#i had to get 3 stitches over this bad boy i’m glad it turned out

[blorbocantdomath]

awesome fish stamp that i made but halfway through i ended up lacerating my finger with a carving tool and had to get three stitches on my finger, who want it on a tote bag or something!!!

[primofate]

Hi there, can I request the boys seeing you got injured or being attacked, whichever is fine ^^

Hey anon! You didn’t specify how injured but I’ll just run with it hahaha :)

Shortfic

Scenario: You got injured Part 1

Part 2 with Zhongli

Part 3 with Xiao

Characters: gn! reader x Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe

Warnings: angst, injury, no character death though

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Diluc

“Master Diluc, if I could just interrupt--” one of the caretakers in the winery walked up to his office and prepared for the assault of words that could be fired towards him, sure enough, Diluc interrupted. “What is it? I’m a little busy right now, make it quick,” he hadn’t turned his face to look at the grim expression weaving in and out through the caretaker. Hadn’t bothered to look up to check if there was anything amiss, but the caretaker continued quickly “It’s Y/N,” the caretaker had only paused for a moment but Diluc had already picked his head up at the mention of your name. It was here that he realises something must have gone wrong, the caretaker’s expression was not a pleasant one. He was up on his feet, eyes widening a fraction at the following words, “They came back to the mansion seconds ago and they’ve been injured past what Adelinde could fix so we called for a doctor—”

In Diluc’s hurry he had stumbled over his chair, it tripping behind him with a thud on the floor but he ignored it and fast runs towards your room. Dear Archons he should NOT have let you go on that commission by yourself. You could hold your own, yes, but things happened and he really should have thought that through first. He was berating himself for it as he swung the door open. “Y/N?!” 

The urgency in his voice tells you that he perhaps had the wrong idea of what was happening, it was really just a gash on your leg, although it was bleeding profusely, the cut must have been deeper than you thought. The maid had already placed a tourniquet to stop and slow the bleeding. You tried not to show it in your face, not wanting to alarm your lover any further, but it. hurt. like. hell. “Diluc, I’m fine, it’s just a gash,” 

The maid that was previously sitting on the chair next to your bed moves away, Diluc replacing her, his eyes didn’t tear away from the wound on your leg, his expression contorted to that of worry and nervousness, before finally turning to your face, reaching a hand out to cradle your cheek. “Stop lying. You’re pale, you’re sweating--” of course he sees through you, he knows the second you get upset, knows every crease on your forehead and every slight furrow of the brow. He had memorized every inch of his beautiful, beautiful treasure. “Your hands are trembling, you’ve lost too much blood, where’s the doctor?!” He grips your hand at the realization that you might actually be in a more dire situation than presented, and just on cue the doctor comes through the door, asking for some time alone with you to do his job. 

Diluc paces outside the door, unable to stay in one place for long. He kept thinking about how frail you looked. How, if you were unlucky, it wouldn’t have just been your leg. He shook his head at the thought. He didn’t know how he was going to let you out of his sight from then on. He knew full well it would annoy you to have him following you around everywhere but.... How could he not after this?

The doctor emerged half an hour later and explained that you just needed a bit of rest and that, with a little healing magic, you didn’t need the stitches at all. “Don’t let them use that leg for a day and they should be fine, it’s nothing life-threatening but they did lose a lot of blood and is going to need time to recuperate. They’re asleep at the moment,” 

Diluc takes note of everything and quietly slips into your room. They must have sedated you in the process and he sighs as he plops down on the chair that was still placed next to your bed. His eyes soften at the sight of you finally relaxed and less in pain, hand reaching out to brush off strands of stray hair that blocked his view of your face. “You’re the only one who can scare me this much,” he mutters under his breath, as if complaining and he swears that he sees a very small and light grin on your face, as if teasing him. He smiles a little, just happy that you’re stabilized and leans in to kiss your forehead, opting to stay by your side till you wake up.

----------

Kaeya

“What do you mean unconscious?”

“J-Just as we said, Captain. They were unconscious when we found them,” Kaeya sighs in slight exasperation. Normally he was a jolly camper but when the knight in front of him is unable to say how injured you are, Kaeya gets a little wordy. “I meant to say why were they unconscious? Were they hurt? Where are they now?”

Kaeya stands. He was in the middle of some Favonius paper work. “They were bleeding profusely from the head,” Kaeya stops as if lightning has struck him and stares pointedly at the knight. “These details should be said early on,” he thought that it had just been something less threatening. Perhaps you had somehow passed out, exhausted, on your bedroom floor. Or perhaps had just rolled from the bed and onto the floor. They said that they found you in the bedroom, and his blood froze when he realizes that someone went in there to attack you.

