interacting?

Michael slid the paper back to him and brought a pencil to the paper after erasing the original text. When he slid it back to her, it read, "Don't let anyone know what we say Y/N. They watch everything." When Y/N looked back up at him, she saw him dart his eyes from something behind her to something on the wall between them. She turned her head slightly to the side, noticing a camera on the wall. So she understood.

Michael had dropped on the pencil on the table, meaning it was her turn to reply. She erased the previous text before writing down, "Who are you? How do you know me?" When she slid it back, Michael took the pencil in his hand again.

"Michael Myers. I was a well known case two years before you. We heard a lot about you on TV."

"As in the boy who killed his sister at the age of six?"

"Yes. You know me?"

Y/N's eyes widened slightly as she frantically wrote down a reply. Without even noticing, the knot in her stomach had completely disappeared without a trace.

"I remember seeing your case. I thought about everyday."

Michael didn't reply immediately after reading. Instead, he waited a few minutes and stared down at the table. A look of confusion remained on Y/N's features as she impatiently waited. Then suddenly, Michael erased what was on the paper and simply drew a masked person looking somewhat like himself with a knife in his hand. He drew dead stick figures around it with blood splattering everywhere.

Michael knew that this picture would cover up all the eraser marks and writings that were still slightly visible. So when the guard that walked up behind Y/N without her knowing popped up, he didn't see any text.

Of course, this did lead to the paper being taken away. Then minutes after that, both of the pair was taken away.

If there's one thing as scary as analyzing The Shape and caring for him, it's that person who cares and analyzes him finding him interacting with someone else for the first time.

Whenever Y/N got sat down in her cell, she knew what was about to happen. She was sat down in her bed as a man she'd never seen before sat down in the chair that came with her little desk in her cell with a guard next to him.

Have you ever spoken to Michael? Are you related to him? How do you know him? How does he know you? Have you ever met his family? Why did he interact to you? Why was he drawing things for you? Does he like you? Does he hate you? Did he write to you? Did you hear him talk?

So many questions were asked by this Dr Loomis in such short amount of time. "No, no, I don't, no, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, no, no," and mostly these were your responses. No matter how many times Loomis asked, you dully replied.

You simply said he sat you down and you began to draw together, both filling in a piece of the drawing together.

And eventually, you got out.

Another day went by of "talking" to Michael.

And another.

And another.

The talks were nice and casual. What goes on in the asylum? What goes on in the outside? Who should I avoid? What's the reputation of the HPD?

Do you want to escape?

But it was only a matter of time before finally the two were friends.

Y/N was kinda just in her cell one night in bed. Then she just gasped and widened her eyes. Wait, are we friends? We're friends, right!

Michael already knew of their friendship like two weeks before she did. It felt so...wrong for him. He had always been alone and silent. How could someone like her even be so likeable to him? He didn't really understand it but he knew he hated it.

One day, the two were writing to each other per usual. Michael unintentionally added a pun in one of his comments, causing Y/N to giggle. Michael cocked his head to the side in confusion, strangely feeling heat rise his face and his heart speed up. It was air conditioned so he suspected he may have gotten sick.

Whenever the two had to go back to their cells, that feeling suddenly disappeared. Then it hit him. Oh fuck-

Hell, only a week later did Y/N feel herself experiencing the same symptoms. Michael notices that Y/N would shake and fidget a lot when they interacted, making him wonder of she was cold. As a friend, it was only right for him to sit next to her and hold her close to keep her warm, right? Y/N's face went red and damn that was embarrassing. But of course, that didn't mean Y/N wouldn't hug him back.

Eventually the two were basically cuddling. The two hugging each other warmly as Y/N rested her head on his chest, struggling to stay awake as they got more comfortable by the second.

But of course, Dr Loomis caught eye of that.

The doctor had been looking deep into al the interactions these two evil beings have had. They act so casual, so normal with each other, surely more than just drawing is happening between them, right?

The doctor had pulled them into his office separately to interrogate them. While Y/N bluntly answered his questions to make him just shut up as quickly as possible, she couldn't help but think to herself. She knows that she and Michael are mentally ill, but he should definitely be fixed by now. He's smart and creative and can casually talk to people, so it's like the only thing keeping him here is that the doctors are so ill-equipped that they can't make the necessary breakthrough to save him.

Of course, just a month later, another incident happened like this. Y/N was having a bad migraine so Michael got her to just sit down and wait for him during lunch. He brought over two trays of food for them and was sure to trade with Y/N so she can eat the things she likes and he could have the things she dislikes.

Another time, a bipolar guy ran into Michael and shoved him as if it was his fault. Michael shoved him back instinctively, causing a fight to disperse between the two. As security guards took notice, Y/N was quick to push Michael away softly and ball a fist to punch the fuck out of that guy- like a, "YO WHATCHU SAY ABOUT MY MAN?" type shit. Y/N did this to seem like she was hitting back and that Michael hadn't done anything wrong.

And when each other's birthday's rolled around, they had their own celebration. Y/N was given her own paper mache mask as a gift and a small cupcake from the cafe. Michael was given stolen art supplies that were taken from other guests and also a cupcake.

Y/N slowly stopped having panic attacks, but she definitely had her moments. Of course, Michael sat with her through it.

Dr Loomis recorded all this shit so he can gather data on Michael. Then the question hit him: How would Michael react if Y/N was gone for a few days? Does he truly care about her or is he just using her?

If you think Michael hated Loomis before, wait til he pieced together the disappearance of girlfriend and the extensive eyesight on him from security guards. For the hell he raised about it, he had to get sterilized and put into a cell without being able to get out for a few days.

Y/N remained bored in her cell for days. So what better could she do than annoy the guard watching her? She would just talk nonstop for what felt like hours and hours. The dude watching her was just getting more pissed off by the second.

"Would you shut up? Crazy bitch," he hissed, hitting the cell door. Y/N giggled cockily, shaking her head. Even if she deserved to be yelled at for continuing to talk, the Card of Death refused to back down. But when the guard went inside her cell and locked the door behind him, she got a bit worried.

Y/N got off her bed and threatened him cockily, to which he responded with physical force.

Of course, Smith's Groove is ill-equipped so even with proof of being hit and tazed, Y/N couldn't do anything to get the guard fired. But Michael?

A full month without seeing each other was like a slow suicide. But when they finally got to see each other again, the two was sure to write so much about their time alone as if they were teenage friends discussing their fun weekends. However, things turned dark whenever Y/N brought up the guard.

Michael didn't show any emotions at all, no matter what happens. But Y/N learned to guess how he's feeling depending on how long he takes to respond. Slowed blinking as if he was in thought, and slower reading as got analyze her writing closer were typically bad signs.

About a year had passed since they met at this time. A year to plan to escape. By now, the two were both 21 and fully prepared to leave once and for all.

Whenever that security guard had walked passed Michael's cell one night, Michael had knocked on the door to signal him. Michael slipped a paper through the doorslot, as he was given paper since he doesn't talk, saying he found a dead mouse in his cell. The guard just huffed and let himself inside. Michael pointed to where the mouse supposedly was; and that was a mistake for the guard.

Right as that guard went to look, Michael got behind and covered his mouth before stabbing him in the neck with a paint brush that's but carved into a small blade. Within moments, the guard dropped dead onto the floor.

Taking the keys from the guard, Michael was able to let out nearly every single prisoner to this hell out of their cells. Including Y/N.

The world sister was the only thing left of the pair as it was engraved into the door of Michael's cell. And just like that, the two were gone.

How they got there so fast doesn't matter but eventually Y/N and Michael found an abandoned house to station at until the search around the area disappeared and they could move around quicker.

"I can't fucking believe it," Y/N cheered as she felt tears run down her face from happiness. She swayed across the room, taking in the smell of dust and air. Even something dirty felt so new to her that couldn't help but love it at the moment.

Michael would watch her as he sat down in an old wooden chair, cocking his head. His body was in complete shock as the realization of all that's happened in the past years came crashing down on him. This was the real world? This is what dust smells like? This is what shattered glass and broken wood looks like? This is what trees look like up close? This is what things look like without glass tinting the color?

This is what it feels like to celebrate with someone you love? Michael reminded himself that the girl in front of him changed his life so much. His urge to harm all around him was always so strong, but the thought of her being hurt felt a bad taste in his mouth.

He stood up from the chair, walking towards the ecstatic girl as she cried happily to herself and picked up random things to remind herself of what they feel like and all she takes for granted. She turned her head to him, smiling, "Michael, look, I found a-"

Y/N gasped as Michael gripped his mask and slowly moved it. Y/N watched in awe as for the first time, she saw her only friend in this world's real face. That pale skin and soulless eyes that she grew familiar with became so new to her again.

"Michael..." she whispered, stepping closer to him. Her face heated up as she felt the weight his eyes staring down at her. She lightly bit her lip, a shiver going down her spine.

He took a few steps closer as well, making the two remain inches away from each other. Now at this point, Y/N is questioning if Michael is gonna kill her or is gonna kiss her as he awkwardly put his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away. She leaned her head into his hand, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

In just a matter of moments, the two came together in a soft kiss. The moment was quiet as the two did their best to remain calm and together as this moment that was little way's overdue continued.

When the two pulled away, Y/N was quick to wrap her arms around him. Now she wasn't going to cry about it, but damn was that contact she needed so badly. The Death Card and The Shape were basically Yin and Yang with how one is emotional and the other in emotionless but their need for pain and each other is what kept it healthy.

Just imagine how much suffering families went through since the two got out.

[kakashiswilloffire]

Orange Sherbet

ao3 link

tw: suicide attempt, overdose, painkillers, mentions of self harm

words: 3.5k

He was a drain on Gai.

His students didn’t need him—they’d surpass him soon enough.

There were still villagers who called him Friend-Killer Kakashi.

He still saw faces every time he laid down to sleep.

He felt Rin’s blood splash onto his chest every time he used the Chidori.

He couldn’t help Itachi.

He couldn’t help anyone.

Sometimes he understood what must’ve gone through his father’s head.

Sometimes, the corner store doesn’t have orange sherbet.

Kakashi is suicidal and we hope Gai can help.

If there was orange sherbet at the convenience store on the way home, he’d stay alive. They always had pints of ice creams and other frozen treats—it was something he had promised to treat himself to when he felt this way. They had made him write down all these promises during his last few mental health sessions with various Yamanakas, listing three people he could talk to when he felt lonely, three distractions he could use to keep himself sane for a few minutes longer, three reasons to stay alive. When he felt like he couldn’t stand to live another day, he had to summon Pakkun, read Icha Icha, and eat something special and different. Pakkun was still recovering from their last rough battle together. He had read each volume of Icha Icha so many times they risked falling apart upon his next touch. So orange sherbet it was.

He’d never cared much for sweets, of course. But there was something nostalgic about orange sherbet, it wasn’t quite as punch-in-the-face sugary as ice cream, but still gave a slight buzz and coated his tongue. In the back of his mind, he remembered his father—or was it Minato?—buying a pint for each of them and snagging two disposable spoons so they could enjoy them as they walked back from the training grounds. Or was it three pints with Rin and Obito after difficult missions? Something Gai or Tenzou insisted on buying for his birthday one year? Everything blurred in his mind, unable to clearly break each memory apart to see it again.

He pushed open the door, hearing the dull chime of bells as it swung forward to let him into the packed corner shop. He made his way to the freezer without taking in any of the other colors, sights, or smells around him. He remembered his goal. One pint of orange sherbet. Buy one, eat it, and try life again tomorrow.

The freezer door was coated in a light fog, but he was in no hurry to see through it. It was just him and the shopkeep cashing out an older civilian woman. He skimmed his eyes across the rows, looking for the familiar orange carton.

Where was it?

He tried again, looking more carefully at each row, all the way across, then moving down to the next systematically. His heart rate jumped roughly 15 more beats per minute.

They always have it.

He opened the door, searching furiously with his eyes now that there was no frost in his way. He knelt to the ground, checking the bottom rows thoroughly.

It has to be here.

He glanced at the shopkeep, bagging the woman’s groceries as she talked animatedly about something he didn’t care enough to make out. He slid his headband up a couple of inches, barely exposing the crimson eye hidden beneath. With as much chakra as he dared use given his current state, he searched the frozen rack again.

Every flavor of ice cream he could think of, and a least a dozen more he would never consider. And toward the bottom, there was lime, lemon, and raspberry,

No orange sherbet.

He wasn’t sure how long he remained squatted down with the freezer door open, focused on the empty slot where it should be. The shopkeep, now with no other customers, cleared his throat loudly and gestured for Kakashi to shut the door. He blinked twice, then rose, hearing the door seal as he returned to his feet.

“Anything I can help you with?”

Kakashi blinked, again. There was all this noise roaring in his head, and he felt flushed. After a beat too long, he understood what had been asked and shook his head.

“No, ah… Thank you.”

He nodded and quickly ducked out of the store.

That was it. He had to write down three reasons. Reason one was currently out of commission because of him. Reason two had been violently abused so that he had something to do with his hands when he was so full of fire and anxiety that if he wasn’t holding something he’d— well, whatever came easiest or first. Digging his nails into his arms, forming tiny red divots. Scratching until the skin was raw and angry. Slamming fists into his thighs. Step one was always untying his kunai pouch and letting it fall. He’d learned that early on.

Reason number three to stay alive, and the agreement he’d made with himself today, was the convenience of dropping by the store for a small treat. Without that, he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

Walking back to his apartment, he thought about the previous weeks. Those promises had all begun the same way, but ended in a different direction. The format was simple: if blank, then I won’t kill myself today. He used to use a similar format: I can’t kill myself until blank. The problem with that was dreaming far enough ahead to find a goal worth the pain, effort, and time, and also, what to do when the goal was met. You can’t kill yourself until you make chunin. You can’t kill yourself until you complete an A rank mission. You can’t kill yourself until you make jonin. You can’t kill yourself until… what? Until I come back from a mission with no casualties? Until I can become close to someone without them dying in front of me? It spiraled too quickly to come back from.

The simpler way to go about it was short-term goals. Can’t kill yourself till after dinner. Then you’ve gotta brush your teeth. Then read a chapter of a book, or two. Then you’re tired, and you can sleep until the alarm wakes you far earlier than the sun would, and you live until you feel like you can’t again. But even that had its downfalls—if you can’t be bothered to brush your teeth tonight, you’ve gotta find something to keep going.

It had been Gai who suggested rephrasing the prompt to its latest version. On a day I challenge you, Rival, you can’t end the passion of youth! The challenges had been almost daily for a couple of months after that, until Gai had left for an extended mission and Kakashi had been thoroughly encouraged to stay a similar amount of time in the Yamanaka’s care. He’d begrudgingly admitted later that both of those developments had helped, and it had been a few years since his last bout with depression like this.

But it had been like this for a few months now, and the clouds fuzzing over his mind didn’t seem to be letting up. So he revisited some old advice. If it doesn’t rain on the way home, he’d stay alive. The sky remained cloudless. If Naruto pulled something stupid during training, he’d stay alive. It only took fifteen minutes before Sakura started yelling at him. If there was orange sherbet in the corner store—But there wasn’t.

Somehow, he made it inside his apartment, not quite recalling the rest of the walk through the dull ache behind his eyes. He slipped his unzipped vest off his shoulders, not noticing it hit the floor. Routine dictated that next was the kunai pouch, then the bandages, then—

He was sitting on the floor and wasn’t sure how he got there. Sitting was a generous term, he supposed, as his legs were fully outstretched and he was propped on one forearm with his head against the wall. His eyes slowly screwed tight as the dull ache sharpened briefly, then the static between his ears picked up in volume. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and gradually got back to his feet, stumbling into the living room.

He slumped across the couch, staring at the ceiling. He remembered the routine, drilling itself into his head. His vest was off, he needed to remove the kunai pouch, then the bandages, then the shoes, and put all of that away before removing the rest of his clothing to take a shower. After that was dinner, then two hours of free time to fill with whatever he was capable of, then bed. Lately the free time had been compromised of staring at the pile of clean laundry on the chair opposite him that had needed to be put away since Wednesday. He knew the routine. He decided to get a jump start on free time anyway.

He began counting all of the socks he could see sticking out of the collection of clothes. Organization and listing had always helped situate his mind and get him back on track. After ten or so minutes, he was finally able to unstrap the kunai pouch, tossing it across the room, taking care to not pay attention where it landed. There had been a week where Kakashi didn’t even carry the bag because Gai had taken it and every sharp object he could find in the apartment under the pretense of helping him hone his taijutsu by not relying on weapons. He had been content to let Gai keep the explanation at that. That might be something to revisit soon.

No. Gai had already done more than enough for him.

Kakashi found himself standing in his small bathroom. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d been in the living room, but he was now free of his bandages and shoes. He shrugged, reaching behind his head to untie his headband. Somehow, it had gotten knotted worse than usual and a section of his hair was caught in it. He yanked viciously at it, breathing in through gritted teeth at the sting then feeling himself relax ever so slightly. Forgoing undoing the knot, he slid it along the trapped segment of hair until the headband came free. That made it on to the counter. That never saw the floor, unlike every other part of his wardrobe had

.Next to the headband on the counter was a scattered collection of varying sizes of orange plastic bottles with thick white caps. The clinical labels all had his name, and the names of various antidepressants and antianxiety medications, as well as several painkillers and muscle relaxants and some antibiotic from the mission a couple years back where everyone returned miserably ill. Most of the bottles were empty, and he had held on to them meaning to get them refilled. He always had good intentions, but there was so many things to do in a day, and he ran out of energy usually three or four items into his list.

The one thing he could always count of having around, though, was some kind of pain relief.

Missions were hard, somehow harder now than ever with him as a jonin leader. He still had teammates, but they relied fully on him to take the brunt of every attack and to protect them at all costs. He couldn’t blame them, of course. They were children. He wanted nothing more than for them to be children and not suffer the same losses he had.

Still, he was sure to return from every mission above a D rank with at least a few nasty bruises. And any time Gai could rope him into a training session, he knew he’d come home needing ice packs and the heating pad and whatever else he could get to be able to train with his team the next morning.

And that was how he found himself glaring into the mirror, the bottle of white tablets shaking in his fist.

He was certainly in pain, that couldn’t be argued.

But how many to take?

No orange sherbet.

He shook his head vigorously again, walking back into the living room and falling onto the couch. He focused on a mark on the ceiling, breathing faster than he understood why while his vision started swimming.

There wasn’t orange sherbet.

He was a drain on Gai.

His students didn’t need him—they’d surpass him soon enough.

There were still villagers who called him Friend-Killer Kakashi,

He still saw faces every time he laid down to sleep.

He felt Rin’s blood splash onto his chest every time he used the Chidori,

Sometimes he understood what must’ve gone through his father’s head.

He couldn’t help Itachi

He couldn’t help anyone,

Sometimes, the corner store doesn’t have orange sherbet.

Sometimes, the little orange bottle that rattles doesn’t rattle any more.

He was in the kitchen, water dripping off his face and hands as he panted over the sink. How did he get here? He swallowed hard, his mouth somehow still dry, and turned the water off. The prescription bottle was laying on the floor. Then so was he. Against the cold tile, he was able to relax just a bit again.

It’d be over soon. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else ever again.

His thoughts became harder to string along, but that didn’t bother him. The thoughts he could connect didn’t sting as much as they usually did. It might be nice to put away that laundry, actually.

Every muscle was heavy. There was so much weight on him, and he couldn’t move. How much time had passed? He thought his heart was starting to race, and wondered if he was having second thoughts. But he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him any longer. He struggled for hours, days, to move his index finger to trace the hem of his shirt over and over. Could he feel it? Was he moving?

He rolled to his side, slowly bringing his knees up to prepare to stand. But his body didn’t move. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He couldn’t? His… It was his body. But? Was he? Could move? …Him?

Several centuries had passed before he heard the key in the door, and the door had already been sealed shut before he understood what the noise was.

“Ka-KASHI! In celebration of your return home from your latest mission, I made sure to grab a treat. Do you remember when you left the ANBU and we went to the corner store together? What a celebration to end all celebrations that day was! I was sure to grab the finest, most youthful of every snack—orange sherbet!”

***

Gai held the thin plastic bag up triumphantly, two pints rolling against each other. Normally he would have also grabbed spoons, but assuming Kakashi would be home, he was sure he could find two spoons somewhere in the apartment, even if he had to wash every dish himself.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed to him that Kakashi was on a downswing lately, but he’d always been the counter to balance his own exuberance, and he had complete confidence that they would move past this, too.

He nudged the flak vest that was crumpled on the ground at his feet. Kakashi must’ve been itching to take it off to have removed it the second he got inside. But why wouldn’t he have hung it up, or placed it at least near the hamper? This wasn’t part of the routine. Had he been badly injured on this last mission?

That must be it. He would have come home, shed his clothing, and jumped in the shower to clean his wounds and begin loosening his muscles. Much to Gai’s dismay, Kakashi seemed to be magnetically repelled from hospitals, preferring to treat his wounds himself as long as he could walk. So he must have some sort of torso injury, maybe bruised ribs or a minor stab wound, and he was surely tending to it quietly deeper inside the apartment.

The laundry he had helped Kakashi wash last week was still in the soft, cushioned chair in the dim living room. That wasn’t too surprising, he knew that was the first thing Kakashi would let fall by the wayside if something wasn’t going to get done. As long as the clothes were clean, he could wear them, even if they hadn’t been neatly hung, and that was something Gai could live with.

What he did not appreciate the sight of, however, was the kunai pouch halfway under the end table near the entry way. With such an inconvenient location, Kakashi surely must have made an effort to lose the bag and the knives it contained. He felt his heart swell with pride that Kakashi had the forethought to disregard the bag, but his heart deflated just as quickly with the knowledge that Kakashi felt it necessary to do so.

As he continued into the apartment, he called out his rival’s name once or twice. He must be home. The barrier seals hadn’t been placed over the front door, which means he either was here, or kidnapped from here, and the building still existed, so he must not have been kidnapped. So where was he?

Conscious of the rapidly melting sherbet in his hand, he turned down the hallway to the kitchen to leave the bad in the freezer while he helped Kakashi, presumably in the bedroom, bandage his wounds.

As he rounded the corner, flipping on the lights as he went, he heard a small groan. Nothing at eye level. Cautiously stepping forward, his foot sent a small orange plastic bottle skittering across the tiles.

Gai was barely aware of the sherbet hitting the ground.