Kaeya doesn’t bother talking the other knight into giving better reports next time, he’d do that later. He could guess that you were probably taken into the Favonius infirmary. Sure enough, when he walks in there, face scrunched up into what could only be described as worry and anger mingling together, you were awake, head bandaged up and your eyes meet. His heart breaks at how you still smile at him despite the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. He stands next to the infirmary bed and gingerly touches your cheek, peering into your eyes. “Y/N, what happened?” he asks, eyes scanning the bandages wrapped around you. “Who did this?” and there was that angry and cold undertone in his voice that you rarely heard, as if his cryo vision had taken over his whole being.

“I’m sorry, Kaeya, I-- I can’t quite remember,” You put a hand up to cover half of your eye, your head was still throbbing and in quick realization Kaeya eases up on you and gently pushes you on your back to rest. “It’s fine, sorry, I just--” he cuts his own speech off and takes a deep breath in. Focus on the good. He tells himself. “I’m glad you’re alright, take it easy, I’ll take care of things,” By that he means he might just slaughter whoever even had the guts to break into your house and attack you in the middle of the day. The break-in was reported by townspeople, and Kaeya was sure as hell he’d get every witness to describe that asshole’s face. 

“You’re staying with me for the moment,” he decides quite quickly, and you had no qualms with that whatsoever. Hearing that you had no protest at all, he grins and leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss, afraid to hurt you. “No complaints? Perhaps this was your grand scheme all along to come live with me,” You can’t help but chuckle at how quick he bounces back. “Maybe, honey. Maybe,”

----------

Albedo

“Ow--” the knife clatters to the floor, as blood starts to pool around your finger. Albedo spins around at the meek sound you make, ignoring the knife on the floor and strides over to you just as you’ve turned on the sink and started running water on the small cut on your finger.

“Let me see,” You turn to him, blinking. His face was blank. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking but he was staring straight at you. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a small cut,” but he doesn’t waver and glances at the water running over your finger. “Let me see,” he tries again, this time rather forceful. That got you to obey. Turning the faucet off and awkwardly offering your hand to him.

He receives it and cradles it in his as if it was porcelain, upturning your hand to look at the small cut on your pointer finger. It was tiny. Really nothing compared to wounds that a knight might sustain. Albedo sighs and looks up at you, “Don’t go anywhere,” before stalking off, coming back a few seconds later with a first aid kit. “...Al, it’s alright, it’s not a big deal,” Albedo would only let one person give him a nickname. You. No one else. Frankly he thought the nickname was weird but if it danced on your lips, he didn’t mind it at all.

“Y/N, you’re mistaken if you think I’m going to take this lightly,” he takes out some ointment and a small roll of bandage, starting with the ointment. “Everything and anything that hurts you is a significant thing,” his gaze darkens, as if glowering at that microscopic cut. “Miniscule or massive, it doesn’t make a difference to me,” he starts wrapping your finger, “if it taints your skin, I cannot help but feel--” he doesn’t know the right word, but you do, judging from how his hold on your wrist tightens. 

A soft smile paints your features at how he was such a worry-wart. Sometimes he was so bad at navigating his own feelings but you could decipher them anyway, from his actions. You let him worry over you, and thank him once he’s done. He finishes his work by taking your hand, and pressing it to his lips, his eyes darting up to lock on yours. That made you blush every damn time. His green eyes were just so mesmerizing, and so was his heart.

----------

Childe

Dear mother of the Archons, perhaps whoever was responsible for your injuries had some type of death wish. Everyone should offer prayers for whoever had cut you up. Your arms and legs were littered with small scratches from trying to run away from the attackers, you thought going through the thick forest was a good idea. In essence, it had slowed the thieves down. They had managed to throw a fire bomb at you that severely burned your right hand, and the right side of your abdomen. 

Perhaps it was thanks to adrenaline running through you that you had actually managed to make it to the gates of Liyue, just before the bridge, but you’d crumpled down right then and there. The Millelith guards didn’t recognize you, but the three Fatui agents walking on the bridge did. “Someone had better tell him,” The group of Fatuis scrambled nearer to you, one of them picking you up, but glancing at the other who had just spoken up. “I’m not doing that, you do it,” it was slightly comical, seeing them pass off the duty of who was supposed to report to Childe about it. “You know how he gets when it comes to them, I’m not doing--” then one of them finally gets their bearings together.

“Shut up, get them to the healer first,” The tallest one shoves the one carrying you, urging him to go fast and off he went. Now it was just two Fatui agents looking at each other. Two Fatui agents who decided that they would just face his wrath together. “Sir,” one of them starts as Childe turns around to look at them. He actually had no tasks today and was just about to go off to find you. “About Y/N...” Childe’s eyebrows shoot up, what in the world could these agents have to say about you? “We’ve sent them to the healers, they collapsed at the entrance of Liyue, it... doesn’t look good...”

All hell descends upon Childe’s demeanor and poise. His face darkens, his eyes burning holes through the two agents and his fists closed up on his side. His bow appears and hovers behind him, the only thing that shone through his dark person. “The two of you--” he starts, “are going to find out who did it. I’m expecting a report by nightfall,”

Childe himself shows up at the healers quarters, and was told of your condition. “Their hand is going to scar,” keeps reverberating in his head. Like the sound that he imagines the skulls of those who dared touch you crunching under his feet, over and over again. Childe actually winces when he sees you. Small bandages on your arms and legs from the scratches, your right hand wrapped up adequately and, he couldn’t see it now, but he was sure your abdomen was wrapped too.

You cracked an eye open, feeling another presence in the room. Childe immediately appears next to you, leaning over the bed and watching your expression. “...It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asks, tracing over your bandaged hand. You remained quiet for a moment before nodding your head slowly. Just remembering it caused a blinding pain in your mind’s eye. You’d been given drugs to ease the pain now, but there were still traces of it lingering on your skin. “How dare they,” both your eyes snapped open at Childe’s nearly contorted voice, shadowed and overpowered by rage. 

You pick up your good hand and touch his arm with the tips of your fingers. You didn’t like it when he got like this. “Childe, it’s alright,” far from it, but it was the only reassurance you could offer. He catches your hand and brings it up to his face, pressing your hand to his cheek as if it was a lifeline. “It’s not. It’s not,” he repeats to himself, his anger also stemming from the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. “They’ll regret even laying eyes on you,” You knew he wanted to go now, knew that he wanted to get to the bottom of it, but you yet again pull your hand away to grasp at his shirt, the fabric scrunching up under your hold. “...But stay with me for tonight? Please?” 

That got him. He would never say no. His form relaxes and he leans in to kiss your lips, gentle yet with a hidden hunger in them. “Of course,” he simply says, as if his previous agenda forgotten.

But he would never forget. He would never forget for as long as he could see that scar. 

Tomorrow, he would decimate each and every one of them.

[amerrierworld]

Little Songbird (pt 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu becomes addicted to your voice and wants to hear you... sing some more.

Characters: Alcina Dimitrescu x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,087

Warnings: The extra Smut Chapter ;)

The next day, you were a bit exhausted from the previous night’s... activities. But you set about work the same way as usual, though buzzing with an unusual excitement about the evening to come. 

You were working on repairing a rip in one of your old dresses. You really wanted to impress the Lady and look as good as possible, now that she had taken a liking to you. As you worked, the head maid asked you about your previous night’s duties while preparing lunch.

“It wasn’t all bad.” You kept your gaze on the hole in the dress you were mending as she prepped ingredients. “The Lady seemed very preoccupied. I don’t think I was much of a bother.”

“That’s very rare,” another maid cackled while peeling potatoes next to you. “She always looks at us like we’re the dirt on the bottom of her shoes. But I suppose the pay is good.”

“Not freezing out in the cold is very good pay, I agree,” the head house maid said dryly. “I suggest you try to keep it that way.”

The maid looked flustered at the comment and scampered off, intimidated by her gaze and muttering something about more things to be done. You bit your lip to stop from smiling.

“How was it really, my dear?” The head maid turned to you, a much kinder look in her eyes now. “The Lady can be a touch.. harsh.”

“It was fine, really. I didn’t know she had a piano until now.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve never heard her play myself, but I’ve heard stories she used to perform. Especially around holidays or important events.”

“Really?” Your mouth gaped a little as she explained. “I didn’t know she was that good at piano.”

“Oh, no, dear. Not piano. She would sing. It’s a bit sad we haven’t heard her sing at all in our time at the castle. I suspect it would make her a little more approachable. But that may not be what she wants. I’ve heard she was quite a talented singer though...”

As she kept talking, the needle had stilled in your hands, your body freezing at the sudden revelation. Lady Dimitrescu, a singer? Surely not. 

“..Are you alright?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, thinking of how she would sound, what she would sing, and if you would ever get to hear her sing. 

“Yes, yes I’m fine.” You kept pushing the needle through the fabric, trying to remain calm. You felt your body tingle as you remembered the way she wanted to hear you sing. “I have to say, it is quite surprising.”

“Our Lady is definitely full of surprises.” She patted your shoulder before leaving you to your thoughts and your half-stitched handiwork. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to focus on any tasks for the rest of the day now.

Later that night, you hurried to sneak through the hallways on your way to your Lady’s bedchambers. You really didn’t want anyone to see you on the way, since you had no supplies to have an excuse of a chore to be done this time. There was one maid who caught your eye, and she gave you a curious once-over as you walked by in your nicest dress, looking like you were going out rather than going to bed. 