Kakashi looked terrible. It was not particularly strange to find him lying on the ground, but there was absolutely no color in his face. Both of his eyes were lazily opened, and neither focused on Gai’s as he kneeled down to check his vitals. His breathing was shallow and his heart rate garbage.

“What did you DO?”

Gai yanked Kakashi up into a sitting position, grabbing for the prescription bottle. Depending on what it said, maybe this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Maybe he’d been poisoned. Maybe even food poisoning. But the signs of an opiate overdose matched the label printed in cruelly clinical terms and he crushed the plastic in his fist. Kakashi needed to get to a hospital, and he needed to get there immediately.

He gathered his rival in his arms, not noticing his weight nearly as much as he noticed how limp he was, making no effort to not be ragdolled around. As he stood up, he took stock again of Kakashi’s breathing—shallower than a moment ago. After a second’s hesitation, he reached for the edge of his mask and yanked it down under his chin, hoping the direct access of air to his lips and nose might help. His lips had some color in them still, and he looked away, trying to respect the privacy of the man who he would kill as soon as he was saved.

***

Some time in the next twenty-four hours, Kakashi’s eyes opened. When they did, blinded by the light and surrounded by medical whites, he was shocked to find himself actually in heaven. What brought him back to earth was Gai, unceremoniously slapping his shoulder.

“What, my dear, dear rival, were you thinking?” he said, thankfully not as loudly as he could have.

Kakashi was at a loss. There were dozens, hundreds of thoughts racing through his head, but they all seemed password-protected and he didn’t have administrative access. He could barely open his mouth, covered by a thin towel, let alone form an explanation that would have made any sense to Gai.

Instead, he surprised himself by feeling the towel suddenly go cold and cling to his skin.

Gai panicked for a moment at the sight of Kakashi’s tears, then took a deep breath and slid forward to the edge of his chair. He brushed a warm, calloused thumb across his rival’s face.

“I know you’re in pain. I do. I don’t understand it, but I believe that you’re in pain and we’re going to help you get better.” He took a shuddering breath, noting that it was thicker with emotion than he had anticipated. “I don’t know what the future is going to hold for us, but the passion of our youth, and especially of your youth, Kakashi, is not close to over. So, whatever it takes, whatever the Yamanakas advise and whatever you need, we’ll make it happen. I love you, and you’re not going anywhere.”

Kakashi’s eyes widened, and Gai became aware that he had opened his Sharingan at some point to record this moment in his memory. He swallowed, feeling his throat begin to ache.

“I love you.”

Kakashi’s tears began falling in a steady stream, and Gai remained exactly where he was, brushing soft, silver hair off of his rival’s forehead. After a moment, he leaned further forward and pressed his forehead against the space he had just cleared.

In a small, scratchy voice he had not heard from the man laying before him ever in the past, he heard a whisper that nearly broke his heart.

“I love you too.”

[caffeinated-cryptid]

ashes, ashes.

10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.

““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””

(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)

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

Case 1: the man in the alley.

The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.

As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys. 

His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.

If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.

Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.

...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.

It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.

“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.

Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.

“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought. 

“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”

What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.

“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.

“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.

“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”

Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.

“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”

Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”

Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.

He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.

Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.

“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”

Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?

But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.

His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.

As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.

Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.

Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.

In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.

“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”

Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.

Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected. 

“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.

The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”

"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second. 

Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."

"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.

"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.

"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…" 

His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"

Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real." 

"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.

"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.” 

That did make Remus feel better, actually. 

"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"

Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"

"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."

Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.

"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey. 

"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"

Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."

Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”

“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.

“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.

“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”

Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”

“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”

Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.” 

“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.

“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”

Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”

“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.

“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.

“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”

“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”

Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”

Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.

“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.

Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”

And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.

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

Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.

When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning. 

He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.

After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.

As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself. 

But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly. 

Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.

People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.

...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?

He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.

Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.

She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.

“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”

“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”

Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”

Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”

--

Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.

Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”

Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.

“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”

James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.

“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.

“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”

“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”

The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.

“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”

With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.

Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.

Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.

“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”

He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.

“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.

“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”

For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”

That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”

Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”

“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.

Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”

He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”

Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.

“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.

“You could cheat death, for starters.”

“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.” 

Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.

“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.

“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.

“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”

“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.

“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”

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

Case 3: the woman in the streets.

The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.

In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.

Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.

They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.

He didn’t deal with it well. 

The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was. 

He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.

Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road. 

“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.

With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.

“Oh…”

And then he turned on his heel and threw up.

Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?

He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.

“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,

“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”

Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.

“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.

“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”

“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”

“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”

“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”

“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”

Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”

“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully. 

“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”

Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”

“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”

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

Case 4: the bad doctor.

The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.

Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons. 

Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.

Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).

Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.

After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.

But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.

Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence. 

Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.

The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following. 

"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.

"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.

"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."

Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too. 

Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."

...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.

"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.

"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.

"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."

Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor. 

"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course." 

"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead. 

"Sounds good, doc." Remus said. 

"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.

"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor. 

“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.

“REMUS!”

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

Case 4.5: the dead doctor.

The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.

Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.

Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man. 

After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.

After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.

As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer. 

--

The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”

Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.

“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”

“Really Remus? I just got ready.”

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”

He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.

“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Bye, ugly.”

“Later, Rat Bastard.”

“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex. 

It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.

Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.

“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”

“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”

He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”

Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”

“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.

“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”

Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”

Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”

The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once." 

"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"

The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know." 

"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."

"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.

Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?" 

"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"

"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"

Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."

"Remus, you have to get out! Now!" 

"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-

"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call." 

Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn’t-

Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary. 

"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."

If he didnt-

"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him. 

Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs. 

Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist. 

"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out. 

Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.

"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body. 

"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused. 

"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."

"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.

Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails." 

Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"

"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul. 

"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space. 

"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.

"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.

Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."

"Of course, pinky promise~."

"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."

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

Case 5: the one who tried to get away.

The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.

It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up. 

Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)

It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people. 

But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.

"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."

"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.

"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.

Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."

Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"

"...Huh?"

"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"

"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow. 

"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb? 

"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.

"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.

"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."

"Clearly…"

--

A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.

That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.

Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.

A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-

Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off. 

He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.

He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.

He'd just have to do something about this himself. 

--

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”

“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”

“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.

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

Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.

And then shortly after; 

“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”

“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!” 

Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”

His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up  there-”

Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.

“Whoopsie daisy.”

He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.

“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”

As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.

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

Case 8: the innocent.

And then: 

Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.

He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.

Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”

Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”

Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.” 

”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.

”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”

“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”

“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.

“Exactly. The life.”

That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.

“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”

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

Case 11: the matchbox.

Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside. 

They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.

Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)

“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.

“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.

For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.

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

Case 13: the one with bad luck.

He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.

“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”

“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."

Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself. 

“Anyone nearby?” He checked.

“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.” 

“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.

Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah, you should see the other guy.”

That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”

“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”

“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."

Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.

"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it." 

The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."

Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.

"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."

”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.

“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”

Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.

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

Case 0: the one who death followed.

It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.

In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).

All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.

And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game. 

(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)

-------------- 

Writing taglist: @just-perhaps @sashootkahoot @anxious-l0ser @illogical-immunity @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @whisperinginthevoid @and-this-sword @creamiiteaa-xx

Deityfucker au taglist: @arodynamic-enby @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @overlad-of-the-snakes @aromanticwhore @haha-phrog @hetalianhufflepuff @emeryyleaf @winter-wandering @gaylotusthatexists @8bituin

[fictitiousfoodie]

It’s A Family Thing

Summary: A boy falls for a girl

Pairing: Reader x Ian Kildner ( fake person)

Word Count: 3847

Okay so here are something to know before you read. The teams are real but all the people fake it was easier for me with this story.

Juliette stood by a high table, wearing a stunning and elegant black dress A-line gown with a respectable but fun slit up the side, talking to a relatively wealthy seeming older gentleman. His tux was custom, hair grey, and thinking, and the date he had brought with him was barely legal to drink, showing almost all her cleavage, and was sipping her cosmo through a straw. But Juliette didn't care about any of that right now. All she cared about was convincing this man that a donation to the team's charity would be a brilliant investment. 

"Mr. Mason donating to the teams' charity is not only a write-off for you with tax breaks, but it allows lots of people to see just how good you and your company are." Manson Construction was responsible for building half of Boston and rebuilding the other half. They had gone through a string of bad publicity when someone leaked rumors of the company cutting corners regarding safety protocols to the local newspapers. The stories had been proven untrue, but they had still caused doubt in the community. Mason Construction was a good company, and Juliette knew that. "Manson Construction on every banner we use when the team works with charities like Habitat for Humanity or does an event with local children's hospitals something like that could change how the community views your company," she said with a passionate and firm promise to her voice. Just as Juliette finished her speech, a loud, sharp crack of noise erupted from behind her. 

Juliette's brother Jack, the youngest of her four brothers, and his girlfriend Ashley had been fighting all night. Juliette had been keeping an eye on it. Ashley was not a great girlfriend. Juliette was pretty sure Ashley was in it for the idea of dating a pro athlete, and Jack was in it cause Ashley was hot. Juliette had noticed more and more that Jack seemed done with Ashley's crap, and from the Way, Ashley was now storming out and the fact Jack wasn't going after her, he had decided to end things tonight in a public place. 

Juliette turned back to Mr.Mason, who was chuckling to himself. "Your brother seems to be quiet, the unlucky fellow tonight in regards to love. But you are better than luck. You're smart, and you've got gumption, Juliette. I like the image you've given the charity, and I think it will provide great support and publicity for my business. I will send you a check tomorrow with the donation. If the team or the charity needs anything, you let me know," he said, smiling and walking away with his old wrinkled hand on his arm candy's ass. 

Jules shivered in disgust as she watched arm candy giggle and kiss him on the cheek, then took a deep breathe she had done it. She had landed another massive donation for the charity. 

Suddenly a large and heavy arm flopped around her shoulder, and her oldest brother Brandon was there by her side. 

"Way to go, Jules. It looks like Mr.Mason was pleased with the idea of being the teams highest paying donor', he said with pride and admiration for his sister. 

"He said he would send over the check tomorrow. I need a drink, and to get these heels off my feet are killing me." She laughed, walking to the bar. 

Brandon was the oldest of the four brothers at the age of 33. He had retired from the league last year due to a knee injury. The team hired him as the skills coach. Brandon was always responsible. He was the boy next door with a killer smile and genuine charm. The next one down was Henry, who was 31 and was the team's new athletic trainer. He was sporty and the smartest. He wanted to be a doctor when he was younger but found a way to combine his love of medicine and learning with his love of hockey and the team he had grown up around. He immediately change to sports medicine. The third one was Eric. He was the middle one, wild and crazy. He was 28, had been on the team as a defender for four years now, and made sure everyone knew his opinion on any given subject.

Jack, the youngest of the brothers, was a sweet kid, but just that, still a kid in many respects. He had the talent and a good heart, but he needed to grow up. He was 25 and still trying to figure out many things about life but was too stubborn to listen to anyone's advice. Finally, there was Juliette, the youngest out of the five children and the only girl. She grew up tough and headstrong, just like her brothers. Her mother made sure she was balanced, though, so she had put her in dance as a little girl, and she had loved it. She still went to classes and taught little ones occasionally. Her brothers were always there in the front row to cheer her on then give her noogies after. She was 24, but most people thought she was older because of how she held herself.   

All 5 of the siblings looked alike, all athletic, tall, and toned the brothers ranging in muscle definition. All five had dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. There was no denying they were family. The dark hair came from their dad, and the eyes had come from their mom.  The whole family was here tonight, and Jules loved that. Everyone in the family had found a way to be apart of the team or organization in a job they loved. She loved being around her family and the constant support they gave. Her mom had started the Boston Bruins charity when her dad had been a player. She was still running it and was grooming Juliette to take over soon. Being a Bruin was a family thing. They had been born into it and loved every minute of it. 

She and Brandon were standing by the bar ordering drinks when she saw out of the corner of her eye, Henry and Eric walk up. 

"So, we all saw the slap that Ashley gave Jack, right?" Henry said in a cautious and questioning tone. 

"Yes, the whole room heard it. Did you see where he went?" Brandon asked cautiously. 

"No, but my guess would be the locker room, someone should go check on him?" Eric said, turning towards Jules. 

"Yea yea yea, I'll go. Even though one of you are married and ones engaged," she said over her shoulder, walking away toward the locker room. 

She found Jack sitting in his locker with a cold beer pressed to his face. head drooped down and fidgeting with his phone. "You shouldn't call her, "Jules said, pulling the drink away to check out the handprint on his face. It wasn't nearly as bad as it had sounded probably just stung. Ashley wasn't abusive, just dramatic. 

"Why? Cause she slapped me?" 

"No, because she gave the bartender her number about 15 mins before that happened. You made the right call. She didn't love you; she loved the status."

"I know. I just thought she was the one at the beginning. "He sighed as Jules sat next to him. 

They sat there for a few minutes in silence. Jules knew he would be fine just needed someone to lean on for a bit, and sure enough, after about 10 minutes, he handed Jules his beer and stated with new energy, "There are plenty of fish in the sea. I have to find the right one, right?!" Jack jumped up and started walking to the doors. 

"Yes, just please be safe and smart and maybe go home alone tonight," Jules shouted to him as he strutted out the doors. 

Jules took a sip of the beer and sighed, starting to take her shoes off, enjoying the silence. When she heard the doors slam open and Jimmy Peters and his date for the evening tumbled though not breaking the sloppy kiss and handsy embrace, they were tangled in. They never noticed her as she grabbed her high heels and beer and left the room. She was in the hall on the way back, laughing to herself about the thought of giving Jimmy a hard time the next time she saw him when she heard the classic catcall whistle from behind her. 

She turned to find Ian Kildern, one of the team's defensive players. He was 6'4", muscled more than the average hockey player and curly brown hair with deep green eyes. His tux was well altered; it hung perfectly on him, showing his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Ian was an excellent player, intelligent, lightning-fast, and a great leader. He was 26 and had been in the league since he was 19. The Bruins had picked him up four years ago when his contract had been up with the Tampa Bay Lighting. They were friends, but Jules was closer to other players, and usually only had a small talk with easy, polite jokes. 

"Juliette Calloway, you clean up nice." He said in a semi-serious, mostly mocking tone.

"Shut up, Ian. Don't you have a date to dazzle like the rest of the team?" She said in a cheeky and light-hearted tone. 

"No, actually, Kelly and I broke up last weekend."

"Oh, that's right; her name was Kelly, and I'm so sorry to hear that after a week together, you had to call quits. You must be devastated. She said with a wink. Knowing fully, he had never planned on keeping it serious. Ian didn't sleep around a lot, but he also didn't keep girlfriends long. 

He chuckled, "Yeah, she was allergic to my dog." He changed the subject when he noticed the bottle in her hand, "You drinking alone - drowning your sorrows?"

"No, actually," she said in a matter of fact tone, "I was consoling my brother."

Ian's face squished up, and he sucked in a breath, "Yea, I saw - well heard the slap. Is he okay?"

"He's fine. It's his pride that's hurting more than anything, although he won't admit to it", She explained on a sigh. 

"Well, I'm glad he's okay. It's tough trying to figure everything out—the balance between the game and social life. Suddenly having money and not know if women want you the status or the money. It can be a rough and bumpy ride."He said with an understanding tone. 

"You sound like you have some experience, but you seemed to have figured it all out." 

 "I had my mistakes and issues, but the key difference is I didn't have a last name that's attached to 2 legends. Jack has a whole lot more spotlight from the league because of your dad and oldest brother. I could make my mistakes in private." 

"So, you had a girl slap you in front of your entire team and about 45 VIP guests?" Jules questioned, intrigued to hear his answer. 

"Okay, well, no, I never had that, but I did have a date throw up on me at an event one time. Rachel Madison, I'll always remember that name now. She hadn't eaten all day and then started doing shots of tequila. The smell was horrendous. It was like...

"Ew, I don't want to know! Please stop you win. That's disgusting." She fussed, cutting him off and giggling at the idea. 

"Well, then, Miss. Date Judger where is your perfect event plus one this evening." He asked mockingly, looking around the hallway they were slowly walking down. 

"Oh, I don't ever bring a date to an event that mom and I are running. I did once or twice and always felt bad that I left him standing somewhere while doing things for the event, plus dating in my life is hard. They tend to get offended when I know more about the game or jealous when I spend all my time here at the arena with you guys OR my brothers bully them, and they can't take the heat." 

They had almost reached the doorway to the main lobby, where the fundraising event was when Ian's ear perked up as he heard his favorite song come on. It Had To Be You by Harry Conick Jr. He grabbed her hand put the bottle of beer in her hand on the floor, and stated softly, "It's a great song - I wouldn't want it to go to waste since you don't have someone to dance with."

Surprised by the sudden change in tone, Juliette lost her voice a little and had to clear it before asking, "Ian Kildern, are you asking me to dance?"

He slowly started to pull her into his arms, saying in a volume just barely above a whisper, "I guess I am. Are you saying yes?"

"I guess I am." She said, staring into his eyes and falling into the sway of his body. Still stiff at first, she slowly drifted further into the daze the music mixed with his look and tone of voice had caused, eventually allowing her to melt completely into him. Neither spoke to busy enjoying the moment. It had been years since she had slow danced, and she was enjoying being wrapped in someone's arms. Not just any someone, but someone who had made her laugh and had been having a good conversation with, not to mention he smelled incredible. 

Ian couldn't believe he was dancing again. He had stopped bringing dates to events because it always fell short of what he wanted the evening to be. But with Juilette, he couldn't help but notice her laugh at his story or the way she had softened and molded to him as they danced. Hand in hand, his left hand rested at the small of her back, her head resting on his chest her right on his shoulder. She felt good in his arms. He felt something different for her, something he hadn't felt in a very long time. The music drifted away as the song ended, and they both stopped swaying. She pulled her head back but didn't pull away; she just looked at him, waiting for him to speak first, but Ian didn't want to say anything anymore. The smell of her vanilla perfume. The blush that had risen in her cheeks, the way she was waiting for him. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel those soft pink lips pressed to his. Before he knew it, she was wetting her lips and starting to lean in because she had wanted it too. Never one to miss the opportunity; he leaned in and pressed his hand into her back more, drawing her closer. They were a whisper away from each other when Jimmy and his date exploded from the locker room with laughter, pulling Ian and Jules apart. Jimmy and his date rush by them and unseen to the car in the parking lot. 

"Well, it's late. I should be going," Ian said, trying to hide the disappointment that the moment was gone from his voice. 

"Uh, yea, it's late. I should be finding mom to see if she needs help with anything. Good night Ian and thank you for the dance.", She said, turning and walking away before he could say or do anything. 

It took a split second for him to decide, but he had made his choice he wanted her. He wanted to hold, kiss, love, and keep Juliette Calloway forever. 

Ian couldn't stop thinking about that night. It had been two weeks, and all he could think about was Juliette Calloway. He had been indifferent to her before that night. Ian had had conversations with her but always just regarded her as almost one of the guys. And now he couldn't get her out of his head. The way her eyes sparkled with what he hoped was lust and something more. The way she didn't back away from him and the chemistry in the air. He needed to do something, but what? 

Friday games were always Juliettes favorites. The offices were always more energetic with Friday games as everyone was excited to watch them. Juliette always ran home at lunch for an hour or so to let out Wayne, her Weimaraner, go potty and play, then she would change into her jersey and jeans. She would come back and finish up work, then relax until the game started. Today was no different. She got home and was greeted by Wayne's barks and excited tail. She let him into the backyard and threw her bag and keys on the counter. She loved her home. It was warm and welcoming with leather couches and natural linens. She left the back door open for Wayne to come back in and walked to her bedroom. She was opted for wearing Jack's jersey tonight, paired it with her black jeans and favorite booties. She was excited and happy about tonight's game. Hence, she decided on a smokey eye - if she was honest with herself, she was thinking about her evening with Ian when she had decided on it but pushed it away and assured herself it had nothing to do with him. Wayne had yet to come back in; she went in search of him to find him bathing in the sun and enjoying the day just as much as she was. She called him in, gave him a treat, and headed back to the arena. The game was at 7. The team usually came in about 5. Everyone in the offices had more than likely left for the day; she had a few more things to do when there was a knock at her office door. 

"Come in," she called to the knocker.

"Wow, nice digs," the knocker said with a low and slow whistle. 

Juliette's head snapped up. She had expected it to be a co-worker that was running behind or family. Her brother or mother would sometimes stop by, but she was not expecting him, "Ian...what are you doing here"? 

"Though I'd finally venture up to the offices. Poke around, see what it was like having an office job", he said, waltzing into the office looking around. His eyes settled on the wall of pictures and headlines. The wall was full of pictures of her brothers and father on the ice. It captured each of their timelines, from training to playing to winning championships at all different ages. A particular photo caught Ian's eye, and Juliette got up from her desk to join him. He looked fantastic in a suit more casual than the other night but still just as perfect. It was a solid black suit with a black button-down. He had the first few buttons undone. Juliette was standing next to him when he laughed to himself, saying, " Is this .. Henry?!" 

"Yea, it is. He was like 8 or 9. Mom loves that photo; he hates it", she said with a snicker. The photo was of Henry in full hockey gear. He was standing on the ice for the first game of the season when he slipped and fell. The camera had caught it just right, and all his limbs were up in the air, and his face read of terror and surprise, not know what had just happened.  

"I have to have the team come see this. Look at his bowl hair cut, "He cackled. 

" Don't you dare! He will kill me if he knows anyone from the team has seen it", she said hastily while grabbing his arm to stress the importance and implore him not to tell. 

He felt the electricity of her touch shoot through him. He was no longer focused on the photo but her. The way she smiled and was almost begging him not to spill her secret. He paused and looked at her hand on his arm. She realized what she had done with the casual touch, she could feel his muscle move, and she was immediately turned on and pulsed for him. When she tried to retract her hand, Ian grabbed it, placing a kiss on the top, and looked at her with seductive eyes while asking, "Are you begging me, Juliette?"

Juliette felt the innuendo to her core, and her stomach filled with butterflies. But she was no rose petal. She wanted him and wasn't going to melt for him like all the other women he was used to. She moved just a few inches closer and looked at him with a devilish smile, and asked, "Do you want me to?" Something inside Ian snapped. He couldn't hold himself back any longer. The look in her eyes mixed with her smile and words had him going practically feral. He gave the hand he was holding a tug, and she stumbled into his chest, her other hand landing in between them as she attempted to catch herself. Ian's other hand wrapped around her waist. He dropped her hand and slid his into her hair at the nape of her neck. He paused for a moment, making sure he still saw the same look in her eyes. He was thrilled to see it there but even more intense. He pulled her in and kissed her. 