When you got to the door of the room, your heart was thundering in your chest. Your hands had gotten sweaty, and you didn’t understand what was so stressing for you. She had seen every inch of you already, had stripped you on top of the piano, and made you come like you never had before.

You delicately rapped your knuckles on the door, and waited for long, agonizing moments for a response. When none came, you became curious. You turned the door handle and pushed. It opened with no resistance, and there seemed to be no noise coming from inside the room.

You poked your head inside, and was once again astounded by the sheer size of the room. Against your better judgment, you slipped inside and shut the door behind you. Being early was always a good thing, you decided.

Since Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t there yet, you had time to take it in. You were drawn to the massive bed, and the dark red sheets that adorned it. Probably the best colour choice, you figured, considering the high risks of blood stains on any surface in the entire castle. 

You approached and ran a hand over the edge of the fabric, marvelling at its silkiness and expensive textures. It reminded you of everything Lady Dimitrescu liked to wear; expensive, silky, smooth...

The door slammed open, ripping the quiet thought out of your brain, and there stood Lady Dimitrescu. Her expression was fuming, angry, but it didn’t seem to be directed at you, because the minute she saw you standing in the room, it softened in confusion. Like she had forgotten you’d be coming.

You let go of the sheets and clasped your hands behind your back, curtsying quickly in fear of her anger and not wanting to step out of line. She nearly scoffed at you, and took a few long strides to the vanity, sitting down heavily on the bench.

“Help me with my dress.” Her tone was curt, demanding. You paled a little, thinking this night wasn’t gonna go how you expected it to, but still doing as she said. You were a maid, after all.

With her seated, it was easier to reach the buttons along her back, and you made quick work of them. But when you stepped back and she didn’t make any move to get out of her seat, you realized she wanted you to get the entire garment off her.

Her pointed gaze at you in the mirror disappeared from view as you approached the open back and pushed the two halves of the dress aside like peeling delicate fruit. You couldn’t help it; you ran your hands along the thick skin of her back as the dress fell off her shoulders, revealing a tantalizing bra clasp right at eye level that you could have undone quickly if you wanted to.

“You’re being quite bold, little one,” Lady Dimitrescu finally spoke, her voice deep, sultry, but not gentle like it had been last night. There was an iciness to it that stung. Your hands had been lingering a little too long on her skin.

“Forgive me, my lady,” you said, stepping away as she got up to her full height and let the dress pool at her feet. You saw heels in your view and stockings raking up long legs, but you didn’t dare look any higher. 

“Oh, pet. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She ran a hand over your head and walked past you. Your instincts kicked in and you picked up the dress to fold tidily on the vanity’s bench. The slightest touch from her fingers made you shiver, and a blush crept up the back of your neck.

“Look at me, sweetling.”

You turned around to face the bed, where she was sitting, one leg swung over the other, hands perched behind her on the mattress. Yellow eyes looked at you and you gulped for air at the sight of her.

“You’re allowed to look, darling. It would be a bit inconvenient if you weren’t.”

Your cheeks were burning now, but you finally let your eyes wander down her frame. Her lingerie was the epitome of femininity, yet dark and sultry, just like her. The black lace hugged her curves. Her stockings were held up by a garter belt, and she kicked off her heels with one smooth jerk of her legs. 

Her tummy folded in when she was seated, and her thighs, though muscular and lean, were thick and looked strong enough to crush your entire body if she wanted to.

“Come here.” That familiar voice zapped through you and you approached the bed, briefly wondering if what you had heard about her singing talents were true. You supposed it wouldn’t surprise you. As a lady of her standard, learning an instrument or musical skill must’ve been a required lesson for her etiquette. 

She picked you up to sit in her lap, and you squeaked in surprise as she lifted you once again. A chuckle rang throughout the room and you looked up at her, relieved to see the earlier anger had dissipated from her gaze when she looked at you.

“I’m glad you’re here. I had almost forgotten you were coming,” she said, running hands soothingly over your thighs as you straddled her. “I apologize if I was a bit of a sight when I arrived. The staff in this castle is somewhat... incompetent at times.”

So it was the staff that had made her angry. Did another maid try to escape? Enter the cellar? Was there an errand boy that couldn’t keep his hands off of one of the new deliveries? 

Her head lowered to breathe in your scent, lingering right by your ear. You let out a heavy sigh at the feeling of her so close to her, and you reached out to grip her upper arms that framed your body. You ran your fingers along her skin, and she recoiled for a moment, pulling away.

You froze. Did you do something wrong? Fear etched in your eyes, you looked up at the Countess, wondering if you stepped out of line for touching her. Then her gaze focused in on you and she seemed to relax a little.

“Don’t stop.”

Was it a request? An order? You didn’t mind either way, because now your hungry hands ran over her, feeling the dimples and ridges of scars and stretched skin all over. You explored with your hands as much as you did with your eyes, gazing at her cleavage, the curve of her neck, the muscles in her shoulders. 

You ran a hand over her tummy, feeling softness and subconsciously prodding it a little with your fingertip. She giggled at the feeling. Giggled. Her body jostled a bit, moving you about. You liked the feeling and the softness, so kept your hands there.

“I can see a question in your eyes, little one,” Lady Dimitrescu purred, combing a hand through your hair. You cast your gaze downward, running a hand over her skin repeatedly, familiarizing yourself with the patterns of the stretch marks.

“Just.. something I heard today.”

“And what was that?”

You squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m not sure if you want to hear.”

A finger tipped your chin up to her piercing eyes, “I doubt it’ll go unnoticed by me, sweetling. Even if you don’t tell me now, I will hear about it.”

Your mouth went a little dry at that. She was right, nothing happened in this castle without her knowing about it, but goodness... the power behind those words made you weak in the knees. Thank heavens you were sitting. 

“I was told you used to be a singer.”

An amused look crossed her face. “Is that it? I was expecting you to announce a mutiny at hand.”

You shrugged slightly, delighted in the way her hand reached to cup the back of your neck, a thumb running over your throat. “I was hardly a singer, darling. But yes, I used to.. dabble in performance. Long ago.”

“Is that why you were so interested in my singing?” 

She grinned, teeth gleaming. “I was interested in your singing because I was interested in you, little songbird.”

She tugged you impossibly closer, leaning down and running her wicked tongue over where her hand had just been on your neck. 

“W-will I ever get to hear you?” you managed to huff out, because now her firm hands were holding your middle, exploring your body the way you had been exploring hers.

“Is that what you want? To hear me sing?”

You nodded, because the low timbre of her voice was reverberating throughout your whole body, and you suddenly needed to hear it singing a tune.

“Perhaps... if you indulge me like I had indulged your last night, you may get to hear me sing too.”

You felt the tips of your ears nearly burst into flames, but you were so desperate... so eager to please. You nearly dropped down to the floor to get on your knees. 

She chuckled, “not so fast. I have a better idea.”

Lady Dimitrescu shuffled back on the bed until she was up against the pillows. Shoving a pillow under her lower back, she crooked a finger to beckon you closer, spreading her legs. The sight of her, half in candle light, spread out for you this time, but still in charge, made you swoon.

You crawled towards her and pressed your lips against the inside of her knee. She rocked her hips a little at the feeling of your warm, small mouth on her body, and fisted a hand in your hair.

“I really won’t need any foreplay, dear,” she said in a hushed tone. “Give me your mouth.”

You raced to tug the black lace panties off of her long legs, and were met with the sight of slick, swollen flesh. A carnal desire overtook you, and you surged forwards to press your mouth against her, desperate to taste.

A soft ‘oh’ escaped the giantess at your eagerness and your soft tongue tasting her arousal without hesitation. She enjoyed teasing you, yes, making you beg and dance around the sexual gratification she could give you. But this, your hunger and desire to please, made her warm all over.

“Good girl,” she said softly as your tongue began flicking over her swollen clit, lightly and experimentally. Your hands gripped the inside of her thighs, keeping them steady and spread. She was able to look down at you, and realized her rough gripping had made your hair come undone, causing curls and locks to drop down, loose and wild. Your eyes met hers, pupils dilated, and then you sucked. 

The high-pitched cry that escaped her was broken and sudden, and it made your body flood with arousal. Your legs trembled a little, the space between your legs begging for attention.

“Oh, who would have thought you’d be so good with your tongue, sweetling?” Lady Dimitrescu moaned, “I knew you were talented.. but that mouth...”

Her sentence was left unfinished, and she bit her lip, groaning softly in the back of her throat as you kept going. Your fingers rubbed her folds, teased her entrance, kissing and sucking until you could find a rhythm that made her squeak.

A nip at the hood of her clit made her gasp delightfully, so you did it again. The hand in your hair pressed down to bury your face in her cunt.

“Wicked girl,” she growled, and you moaned against her, your face wet. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

You pressed harder, one hand pushing three fingers at her entrance without any resistance as they slid inside. Your brain wasn’t working enough to keep up the pace of both, so you curled them and pressed against that soft, swollen frontal wall, scratching with the pads of your fingertips.

She nearly howled, a string of soft curses and... were those pleads? Her eyes were screwed shut, and you looked up at her strong, soft body. You couldn’t help but reach down and rub yourself through the fabrics of your clothes with your other hand. 

Eventually she noticed when she opened her eyes again, and she chuckled, making a point of slowly rolling her pelvis into your face. 