The kiss was passionate, hard, and needy. Ian pulled ever so slightly on Juliettes hair, causing her to moan softly into his mouth, giving his tongue access to explore. He deepened the kiss, fingers digging into her side, causing more soft moans to escape her. He pulled back ever so slightly to give her air, but Juliette chased him, making him growl and start to grow hard. Juliette's heart was pounding her panties were becoming very wet. She wanted more. They both craved to feel each other skin to skin. When they both broke because they needed air, Juliette saw a softness in Ian's eyes. His thumb stroked her cheek for a split second while he started to ask her out on a date to dinner in a few nights when she cut him off, smirking, "I guess you should be going wouldn't want coach to see you be late to practice." Then with a quick kiss, smirk, and a hoard of giggles, she pushed Ian out of her office and locked the door behind her. Ian was still in shock as he walked from the office to the locker room, both from the kiss and that she had pushed him out without saying anything else. She had a fire and spirit he had certainly never seen before. Juliette slunk down into the couch in her office. She couldn't believe she had just done that. He was incredibly sexy, and she was very turned on. She could feel the blush creep into her cheeks. She knew she wanted him in more than a casual fling way. That's why she was going to play hard to get. Make Ian chase a little bit for once in his life.  

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Who is in Control? - Part 2

A/N: Unedited smut because ya girl is ALWAYS thirsty for Henry Cavill. 🔥🔥🔥 Catch up on Part 1 HERE!  Masterlist

August Walker x Reader 

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 2570k

Warnings: dirty filthy CONSENSUAL smut, language (Just don’t scroll past the cut if you don’t want to read smut)

******************************************

“FUCK!” Ethan slammed his hands abruptly on the table. “Damnit, we missed him. He’s gone.”

“We’ve searched nearly every smelly crevice London has to offer. We were so damn close!”

“Lane’s gotta be with him. If we hurry, we can still sniff out his tracks.”

Ethan eyed Y/N suspiciously; “Think Y/N. Where would he go next?”

Y/N scanned through every memory she could muster. Her frontal lobe throbbed as she rubbed the spot aggressively.

“Hazlitt’s! That’s where we’d go.”

“You sure?”

“I know it. 100%”

“Why there?”

“I’d read to him when we were in bed together. Hazlitt’s is a hotel. He surprised me when he actually listened one night. I was reading an autobiography about essayist William Hazlitt. He was the one to find out William had died there. My morbid curiosity found his gesture macabre yet sweet. It was his way of showing he’d cared without saying anything at all. And before you say anything ridiculing, don’t.”

“Shit, what the hell did you do to him? No wonder he’s on a damn rampage.”

Dryly chuckling, Y/N didn’t quite know how to follow up, fumbling over her fucked up feelings once again.

“It was our place where we could just be ourselves. Away from the world and constant bloodshed. No alterative motives, no plan of action, just us. If he’s as heartbroken as he’s letting on, I bet that’s where we’ll find him. Besides, who doesn’t enjoy a trip down memory lane, hm?”

“I underestimated you, Y/N. Fucking the information out of him AND tricking him into thinking it was love. You’re a fucking genius.”

She coldly glared at him, her mind already two steps ahead of Hunt pissing him off to no end.

“Seriously. When did it stop being a mission?”

“The SAC told me to keep an eye on him, make sure he stayed in line under a watchful eye. They teamed us together as an experiment. I can’t pinpoint when, it just happened Ethan. I mean we’ve worked side by side in the field for three years! THREE YEARS.”

“He’s scared of you. You’re his one weak link.”

She mulled his comment over. It was a truth she wasn’t quite ready to admit. Yes, she wanted to make him hurt but killing him was an entirely different story. She prayed her strength was hiding, just waiting to surface when called upon.

“Clock’s running. Let’s go.”

So, Y/N followed him through a skinny corridor alley getting to the car at an inhumanely speed.

----------

Ethan and Y/N surveyed the perimeter looking for an obtainable entrance point. The dumbfounded clerk had confirmed a Mr. Patrick Bateman checking in. Taking after his favorite character, Y/N knew what room they’d find him in. His impeccable taste for detail consistently blew her away. Room 916. No doubt in her mind. The day they met, or as he likes to better describe; the first time he ever felt noticed.

“Let me go in first. Try and reason with him.”

Irritation came off him in waves crashing nonverbally disagreeing with Y/N.

“Too dangerous. This isn’t negotiable.”

Undermining his own words Y/N spoke; “I’m not asking for permission, I’m telling.”  

Just then, the door swung open, Y/N sauntered towards a seeable back exit adjacent from Hunt’s point of sight. Walls bare of color and life lined the narrow hallway. The dimness bordered into eerie. An unknown sound skyrocketed her frenzied nerves. 913…914…915…

The garish gold numbers stood conspicuously still. Invisible weights kept her place. A knock resonated off the white dilapidated door.

Nothing. No response, not a sense of movement. Can’t fool me that easily Walker.

“I know you’re there—watching me through that stupid peephole wondering what in the literal hell I’m doing here.”

A chain clanged loose as the door astutely opened. Never had she met a man as devilishly handsome before. Towering over her 5ft7 frame, he smirked.

“Don’t give me that look. We need to talk.”

August didn’t flinch a muscle remaining inaudible. All of a sudden enigmatic emptiness consumed her.

“By all means, please come in.”

Good to see his charm and charisma hadn’t yet abandoned him.

“We both know you didn’t come alone. How long I do we have?”

“15 minutes, maybe 20 if you’re lucky. And I dare say luck isn’t on your side today. Why did you leave?”

“Getting straight to the point then my love?”

“Don’t give me that shit, Walker. I’m seriously not in the mood.”

The air conditioner hummed in the background forcing goosebumps to prickle her skin. An unexplainable chill drifted around them; a veiled noose of destruction lingering just out of sight. Y/N walked towards the window gazing up at the luminated stars. 

She’d always been fond of constellations and their profound mark on the universe. Heavy footsteps followed making their way to her. His breathe tickled along her collarbone standing mere inches away. His hands reached for hers interlacing their fingers placing a wet kiss to the exposed column of her neck.

“How far are you prepared to go?”

Her neck slanted at him in childish annoyance.

Y/N snorted; “I will go further than you. However, many weapons you’re willing to bring, I’ll bring more. However low you will go; you will never dig deeper than me. I will win, because what this will cost me in pain, I will pay. My resources are limitless, I will always outbid you, and I will never, ever back down. Am I clear?”

The seriousness in her tone amused him giggling quietly. His rebuttal was quick and brash.

“You must seriously hate the person underneath that attractive flesh of yours.”

“Already to the petty part of the evening? Always a sour puss, Auggie.”

Closing the space between them, August pinned his upper body to Y/N’s back. Her head landed powerfully on his shoulder; his fingers brushed her pulse point teasingly.

“Neither of us are getting out alive darling. Have you paid your penance? Shall we be rejoined in the afterlife or reign in hell? I do wonder.”

Ignoring him Y/N pressed further; “Where’s the plutonium? Death is but a ploy of distraction.”

“Clever girl. Reverse psychology won’t work on me, Y/N. Try again.”

His right hand wrapped entirely around her delicate neck into a light chokehold securing her in place.  

A hushed rough voice similar to a forgotten whisper slipped through; “You’re the one who has to live with your choice. Everyone else will get over it, move on, no matter what you decide. But you never will.”

His left hand stroked the button of her jeans undoing them in record time. The zipper was the next offensive item to go before he shoved her pants around her wobbly knees. Paralyzed in fear, Y/N didn’t risk moving a single muscle.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Here, now, pressed against this chilled glass, exposed for the whole world? I’ll gamble just one glance from a stranger down below will get your rocks off.”

His next words terrified her; “Only I can make you feel this alive. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She fought the searing intrusion growing between her thighs. He spoke directly to her reflection like he was talking to a ghost.

A concoction of pants and grunts were the only distinguishable noise escaping Y/N. August’s hand slithered underneath her blouse groping her covered breasts. Still she didn’t move to stop him. She was putty in his glorious hands ready to be molded into whatever he needed or craved. immersed terror sent a jolt of unexplainable excitement to her core. 

Y/N cowered ashamed of her body’s biological reaction. But something in her brain told her to let him see the demon hiding in plain sight. Suddenly, Y/N reached back fisting the hair along his neck and pulled, hard.

Her behavior shifted on the cusp of absurdity. The ruthless killer long submerged had finally met her match, someone just as vile as she believed herself to be.

“You’re not the only cold-blooded asshole in the world. Hate to burst your villainous bubble.”

“I know, my darling. I’ve waited so patiently to see you in this darkened light of misery. After this, you won’t be able to go back to work without seeing every speckle of shit sprinkled before your eyes. CIA, FBI, MI6, they’re over and you my dear play a dear role in their long-awaited demise. Once you cross this line, which you undoubtfully will, Agent Y/N is dead.”

August swept her hair to one side nipping a trail along her collarbone. Her blood pressure steadied showing him she was calm, in control, and spontaneously impulsive.

Gauging his reaction, Y/N leaned into August; “I know. You’re my Hades and I’m the beloved Persephone. We’re written in destiny, baby. You and me.”

Her voice expressed a detached, cunning, and malevolent mischief. Her words made his skin crawl and cock harden. She was truly magnificent.  

“Did you know that I’ve dreamt of your blood spilling while I fucked you raw? Holding a silver tipped blade on that very neck of yours, watching the fear grow as I rode you like a wild stallion. There’s no more denying the predatory urges I desire with you, for you....to you. We could have the world at our finger tips, Auggie. Quite frankly, you don’t scare me a bit and it pisses you off.”

August bit down sinking his teeth into her peachy flesh leaving a crimson imprint in his wake. Y/N yelped; her underwear flooded with moisture. Her feet wobbled closer to the glass as August shoved her forward. With her breasts pressed against the window, she heard the fasten of his zipper undo. Her nipples hardened in response. August’s dick pressed vigorously into her ass cheeks hitting every spot but the one she wanted. A feral growl betrayed her as she pushed back in resistance.

“Mmhm, who’s the horny one now?”  

“I’ve grown familiar with villains that live in my bed…”

The lace grazing her hips snapped painfully watching her panties fall to the floor.

“Ouch! Easy asshole.”

“Vile words from such a pretty mouth. Obviously, there’s lessons to still be achieved with you yet.”

“You foolish brute. You should be thanking me for covering your tracks, saving that scrumptious ass of yours. Oh, my pet…when you will realize you are the one at my disposal now?”

Finally, skin to skin August lined up with her entrance. His tip rubbed teasingly against her parted folds pushing in a few inches. His shallow thrusts only spurred her on. He didn’t dare let up on the vice grip of her hips. An unnaturally strained whimper strangled the surrounding room. Pre cum leaked from the tip stirring the aching in their bellies.

“You have no idea how disturbingly gratifying it is to have found an equal, a partner of sorts with a taste for blood and sadism.”

His mocking grew old quickly as his hands continued their firm hold.

“We put Bonnie and Clyde to shame. Pathetic for running, idiotically oblivious to their own demise that lot. They didn’t appreciate the art of murder. The true pleasure of control. No room for impulse or error. Unappreciative of valuing a method to morbid madness.”

Without a word, he sunk in Y/N in one quick push. Her hands jutted out leaving imprints along the steamed window.

“Ah, fuck Auggie.”

Again, August snapped forwards unrelenting in his cruel pace. Y/N met him each and every movement in their ferocious dance of dominance. She squeezed her pelvic muscles painstakingly tight around his cock. August’s eyes rolled to the back of his head attempting to picture anything to keep him from busting that very second.

“Hunt will be arriving soon. We can run, start anew, create chaos elsewhere without any government supervision. Say the word and I’m yours.”

Y/N barely made out his panted speech due to the pounding of blood running through her ear canals crashing like waves. She was too turned on, too lost left unable to process what August was offering instead moaning raucously loud.

Slapping of skin resonated as their ends soon approached desiring nothing more than to cum. His balls slapped against her as his cum dribbled down her inner thighs. He rammed harder causing Y/N to stumble remaining deep inside her. August halted all movements finding a pair of sapphire eyes staring into his. Y/N shifted her hips in hopes of resume.

“Fucking move, Walker. I want to cum.”

“What’s your decision; orgasm or death?”

Silence stilled; August’s patience was disappearing at an alarming rate. He rutted upwards into her forcing an exhale from her lungs.

“You embarrass yourself with the question if you didn’t already know the answer.”

Anger blinded him compelling him to rip her face towards him. In his moment of rage, August thrusted powerfully reading her body like the back of his hand. She was on the cusp of orgasming and he took full advantage of that knowledge.

Barely a whisper graced his ears; “Yes, forever yes.”

Her pussy constricted pulling him in deeper than ever before as they fucked like wild animals. Taking whatever offered succumbing closer to orgasmic ecstasy.

“Good girl.”

August stiffened bending Y/N at the waist driving violently into her dripping cunt. Not more than four thrusts later, August tensed feeling Y/N constrict around his length sending a shiver down his spine. Breathy grunts could be heard through the walls as he filled her with his sticky cum. She devoured every drop placing her hands on his ass keeping him in place at her sweet spot. Her orgasm overtook her like a summer thunderstorm on a midnight sky. 

She quivered speechless as she surrendered to his touch. This breath tickled the back of her glistening neck. Hot white emission gushed out of him painting a mural in her womb. They didn’t move from their current predicament still coming down from their highs. All too soon, August removed himself tucking himself back into his pants. Y/N stayed in place untrusting of her jelly legs.

“Shit, I needed that.” A tiny queef escaped her now drenched lips watching in awe as small spurts of his juice ran down her legs like raindrops. She swiped a finger against the white liquid sucking it dry. August felt his cock twitch in his pants wanting to fuck her all over again.

“We need to get out of here now.” Tossing her a towel, she cleaned herself observing August scramble his life remnants together.

“Where to next?”

That devilish smile she so longingly adored frighteningly arose to life, his pupils darkened at her questioning nature, before reaching his hand towards hers. She accepted interlocking their fingers as one. In two seconds, time, August pulled her into his grasp kissing her in passionately. Their kiss was messy, vile, and monstrous. Y/N already craved another round but knew better than to push. After all, they were on a time constraint.

“India. We’re off to India my dove.”

“I hear their Murg Makhani is quite delectable.”

“I have a friend in Kashir but we must move quickly. We need something to knock Hunt off our scent.”

“I’ve just the idea.”

Just one glance was all it took for August to read her mind effortlessly.

“By all means lead the way.”

A wickedly foul smirk scrabbled to the surface, unearthed from a long-sealed lockbox.