“Couldn’t keep your own hands off of yourself?” she said, her voice slurred with arousal. You made a whiny sound, restrained by your tongue and mouth against her cunt.

“I want you to come with me,” she gasped, her thick thighs beginning to shake from approaching her orgasm. You rubbed yourself even harder, eager to do as she said. 

Her usually-reserved voice came out in whimpers and low growls, and you sucked hard at her clit again, pressing your fingers deep inside, and her whole body instantly convulsed. 

Her cries of pleasure and incoherent words of praise made you topple over the edge shortly after. Her well-kept hair was undone, her mascara a little smeared, and her hands were digging painfully into your scalp. She let go once the last tremors left her body, and you relaxed against her thigh, breathing in her smell and kissing her everywhere you could reach.

“Well done, little songbird,” she cooed, eventually managing to open her eyes again and look at you. “You really are too precious for words.”

You blushed. You extracted your hand from between your legs, grimacing a little at the stickiness of your clothes.

“Let’s get you out of those,” Lady Dimitrescu whispered softly. You let her hands lift you up like you weighed nothing, and strip you.

“But- work...” you made a feeble attempt to get up, but she tutted, holding you closely to her chest, your head resting on her breasts. 

“Nonsense. You will stay the night here. You’re in no state to return to your duties yet.” She spoke curtly again, meaning there was no room for argument, but the soft throb between your legs and the haziness of your sated mind already left you limp and jelly-like. You wouldn’t have made it out the door without collapsing even if you did try to leave.

And so, you were bundled up in her arms, the blankets pulled up around your trembling form. She had pulled out a book from her nightstand and let you relax against her body as she flicked through the pages, a quiet peace filling the atmosphere around you. And then you heard it.

With your head pressed against her chest, you heard the rumble of her voice under your ear, and then her soft humming filled the room. You held your breath as you listened to the low, baritone-like notes, and the occasional page flipping of her book. 

You didn’t know the song, didn't know if it came with words, or if she had come up with it right now, but it made your heart flutter. Did she know you were still awake? 

Eventually, a hand came off of the book and pressed on your head, helping you settle against her warmed skin a little more, and then she spoke,

“Sleep, little songbird. There’ll be plenty of times for you to hear me later.”

A/N: It really doesn’t take much to convince me to write more of a series when I love them as much as this one ;) I hope you have ~enjoyed~

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ Hongjoong: Tame (Part 2)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 4.8k in this part. (Part 1, Part 3, Final Part)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking, unprotected sex (pulling out), facesitting.

Other than Ateez, all other names are fictional.

You woke up in a room that was similar to the one you were in at the human auction. You shivered in fear. Was your cousin really going to sell you now?

You broke down in tears. You didn't expect things to turn out this way at all. You wished you knew where your father was so that you could report your uncle and his son easily.

The door of the room you were in opened and a man walked in. "Ah! You're awake!"

"Where am I?" you asked Bojoon, glaring at him with disgust.

"At an auction, sweetheart." Your heart dropped. "Let's hope someone buys you for a very high price." You felt your stomach churn with anxiety. Who was going to help you now? You wished you hadn’t gone to the club.

"But before that..." he stepped forward to caress your cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm going to make you scream."

He moved his hand slowly from your cheek, down to your chest. "Stop," you whispered, earning a hard slap from him. He pushed you against the wall, forcing his knee in between your legs. Your cheek stung badly and you were sure his hand would’ve left a mark.

He snarled, harshly pulling on your hair. "Don't you dare open your mouth, you fucking bitch!"

He ripped the top part of your dress in half, exposing your upper body that was now only covered by your bra. You brought your hands up to cover yourself, but he pushed them away. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pocket knife, making a large cut on your arm. You whimpered in pain, eyes filling with tears. He smirked at the cut that had began to bleed.

"Blood, my favorite! Ah, this makes it more exciting, doesn't it?" you didn’t reply, trying to control the urge to break down.

He moved his hands to your thighs. "Let's have some fun now, shall we?"

Bojoon was just about to touch your core, but someone snuck up behind him, piercing his neck with a syringe.

You slid down the wall, eyes scrunched closed and ears covered while Bojoon screamed in pain. In a few seconds, the screaming stopped and you heard him fall to the floor with a thud. You slowly peaked, finding Bojoon unconscious on the floor. Was he dead?

You glanced up at the two figures who were present in the room, both dressed in all black; one of them was smaller than the other. Both of them were wearing a black mask and hat. The bigger one approached you, kneeling down. He took his leather jacket off, wrapping it around your body.

"Wear it. It's cold," he said softly, helping you slide your arms into the sleeves. He zipped the jacket up to the top before helping you stand up. The jacket came right below your knee.

"Let's get out of here fast, Yunho," the smaller one said and you recognized him. You were surprised you couldn’t recognize Yunho by his voice.

"San…?"

"Yes, it's me, Kiah," San replied and you sighed in relief before breaking down in tears again.

San approached you and slowly pulled you into his arms. "Shh, you're safe now. We won't let anyone hurt you, alright?" You didn’t say anything while you cried onto his chest, tears soaking his shirt.

"Kiah, we have to get out of here before his men come here," Yunho remarked. "Can I carry you?" You nodded and Yunho took you from San's arms, lifting you bridal-style.

"Yeosang, is the area clear?" San questioned through his earpiece.

"Yes, but there's someone at the exit," Yeosang informed.

"Got it," San said before turning to Yunho. "Alright, let's go. Kiah, just close your eyes, okay?" You nodded, obeying him.

You could feel Yunho running fast with you in his arms. You heard a gunshot, making you let out a scream, scrunching your eyes tightly.

"Don't worry. I’ve got you," Yunho whispered to you.

After a few more seconds, you felt Yunho place you on a car seat. You opened your eyes, watching Yunho close the car door and run to the driver's seat. San quickly slides into shotgun before shooting someone who came out of the building.

Yunho immediately started to drive and San shifted to the backseat, sitting beside you. He took off his mask and hat, ruffling his hair with his hand.

"Are you okay?" San asked worriedly.

"Y-Yeah," your voice broke and you began to cry. San pulled you into his arms, letting you cry on him again. There was a lot of blood dripping down your arm from the cut Bojoon gave you.

"Yunho, how far are we from home?" San questioned. "Kiah's bleeding and we don't have a first aid kit in this car."

"We're about two kilometers away," Yunho answered, speeding up.

In about three minutes, you reached Ateez's mansion. This time, San carried you inside, walking at a fast pace.

"Yeosang! Seonghwa!" he yelled before setting you down on the couch in a room that looked like a medical laboratory. There was another room attached to it and you could obviously tell that it was an operating room. You weren’t surprised as you knew Ateez had enough money to have their own mini hospital at home.

The two men cautiously approached you, not wanting to accidentally trigger you in any way after they were filled in about what happened.

"I'm fine," you told them.

Seonghwa sat beside you, slowly touching your arm. "Can I?" he asked and you nodded. He pushed the sleeve of Yunho's black leather jacket up, revealing the bleeding cut. “Could you take the jacket off so that I can treat you?” you did as he said.

He cleaned the cut with cotton dipped in lukewarm water and you flinched at the sting. Looking down at the cut, you noticed how it was wider on one side.

"You will need stitches," Seonghwa stated. You glanced at the cut; he was right, of course.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Yeosang asked.

You shook your head. "No... Only my head hurts." Seonghwa started to gather whatever he needed to stitch up your wound.

Yeosang nodded. "I'll give you a painkiller for your head." He said, moving to the cabinet.

"Okay," you replied before turning to look at San and Yunho. “Thank you…”

"You don't have to thank us, Kiah," Yunho said with a smile. "We're just glad you're safe."

After Seonghwa stitched and bandaged your wound, he asked you a few questions about how you were feeling while Yeosang made you take a painkiller.

A loud bang was heard and Hongjoong stormed into the room.

"Do you even realize what you've fucking done?!" Hongjoong yelled at you in a stern tone. He looked extremely angry; it actually really scared you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, lowering your head in shame.

He scoffed. "You should be fucking sorry! And you two," he turned to face San and Yunho who looked just as scared as you. "How dare you both start your own little mission without asking me, hmm?! We made a deal with Moon Younghyun long ago that we will not interfere in their personal matters and they won't interfere in ours! Do you even realize who you killed?! You killed his fucking son!" You flinched at the way he was yelling. "You've put yourselves and our entire gang in unnecessary danger!"

"We didn't kill him," San mumbled, not making eye contact with Hongjoong. "We only made him unconscious."

"And you went through all that fucking bullshit for what?" Hongjoong pointed a finger at you. "To get this damn chick out?! She doesn't even want to be here!" You felt really bad that the boys were getting scolded because of you.

"She was going to get sold again, hyung," Yunho mumbled while looking at the floor.

Hongjoong chuckled bitterly. "So what? Like I said before, she doesn't want to be here. She escaped from us, right? Why the fuck are you so bothered about her?! Whether she gets sold or not, it's not our fucking problem!" Your eyes teared up; you felt so guilty for escaping.

"That's enough, Hongjoong," Seonghwa stated sternly.

"Don't take their side when you know that they're wrong, Seonghwa," Hongjoong retorted.

"Do you even know what Moon Younghyun's son was going to do to Kiah?"

"No, and I seriously don't care about what he was going—"

"He was going to rape her, Hongjoong. He already assaulted her," Seonghwa explained, cutting Hongjoong off. "Fortunately, San and Yunho got there in time."