“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.…”

~~~~

Tags:  @maggiemoo1892 @thedeadhearted @giveusbackourbucky @henry-cavill-obsessed  @onlyhenrys @omgkatinka @thereisa8ella @threeminutesoflife @homewreckingwreck @gemini0410 @maan14 @bluegalaxyprime @sofiebstar @whyyykitkat @encounterthepast  @readermia @ly-canthropewrites @scorpionchild81 @henrythickcavill @snowbellexx @stephartrave @agniavateira  @henrythickcavill @cap-barnes @henryfanfics101  @mary-ann84 @westcoast-nightowl @poledancingdinos  @justaboringadult @peakygroupie @scorpionchild81 @nalathefirefly @vikingsbifrost @bloodyinspiredfuck @moderapoppins @cooldiva1234 @icedcoffeeismythang @titty-teetee @summersong69 @kaatelyyynn @missursulacalmet @michelehansel @iloveyouyen @shyshu @star017 @raynosaurus-rex @radkesgirl83 @titty-teetee @starrynite7114  @wheretheriversrunintothesea @i-love-scott-mccall  @darkbooksarwin @ellieseymour70 @designerwriterchic @studywithrosie01 @dangerouslovefanfic @lebguardians @crazybutconfidentaf @hen-cavill​  @cavill-sass​ @oh-for-fic-sake​ @icedbottles​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @brexrif​ @gryffindorwriter​ @laketaj24​ 

[threemothsinsweaters]

A list of unusual quirk ideas!

Alright, so I have been collecting unusual quirk ideas for around half a year now - maybe a few months more Now, I’m ready to share the list with the world in case anyone ever needs any inspiration for their fanfics, be it for background characters of fics or maybe used for actual ocs 

All of those ideas are free to use without any credit or anything, but I would appreciate reblogs! ^-^

(If any of them repeat or are written wrongly then I’m sorry, I will try to fix that and edit the post every time I come up with new ideas)

1.Density control

2.Liquid multiplier

3.Heat-level vision

4.Creating objects out of light

5.Radiation

6.Super hearing

7.Entering/moving through electronics

8.Cursing objects

9.Transporting through mirrors

10.Speaking any language

11.Super strength, speed and healing but lost of self-control

12.Wild magic - giving random effects

13.Being able to determine worth of any object by touching it

14.Being able to irritate and annoy someone just by existing

15.Memory manipulation

16.Giving people a disease 

17.Being immune to any sickness

18.Compass - always knows where they are

19.Silence - make someone deaf momentarily

20.Medical intuition - knows what's wrong with the person hurt immediately

21.Never leaves a trail behind, untraceable

22.Reflection - can reflect powers of others at them

23.Survival instincts

24.Changing flesh into plants

25.Perfect imitation of animal noises

26.Killer instincts 

27.Ultimate stamina - can keep going for many hours without the need to take a break

28.Entering people’s dreams

29.Best liar - all lies sound like truth and the person is immune to lie detectors and truth serums

30.Crazy but smart - can come up with a solution to any problem, but the solution is always extremely dangerous and straight-up crazy

31. Making people itchy

32.Doesn’t need oxygen/doesn’t need to breathe to survive

33.Instant artist - able to draw anything with perfect photo-like accuracy extremely fast

34.Emotionless - can turn off feeling emotions 

35.Making all weapons they use stronger

36.Selective hearing - can hear things they want to and completely tune out anything else, even if it's louder than what they want to hear

37.Use senses of animals that are near (see through their eyes, hear what they hear)

38.Turn liquids solid by touch

39.Slow motion vision

40.Voice changer - can change their voice completely

41.Producing huge amounts of energy constantly

42.Draining energy from surrounding them people

43.Improved ability to track down anyone if there’s any scent/hints to follow

44.Perfect aim

45.Hyper-aware of their surroundings

46.Able to operate any vehicle 

47.Able to use any weapon

48.Can confuse people using words

49.Insomnia - they don’t need to sleep and suffer no bad effects from it

50.Ability to feel emotions of others

51.Can see true intentions of anyone they look at

52.Learning a history of an object by touching it

53.Emotion manipulation

54.Ability to eat anything without any bad effects

55.Astral projection - ability to leave the body as a “spirit”

56.Echolocation

57.Ability to overload someone’s mind causing pain, headaches, memory loss

58.Ability to locate any thing they touched in past 24 hours

59.Temporary merging two beings together

60. Pheromone manipulation

61. Skin expansion - creating more skin

62. Bubbles - turning all liquid touched into foam

63. Double jaw like an eel

64. Becoming someone’s shadow and following them around

65. Blood can work like drugs

66. No photos - being blurry on all photographs and in people’s memories

67. Fusion - can fuse with certain objects for short amounts of time

68. Crocodile tears - ability to cry many different choosen liquids and cry whenever they want to (could work well to make people believe their story and stuff)

69. Writing just by touching the paper and thinking about what they want to be written

70. Multi-eyes - let’s the person open “eyes” on any part of their body and see through them

71. Silence - can make everyone around them unable to talk or make any sounds at all

72. Detachable limbs

73. Control of the temperature of air around them

74. Elastic bones

75. Turning into a swarm of insects

76. Ability to sound really convincing

77. Ability to create huge amounts of glitter and sparkling lights out of their hands

78. Fast learner - very fast learner, being able to do a lot of things on the first or second try

79. Ability to shrink things

80. Ability to control all of their body functions fully consciously (hunger, heart-beat, blood flow etc)

81. Ability to change someone’s eyesight/eye structure 

82. Waking up with a completely different temporary ability every time after they go to sleep

83. Control of the growing of nails 84. Control over hair fibers

85. Boiling any liquid with touch

86. Copying any handwriting 

87. Superpower making them unable to die from falling off heights

88. Undestroyable bones

89. Changing the humidity of things/air

90. Skin has the properties of a nettle

91. Ability to lay eggs

92. Ability to make things expire instantly

93. Extended lungs

94. Changing the taste of things  

95. Changing the smell of things

96. Changing colors of things

97. Hibernation - the ability to sleep for really long amounts of time without the need to eat, drink, go to the bathroom or anything in between. 

98. Ability to know people’s worst fears/phobias

99. Ability to copy objects and multiply them

100. Spine extension - having more discs in the spine so the spine is more flexible

101. Ability to know when someone is thinking about them

102. Ability to know if a living being or a human is near them at the moment

103. Ability to know someone’s age instantly 

104. Ability to swap the probability of things happening if the probability is higher than 1% (if something has the 20% chance of happening, swapping it would make 80% - if something has 0.1% of happening the power cannot be used on it. The power, however, does not let the person using it know what the probability of certain things is

105. Ability to make your parents proud

106. Ability to make people sing instead of talking

107. Knowing the phone number of literally everyone they want

108. Real life filters - ability to make things look much nicer than they actually are

109. Ability to predict the exact probability of something happening

110. Immortal soul but mortal body - soul can enter the body even if it’s not actually functioning anymore, body can be “repaired” so it doesn’t fully fall apart

111. Ability to make images/holograms out of smoke (controlling its shape and turning it into images)

112. Ability to make people misspell words and stutter uncontrollably

113. Ability to make all insects around them drop dead instantly

114. Ability to change the direction in which things are moving

115. Eliminating or absorbing light

116.Turning off body functions without actually dying (or at least permanently - mind also still works)

117. Hearing every word someone said in past 24 hours

118. Shift person’s attention at will

119. Activate/deactivate adrenaline at will

120. Blur person’s logical thinking, making them less reasonable

121. Infinite patience

122. Loosen the tension in the air

123. Ability to bite through everything

124. Friction control 

125. Evolution mutation - body changes to adapt to certain situations

126. Ability to generate darkness/make shadows even if there’s strong light

127. Ability to make people see the mistakes they made

128. Ability to change into objects

129. Ability to create spiders that crawl out of the mouth of the person with the power

130. Ability to find the weak points of things

131. Extremely good sense of balance

132. Extra fast reading

133. Ability to make anything they touch glow

134. Becoming indestructible for a few minutes after receiving a fatal injury which could kill them

135. Ability to temporarily turn animals into monsters

136. Ability to sing any song no matter the language nor the difficulty as long as they heard it at least once

137. Fungus - 5 finger contact makes area around the hand grow with many different kinds of fungus, mostly mold but over extended contact bigger mushrooms grow as well

138. Marble statue - ability to turn into a statue without the need to eat/drink/sleep for long amounts of time, but the body structure is pretty weak

139. Ability to make someone allergic to certain things for short amount of time

140. Ability to make things poisonous with touch

141. Everything is cake - ability to make things they touch cake

142. Sharp air - ability to turn air into invisible knives that dissolve the moment they let go of them

143. Cockroach - ability to turn smaller by compressing the mass and turning it into strength, making the user indestructible while in small form

144. Ability to make people trip

145. Ability to make their hands have magnetic effect 

146. Ability to make things spin (even air or water)

147. Ability to know what material something is made out of

148. Ability to make most surfaces reflective

149. Ability to make things half-transparent 

150. Ability to stick things together

151. Ability to make things grow fur

[what-the--curtains]

Alliance

Chapter 8 – The Foil

(Mando x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Outposted on Hoth while you heal, you, Cara and Grogu keep each other company. But your nightmares quickly return, and the dark forces sending them can no longer be kept at bay.

TW: Major character death (briefly), blood, swearing

Notes: Thank u all for reason still every like makes my heart go 🥺 and every reblog/comment makes me WEEP with joy! Hope y’all are staying safe! Two chapters left!!

Word count: 4.6k

Tagged: @crazycookiecrumbles

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What?” Din asks, noticing your face scrunch as your feet hit the ground.

“What is this?” you question, squatting down and picking up a handful of the white powder covering the planet's floor. The cold bites at your bare skin causing your hand to instinctively release.

“What never seen snow before?” he taunts, in a manner you had often used on him, as he and Cara stride ahead, each carrying bags twice the size of the average person. An impressive sight that left you feeling less than inadequate. You kicked at the snow turning around to grab a bag from the ship in an effort to demonstrate you could carry your own weight. In the meantime Grogu had managed to form the snow into a small ball which he promptly pelted towards the Mandalorian hitting him square in the helmet.

The thunk causes you to turn around in time with Din whose head was accusingly cocked towards you. You point to the kid who mirrors your movements causing him to grin underneath his helmet. He watches as you throw a bag over your shoulder, wincing in pain when you bend down to pick up the child. Anya bounds behind you, enamoured with the snow. The Mandalorian stops and begins tracing his steps back towards you.

“Here” he says reaching for the bag, any other day he wouldn't bother, he knew you could carry your own weight, hell you'd carried his literal weight before.

“If I can carry your ass, I think I can handle this bag” you roll your eyes, as the bag strap digs further into your shoulder causing you to quickly move past him. He watches you push through the snow and towards the concrete base a few feet ahead. He wished you’d let him help you. He knew you were strong; he wished you were a touch less stubborn.

“Well not the beach vacation I was hoping for, but it’ll do for now.” Cara say’s placing the sac carrying the medical supplies and food rations on a nearby table. You drop your bag the second you enter into the abandoned rebellion base. Slowly rolling your shoulder out attempting, and failing, to masquerade your pain. Din comes in behind you grabbing the bag you'd just dropped effortlessly tossing it, along with his own bag, up on the table with the med supplies.

“Looks like there's plenty of room here, enough bunks for us to have our own, amenities seem to work well enough, not sure about hot water, but at least its water.” Cara says appearing from a hallway.

“What about the camouflage? Is it still in place?” you ask as Din begins to type away into one of the dust covered computers. He grunts hitting the machine rather harshly while swearing under his breath.

“I can't tell, we need parts to fix it.”

“Should be some on the base.” Cara offers, more as a question than a statement.

“No, we need new technology to reinstate the old. I'll have to go out and get some.”

“That safe?” Cara asks

“If it's just me? Yes.”

“So I'm playing caretaker. You wanna tell her that or is that gonna be my job” she says, looking over at you as you unpack the preservatives into the kitchen area with Grogu tucked under your arm. The Mandalorian emits a low grumble. This wasn't going to go over well.

“We need food, I’m going to get some,” he states firmly, but from a safe distance.

“I'll come with you, you’re not much of a hunter” you say, placing Grogu down on the counter and brushing your hands off on your pants.

“Not hunting here, I'm going to get credits, I need to buy some parts to get the camouflage working again.”

“Alright, well I can help with that too” you say, confused as to why he was being so dismissive.

“No, you're injured,” he says, taking a cautious step towards you.

“I’m fine” you reiterate for what feels like the hundredth time since they’d saved you.

“Really?” He says rolling up your left sleeve, revealing scars still raw from the electrocutions. You push his arm away and roll your sleeve back down wincing when you graze the raw flesh. “When was the last time you slept? Really slept”

“No worse than it was before” you mumble out.

“You spent two weeks with the empire being treated like a caged animal, you need to rest.” he persuades, placing a tentative hand on your arm. The contact briefly causing you to shift away before settling into the gentle grip.

“And you’re leaving Cara here to babysit me?” you ask, eyes skirting to the side.

“ Yes. Normal circumstances you’d be fine, but you’re not in any shape to be fighting.” slightly taken aback by the honesty, but not surprised by his lack of bedside manner.

“This is crap you say.” shaking your head, if positions were swapped, sure you would be saying the same thing, but there's no way he would listen to you.

“If someone comes, you and Cara need to be here,” he states. Why he didn't just say ‘I just got you back, i'm not risking losing you again’ he doesn't know, but he’s sure it’s for the best. With no response from you he takes his leave. You watch his cape sway in the wind as he renters the ship and takes off leaving you behind once again.

“He’s infuriating.” You say to Cara who's hesitantly appeared by your side.

“Yup. But he’s also right. Common I want to see your light saber.” She says tugging on your elbow until you comply. You enter into one large open area of the base where various mismatched chairs littered the scene. You pull out the box containing the lightsaber as Cara burritos Grogu into a blanket propping him up on one of the strewn about chairs with a cushion.

“You're probably gonna want to hang back” you say, turning it on. The light purple aura shoots out vibrating softly. You move across the floor swingin it about a bit before finally closing it.

“Not bad,” Cara says, a smirk forming.

“We got anything disposable here?” you ask side eyeing her, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Ya. Want me to throw it at you?” she responds, seemingly reading your mind. You nod your head excitedly. What started as a relatively safe game of toss and slice had progressed into something slightly more dangerous. You were blindfolded, three beers deep and Cara was no longer throwing soft items at you. After another piece of food smacks you in the face you rip off the blindfold only to see Cara giggling like a schoolgirl.

“You know if I was smarter I'd say you were doing this on purpose.”

“Good thing you're not any smarter.” she laughs, waking up Grogu who immediately reaches for the saber.

“No,” Cara says, grabbing him in the knick of time. You both begin to clean up the mess you had made, well at least the half that would smell bad by the morning. What would have been a 15 minute job turned into an hour long ordeal with most of the time being spent preventing Grogu from eating the splattered food and opening up the lightsaber.

“He’s got a predisposition for danger” you say, grabbing him away from the saber for the 90th time that night.

“I wonder where he learnt that from,” Cara laughs.

The next morning you wake up from another nightmare, at least it had been of the no name variety this time, nothing quite as drastic as being suffocated in your sleep. You pull yourself up onto a barstool and lean over the counter clutching the back of your head as a plate of food enters into your eye line.

“You're chatty in your sleep” Cara says, watching as you take a bite.

“Sorry did I wake you up?” you ask scrunching up your forehead and hiding your face in your hands.

“No, don’t worry I’ve got my own demons keeping me up at night. You sleep walk as well, had to turn you around or you would have walked right out the front door.”

“Well, that's embarrassing. Thanks for stopping me from freezing to death, ill strap myself into the bed tonight” you say with a chuckle.

“So what are yours about?” she asks.

“Some weirdo in a cape” you say, taking another bite. “you?”

“The war mainly,” she says “if you ever need to talk”

“Thanks, you too” it was nice to have her in your corner.

“Sorry by the way if you know, what we did to you has caused any nightmares” it was the first time you’d seen Cara look remorseful and soft.

“Ya those stopped after a few months, around the same time the bruises did. Not sure if it was thicker skin or I just got better at fighting.” Cara nods, emitting a relieved sigh.

“Who do you think would win in a fight? Me or Mando.” she asks, stopping any further awkwardness from continuing.

“Tough call, doesn't matter though i'd beat you both.” You smirk.

‘Oh please I could drop you with my pinky finger!” She laughs waving around the frying pan she’d been cooking with.

‘I’m stronger than I look” you say pointing your fork at her with a mouthful of food.

“I know that but i'm a better fighter. At least at hand to hand combat. Though from what I've heard if I give you a spear or a bow you’d probably destroy me.”

“Games were more rigged than you think. It was largely a performance.” you admit.

“Killing the devaronian part of that?”

“No, that was a fun surprise. They like to pit fan favourites against each other. Who told you about that, or were you there?”

“No, I don't take pleasure in forced fighting. Mando told me, when I asked if you were a strong fighter. He was convinced. Also told me you saved him from drowning. How'd you do that his armour weighs as much as a ranakor.”

“Gods I honestly don’t know how, could barely move the next morning between the freezing water and unexpected heavy lifting.” you respond, shaking your head.

“How’d you survive it, cold waters a killer even if it doesn't drown you?”

“Fire, thank god his cape was fast drying or I think the hypothermia may have gotten him.”

“Just the cape that kept him warm?” She asks innocently enough

“What did he tell you?” you shoot back, your eyes telling her there was more to the story.

“I don’t know what he should have told me?” she says now increasingly interested

“Is this why you made me a delicious breakfast? To grill me? You laugh

“Oh you are not getting out of answering that question by complimenting me”

“Body heat” you mumble, quickly stuffing more food into your mouth to shut yourself up.

“So you guys have..” she starts.

“No, oh my god, I don’t even think he's allowed to. No in order to survive we had to maintain body heat. Which we did with our clothes on, there's nothing more to it”

“Well from what i've heard he's definitely allowed to, and has on multiple occasions, but if there's nothing to it.” she lifts her eyebrow.

“Survival was the only thing to it.” you stress.

“Oh im sure neither of you enjoyed being cozied up to each other”

“I’ll get the saber if you're not careful” you threaten stuffing more food in your mouth in an attempt to shut yourself up.

“Seriously, him lugging around that armour all the time, he must look pretty nice under there and I mean, you’re... you so nothing to not enjoy there.” she rambles on.

“I'm getting it” you say sliding off the stool.

“Threatening to kill me, won’t get you out of this” she hollers after you

“Oh no Cara don’t worry it's for myself. Gonna use it to burn out any remnants of this conversation.”

“I'm just sayin!” Of course she was just saying, of course he hadn't told her about that because it meant nothing. Would you mind being wrapped up in his muscular arms again no of course not, you're not blind, but your also not stupid. You know there was nothing more to it than a debt and a friendship, and that was fine. F-I-N-E, fine with you.

*************************************************

The Mandalorian walks towards the base sporting a bag holding parts he hoped would patch up the base's broken down systems. The sun had set and the white snow glowed a light blue from where the moonlight reflected down on it. The grey clouds forming above indicated that a storm was brewing and the last thing he wanted was to get caught out in a blizzard. The doors whir as they close behind him preventing any cold from seeping through. Placing the bag down on a nearby table he pulls out some food and warmer clothes he'd grabbed while he was out. He walks over to the kids room cracking the door and peering in. The sound wakes Grogu causing him to start fussing only stopping when he's picked up. Din follows the trail of inanimate objects sliced and strewn across the floor until he sees Cara whose on the couch carving a wooden stick into a point.

“Welcome back” she says, not looking up from her project.

“Got the stuff, he wasn’t too much trouble?” he asks, referring to the kid and tossing her a blanket.

“Nope” she smiles, catching the quilt and wrapping it around herself.

“You two have fun?” he asks, directing her attention to the various metals that she had meant to clean up before he got home.

“You know we should really get lightsabers, it's not fair only Jedis can have them. She's something else, I can see why you enjoy her company so much” Cara says, hoping to provoke a reaction.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he spits out.

“Well it wasn’t supposed to mean anything but, I guess it's more than her company you'd like to enjoy? I heard about the cave, interesting the details you left out” She says, eyes glancing up at him as a smile spreads across her face. He's about to respond, but the distinct sound of doors opening brings about a silent truce as they shift into action mode, blasters in hand maneuvering quietly towards the door. Noticing a figure, Din takes aim, but Caras hand stays his shot.

“What’s she doing?” he asks, reholstering the blaster and moving towards you

“Sleepwalking.” Cara responds “she didn’t do this when you were around?” he shakes his head, he knew about the nightmares but this, this was an escalation he didn't see coming.

“We should wake her up, she’s going to freeze” he says

“You’re not supposed to wake them up,” Cara returns

“So we just let her wander out and die?” Din argues

“No we just turn her back in the direction of her room smart ass.'' The argument ceases when they remember the door being opened. You had managed to make your way out into the blizzard concerning both Din and Cara. He hands Grogu to Cara and trudges through the thick snow, which you were moving through with ease. Cara, not one to be left behind, follows him out sheltering the kid under the quilted blanket.

“Someones with her.” Cara shouts over the wind. She's right; he watches as you reach out for the cloaked figure turning it around to face you.

“Y/N!” the Mandalorian calls out.

*************************************************

Your name being called pulls you back to reality. You look down seeing Anya whose ears are back and emitting a sound the likes of which you’ve never heard. Your name’s called again further indicating this was not a dream, despite the surroundings feeling uncannily familiar. The figure stands before you, unmoving, still present, what the fuck was going on. Your heart races as you reach out this time your hand makes contact with a bony shoulder. Your eyes widen as you turn the figure around to face you. Your eyes flutter side to side trying to piece together the situation playing out before you. You hear the Mandalorian shouting for you, but you don't turn away.

Your hand reaches up to pull down the hood as you do a familiar buzzing fills your ears as a scarlet flash lights up the sky. A burning sensation radiating in your stomach causes you to look down just as the saber retracts back into its hilt, the red light dissipating as it does. Your hand grasps at the cloak tearing a piece off as the figure disappears into the night. You fall to the ground, it's cold, you can feel your light fading, it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

************************************************

Din makes it to you first, dropping to your side. He places a hand under your waist lifting you onto his lap scanning your body for the damage. Your hands cover your abdomen. He moves them away revealing a substantial hole where the saber had cut straight through you. There was no blood, there was no fixing this, there was nothing he could do. Too many vital organs had been hit. He watches as you try and fail to intake the surrounding air into your lungs. He can see the panic in your eyes as you try and fail to breathe. Cara’s run comes to a halt. She stares down at the Mandalorian as he cradles a body that would never heal. You’re trying to say something, but all that’s emitted is a series of bloody splutters as you cling desperately to life. You look at Cara and the child before looking back up at him. Your purple eyes bore into him as your body goes limp. Anya throws her head back howling loudly into the night as Cara continues staring down stoic as even, placing a hand on the beskar armour. The Mandalorian doesn't move, he can’t, he won’t let you go. Why didn't he say anything, why couldn't he offer you some comfort in your final moments. He had failed you. As the howl fades back into the wind the silence becomes deafening.

Cara sees them first, Dins hand moves to your chest where small palpitations seemed to be occurring. His head swivels around staring up to see Grogu’s small green hand reached out, head wrinkled and eyes squinting in focus. As quickly as it had stopped your breathing begins again punctuated by a loud cough and several gasps for air which launch you upwards. The Mandalorians arm braces your shoulder as you do. He pulls up the hem of your shirt running a hand over skin that was beginning to smooth over. Grogu collapses back into Caras arms. Din breaths out for the first time in what felt like forever, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat back down. Your hands found their way up to his helmet tracing around its edges in an attempt to ground yourself.

“It’s okay, I’m here, you’re alive, you’re safe.” he whispers, as he brings his helmet down to your forehead pressing them together lightly. Your arms quickly wrap around him as you bury your face in his chest. The metal suddenly feeling like the most comfortable thing in the world.

“Makers get a room” Cara shouts. He hears you mutter something which he eventually makes out as “the child”

“He’s fine,” he says, watching the relief rush over your face as your arm reaches out to pet Anya before your eyes start close again.

“We have to get her inside, and warm, she’ll be fine, but we have to move quickly.” Cara says as Din lifts you up carrying you back inside.

The following days blur together for Din he left shortly after you were secured back in bed in search of supplies and medicine that would help ease your recovery. In all truth it helped keep his mind off the fact that you may not wake up. Despite Grogu’s best efforts you had been dead for a solid five minutes, that's not something many people recover from. He took up a few extra bounties along the way hoping they may have some answers as to who was with you in the blizzard that night, but nothing turned up. The killing helped him feel better, and coming back with supplies made him feel useful. No matter where he was, he always made sure to return with blankets and warm gear, especially after Cara had said you felt cold to the touch. He couldn't have that.

“I think we’re good for blankets, Mando anymore and she’ll sweat to death” Cara says with a small laugh unpacking yet another massive sheet made from some type of animal hide.

“You said she needed to be kept warm” he states, as if his actions were completely normal and reasonable.

“Well why don’t you just crawl in there with her that'll keep her nice and toasty” she teases “or you could just wait until she wakes up then you’d be able to keep her really warm, at least based on what I’ve heard from some of your past lovers” she laughs, as he leaves the room embarrassed.

*************************************************

Your mouths dry, that’s the first thing that alerts you to the fact that you were still alive. You open your eyes slowly permitting the fluorescent lighting to creep through causing a dull ache to pulse in your forehead. Closing one eye you move up in the bed causing multiple blankets to cascade down from your shoulders pooling in your lap. You turn to the side reaching for the glass of water precariously placed on your bedside table. A sharp pain shoots through your body as you reach out causing your hands to jolt down to the source of the pain. The scar tissue reminds you just how lucky you were to be alive. Your hands positioning is quickly changed as Anya nuzzles her snout underneath it. You scratch her ears, smiling as she licks at your face. You're distracted by the sound of footsteps inching closer to your door. You sit up and straighten your shirt, suddenly aware of how you must look and smell. Your fussing with your hair as the door clicks open.

“You're up!” Cara exclaims “wait here there’s someone who’ll want to see you. “

“Like I can go anywhere” you respond, shifting slightly as you do. She re-enters with Grogu who she places in your arms. He stares up at you with his big eyes, his hand reaching out for your chin. You lower your head so he can touch it eliciting a small contented gurgle.

“Thanks for saving me,” you say, as he worms his way underneath the blankets.

“Mando’s off getting supplies, mainly bringing back blankets for you though” Cara remarks causing you to roll your eyes.

“Five bounties so I’ve been out what? a day?” you ask shuffling through the thick fur covers which were, to be fair, keeping you nice and toasty.

“How are you feeling”

“Like a shish kebab”

“You looked like one. Do you remember anything about that night?”

“What apart from dying? I remember taking this” you say pulling out the small swatch of fabric you had torn from the figures cloak. “Nothing after that. I figured the only way this hole was closed was because of Grogu. Did something else happen?” Cara contemplates telling you about the tender moment she had witnessed between you and the Mandalorian, but opts to let him tell you himself.

“No, nothing. Get some more rest, you look like shit.” she laughs leaving the room allowing you to fall asleep with Grogu tucked neatly under your arm.

“Fuck” you shout, shooting awake. Your eyes water and your chest heaves. Another nightmare. Whoever this figure was, it knew it had not succeeded in killing you. Whatever it was you, and your friends, would not be safe until they, or you, were dead. You maneuver out of bed, careful not to wake the child as you do. Your feet hit the floor with a light slap, the sound being enough to rouse Grogu from his slumber. He blinks sleepily watching as you grab some clothes, a blanket and the ripped fabric tossing it all into a small leather bag. You whistle for Anya who begrudgingly hops off the bed and makes her way over to you. The child, now awake and apparently savvy to your plans scowls.

“I know, but we’ll be back once it’s dealt with” you say leaning over the bed to stroke his ear.

“Once what’s dealt with?” the familiar modulated voice asks behind you. “You’re leaving.” he continues, noting the rucksack tossed carelessly over one shoulder.

“Just for now.” You say, offering him a reassuring smile as you turn to face him, “I have to deal with something.”

“We can help.” He responds. You turn back to face the wall, not wanting to meet his gaze.

“Not this time I can’t put the kid at risk. It’s too dangerous. Whatever came here, it’ll come back once it feels I'm alive. I’m going to find it. See what it wants.” you unpack and repack your bag making sure everything you need is there.

“How do you know this isn’t what it wants you to do.” he poses, causing your hands to stop shuffling around inside the bag.

“I don’t.”

“And how do you think you’re getting off this planet.” he asks, a touch too smug for your liking. Especially considering you had not figured that part out yet.

“Gotta be some spare parts around here, maybe even an old ship.”

“Can you even fly?” Was that worry you detected in his voice, or amusement at the notion of you piloting a spacecraft.

“I'll be fine.” You say closing your bag.

“Let me help you.” he takes a step towards you, closing the space between you both.

“I’ll be alright” you say, turning and haphazardly throwing the bag over your shoulder. He steps in front of you, not willing to let you pass without a conversation. Not wanting to put him in danger you stand on your tiptoes and place your hands on the helmets sides, causing him tense up. You pull his face down to meet yours planting a kiss where his mouth would be.

“You’ve helped me enough” you say staring into the visor and slowly removing your hands. He remains where he stands, giving you enough time to skirt around him. Entering the kitchen you grab some preserves and a knife out the cupboards tossing them into the bag.

“Tell her she’s not leaving,” Din asserts to Cara, who had witnessed the previous events from a nearby chair.

“You can’t go by yourself, you’re smart enough to know that. Let us help.” She says. Realizing this isn’t a fight you can easily win you agree.

“Someone has to stay here with the kid. He won’t be safe where we're going. Din you should stay with him ” you say.

“I can’t fly a plane.” Cara lies in an attempt to force you both to confront your feelings for eachother, though she wasn’t entirely sure either of you knew how deep said feelings truly ran.

“I’ll take you.” Din says without hesitation

“I know you don’t like to be away from him.” you whisper quietly, your actions from before suddenly creeping to the forefront of your mind.

“We won’t be gone long” he says, evidently unfazed by the kiss. “You know where we’re going.

“No, but she does.” You nod in Anya’s direction.

[idnek83]

ok so i have a really niche souda head canon based loosely on the song ode to the bouncers by the studio killers, there was a club like down the block from his house and when his dad would leave him locked out or when he got beat up or when he just needed a break he’d always try and get in to the club, and after years of doing it he’s grown to be like freinds with the bouncers that work outside the club, some of them just think he’s annoying but there is this one who is basically his (pt.1)

(pt.2) who is basically his new father figure, he’ll let souda in after the club has closed and if he’s beat up bad he’ll bandage him up and it just means a lot to souda knowing that at the end of the day there is at least one person who is looking out for him, i also think the bouncer kinda helps souda relaize it’s ok to be into guys and when he starts dating gundham he brings him to meet him instead of his dad and he gives gundham a little shovel talk

Edit: You can all thank @froggish-lesbian for this wonderful au!

FOUND FAMILY! FOUND FAMILY! FOUND FAMILY!

The first time Soda shows up is like early summer, right after he changed up his look and his dad got super pissed about it. He’s like 15 and feeling cocky and tries like, just nodding casually to the bouncer and walking in, it’s probably future dad bouncer the first time too (I’m just gonna call him DB for dad bouncer lol). DB just like crosses his arms, stands in front of Soda and raises and eyebrow cus he’s so obviously underage that DB can’t even be mad. Soda tries putting on a low voice and is all ‘hey man, what’s the issue? I come here all the time’ and DB is just like ‘sure kid, try again once your balls drop’ and Soda tries to argue but his voice cracks and he’s mortified and DB just laughs until he leaves lol

The next time he shows up is probably like a month or two later and there’s a different bouncer at the door. Soda tries the same thing but gets stopped again, but this time it’s a lady so he tries to flirt his way in. The lady bouncer just humors him for a minute then is like “hmm, one second sweetheart” and Soda is like ‘oh shit it worked’ cus she’s like looking around and he thinks it’s to make sure no one is watching, but then se waves someone over and, lo and behold, it’s DB. Lady bouncer is like “Is this that kid you were talking about” and they both start laughing and Soda just leaves cus he knows he’s not gonna get with DB there.

The third time isn’t so light hearted. It’s a really cold Fall evening and Soda shows up with a black eye and several other bruises, obviously dirty and he’s slightly bent over because his dad bruised one of his ribs. Soda wasn’t really thinking he would get in, but he figured the injuries might stop anyone from asking so he’d give it a try. Once he’s close enough to see, which is pretty close thanks to the swelling around his eye, he can tell that the blurry silhouette at the door is DB so he just gives up, turning around and sitting on the curb while he thinks of where else he could go. DB is super alarmed and gets one of the other bouncers to cover for him so he can check on Soda. He comes up behind Soda and is like “Hey kid, you alright? Need me to call your parents for you or something?” and Soda just laughs bitterly and gestures to his face and says “Nah, dad is aware of the situation” and DB gets it and is just, boiling with rage. He tells Soda to hold on, and goes to tell the bar owner the situation. It’s like a week day and the bar is slow so the owner says Soda can hangout in the kitchen or something for a while if he needs to, and DB goes to get him. Soda’s just super confused and like “wait, but you know I’m underage? Why are you letting me in?” and DB’s like “1. A kid freezing to death outside the bar would be bad for business, 2. We’re still not gonna let you drink so don’t even try, and 3″ he sits soda down on a chair in the kitchen and looks him in the eye “I’ve been where you are before, and I get that sometimes you just need a place to wait out the worst of it for a few hours.” He like smiles and ruffles Soda’s hair and pretends not to notice when Soda starts crying a little.

After that Soda occasionally comes by just to try his luck with the various bouncers, but they know who he is, so even if he wasn’t so obviously underage, he’d have no hope of getting in for a drink. On nights where Soda’s dad is being violent, they let him in the back door to hang out in the kitchen till the morning, and he eventually starts killing time back there by fixing little things like leaks and whatnot as his way of saying thanks. They don’t really talk about his situation much, but eventually the whole staff knows about the pink haired kid with the shitty dad and none of them bat an eye when they find him sitting in the kitchen anymore.

Once he turns 16 the owner hires him on as a dish washer (not sure if that’s how it works in Japan, but 16 year olds were allowed to cook and clean in bars where I grew up so shhh work with me). He doesn’t really have regular hours and when he shows up the owner usually has him doing maintenance instead of dishes, but it gives them something to point to if people ever start wondering why there's a kid in the bar. DB is sure to check in with him occasionally (How’s school? You eating enough? Got yourself a special friend at school yet?) but never presses him about his dad.

One day Soda shows up and he’s really beat up again. DB and some of the other staff members talk it out and decide they could pool enough money together to get Soda a shitty apartment nearby. DB lets him know and Soda is incredibly grateful for the offer but declines (I don’t want to be in debt to you guys, besides, I’m getting better at getting out of the house before dad goes off, I was just being stupid today). DB is like “Okay little dude, if you’re sure. But there’s no expiration date on the offer. We’re here for you cus you’re part of the family now.” and Soda starts crying cus it’s been a long time since hes felt so loved and that’s probably the moment DB starts filing adoption papers in his head haha.

One day DB brings his husband to the bar for a date night and Soda’s mind is just blown because up until that moment he just thought every gay guy had to be super effeminate but DB and his husband are both buff as hell and super masc? He does a lot of thinking after that and probably has a couple conversations about it with DB where he thinks he’s being subtle but DB knows exactly what’s up and is super supportive of Soda exploring his sexuality without ever pressuring him to come out.

(The day Soda tells him he’s bi, DB is just so excited and he’s accidently calls Soda his son while telling him how proud he is of him. They both laugh it off and it becomes a joke around the bar that Soda is DB’s son from a fling he had way back before he realized he was gay)

When Soda brings Gundham to the bar and introduces him as his boyfriend the whole staff just loses their minds. Lot’s of them congratulate him on his new goth BF, but plenty of them are warning Gundham about what DB will do to him if he hurts Soda. Gundham is legitimately a little scared, and when Soda introduces DB as his “dad who isn’t shitty” Gundham is confused and terrified and just does his best to act polite. DB starts with the whole “If you ever hurt my son...” shovel talk thing but Soda eventually stops him, insisting that Gundham is a good guy and also that he doesn’t need protection. DB is in full dad mode so he just says something like “You better be using god damned protection.” and bursts out laughing. After that everyone chills out a bit and welcomes Gundham like he’s already part of the family.

The insane party they throw for Soda’s 20th birthday is only ever out done by the one they throw for his and Gundham’s wedding lol (DB walks Soda down the aisle of course)

[amarienne]

It’s been two days. My blood still boils when I think of all the lost potential. (ramblings regarding how out of character the finale was)

Never before has an episode of any show, or a chapter of any book, or a scene of any movie has made me so upset. There is rage inside of me and the question of ‘how can a writer betray his own characters like this’.

(huge post following.)

I was not a hardcore destiel shipper. When I first started watching SPN a few years ago I knew of the ship but I thought that there was no chance in Hell a show like this would make it canon. And if we had never gotten 15x18 and some parts of 15x20 maybe I would be a tiny bit happier with how the finale went.

But the biggest mistake they did was give us the confession scene and not only that but echo it in Dean's actions in 15x19.

'That's not who I am'

This line keeps coming back to me because literally two episodes ago we saw Dean willing to sacrifice himself, Jack and even Sam so Chuck would disappear. He was red with rage and he didn't care for anything else apart winning. Let's not forget the thing that made him stop for a minute was Cas questioning Sam on why they should not go ahead with the plan. [Oh, there are plenty to be said for the only angel in all the universes that didn't just 'follow orders' after 'gripping him tight and raising him from perdition' but I won't go into that here.]

And sure, all that was Chuck's writing, but wasn't everything?

So what I am trying to say is that in three consecutive episodes we see:

-Dean full of anger and rage and ready to do anything to win -Dean giving up, losing hope after being cornered -Dean and TFW (minus Cas) finally overpower Chuck and walk away peacefully

So what changed? What made Dean walk away redifining himself as something different than the 'ultimate killer'?

Castiel. Of course, Castiel. The confession was so precious not only because Cas professed his love for Dean. No. It was vital to the plot of the next episode. And that was because before Cas utterred 'I love you' he spoke of how he sees Dean. How the way he sees himself is not the way Cas and the rest of the world sees him. How everything he has ever done, good and bad, was for love. Only for love. Not winning, not gaining power or wealth or recognition. But for love. At that moment Dean sees himself as Cas sees him, and it leaves him struck, speechless. Dean, who always had a snarky line ready is in awe trying to understand the words he is hearing.

And then, after everything is done and dusted we see Dean say 'That's not who I am' mirroring Cas' final words. The words he spent I don't know how much time sitting on the floor against the wall thinking about and crying. Noone else had gotten across to Dean like that, not even Sam. And we see that he started adopting Cas' image of him, believing it to be true. Or starting to.

Dean Winchester overpowered the ultimate villain and chose to stay true to Cas' image of him instead of taking revenge for Chuck screwing him over all his life.

This is poetic and heartbreaking, especially knowing Cas is gone. Not having Dean talk about the confession in 15x19 makes sense. We see glimpses of him numb at the loss, mourning Cas, wanting him back. We see the hope in his face when he thinks he is back. All these things make sense for 15x19, and even though we were sad we had to wait for the next episode hoping to see something tangible (aka the week we all clowned) I was content. The battle was done, the main plot was wrapped up. All was left was to see where all this last minute huge (especially for Dean) character progression and self acceptance would end up.

And then fucking 15x20 happens. It is like the writers threw in a cardboard box all the above points and details and threw it in the ocean. Nothing, absolutely nothing after the first 5 minutes makes sense in this fucking episode!

The montage at the beginning filled me with warmth and happiness. Dean (and Sam) are having a normal morning. Dean looks happy, he is eating, not depicted as overly drinking and most of all he has Miracle. He is focusing his love and affection on another living being. Sweet and warm. He plans to spend the afternoon eating pie with his brother. Goofy and light. The man deserves it for a bit.

But then we get the mention of Cas from Sam and we see how Dean reacts. How can Dean, who was sobbing on the floor and was demanding Cas to be brought back basically an episode ago keep an emotionless face and brush it off. We get the line 'If we don't keep living all that sacrifice was for nothing'. So we are meant to believe that right now Dean is not particularly bothered with Cas' death because it was a sacrifice to save the world. At this point a dread is starting to fill me.

Um, if it was the first time Cas was dying I would understand this. We have seen Dean broken over Cas' death before multiple times under more peaceful circumstances. Dean wouldn't leave Purgatory without Cas and you are trying to convince me after gaining true free will and finally writing his own story Dean would not break every cosmic rule to bring Cas back? Even if he did not reciprocate romantic feelings? This is the textbook definition of out of character in my eyes. Screw the romantic aspect because we ship it. Strip all the glances, touches and sexy lines we enjoy to gif and think back to feed the good ship Destiel, forget about it.

Keep the core of their relationship- the '3rd Winchester brother' who has stuck through thin and thick with them for the past 12 years. You mean to tell me Dean would be happy leaving Cas in the Empty and continue living his life? How is that possible? How is that Dean? How is it possible that we would not see Dean at least trying?

And then 20 minutes later comes the complete opposite of the line Dean wants to stick by. 'If we don't keep living all that sacrifice was for nothing'

But Dean does not keep living, does he? He doesn't grow happy or old. He doesn't start a family or open a bar or learn to dance. He doesn't honour Cas' sacrifice. He dies in the most unimaginitive way. And it is cruel. So cruel.

Dean went from having the strong belief that he would die young on a hunt fighting a monster, saving someone, machete and gun in his hand to starting to accept there is more to him than killing things.

And this fucking episode did a full backtrack and what did it give us?

Dean dying young on a hunt fighting a monster, saving two kids, machete and gun in his hand.

We got Dean dying in a way that gave us a 10 minute speech on how much he loves Sam. We got Dean dying in pain, scared and terrified. We got Dean getting a hunter's funeral with only Sam attending. We saw at Mary's funeral how a hunter's goodbye should look like. Room full of friends, mementos and alcohol. And Dean doesn't get any of that to honour his life.

How can he deserve that? How is it possible?

Even with Heaven 2.0 now being this trully idyllic place how can this be what Dean deserves?

And Sam... Sam gets to grow old in pain and regret. One foot on Earth with his family, one foot ready to follow Dean. Did anyone think Sam looked happy in that montage? Leaving the only home he shared with Dean? Presumably giving up his hunter friends, not even playing a 'Bobby' kind of role? Keeping the Impala in a dusty garage?

Jack... Jack who said he would be hands off, but how am I supposed to believe this would include his family? And even if he didn't heal/save Dean you mean to tell me he wouldn't be there for Sam? I am thinking of Jack appearing after Dean dies, supporting Sam's weight as he collapses, explaining why he can't bring him back. Standing next to Sam as Dean's body is burning.

And Cas... Cas who finally told Dean his truth and then sacrificed himself, content. Cas was saved from the Empty. No longer in eternal sleep sufferring. Working with Jack to rebuild Heaven. And... what? Cas who made Earth his true home, who was talking through tears how he loved the whole world through loving Dean, chose to stay in Heaven? Not stepping in Earth? Not getting in contact with the brothers? Waiting for them to die to talk to them again? And even when Dean dies he is not there to welcome him along with Jack? How is that possible?

We had gotten to know these characters so well over the past 15 seasons. How can the writers give us such a finale, so OOC for all three of them?

How can we not get a scene with Dean and Cas after the last two episodes?

Why have the confession, why have this be Cas' true moment of happines?

Why have the prayer in Purgatory a few episodes back?

Why have Dean break down in a way he has never broken down before?

What is the point of all this if there will be no climax? Even if it is the tiniest nudge, a couple words and a hug.

It makes absolutely no fucking sense. Up until now it felt like all roads, all plot points were converging to one- happiness, peace, love and family.

But no. We got a finale that would make sense 15 years ago. 15 seasons worth of character development and relationship building (not just Destiel, but Sam + Eileen, Jody, Donna and the girls, Charlie and so many others) and we got a finale that basically had Dean die so Sam could have a family.

As others have said here in tumblr Dean and Sam's lives on Earth would end up being exactly the same they ended up being if Dean did not go to get Sam that night.

How can a writer choose this fate for their characters? Why explore everything we watched on our screens, if on the last episode you decide to press delete on 15 seasons and basically deliver episode 1 if something had gone wrong and Dean died?

It makes no sense! It makes no sense regressing your characters 15 years and taking out of them all the experiences, especially those of the past few episodes.

You strip them into their season 1 selves. You strip them from all the layers of friendships, relationships, pain, experience and wisdom they went through and you strip them down to just two broken brothers, sticking together hunting things and saving people til the end. Which yes, they were.

But that was not all they were. Supernatural was a show about the family you make, not the family you get dealt with. Sam and Dean MADE the choice of sticking together. Yes they were brothers, but we know how easy it would have been to lead very different lives which would resulted in never seeing each other. They chose to stick together and they chose to build a family based on love, not blood.

And we got nothing of that legacy.

Is is unfair and it betrays not us, the fans, but the characters.

And that's what's hurting most.

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (7/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3) Warnings: This chapter contains mentions of character death and descriptions of past child and domestic abuse.

Word count for this chapter: 4.9k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 7: Emma Swan, October 19th 2011 – October 24th 2015

Emma's senses register very slowly. She first realizes the guy is tasting like rum, and then that he's already pushed her, gently, back.

"I thought it would be a quick kiss," he says and looks slowly up at her. "I have a girlfriend."

"Shit. Sorry."

"'Salright. Go pee."

"Yes. That. Thank you again."

Relieving her bladder and splashing cool water on her face bring her a bit back to Earth. Did she just try to make out with a stranger – one who apparently is taken – because he gave her his turn to the bathroom?

She looks at herself in the mirror. Somehow, though she splashed water on her face while completely forgetting she has make-up on, it has stayed intact, not even a single smudge from running mascara.

She may be drunk off her ass, but she's a good-looking drunk. She smiles at her reflection.

She straightens her back and prepares to unlock the bathroom door when a loud, sharp BANG erupts from outside. The music is still loud inside the club, but Emma can hear people screaming.

Her hand freezes over the key. A shooting?

Some long seconds pass by before a second BANG is heard – and with that, a man screaming. She looks at the window. It's too high to see outside, but it still carries the sounds pretty clear. The people inside are screaming in fear. The man outside is screaming in pain.

Finding some composure, Emma takes her hand away. There's a mop in the corner, and she takes it in her hands. It's not much of a weapon in this situation, but it's better than nothing.

Eventually, the screaming calms down and Emma hears ambulance sirens. By now some people have gotten out, so it's too loud to hear if the probably injured man is still there, or even alive.

A loud bang on the bathroom door and it's Emma's time to scream.

"NYPD! Are you alright in there?"

Emma unlocks the door and opens it. An officer with a bulletproof vest on is looking at her, gun at the holster.

Her alibi provided by locking herself in the bathroom – and the two surprisingly sober people who were waiting outside – is solid, so she's the very first to be allowed to leave. She learns that someone shot a woman in the chest, killing her almost instantly, then shot a man in the hand. She's advised to be careful and not stay alone, but it's not as if she has someone to accompany her.

However, she immediately finds a cab, having a smooth ride to her hostel.

She hears about the shooting on the news the next day, when she gets back to Boston. There are no leads about the killer, though they say he didn't act alone. The injured man is in no danger, but he was a couple with the deceased woman.

The guy she kissed... he mentioned having a girlfriend. And she didn't see him anywhere around after the shots – though she doesn't really have a perfectly clear memory of how he looked like.

Tears fill Emma's eyes. She wants to blame them on the thought that the chance of losing people she loves just like that is another reason why she isn't opening up to anyone, but it just doesn't feel a good enough justification for her crying.

She doesn't want to be cooped up in her apartment for her twenty-eighth birthday, but without any company her main choice is clubbing, and the memories of hearing the shots and the man screaming in pain are too raw, so she contents herself with blowing a candle on a single cupcake with the audacious wish to not be alone.

Tired from a busy workday, she lies in bed, checking her phone one last time. She sees Ingrid has contacted her on Facebook, and she stares at her phone for three minutes straight, having a hard time believing it.

Ingrid says she has been trying to get a visa for years now, but her criminal record especially regarding entering the country had been a big hindrance. A few days ago, her application for a 90-days visa was accepted, and she's asking Emma if it's okay to come see her.

Emma all but bursts out in sobs. She only decided to make a Facebook account a week ago, but Ingrid has been trying to get in contact with her for years, even though she knew there was a chance she may never be allowed in the country again.

She realizes she's too emotional to answer her now, and there's still a part of her that may regret the elated "Yes!" she wants to send back. She turns her phone off and sleeps on that thought.

Her emotions are still reeling from the possibility of seeing Ingrid again, finding out why she'd immigrated illegally in the first place, how she's been doing all this time... how much she's been thinking of Emma. But she still tells her yes, providing Ingrid stays in a hotel and not with Emma. At least not yet.

Ingrid arrives only a week later. Half of Emma wants to meet her at their designated rendezvous the next afternoon; the other half wants to greet her at the airport, perhaps even give her a lift to her hotel. It's the same half that feels guilty she didn't offer her to stay at her place.

The second half wins this round. From the distance, Ingrid looks exhausted and much older than Emma had expected her to look, but when she spots Emma her whole face lights up and she nearly drops her bags.

Fuck it. Who cares anymore. Emma runs to her and hugs her tight, and at once she's eleven and has just learned that that wonderful person is adopting her and giving her a forever, loving home.

"I'm so sorry, Emma. I'm so sorry for everything."

Emma is already crying, and so is Ingrid. Even in the arrivals section that's full of people reuniting, they look out of place. Emma feels a surge of cold when Ingrid pulls back a little, but Ingrid just places her hands on the sides of Emma's face and stares at her.

"Emma, Emma." Her voice is shaking. "You're all grown up. And I wasn't there for it."

"Shut up." Emma hugs her again, knowing that people are starting to stare now, but she doesn't care.

"I should have been more careful... you shouldn't have been left alone like that."

"It was because of my lost passport, wasn't it?" Emma pulls back, but she's not angry, and she's careful to not let Ingrid misunderstand. "When we contacted the embassy in England, to get me new papers so that I could travel back, they looked into your case."

Ingrid nods. "It's not your fault, honey. I should have... I..." She sighs. "I've got so much I want to tell you, and I can't get it out!"

"It's okay. It's okay. How long are you staying?"

Ingrid sniffles, wiping away her tears. "I haven't bought return tickets – yet. I can stay eighty more days, though, as long as my ESTA lasts. That's why I contacted you right as I got it, and why I came so soon. I didn't want to miss any day I could have spent here."

Eighty days. But then she'll have to go back. "Then there's enough time. Come. I'll drive you home."

"Home? Emma-"

"Nope. Forget the hotel. You're staying with me."

The next day, after Ingrid has had her rest and Emma has made them hot cocoa – her mug with cinnamon, Ingrid's neat – Ingrid begins her story.

"At first it was five of us. My parents, me, and my two younger sisters, Helga and Gerda. I might have been the oldest, but my love for my father had blinded me. I thought it was normal to get a beating for every little mistake we made. For every time the food wasn't tasty enough, for every time the house wasn't clean enough. He never did any housework himself, but he demanded it was kept pristine. Otherwise, he would hit us.

"My mother was an only child, her parents died before we were born. Our extended family was all on my father's side, and of course, most of them were just like him. It took me years to even consider that what was happening to me wasn't normal, or okay. Both of my father's brothers were policemen. Both their wives were miserable and distant, in every family gathering I can remember them at. Both of them disappeared at some point. I later learned that the one was dead, probably by her husband's hand. The other one had escaped him and fled the country.

"I got that idea myself before I even learned about her. I thought that, when I would turn eighteen, I'd have enough pull to take my mother and my sisters away, and somehow keep us safe."

Her face turns pensive.

"I didn't get the chance. My mother died one month before I turned eighteen. I panicked, I knew for sure that it was my father, making sure we'd never leave, and I was right, and his plan worked. I blacked out, got depressed. And he got worse. With three women to burst out on instead of four, the beatings got more often, and more serious. I ended up in the hospital three times. Helga and Gerda, once each. And every time, the cop who would ask us if our father ever acted on any 'suspicious' behaviour would be a friend of one of our uncles. We couldn't say anything.

"Until I woke up. That time is... hard." She sighs, the memory clearly upsetting her. "I don't remember much of it. I just remember father beating Gerda badly. She was only sixteen." She shakes her head.

Emma wants to tell her that details aren't necessary, but she knows Ingrid needs to let some of that out.

"I grabbed an old radio and hit him in the head. At the time, I thought I'd killed him. Me and Helga picked up Gerda and ran. We managed to hide for a few days, taking care of Gerda's wounds until she could walk and run, and then we tried to cross to Sweden. They found us... we had been wanted for assault and murder attempt. Murder attempt! We were running, and Helga tripped. Gerda wanted to go back for her, but Helga screamed for us to run. And then they shot."

She covers her face with her hand, and Emma's tears fall.

After a long silence, Ingrid continues. "I knew Gerda was running with me, but I barely felt her presence there. We managed to cross the border, but none of us felt any relief. For three months we were in the streets, pick-pocketing, eating off of garbage, shoplifting a few times..."

Emma looks away. Like mother, like daughter?

"Then we found someone who promised us fake passports. He promised us safe passage to the United States. At the time, it was like a gift from God, Emma. But I made Gerda swear not to follow me if they caught me. But I passed over safely. It was Gerda who was caught."

Emma's jaw drops.

Ingrid smiles. "She was okay. She was deported back to Sweden, and I don't know how she made it, but she did. She got married and had two beautiful girls, her Elsa and Anna. But all those years, until I was deported to Norway, I had no idea..."

"Your father?"

"He died four years after we left. I didn't even care to find out how. I've mostly been in Sweden all this time, reconnecting with Gerda."

"I'm so glad you found her."

Ingrid nods. "When I came here, my contact actually managed to find me a job and someone to teach me English, good enough to pass for a local. I worked hard, stayed in horrible apartments... but you know, it was the '80s. The more time passed, the better it got. I supported fundraisers for domestic abuse victims. I let victims stay in my tiny apartments until they found a safe space. And never... I could never share my full story." Her voice breaks. She sniffles, recovers, and continues. "But I wanted more. I wanted to help someone, and see for myself that they did well. Emma... you were not an experiment, I want you to know. I loved you, and I still do. I wanted you to be happy, I wanted you to have what I didn't have." Her voice breaks again. "And I messed that up. I left you alone, you had nothing, no-one... I failed you."

Emma shakes her head, more tears falling. "You tried. And yes, it sucked. But you changed my life. You have no idea how big it was, how better you made my life because you were there for me. I don't know where I would be if it weren't for you."

They're both crying now, and Emma is the first to hug her.

It takes time. Emma isn't ready to share everything that's happened to her, but she's still glad to have Ingrid back and know she had a very good reason for the things that eventually led to Emma being alone. And, after all, she did search for her. That's huge.

"My aunt, the one who had 'disappeared', found me a little after I was brought back and helped me. We didn't even know each other that well, but we knew each other's pain. A little more than a year after that I located Gerda. With my father and most of the side of his family dead, at least the older ones who shared his stance, it was easier to search around. I couldn't leave the country yet, so Gerda took her family and visited me in Norway." Her eyes tear up again.

What could it have been like, to not have heard from her in nearly twenty years, not knowing if she was dead or alive...

"It was... okay. But I still thought of you. I didn't know what I could do, I was nearly broke for years after I went back. It's only the past four years that I managed to make some money, and all of them were being saved for this exact trip. I will come visit you again, Emma. I don't know how soon I'll be allowed back, but I'll try my hardest. I know you don't need me anymore-"

"I do. I missed you. You have no idea how much."

She smiles sadly. "Perhaps I've got a clue."

She does stay eighty days, which go by way too fast, even with Emma using up her sick and vacation days to spend time with her.

It's the first time since Ingrid was deported that Emma has someone to spend Christmas and New Year's Eve with. It's even bigger for her, considering that Ingrid chose Emma and didn't go back to celebrate with her family.

January goes by too fast, and then Ingrid has to leave.

"I'll visit you in Norway first chance I get. I want to meet your family, too."

"The rest of my family," Ingrid says. "I will wait for you. I'm not perfect with Facebook, but I'll try to keep contact every day."

"Ask Elsa, or maybe even Anna, to teach you next time you meet. They're teenagers, they'll know."

And then she has to say goodbye, and it's too soon, but for the very, very first time, it's a goodbye she gets to say. And it's amazing, how less painful it is, now that it's out there with the promise of a reunion.

The next morning she takes an early walk before work and finds a ten dollar bill on the street.

She looks at it dumbfounded. It's the first time in probably ten years this has happened, and when she walks into her favourite coffee shop, she's still staring at the bill in her hand.

She has a coffee and a big piece of cake, courtesy of the found bill. As she's enjoying her treat, a young woman with bright red streaks in her brown hair sits on the chair across from Emma as if she was just invited to do so.

"Hi," she says all too casually. "Don't freak out, there's just this guy I'm trying to catch and it'll look less suspicious if I pretend to sit with company here." Her tone, facial expressions and hand movements are full in the game.

"What do you mean, 'catch'?"

The woman leans forward. "I'm a bail bond agent. There's a guy I'm trying to catch, and I got word that he comes into this coffee shop quite often. I'm just trying to- speak of the devil." Without changing her expression a bit, she tells Emma, "Don't turn around. He just got in."

"Is he dangerous?" Emma shivers.

"No, no, he was just arrested for some tax fraud." The woman's expression turns serious. "Are you alright?"

Emma's hands are shaking, and the question is out before she can consider it. "Is he gonna be armed?"

"I don't think so. In any case, stay down."

That's it, Emma thinks. The shooting in New York City. Emma lowers her head and leans it a little to the side, managing to get one small glimpse of someone walking towards them.

"Is that him?" Emma says.

"Yes!" the woman says excitedly, exaggerating for cover.

Then the man is right next to her.

"Excuse me," he says, and Emma bites her lip as she looks up at him. "I don't remember seeing you around here. Are you a new customer?"

Emma holds back her surprise. Is he trying to hit on her?

She just shrugs.

The man offers his hand. "My name's Walsh," he says.

"Damn right it is," the other woman says, and with a swift movement of her hand, a handcuff is placed around his wrist.

Walsh looks at them both like an idiot.

"Thanks for making my job so much easier," the woman tells him. "And thank you, too." She winks at Emma, then takes a handcuffed Walsh outside.

Emma sighs, staring at her coffee and half-eaten cake as her heartbeat returns to normal. She knows that this very reaction is different from her panic at first. She turns to see the woman push Walsh into the backseat of a car.

Emma smiles. That was actually exciting.

Her boss is lost in thought all day, so Emma's shift goes pretty smoothly, as boring as retail is. On her way home from work, she walks past a police station and runs into the woman from that morning.

"Oh," the woman says, smiling wide at Emma. "My good luck charm!"

"Your what?"

"You have no idea how long I've been trying to catch that Walsh guy. He may not have any serious felonies under his belt, but he's elusive as hell. And I got a pretty good bonus for him too."

"Oh. Sounds good."

"And it's all thanks to you! Come on, would you like a drink?"

Emma stares at her.

"Oh, no, not in that way," she says and laughs. "Just as a thank you for your help." Her smile is earnest now.

"I didn't do anything."

"You brought me luck. That's worthy enough of at least one beer. And you behaved very bravely at the sight of a potentially dangerous criminal. I think you deserve a relaxing night out."

Normally, Emma can't afford such relaxing nights out. And the woman seems nice. "Okay," she says.

"Great! My name's Ruby, by the way. I know a place around with the best homemade onion rings."

Emma's mouth waters. Ruby has no idea what she just unleashed. She only hopes she can restrain herself in front of her favourite snack.

Ruby is really fun and kind. She doesn't ask any too deep questions that might provoke painful answers, and Emma has one of the best nights out in a while.

She realizes that, not counting her little time with Ingrid the past three months, she hasn't actually had a girls' night out. Not as an adult, at least.

"I'm not kidding, though, when I say you were pretty brave with Walsh. Some people freak out completely. Not that that's bad, but..." she says and looks at Emma, raising her eyebrows.

"But?"

"You know, there are never enough bail bond agents out there. Especially in a city as big as this."

Emma lies in bed that night, mind too full of thoughts to sleep. Ruby went through all the details of her work, and Emma absorbed it all. But, she has done time – not that she felt ready to confess this to Ruby.

She may have the guts to do that job, but probably not the ideal past for it.

Two weeks later, she's outside that same police station waiting to go with Ruby for drinks. Perhaps it's time to talk to her about whether her past would pose a problem to her becoming a bail bond agent.

She thinks she sees it too late; a car, losing control and going straight for the pregnant woman a few steps away from her.

Emma doesn't think; she runs forward, somehow manages to gently push the pregnant woman aside and then jump onto the running car's hood, rolling over the roof and down onto the street.

People are running to them. A man is shouting someone's name, worried. Then Ruby kneels down next to Emma.

"Emma! Are you alright?"

She is. She didn't even scrape her palms while falling down. She stands up, moving every limb and checking for any pains.

"Is it the adrenaline?" Emma says. "I feel fine!"

"You must be the luckiest chick on Earth," the car's driver says, also checking her for any injuries.

"You... you pushed my wife aside," a man says, coming closer to her, side-hugging the apparently unharmed pregnant woman.

"I- I did that."

The woman steps forward and hugs Emma tight. Then suddenly, people around them are clapping. Clapping at her.

She does go into a bit of a shock; David Nolan, the expectant father, takes her to the hospital to check her out for any internal injuries. Mary Margaret Nolan, the expectant mother, sits next to her on the back seat, holds her hand, and can't stop thanking Emma again and again.

Ruby is in the passenger's seat, talking to David, and it's only then that Emma realizes they're in a police cruiser, siren on and all.

After a full examination Emma turns out to be fine – not a single bruise. Once again, hearing the good news, Mary Margaret pulls her into a squeezing hug.

Encouraged by her unusually good luck, Emma tells Ruby about having done time. Ruby just tells her that David owes her big.

And by a week later, she's a bail bond agent.

Next month, she's staring at her bank balance, unable to comprehend having so much money available to spend however she likes.

At this rate, she'll be able to afford a trip to Norway in less than three months. And she does. She sees Ingrid, meets her sister and nieces, and for the first time since Neal left her she allows herself to just relax and enjoy the moment.

It's still not easy. Gerda's English isn't the best, and more than a few times Emma assumes Gerda doesn't like her, and her heart nearly breaks. It takes a lot of reassurance from Ingrid, but by the time Emma has to get back, she's already friends on Facebook with Elsa – Gerda says that Anna will get an account after turning eighteen as well – and they all promise each other that they will meet like that again.

On her flight back Emma gets a window seat facing north and gets a stunning view of the aurora. She hears the flight attendants say how they've never had sighting of it in the very few hours of dark the north gets in the middle of summer.

Emma can hardly believe it. How did luck decide to be so nice to her?

She can't even imagine something sullying her trip, but as she thinks that, she starts worrying that her bad luck will strike again.

It doesn't. Her job goes well, she gets a better apartment with a much kinder landlady, Ruby becomes her first friend in years and David and Mary Margaret invite her for dinner every Sunday, despite having a very loud and time-consuming infant.

The baby is always sleeping soundly every time Emma visits, and when he does wake up he's  calm, surprisingly so according to his parents.

Emma lies in her new bed, on her brand new anatomical mattress, and thinks how it all started because she found that ten dollar bill on the street – the first of many that came later, if she's honest – and decided to treat herself that morning.

As luck would have it. Perhaps it was all a matter of positive thinking.

She grows closer to Ruby and the Nolans and, combined with Ingrid's surprise visit, her twenty-ninth birthday is the first in twelve years that she doesn't celebrate alone.

She starts crying when they sing her the Happy Birthday song. Against all odds, her wish from last year actually came true, in the most unexpectedly heart-warming way.

From that point on, it's only better and better apartments and all holidays spent with either friends in the States or family in Norway.

During one more return trip, she realizes how she can actually afford all these trips now; a dream she couldn't even imagine before.

Her thirtieth birthday is celebrated in Norway; her thirty-first, back in the States, and for her thirty-second, she decides to gift herself and Ingrid something they'll both love; tickets to the Scorpions' 50th Anniversary Tour in Maidstone, England.

Ingrid tries to stop Emma from paying both their plane tickets, but Emma is not having it.

A small part of her remembers what happened after their first and last trip to England, but it's too small a part to stop her from organizing the whole trip.

If Emma is honest, it's one hundred percent Ingrid's fault that Emma loves the band so much. It's one of the things she passed on to her without even trying.

The concert is amazing; even though they have first row tickets, they have lots of space to dance and jump and enjoy the whole concert.

After the concert is over, Emma is waiting for Ingrid a bit farther away from the portable toilets, when she hears someone humming the melody of No One Like You next to her.

"Catchy tune, huh?" she tells him.

"Oh, which one isn't?" he answers. "What a night."

Emma nods. He's definitely a local. "Did you have fun?"

He makes a grimace. "A lot of people stepped on me, I got groped, pick-pocketed, and I got in a fight with my... friend, but you know what?" He shrugs. "Bloody worth it."

"Oh, sorry that you were mugged."

"Ah, it was like, twenty quid. I've known better than to carry credit cards where hands can easily reach."

Emma realizes she had almost everything on her, including her passport. But everything in her belt bag is intact.

"Do you have a ride back home?"

He looks at her, and his expression turns shocked for a moment. "Bollocks. I overshared, didn't I?"

"I mean, I have a car, and space for two... how many of you are there?"

He seems to recoil a bit, raising his hand to scratch behind his ear before putting it back inside his jacket pocket. "Don't worry. We've got a car. And we going right back to Brighton, anyway."

"Oh." Emma pauses. "I don't even know where that is."

The man smiles. "Figured so. From your accent."

Emma smiles back. "I'm Emma," she says, extending her hand.

"Killian," he says, getting his hand out of the pocket and shaking hers. She barely notices that his other hand stays in the other pocket even after his right hand drops to his side. "So... you know that they're actually having a few concerts in the States for this tour, right? How come you decided to fly all over to here?"

"Well, today... or more like, yesterday," she says, checking her watch, "was my birthday. This was more like a birthday gift to me, and of course I'm going to see them in- What?"

He is staring at her with his jaw dropped. "You're not kidding? Tomorrow- or, today, is my birthday."

"Wow. Happy birthday, then."

"Happy birthday to you too. Seems it was a great one."

Emma sighs happily, looking back at the now empty stage. "I'd say one of the best ones." She then turns to him. "Does your birthday seem promising?"

He looks at her; his eyes and his smile soften. And she actually feels butterflies in her stomach.

Wow. It's not like she's been denying herself much, but this look... she takes a step forward before she realizes it.

And he leans towards her.

"It seems that way, aye," he says, still smiling.

Oh, damn him. They both close the distance between them, and his lips are on hers.

~

(A/N: It has happened! They have officially met! Rejoice! But prepare for the next chapter; you know what's coming. Emma spent those four years being lucky, so Killian... >:)

Also, Scorpions did have a concert in Maidstone in 2015 as part of their 50th Anniversary Tour. It took place in July, but I took some creative liberties with the date for this story ;)  )

[vvaane]

Evon

Hi, i’m Evon. Yea that’s the best way to start writing about a god damn serial killer, a proxy or whatever you guys call us. It’s late at night and you might be wondering why someone like me would write a book, dont i have people to kill? Cops to run from? Watch my back maybe? Nah man i used to do that before... that happened. Do you ever contemplate about your life? You know things like: what if i didn’t do that? what if i stayed silent? what if what i said once changed the whole story? Yea i know, a lot of what ifs. What can i say, i like to think. I may be a monster who kills like killing machine but i still have 'me' time.

I think i’m just rambeling now but yea another thing about me is that i like to talk, maybe too much sometimes. I wasn’t always like this though, as a child i was very quite and kinda depressed. Childhood isn’t my best memory to be honest, all i remember is wasting it on suffering and building up rage, until of course, i snaped.

Usually if someone asks me about that time of my life, i kill them without hesitation but in this case no one asked me so here we fucking go. Appriciate this because i’m not gonna talk about my shity life ever again. I was born on a beautiful day of summer, 4th of july 2000. I don’t have memories of my family, the only thing i know is that my mom commited suicide because of postbirth depression and dear old dad didn’t even bother to raise me or to even be in my life, good i killed him. Anyways, i spend my childhood at a church, raised in the name of this so called god, yea that place as holy as it sounds like, it wasn’t. Everyone feared the priest. What can i say, he was the best, always beating and torturing us many times even if we didn’t do anything wrong, my best and only friend was killed by this motherfucker. I myself got in trouble many times just because i 'wasn’t a man'. I don’t know how are you supposed to be a man at 13 years old but sure. You got 3 chances to 'go on gods way' if u didn’t make it you were send to a room that looked like an old basement of a castle. The room was dark and the only light you were seeing was from a little window, the door was big and scary honestly, when you first come into the room you would see a big statue of that bitch Mary. There the priest would give you 3 options: beat you, tie you in chains and not feed you for a week or put you in isolation for up to half a year. That guy was crazy and i’m pretty sure he hated children. Every kid would choose to be beaten because it lasted a short period of time compared to the other options. I was a maniac since i was little so i tried everything, being beaten till i was unconscious which isn’t that bad compared to the other things, i was beaten with everything you can imagine, chains, belts etc. I still have scars all over my body from that. Many kids weren’t strong enough and died. Their bodys were thrown in a room and from there they would be put then in the crematorium like they were nothing. Next i was tied and not fed, let me tell you, you get so hungry at one point you would even eat youself and i have seen one kid bite into his own arm somehow. Now the last and worst, isolation.I’ve been in isolation for maximum 2 months, i was put in a diferent room, this one had no windows so no light would come in, i felt like i was in a box, i had no bed, no nothing, i would eat once every 2 days half a bread. Many kids who went there didn’t come back. My friend was always send there even if he didn’t choose that. Dear Mike died when he was 15, i was 14 at the time.

Anyway, believe it or not that prepared me for what was next to happen. How do u think i survived the proxy training? That shit is hard but i will get there in a minute. After my friends death i felt like i wasn’t myself, i felt like some other me was taking control over my mind and body. When the priest found out about this change in my behavior he said i was possesd my some kind of demon and he performed this so called exorcisms on me that consisted in bathing me in holy water, tyeing me to the bed and saying many prayers. Useless. It wasn’t any of that. I actually had a second personality, a manifestation of my darkest and deepest thoughts and ideas. It was really hard for me to get used to this other me, over the time i even gave him a name: Devon. He became my best friend, he was the the only one who understood me. I faked being a normal kid so that the priest won’t try to take Devon away from me. I didn’t take any meds so day by day he was stonger and stronger, over the years we did many things, we destroyed a lot, first it started slow with plates and glasses but then i started to kill some animals around the church and the fact that i enjoyed it scared me at first. After i started doing this things i always felt watched, usually i was dizzy and sometimes i started to hear whispers even if i was alone in a room.

Years went by fast if i think about it, like if they were nothing, winters were the hardest because it was always cold and with all the tortureing sure it wasn’t the best thing. I was 18 when that event happned, i still remember every detail. It was summer, the weather was really hot, i was in my room when Devon took control out of nowhere, he wanted me to escape, to be free, to take revenge for every single thing they've done to me. He was right, i had to do something to get out and i wasn’t only gonna do that, i had to kill the priest and burn this place down. That church was what you guys call hell. If it’s hell then it has to burn. All day i wondered through every room in search of gasoline and matches, eventually at exactly 7:45pm i found what i needed, i stared at the objects like they were my saviours. Devon took control again and everything started, i poured the gasoline on every hallway of the church until the priest saw me, he wanted to hit me but i managed to fight him for a while, he was stronger than me so i ran away with the gasoline, i took a hatchet just to know i have something to defend myself with. I lit the match and threw it, i enjoyed the view of this place burning, i felt like i was able to dream again, i felt free and i didnt care who was still in there, the only thing that mattered was the fact that i got revenge and that im finally free. The view was ruined by the priest who was running in the woods. Of course i chased him with the hatchet until i lost him for a minute but then i heard a scream so i went in that direction. the adrenaline was overwheliming, i felt so powerful like i could do anything. After running for like a good 10 minutes i saw the priest dead with his killer getting off of him. The anger i felt in that moment is unimaginable, he stole my victim, the only person i wanted to kill with my hands, he took that away from me. I started running towards him with my hatchet. He stayed still like he didnt care, as i got closer to him i saw that he had the same weapon as me. I stopped and he smiled at me:

-You remind me of myself when i was little.

-I don’t fucking care what i remind you of, you just killed my victim!

-I’m Toby, Ticci Toby, nice to meet you...

- Evon, i said hesitantlly. Why are u doing this?Being nice.

-Thats a rule i have to follow, don’t kill or be rude to other killers.

Thats what changed everything, right after that i saw this faceless man behind Toby, he wasnt scared at all. This creature began speaking to me somehow.

-Child, i can give you a new home and i can let you be who you are, you don’t have to be afraid!

I didn’t have a place to go to so i accepted, i didnt know the training was gonna be so hard and long though. First i had to fight every proxy and that Masky guy left a scar on my face that went over my eye and my eye changed colour, from brown it went bloody red. Then i had to learn how to kill, how to survive, how to run from cops, it was hard for me but Toby helped me a lot. We got close and he took me with him every time Slends would give him a job. He was the youngest before i came in the picture. He told me his story, i told him mine. I had a friend after a long god damn time.

Now i’m 21 and i’m one of the best proxys Slender ever had. Toby is still the best of the best and to be honest he deserves the title. That’s my story. Now that you know it you should be prepared because i might come for u next.

[myhauntedsalem]

19 Parents Share The Creepiest Things Their Kids Have Ever Said

Kids say the darnedest things, but they also come out with ridiculously creepy things as well. When Reddit asked ‘what is the creepiest thing your child has ever said?’ Parents of the internet came forward with their stories and boy, they didn’t disappoint.

Here are nineteen of the most disturbing, chill inducing stories shared.  All we ask is for you to try and suppress the urge to lock your children in a cupboard after reading these.

1. “Daddy Its A Monster… We Should Bury It.”

My 3 year old daughter stood next to her new born brother and looked at him for awhile then turned and looked at me and said, “Daddy its a monster… we should bury it.”

2. “The Man Who Crawls On The Floor And Stands By My Bed.”

My co-worker’s four year old daughter always thought that the rattling of the water pipes in the kitchen cupboards were “white wolves” and the sound always scared her. One day she was sitting at the kitchen table and she said, “Mom. The white wolves aren’t bad… they’re our friends!”

Her mom encouraged the idea by saying, “Yes! The white wolves are protecting us. They are our friends.” Then her daughter added in, “They’re our friends, but not the man who crawls on the floor and stands by my bed”.

3. “Good Bye Dad.”

I was tucking in my two year old. He said “Good bye dad.” I said, “No, we say good night.” He said “I know. But this time its good bye.”

Had to check on him a few times to make sure he was still there.

4. “It’s The Closest I Can Get To Seeing Her Dead.”

He’s not my kid, but my godson is extremely creepy. He likes to stand in his little sister’s doorway while she naps and watches her sleep. I ask him why and he says, “it’s the closest I can get to seeing her dead.” He also likes to shove her fist in his mouth as far as it can go because he wants to “know what suffocating is like, just in case.” I’m pretty sure he’d be a serial killer if it wasn’t for Mario Kart.

5. “The Man With The Snake Neck.”

While changing my daughter in front of the open closet door. She kept looking around me and laughing. I asked her what was so funny. She said, “the man.” To which I replied, “what man?” She then pointed at the closet and said, “the man with the snake neck.” I turn around and nothing was there.

I’m afraid to look into the history of my house to see if anyone hung themselves in the closet. At least she wasn’t scared.

6. You Will Die Soon

Not to me, but to his grandmother.

He was cuddling with her and being very sweet (he was about 3 at the time). He takes her face in his hands, and brings his face close to hers, then tells her that she’s very old, and will die soon.

Then he makes a point of looking at the clock.

7. “I Want To Peel All Your Skin Off.”

I was sound asleep, and at around 6am I was woken up by my 4 year old daughters face inches from mine. She looked right into my eyes and whispered, “I want to peel all your skin off”.

The backstory here is I had been sunburned the previous week, and was starting to peel. In my sleep addled state however, it was pretty terrifying for a few seconds. I didn’t know if I was dreaming, or what was going on.

8. “When You Die, I’m Going To Eat You.”

My sons were about 2 and 4 when their pet goldfish died. I attempted to use the situation as an opportunity to discuss death and mortality. After I finished my explanation, my four year looked up at me with his big, blue eyes and asked, “Mommy, someday, will you die?” My heart filled with love and a little sadness, knowing this was one of those pivotal moments when the first bit of childhood innocence was lost,and I told him yes, someday, mommy will die.

“Good,” he said with a totally deadpan expression, and walked out of the room.

Later when we were about to flush the fish, he asked if we could eat him instead. I said no, we don’t eat pets because we love them, and he said, “When you die, I’m going to eat you.”

9. “Carson Is Gone, I Am Rick.”

When my son was little he, maybe 3, he used to do this weird crawl where he would slide his forehead along the floor. That was pretty creepy in itself. Then one night he crawled across the hallway into my room like that and stood up a few inches from my face and made a weird meow sound. He got into bed with me and went to sleep.

Another time he was freaking out about a monster in the basement so we went down and saw nothing, of course, and as I turned out the light and headed upstairs and he said “Hes right behind us now.” I might have peed a little.

Possibly the creepiest thing he did was one day I scolded him for misbehaving so he hid his head under his blanket. I pretended I couldn’t find him by saying “Where is my little Carson?” He slowly lowered the blanket and with a dead evil stare said, “Carson is gone, I am Rick.” I’m certain he’s possessed. We never knew any Ricks, as far I can remember. Still don’t. Never figured out where he picked up the name.

10. “I Died And Now I’m Here.”

Getting my two and a half year old daughter out of the bath one night, my wife and I were briefing her on how important it was she kept her privates clean. She casually replied “Oh, nobody ‘scroofs’ me there. They tried one night. They kicked the door in and tried but I fought back. I died and now I’m here.” She said this like it was nothing.

My wife and I were catatonic.

11. Baby Brother

“So I shouldn’t throw him in the fire?”

3 year old daughter holding her baby brother for the first time.

12. The Pretty Girl At The Cottage

My 3 year old nephew was at my cottage. He’s asked me numerous times about the “girl over there” while pointing at one of the back bedrooms. The place is small, and there is definitely nobody there so I just dismiss it as a really active imagination (he has lots of imaginary friends).

Then some friends are visiting and they have a daughter around the same age. She has never met my nephew. Twice in the one day she asked about the “pretty girl” while pointing at the exact same room. Definitely caught me out and I didn’t know what to think.

Then at Christmas my family was over at my place and my nephew points at a picture of my wife and asks if she is coming to visit us here or does she just stay at the cottage. My wife died ten years ago. Personally I don’t really believe in paranormal stuff so it’s probably just my logical brain putting together a bunch of kids ramblings but it definitely got my attention.

13. “He’s Behind You Now.”

“Go back to sleep, there isn’t anything under your bed”.

“He’s behind you now”.

Still haven’t gotten over that one and shiver at the memory.

14. “He’s Coming For You. You Better Hide.”

While not something my own child has said, my younger cousin (around 5 at the time) once drew a picture of a a black monster, looked up at me, and said “He told me to draw this. He’s coming for you. You better hide.”

15. “You Will Put Me Down, Down, Down In The Hole.”

I have a three year old who says some pretty strange stuff….

Last night: “Mommy.. the man, the very big man with big yellow eyes is looking at you.”

I look.. nothing. I tell him there is no man and he is make-believe. My son laughs, “Oh he is hiding now.” — 2 minutes later, “Oh no Mommy, you made him very mad. Now he says he will come when you are sleeping.”

Few weeks ago he tells me, “I’m not going to be four. I’m going to die. And you will put me down, down, down in the hole.” I tell him that isn’t true, and who told him that. He gets quiet and goes, “The man told me. But I will be scared, so after three night-nights you die too and come with me.”

Sheesh. As if I didn’t have bad dreams already.

16. “Daddy, I Love You So Much That I Want To Cut Your Head Off.”

A friend of mine’s child told him “Daddy, I love you so much that I want to cut your head off and carry it around so I can see your face whenever I want.”

17. The Bad Man

Why are you crying?

“Bad man”

What bad man?

“There.” Points behind me at a dark corner of the room

Lamp on bookshelf next to said darkened corner falls off as soon as I turn to look.

She slept in our bed that night

18. Ham Can’t Scream

When I was a waitress, I watched a little girl (4ish) stab her plastic fork into her sandwich repeatedly, saying “die die die die die die”. When I asked her what she was doing (her mom was in the bathroom for a minute), she replied with a straight face, “I like to kill things, but mom says I shouldn’t. So I picked the ham because it can’t scream.”

19. Satan Wants To Meet You

A few months ago I asked me brother and his wife if their kids ever did any creepy. They both immediately looked at each other and seemed surprised that I had asked.

Apparently the last few couple of weeks they would hear my niece talking to herself in her bedroom. They assumed it was just her playful imagination so they didn’t give it much thought. One day however my brother asked her who she kept talking to, she said it was her new best friend Satan who visits her at her window every day. Her window is close to the ground so they were seriously concerned that there was someone actually going up to her window and kept a closer eye on her for the next few days.

Every single time they would hear her talking he would go outside to her windows but never found anyone. They began asking her more about his new friend and apart from his name being Satan she mentioned that he follows her everywhere she goes and that he promised her he will bring her a cake one day.

At a late cookout at my parents a week before they mentioned that, she took her mom outside to the backyard and pointed at the pitch black backyard and told her that her friend Satan was there and he wanted to meet her also. That made chills run down my spine since I was at that cookout also. After that they made her promise she wouldn’t talk to Satan anymore.

[sierraraeck]

How to Lose Friends

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: When Aundreya’s presence is requested at the BAU, she doesn’t know what to think, and is dreading the reactions of her previous teammates. Especially that of Doctor Spencer Reid. Story sixteen.

Category: Some angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Normal CM talk. Mentions of prison.

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: I hit 100k words of fanfic I’ve written for this series in this part.

The buzz of the bell signaling a door opening jolted me awake.

What the fuck? Why is my door being opened?

The light streaming in from the hallway, invading my dark little space, was blinding. The only solace was the dark figure shielding most of the light from my eyes.

“What?” I rasped.

“Aundreya Chambers, lovely to see you again,” the voice was coated with sarcasm. While still somewhat unfamiliar to me, I knew who’s face belonged to that type of bitchy sarcasm.

“Majesty Strauss, welcome to my humble home. Would you like a tour before we begin?” I still barely had my eyes open, denying the fact that my minimal sleep was being desturbed. She moved further into the cell in order to stand right in front of me.

“Get up. Your presence has been requested at the BAU.”

“What? Why do they want me?” I finally opened my eyes enough to stare up at her stone cold bitchface. That was the last thing I was expecting this morning. “Is it so they each take their turn reminding me how much they hate me?”

“Stop whining and get up. They need your help,” she all but rolled her eyes, the sound of her heels clicking back over to my cell door.

“With what?” I insisted.

“I’ll brief you on the drive.” Strauss completely exited my box while I laid my head back against the thin as paper pillow, letting out an irritated sigh. “Are you coming?”

“Do I have a choice?” She gave the tightest lipped, most forced smile I’d seen a human give as one of the officers came to clasp the handcuffs around my wrists.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

The first half of the drive was dull. Strauss wasn’t much for small talk, especially with someone like me, and she refused to let me in on what was happening until we were only a few minutes out from headquarters.

It was Maeve. She’d had a stalker for a while, and now there was reason to believe she’s in immediate danger. That’s all she told me.

We finally arrived at Quantico, and I almost wanted to laugh. It’d been… what? Fifteen months since the last time I’d been there? The feeling of walking back in felt oddly familiar, like the first time I entered the building as a convicted criminal who was meeting the team. Despite the three years I’d spent with them, I was standing there as if nothing had changed. Actually, that’s not true. Things had changed. They’d gotten worse. Now, instead of wondering how they’d react to a somewhat normal looking girl who’d had a rough past, I knew exactly how they’d react to a psycho looking, handcuffed, last-time-I-saw-you-I-confessed-to-murder, criminal. And I didn’t want any part of it.

But if that’s how they were gonna see me, I might as well have worn it with pride. I had a reputation to uphold.

I was pushed through the glass doors into the bullpen, and everyone’s eyes snapped to me. I must’ve been quite the sight: disheveled, frizzy braids, cuts and bruises on every visible part of my body (and most non visible parts, too), my orange jumpsuit peeking through the stained, weak excuse they called sweats, not to mention the chains connecting my handcuffs to the links around my ankles. Upon entering, they removed my cuffs, but kept a watchful eye on me as I approached the door to the briefing room. The people behind there were the ones I really cared about. Or, at least, cared even a shard about in comparison to the utter indifference I felt toward everyone else.

I closed my eyes, and took a long, deep breath before forcing the door open. I had barely entered the room, barely made eye contact with Hotch standing opposite me, before both my shoulder blades were shoved against the wall behind me, long fingers wrapping around my throat.

“What is she doing here?” the hiss in Reid’s voice sounded exactly how I’d imagined it in my head, preparing myself for this encounter. He looked almost as bad as me. His curls were going in a million directions, and I could only imagine the amount of times he’d run his hands through them. His eyes were blood-shot and slightly puffy, and the dark bags underneath seemed more defined. The only thing that contrasted all of that, and let me know his head was still in it, was the darkness in them. There was nothing lighthearted or soft about them anymore, at least, not for the moment and not for me. Not to mention the rage I could see boiling at the surface. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror.

Morgan and Hotch made a move to pull him off of me, but I waved them away. I knew this was coming, and the sooner we got it over with, the sooner we could go back to our new normal. “I was invited.”

“By who?” I could hear the betrayal coating his voice before he even knew who it was.

“You didn’t tell him?” It was Rossi that spoke up.

“I was about to,” Hotch stated, “She showed up a bit earlier than I anticipated.”

Reid just stood there, orbs of fire replacing his eyes. “Let go of me,” I forced out through clenched teeth. He did as I asked, taking a staggering step back and just bore holes into me. I replied with a smirk. “So what do you need me for?”

“As Strauss should have already told you, Maeve is missing and there is reason to believe she’s in danger,” Hotch recited.

“Great. So what do you need me for?” I repeated. They were great profiles, I couldn’t see anything I’d add to the group.

“As you know, there have been people in the past that threatened her safety, and they have been people you’ve had a connection with.”

I arched an eyebrow. “So you think that the person responsible for Maeve’s disappearance is some street rat I’d know?”

“If you want to put it that way, sure,” Hotch confirmed.

“Okay, then you guys have seriously lost brain cells since I left,” I let out a bitter laugh, “There’s no way some rando on the street would care about some lame doctor.” I saw Reid’s posture tighten up, and I didn’t really fancy the idea of being slammed into the wall again, so I shot him a quick, “No offense.”

“What makes you so sure?” Morgan asked.

“Look, all I’m saying, is that I don’t see how she’d hold any value to anyone on the streets. Unless she’s all the sudden a drug lord, running a gang, or saw too much, they wouldn’t care about her. And let’s say for fun she is one of those things, and someone on the streets did take her, she’s already dead,” I pointed out. Reid flinched. “People on the streets don’t play with their food.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Reid hissed.

I shrugged. “I’m just saying. But either way, case closed or start over. Neither of which require me.”

“They might, actually,” Hotch said.

“What now?” I grumbled.

“We might still want to utilize your other skills.”

“And what are those, exactly? You can all profile just fine without me,” I scoffed. “Clearly, you’ve been doing just fine these past 15 months. Speaking of, where is my replacement?”

Looking around the room, I didn’t see Doctor Lewis.

“She’s gone for this one, so we could use another person,” Hotch acknowledged.

“Cool. So find another person.”

“Aundreya, we could use your ability to track down people. We can profile all we want, and have Garcia send us all the information she can dig up, but we need someone who can actually locate them. Someone who knows how to find people without a record or paper trail, who don’t want to be found. And based on the other working profile we have, that’s exactly the type of person we’d be tracking down.”

I let out an annoyed sigh and rolled my eyes. There was no way I was getting out of this, so I forced out, “Fine. Let’s find Reid’s girlfriend.”

The whole room of people, myself included, starting moving with a purpose toward something to do. Everyone except for Doctor Reid. He was just standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at me.

I tried so hard to ignore him, and I was about to say something when Morgan beat me to it, placing a hand on his shoulder and murmuring, “Kid, what’s going on?”

His answer was not directed at Morgan. “Nothing else? That’s it, that’s all you have to say?”

I looked up at him and even I could feel the boredom in my eyes. “What else is there to say?”

After a few deafening moments, he sternly whispered, “Was any of it real?”

I could tell by his face the deeper questions behind it. Did you ever actually care about me? Were you just manipulating and using me the whole time? Was the possibility of ‘us’ just an illusion?

“I could ask you the same question,” I snapped. It suddenly felt like he and I were the only ones in the room, like we were moving across a silver screen while the rest of the team watched from their theatre seats.

“I still wanna know why.”

“Why what? There’s a lot I’ve done, you’re gonna have to be more specific,” I deadpanned.

“All of it. Prison, letting me take the fall, Darrell-”

I stopped him right there. “Inmates kill each other all the time. It was a means of survival. I had to, I couldn’t let you die, and I couldn’t let you be the killer either, now could I? You’re not the damaged one-”

It was his turn to cut me off, and I was surprised by his words, “You're not damaged.”

“What makes you so sure?” I was quick to refute, “Only one of us should have to carry that burden around. And like you said, what’s another name to add to my list?”

“Is that what you were carrying around with you all the time?” Prentiss’s question seemed so genuine, I just answered.

“Yes, that and…” then I realized what she’d just admitted to.

“And what?” she probed.

“Wait, were you guys watching me?” I accused. The silence that followed, along with ‘oh shit’ glances were all I needed. “You were, weren't you! That whole time you just watched? And did nothing to help me!”

“What were we supposed to do?” Morgan joined in.

“Something, anything!” I looked back over to Reid, his hands in his pockets and his eyes still burning up. “Do you even want me on this case?” I was looking for any and every excuse to get out of this room, and away from these people.

“You are a big help,” Hotch intervened.

“I didn’t ask you,” I shot Hotch a glance out of the corner of my eye, then directed my attention back at Reid, enunciating each word carefully, “Do you want me on this case?”

“Why would you ask that?” he dodged.

“Because last time I checked, I was supposed to be staying out of Maeve’s life,” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“You are, but these are extenuating circumstances,” he returned my look.

“So you do want my help,” I clarified.

“I want your skills.”

I let out a disgusted chuckle, venom dripping from my words. “Oh I get it. You only want me around when it's convenient for you. Otherwise you just wanna give up on me and let me rot in there.”

Reid broke eye contact with me. “All the evidence pointed to you.”

His words sent a shiver up my spine, as the neurons in my brain started firing at rapid speed. I’d heard those words before; rather, I’d seen those words before, and I couldn’t resist reciting what followed. “But the one thing you can’t stop thinking about is what Hotch said the night we got caught?”

His eyes immediately snapped back to mine, looking astonished. “What?”

I set my jaw, and continued, “That you were manipulating me the whole time and I’d fallen into the trap of a professional criminal, even as a profiler. I don’t want to believe that, but maybe it’s true.”

Derek jumped in, “What are you talking about?”

I ignored him. “Maybe you’re the one who’s been using me this whole time. I don’t have the answers, and I don’t think I ever will. Don’t keep tabs on me. I know you have the means to, in whatever capacity, but I don’t want you tracking my life.”

“Stop, Aundreya, please,” he pleaded. If you didn’t want those words getting out, didn’t want your team to realize how vile you could be, you should have thought about that before sending me that letter.

I wasn’t gonna stop. Instead, I started pulling the paper out of my pocket. “I no longer want you to be a part of it. And stay out of Maeve’s, in case you think that’s some twisted loophole you can use. This is no longer your family.” By the end, I felt just a little moisture coming to the surface, but I choked my tears back down.

“What is she talking about?” Morgan insisted.

Reid’s mouth was slightly open, struggling to find the right words to explain this. I wasn’t going to give him the chance. I tossed his letter, folded up to fit in my pocket, on the table. It slid across and stopped right in the middle. “His letter. The piece of paper you saw me walking around with, this is it. My list on one side, his letter on the other.”

“Aundreya-” Reid attempted.

“You didn’t even sign your name,” I shook my head, “You couldn’t even sign your fucking name. It’s pathetic. And just so you know, the evidence pointed toward me because I helped it to.”

“So you did or didn’t want to go to prison?” he asked me.

“Of course I didn’t want to go, Reid,” I answered like it was the dumbest question I’d ever heard.

“Then why'd you take the fall for me?”

“Because you didn’t do it.”

“But neither did you, right?”

It sounded like more of a mockery than a question, but I answered, “Right.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Jesus Spence! I did it because I-” Oh shit.

All eyes were on me as he slowly asked, “You what?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” With that, I stormed out of the room using the back door, and made my way up to the rooftop.

The cool breeze hit me in an instant, and I relished in the fresh air. It’s crazy how easily I took that for granted the three years I was out. I leaned up against the railing as I soaked in this feeling. I wouldn’t get to keep it for long.

I heard the door creak open, and knew who it was before she could even say anything.

“You know, I understand why he’s mad. He thinks I let him sit in prison for something I did, you all do,” I quickly tacked on.

“That’s not true,” Emily’s voice could be so soft sometimes.

“It’s okay, I get why you all believe it. I would have too if I were you. I mean, my whole life has consisted of lying, manipulating, and cheating.” I looked over at her once she’d joined me at the railing. Her face was kind, as if she was inviting me to continue. “I hate everything about it.”

“Is that why your name is on the bottom of that list?”

I hadn’t even thought about them seeing that. Fuck me. “Did you know that Aundreya isn’t even my real name?” I offered instead.

“Alionth?” she guessed.

I gave a single laugh. “No. I was born Clara Spade. I was her all the way up until the Slaughterer saw me. When we went into WITSEC, my name was changed to Cassy Sae. I lived as her until our house burnt down, and I begged Gideon to help me disappear. Cassy Sae died that day with her mom and sister, and I changed my name again to Aundreya Chambers. It was Aundreya who hit the streets and joined a gang. It was Aundreya who was The Figure and moved up the ranks until she ran the joint. When the gang collapsed and I started the ring, I don’t know, I guess I just wanted a new name. A new name had marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life up until that point, why not keep the tradition, you know?” Emily nodded along to my words. “I chose Alionth because I’d already been using that as my stage name at clubs, and a lot of the people I recruited I met at clubs. I actually ran my whole operation out of one, so the name just naturally fell into place. Then I made just about the biggest mistake of my life, which landed me in prison. In prison, most people were street rats, so those who did know me, knew me as Aundreya, so I went back to being her.”

“And who are you now?” she asked me.

I sighed. “I… I have no idea. I’ve been Aundreya for the majority of my life, but I just don’t know if she’s good enough anymore.”

“It’s not about the name. I know you think it does, but the name has nothing to do with who you are.”

“I don’t know, it sure feels like that.”

“It’s not true. Falling into that trap is unwise, it’ll hurt you more than it already has,” her eyes were wide, and I could tell she was trying to read me.

“So you think I’m stupid?” I asked.

“No, the exact opposite actually. I think you are so smart and are looking so many steps ahead, that you can no longer see what’s right in front of you.”

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re afraid.” I scoffed at her, but she was completely serious.

“I am not,” I insisted.

“You are. You’ve been hurt so many times, betrayed even, and now you won’t allow anyone in.” She sounded like she was speaking from experience. The silence hung between us before she said what I’d been waiting on the whole time. “Just tell him.”

“What?” I tried to play it off.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Emily said, in that stern but caring tone she’d mastered. We both knew I knew what she was talking about, and I’d been too hopeful she’d ignore my near-confession only minutes earlier.

“I can’t,” I said, my voice dropping.

“Why not? I think he deserves to know that you lov-”

“Don’t say that,” I cut her off like my life depended on it, “Emily, I’m telling you, I can’t. I can’t do that to him,” my eyes were wide with pleading, and I’m sure I looked like a wild animal in headlights.

“Give me a good reason why.”

You say that as if I haven’t already compiled a list in my head of all the reasons we wouldn’t work over the past three years.

But I opted only for the biggest reason, the one at the very top of my list. “Because I’m terrified that it will kill us both.”

“Huh?”

“Look at us. We’re a disaster! I mean, hell knows, we’ve both already almost died for the other. I don’t want to take the chance that next time we won’t be so lucky,” I explained. And if we aren’t, at least one of us should be able to get out and that person is not me. I could tell there was something else lingering on Emily’s face, but I filled the airspace before she could. “No, I need him to hate me. It’ll be easier this way, because when this goes south, and it will go south, it makes it that much easier for him to just forget about me and move on, move on with Maeve, his great girlfriend who can actually be there for him in a way I haven’t been able to, in a way I don’t even think I’m capable of.”

“I would call going to prison for him ‘being there’ for him, even to an extreme, and I think you should let him make his own choice about how he feels about you,” she gave me a pointed look, “knowing all the facts.”

I shook my head. She just wasn’t getting this. “It’s better this way, trust me, I’ve seen it before, been there before, too many times. It’s better if he already hates me going into this. It would be unfair of me to lay that on him, knowing what I’m going to have to do.”

“And what is that?” I stared at her, open-mouthed, and once she realized I wasn’t going to answer her, she asked, “This is about more than just Maeve, isn’t it?”

Yes. There are people who are hunting me down, and I’m scared shitless that you, and Spencer, and the rest of the team will get caught in the crossfire, and yet again, it will be my fault that practically the only people on this planet I care about, who’ve actually cared about me at some point, will be dead. I wanted so badly to tell her, to get everything off my chest, but I just couldn’t. The less she, and the team, knew, the better.

“Is this about those other two names on the list?”

“You saw that, huh?”

“Yeah. Is that what this is also about? The whole ‘end of the world, protecting Reid’ vibe you have going on?”

I didn’t know how to answer, so again, I just stood there silently.

“It sounds to me like you’re giving up, expecting to die,” Emily filled in the silence.

“I am definitely expecting to die, and I’m expecting it to be nasty, and hateful, and to completely ruin me, yes. But like hell I’m giving up.” I wanted to make that perfectly clear.

“Good. So while I don’t know what else is going on, and you clearly aren’t open to telling me, I do know that Maeve needs our help. Yours specifically. And I can’t imagine how much this sucks for you, but-”

“I know,” I said, nodding, “We have a case.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

While Emily and I were out, the rest of the team had gone back to trying to put pieces together. The moment I walked in the door was the same moment Reid left. JJ walked out after him, but not before giving Emily a knowing look. It’s like they were tag teaming us or something. I tried to blow it off.

“Get anything?” I huffed.

“Maybe…” Derek trailed off.

“What does that mean?”

“We have a list of people we want you to look over,” Rossi said, handing over his tablet.

“Damn, already?” I questioned.

“Have you already forgotten how quickly I work?” Penelope looked over at me with an amused face.

“Well, time hasn’t exactly been my friend as of late so I might be a little rusty, but no, my liege, you just never cease to amaze me.” And with that, I felt some of the tension release from the room. Not much, but I’d take it. I think everyone would take it.

We worked well into the night, looking over people and sending pairs of agents out to question the promising ones, and as I expected, every single one was a dead end.

Until one of them wasn’t.

The boys had just got back from interviewing Robert Putnam’s, Maeve’s fiance, parents.

“He look good for this?” I asked as soon as Hotch stormed into the room, Rossi and Morgan right on his heels. Reid hung back, like we were repelling ends of a magnet.

“I want you on him.” Hotch had barely gotten the command out before I reached for the door handle.

“I don’t.” The words were hot and dry and coming from none other than Doctor Reid.

I stopped to face him. “Why not?”

“I don’t trust you. Who’s to say you won’t just run off? Then we’d let a high-profile criminal walk free and let Maeve…” he cut himself off, and I saw him swallow, probably choking down the tears with it.

“Reid,” Hotch barely drew his attention away from me.

“It’s okay,” I assured Hotch, “I get that you don’t trust me. None of you do. But I need you to make up your mind. Either you want me helping or you don’t.” When I got no more than a few blinks, I continued, “Look, you don’t have to trust me, okay? All you have to trust is my skills. Like you said, I’m a professional at things like this, so I can handle tracking one simple weasel. Not to mention, that if I didn’t want to be here, or I wanted to’ve escaped, I would have done it already. And if you’re worrying about my capacity to actually treat this case with some care, don’t. I already blindly tried to get myself shot for her before I even knew who she was, remember? So if you don’t wanna trust me, great. Don’t. I’m fine with that. But trust my abilities and what I know, what you know, I can do.”

I stared at him so long, that I wondered if small roots started pushing their way into the ground below me.

“Okay. Go,” was all I got, but it was all I needed.

I gave him a single nod, and headed for the door.

I got just a few feet out when Hotch’s voice caught me, “Chambers.”

I spun around to face him. Once he pulled the door shut, I asked, “What’s up?”

“He’ll come around.”

I snorted, “You’re funny, Aaron,” I spoke through laughs, “Got any other good jokes before I head out?”

“I’m serious.” I don’t know what it was in his tone, but it snapped me completely out of it.

“He won’t. I fucked up, real bad, and I broke a promise to him,” I lowered my voice so I was whisper-yelling the next part, “Hell! I killed a man in front of him!”

“We all have,” he nonchalantly stated. The disconnect I was feeling had to have been obvious, and he proceeded, “We shoot people in front of him all the time. We do it to save other people, we’ve even done it to save him a few times. How is it any different?”

My eyes went wide, and I couldn’t believe it was Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner who was saying these things to me right now. “No you don’t understand. I promised people, I promised myself, that that wasn’t who I was anymore. But that's exactly who I am. I said that I wouldn’t do things like that again, and then I did, breaking my promise and proving that I’m exactly the same as I was all those years ago. Someone you, and he, can’t trust.”

“We both know that’s not true.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he just kept going without me, “The way he reacted to you getting arrested that night is something I don’t think I’ll ever forget. He looked disgusted with me, after I aided you in your plan to get him out. He said to me, ‘You can’t do this, Hotch, you can’t let this happen!’ He was so hostile that he cussed at me and tried to hit me,” I audibly gasped at this information. I could never see Reid acting like that, but I would know just how much prison changes a person. “Morgan had to restrain him before all the work you’d just done to get him out of prison went to waste on something as stupid as him acting out.”

I didn’t know what to say, “Hotch, I…”

“I knew what you were doing, so while Morgan tried to get him to calm down, I told him that you were giving him an out. We knew that there was a very high likelihood that he was going to die in there, but we knew that you wouldn’t.” He offered a small chuckle then, which totally threw me for a loop.

“What is it, what’s funny?”

“Spencer said that we couldn’t know that, and it was Morgan who said, and I believe he used these exact words, ‘She’s strong. Plus, they’ll want her in solitary, worried that she’ll do much more damage to others than they’ll do to her.’”

Even I had to crack a smile at that. “He’s not wrong.”

“He definitely was not. I think he was still recovering from that nasty black eye you gave him.”

I offered a not-so-regretful grimace.

“One more thing,” I looked up at him as he spoke, his tone returning to that of seriousness. “It doesn’t have to be right now, or within the next couple of months even, but he deserves to know the truth.”

I don’t even know why I tried, but it was my natural reaction to deflect. “What are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t take a profiler to know that memorizing and reciting the only piece of contact you’ve had with him verbatim shows how much you care about him and what he thinks of you. And based on the sole fact that you don’t really seem to care at all what anyone thinks of you, that speaks volumes.”

I stood there blinking at him for a moment or two before having my wits come back to me. I started to shake my head, but he continued to speak.

“Do you really want to prove that you’re not like that anymore, that you’ve changed?”

He always seemed to know the right questions. I nodded my head, “Yes.”

The great Aaron Hotchner looked me straight in the eyes, “Then go catch this killer.”

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[winterbuckytho]

When Is It Over

After being missing for 48 hours, Tony Stark comes into the restaurant and is escorted to the table James Rhodey was waiting for him at. Rhodey, always a patient and understanding man wanted to give Tony an absolute earful for disappearing like that. He and Happy had been just about to raise alarms when he got the text "I'm a genius and you know that but I had major breakthrough and can't talk to anyone else. You will never guess who's bed I woke up in."

Rhodey guessed wrong 17 times then finally gave up by texting back. "Uuuugh, I hate it when you’re right! Just tell me!!"

"One Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, the Manchurian Candidate himself. TMI, but we have no boundaries, he's an awesome lay btw. I'll send you info for a meetup and brunch. I need so much coffee."

And so not long after the two sat in a little known upscale place seated at a privately reserved table on a terrace over looking the sea, Rhodey asking how in the flying fuck Tony had ended up at a dick appointment in Wakanda.

"It all started a while ago but what happened last night started the night before last. I kept having this nightmare where Barnes is bearing down on Pepper and my reactor is busted and I'm trapped in my suit, pinned to the floor like a butterfly to a card by one of those creepy bug collectors. Pepper is right there but I can never convince him to not hurt her. Sometimes it's you or Steve and I guess because I watched footage of him before he started remembering stuff... God, the way he gunned after Steve, like a pretty Ultron. And I fought him myself in trigger mode, Christ, his eyes were colder than dry ice and emptier than Bruce's apartment right now... I had it again and sitting up after with a glass of warm milk thought about that exposure therapy thing, what is it called?"

"Systemic Desensitization?"

"Right, anyway, so I called King T'challa and it turned out Barnes was awake. So i asked to see him, explain what I want to try and do because I already have 15 flavors of PTSD, I didn't need a special designer one and reassured nothing like vengeance was even remotely on my mind. I just needed to see him outside the context I had him in before in Siberia so he agreed to have me."

"Whoa, that's a stupid idea. So what happened?"

"Well, he has a convalescent suite in the mines, most secure place on the planet I bet. From himself and from others. I went straight there and was on his doorstep at 2 the next morning. He was still willing to see me and the Princess seems to have figured out how to end his following through with the programming, so he opened the door and..."

--

"Stark, I understand I never even knew you and I fucked up half your lif-" Bucky Barnes began.

“I don't wanna talk about that Barnes..." Tony replied.

"Then what do you want?" Buck asked shaking his head a little at a loss as to why Stark would need to see him this bad. A cold fright made his belly feel full of squirming eels as he wondered what in God's name he had done now. 'Th-they say I'm alright now but before... I hardly remember being brought to Wakanda, everything after my arm was fried off... is just a smudge of awareness. Did I hurt him bad that day, he looks okay but what did I do..?'

"I... fuck, okay, this is one of those times where I am doing a crazy rich person thing, you know. I keep having these dreams... "I remember them all." you said. That's what you said and ever since I feel like I need to face you in a.... I don't know... unfiltered way? I need to know you're not going to... hurt me or Pepper or Steve or Rh-" 

Bucky stood in the doorway his blood chilled to slush in his veins. What did Tony want him to do? Act out some death wish? 'Absolutely fucking not. I will eat a gun before I endanger anyone else. I can't, I literally can't let it happen, even by the most unpredictable accident...' "Tony, what is it you mean for me to do? I'm not gonna fight you, I-i can't, I-"

"Shit, Sarge..."Tony says and aggressively goes in for a kiss. A hard confused long and breathless kiss.

--

"Oh my God, you did not!" Rhodey exclaimed his incredulity impossible to contain.

"You going keep talking or are you going eat your lunch and let me finish?" Stark says a little miffed even if he wouldn't say that word unironically.

"I thought you were in like, regular killer robots trouble, but this takes the cake, please do go on. I want every sordid detail. I can't tell if I'm more horrified at your taste in guys or frustrated with you for not telling me about what you were going to do."

--

'Oh god my heart is racing faster than that time it almost got its promised dose of metal shards before I could get the other reactor in. I might throw up. But uh yeah, I'll admit it. I'm definitely getting hard. Is this it? Is this what I need to make myself understand he's not a killing machine anymore? For an engineering genius I'm so fuckin' stupid... O-oh ah, is- is he... holding me?' Tony's mind went from one thought to the next so rapidly it almost made him dizzy. But as Barnes wrapped an arm gently about his waist and pulled him closer over the threshold and into his suite, his initial fright at his own actions became quieter and slowed till he was thinking nothing and only letting the electricity of it flow as neurons and synapses and receptors did their work. He could feel Barnes' lips tremble slightly against his as they kissed, cold metal under his palm as it slid up over the smooth curves up to the other man's shoulder, his need now becoming clearer by the second.

Bucky didn't understand what was happening and in ordinary circumstances would like to know and love someone before getting closer this way. It felt wrong at first and he was so hypervigilant he was half convinced his body was acting on its own to attack Tony until the man moaned deeply in to the kiss, the sound of it long and greatly pleased. Barnes pulled away a moment looking at Stark. "What is this? I... I’m afraid I don't understand..."

"You and me both, pal. Oh no, Steve is rubbing off on me.... But yes... I'm figuring something out. Can we go to your room?"

"I- uhm sure it's... uhm... on the left. End of the hall."

"Come on, I can make it fast."

"I... had no idea you..."

"Again. You and me both, pal. Turned out my heterosexual philandering was me performing gender conformity and trying to hide from anything real about myself. I think I swing both ways. Or multiple ways at once." Tony said leading to the bedroom. He took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair by a small table in the room and sat on the edge of the bed. 

Buck sat next to him and said "Ah. Well, you're not alone in that. If I had a nickel for all the girls I had hanging on my arm while hiding the truth..."

"Wow. I mean... The length Steve was going for you... I didn't realize it was a two way street."

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' stupid for that boy. All those years... and then the first one I see his face again, the curse was lifted. Kinda like a fairytale." Barnes laughed.

Tony laughed too. A genuine happy sound he had been too anxious to properly make the last few months. Hearing Bucky say it like that, he knew they both loved the same things in their favorite star spangled dumbass. Another layer of fear melted and he grasped Bucky's metal hand. "Is this going to hurt what you got going for him? I can stop, find some other way to work through how I'm feeling about everything..."

"No, its okay. I...think I understand what you need."

"Oh yeah?"

"We were never properly introduced and until you know who a man is, he will always be a stranger."

'I'll be damned... that's kinda exactly what this is. I need to know him. I need to know him inside out like how I know Steve. It took almost dying together a few times for us to become friends. This is the express route for me and Barnes.' Stark sniffed and nodded then said abruptly, "But first I... I’m sorry. I'm sorry things went down how they did for you, I'm sorry for reacting that way when I found out our... connection. I- well I was going to say I'm sorry I blew your arm off but I'll say it when I'm sure I won't be lying. I had seen you kill a dozen people that day and I'm still scared shitless of you."

The room was quiet a moment as Bucky carefully gathered so he wouldn't burst in to tears before he could say it. "I'm sorry as well. I never got to apologize to any of their families before. So thank you too."

"Hey." Stark said quietly. He was beginning to truly feel something about Bucky other then that fever pitch fear. The time Barnes had come within a second of shooting Tony straight in the god-damned face came back to him but he didn't see that man in this moment. "I want to believe you so, come on. Make love to me and show me who you really are."

--

"Oo, you was being all smooth with it, okay, alright, Mr Stark, turn the swag on..." Said Rhodey.

"One of these days, Alice, right to the moon." Replied Tony.

"Ha ha, okay, I'll stop. One of these days...”

--

Barnes nodded and turned further to Tony reaching a hand out. He used the side of his index finger to take Stark's chin and tug lightly guiding him towards himself and beginning to kiss him in soft slow motions. "Do you want me to take charge a bit? Because I don't think I want you to make it fast."

"Hah~ I uh... don't mind, bottom, top as long as you're comfortable."

"How bout we work it both ways. I mean sure I'm big and can probably punch out that whole wall down in less than 3 minutes but I have a... softer side too."

"Being little spoon is nice..." Stark replied with a small smile pulling his tie vest and shirt off. He was endeared further to see Bucky blushing in the low warm light.

Bucky pressed him back on the bed and rolled half on top of him. His was so effortlessly strong his weight could barely be felt as he held himself from simply pinning Tony to the bed under him. Heat began to flush his body as the gentle kisses they traded became more passionate and hungry. A thrum of pleasure pulses outward from his pelvis and Bucky groaned in the ecstasy of it thinking 'Guess it's like riding a bicycle... it's all coming back to me now, huh?...uhn~' while his hips rocked forward pressing down against Tony.

It was a small gesture but so erotically charged, Stark's breath caught in his chest a second then he mirrored it with his hand sliding downwards to explore the stiffening shaft pressed against his thigh. He squeezed and stroked it marveling it a little for it's size and immediately wondering how much of Bucky's size was from the serum. He suspected from the way Barnes handled himself though that it was all Buck. He pulled the waist band of Bucky's pajama bottoms out and down exposing him. Tony's hand wrapped around it and he watched as Bucky's eyelids lowered and he breathed quietly "Oh God hahn..." pecs heaving as he gasped. Stark bit into his lower lip surprised how a sight like that could turn him on and quiet still more of his fear of the man. It humanized Barnes instantly like nothing else he could have made in the Avengers tower r & d labs.

Bucky's erection throbbed, Tony's hand feeling cool on it's hot skin as he took in the sensation just made it even more captivating but he paused a moment before raising himself to stand and pulled his pants off. As he did Tony took off the remainder of his clothes as well and soon they reconvened on the bed together. Tony waited for Buck to lie down then took a position that would serve well for oral. He was surprised to be further guided gently to straddle Barnes' face. They each used oral to the pleasure of the other and it was not long before the room was full of moans and sighs.

Barnes could never explain it but serving someone willingly in this scenario nearly made his mind melt with the extreme arousal building inside him. He moans softly his tongue massaging and circling sensitive skin, probing flicking at the entrance. He can't help how he is drawn in to the movement both soothed and excited by it, all the while feeling heat and soft textures and slick saliva slowly slathered up and down his length paired with a delicious friction he couldn't withstand in stoicism. His hips jerk and thrust up and his arms wrap around Stark's thighs pulling him down against his now wildly thrashing tongue.

"O-ohn hah! Mmm~!" Tony's breathes come fast and eratic as he tries to not be distracted from the task at hand. Which was enjoying Barnes' response to his sucking and licking of the man's cock. He is becoming increasingly intensely aroused to the point of loosing much of his control leaving him trembling and squirming as he struggles to keep his tongue moving. Finally unable to do much else he accepts Bucky's entire length in to his mouth allowing him to thrust himself in and out while Stark groans in deep pleasure at the many sensations.

Bucky came to a point where it wasn't enough and he needed to see his lovers face as well as become the more active party. He slowed his licking and paused one hand grasping Tony's arm and pulling him up to head of the bed French kissing him and enjoying the feel of their tongues sliding about one another. After a few moments they worked into missionary position. Bucky licked his fingers, massaged and stretching Stark making the man whimper and gasp pressing his head back into the pillows. Then he began to penetrate working his tip in slowly, setting urgency aside for a bit to be sure they were both on the same page.

Tony, experiencing great pleasure eagerly thrust his hips up as his calves rested on Barnes' broad strong shoulders. "I-it's okay, I'm experienced, you can go harder, go faster. Oh god~!" Even as he did it he was having a strong sense of sorrow derived from the way Bucky handled his body, with such a care, terrified of himself of hurting anyone. He knew this was because of who he was as a person and not just special treatment. Hydra had commited a deep sin against humanity by making such a man kill against his own will and every minute with the former Sargent made Stark's heart break for him, drowning the animal fear right out with the deep kindness that had stayed true in Barnes’ heart all these years.

Buck nodded now breathing heavily and started to thrust deep and hard at an almost relentless pace, grunting in a low tone his eyes scanning Tony's face drinking the pleasure he caused, this somehow just as pleasing as the direct stimulation of the sex itself. But still he maintained responsibility for both of their well being and carefully examined himself to be sure he could warn if he lost control of himself somehow. His ardor rose and swelled around him and to this he was perfectly happy to lose himself in the moment, his breaths harsh and fast as his powerful thighs and hips worked to thrust and his hands rose to lace his finger with those of both of Tony's hands holding them pressed to the pillow beside Stark's head on either side, Bucky's mouth exploring licking kissing Tony's throat and chest.

"That's it , oh don't stop, don't stop huhn!! Ah aaah hah~!" Tony groaned as he chased his orgasm. 

"Yeah? Ohn~ come on, come with me, come on baby..." Bucky told him between gasps and moans speaking softly into his ear.

It was one of the best climaxes he had ever had and he supposed it had something to do with how emotional the sex had been paired with Barnes commanding him to do it. 'I didn't even feel submissive till he took the reigns, and that's kinda how I like it.' Tony thought. Panting he said "You really must have given those girls a run for their money. And Steve?"

Bucky paused and smiled. It was honestly one of the most beautiful smiles Tony had ever seen. "Actually, I'd bet my left arm he's still a virgin. He's always so focused, no one ever wonders. They think a man like that would have been taken such a thing the first time it presented itself but our history together says otherwise. His birthday wasn't always July 4th, you know?"

"Meaning he didn't always appear to be the reserved type, a no kiss and tell sort of guy. Oh my God, that explains so much. Does he think it's too dirty or something?"

"Nah. He just wants the moment to be right. And it never can be with the world at stake every other day. He says to me, 'We can move to the country or the sea shore and no one will bat a lash. The ring can be made of the perfect materials for your hand and we can just settle down, when the fight is over’. He doesn't know... living is always going to be a fight. There's always a fight. It doesn't end until your heart stops. So he'll always be waiting for the right time and I'll always be waiting for him." His gaze was a bit melancholic, a bit proud and a lot yearning. His crystalline cerulean eyes swam with tears a moment before he closed them and leaned in to kiss Tony. 

Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky and now he felt more real than ever, there was no monster here. Just a man who was having the most rotten luck in history. And he still fought for more each day. 'Men like them really are cut from different cloth. I always thought my dad was just being a righteous asshole when he said that but no...'

--

"And I'm cured! Turns out the right guy can heal you with magic peen." Strk said sarcastically.

"Pft, really?"

"Well, of that one thing. My mind is still fucked pretty hard from everything else though. But I'm glad it's finally laid to rest. Dad would have wanted it that way. Mom would forgive him, why shouldn't I?”

"Jesus, did you just mature before my very eyes?" Rhodey said with a smile reaching out to put a hand on Tony's shoulder with a squeeze.

"Yep. Let's hope I don't have to fuck everyone who has wronged me to finally put my suit away." Tony sassed back patting the hand of his best friend.

He hoped that day would come though. That Steve and Nat and Bruce and Vision and Wanda and Sam and Clint could set down their suits and anger issues and come home so they could all be worth the wait together.