There was pin-drop silence in the room.

Hongjoong opened his mouth a couple of times to say something, but nothing came out. He looked like he was in deep thought.

"I… I'm sorry," he whispered, not looking at you, before leaving the room. You wondered what suddenly came over him.

"Is he okay?" you questioned.

"Don't worry about it," Seonghwa said with a small smile. He exchanged a glance with Yeosang who nods and leaves the room as well. You were pretty confused by their glance-communication, but you didn't say anything.

"I'm really sorry,” you apologized to San and Yunho. "You both got scolded because of me."

San frowned. "Don't apologize, Kiah. We've been scolded many times before."

"Yeah," Yunho agreed with San. "Hyung is just angry because we didn't tell him about it and he’s scared to lose us. If we had informed him, he would be the first person to rescue you."

You only nod, accepting whatever they said. "By the way… how did you both find me?" You couldn’t help but ask.

"Well, Yunho and I were searching for you everywhere after you left," San explained. "We figured you'd go to a club or some bar, so we checked everywhere. Yunho saw you passing out and by the time he ran to our own car to go after you, your cousin's car was no where in sight. Yeosang had to hack into a lot of cameras in close-by areas to find out where exactly you were taken to." You nodded, listening to whatever he was saying.

"Kiah?" Yunho started in a hesitant tone. "Do you… really not want to live with us?"

You let out a sigh as you pondered about what he said. "I don't want to, honestly. There's nothing wrong with you guys, but the whole mafia lifestyle… I just didn't expect that. I really just want to become a nurse and live a normal life."

"Kiah, I'd like to mention something," Seonghwa said in a soft tone. "Your uncle has been in the mafia business since before you were even born." Your eyes widened at his words as you didn't know that; you thought your uncle was just a corrupted politician. "You were basically born into that life even if your parents aren't into it. And since you lived under his roof, you were actually constantly at risk." You only keep quiet, letting his words sink in.

"Stay with us for a week," San suggested. "If you still want to leave after that… we'll let you go."

~

The next morning, Yunho and Mingi gave you a tour around the mansion while they told you random stories of the missions they've gone on. You found yourself enjoying their company. You were quite surprised at the amount of money mafias make; you were so sure that Ateez were billionaires.

The three of you sat on the benches at the mansion's garden, getting a little sun.

"When did you both join the mafia?" you curiously asked the two giants who were literally a foot taller than you. They had such bright and bubbly personalities that you couldn't even believe they were in a mafia gang, let alone one of the most powerful gangs out there. 

"Yunho and I have been close friends ever since we were thirteen, and we joined Ateez together," Mingi said. "After my parents were murdered when I was seventeen, Yunho's parents took me in. But since I witnessed my parents' murder and saw the murderers' faces, they came after Yunho's family and killed his parents while searching for me because I had escaped before they could kill me as well."

"But we got our sweet revenge after we joined Ateez," Yunho added with a smirk. "Hongjoong came up to us during my parents' funeral and promised to kill the murderers if we joined his gang. He kept his word and the murderers were, in fact, another mafia gang."

"Do you ever regret joining the gang?" you questioned, curious because they joined only to take revenge.

"Nope."

"Never."

"Ateez is our family now," Yunho stated with a smile. "Hongjoong created this family and we're all genuinely happy even if this isn't a normal lifestyle. We're almost always at some risk, but we got each other's backs." Mingi nodded his head in agreement.

"Wow," was all you could say. The boys only laughed at that.

"It's a little overwhelming, I know," Mingi chuckled.

"Let's go back inside," Yunho suggested.  "It's cold out here, you know?" You and Mingi nodded before making your way inside the mansion.

As soon as you entered the mansion, you were hit with the scent of something absolutely amazing. Mingi inhaled deeply, a wide smile immediately appearing on his face.

"Wooyoung is cooking!" Mingi squealed before running to sit on the couch in the living room. You sat beside him, and Yunho sat on the opposite couch.

"He always does, dumbass," Yeosang muttered from the kitchen while helping Wooyoung. Even Jongho was there, cutting some vegetables.

Mingi pouted a little. "Seonghwa hyung cooks sometimes too, okay! Besides, I'm really hungry."

"Food will be ready in another hour," Wooyoung informed while stirring some stew. "Why don't you eat an apple for now, Mingi?"

"Jongho," Mingi called out.

You watched Jongho wash two apples before he made his way to the living room where you, Mingi, and Yunho were seated. He stood in front of Yunho and effortlessly split one of the apples in half, handing one half of it to Yunho and putting the other half in between his teeth, leaving you dumbfounded. He split the other apple and handed one half to you and the other half to Mingi.

You glanced at Mingi and Yunho who didn't even seem fazed by Jongho's actions.

"Did I just witness the baby of the family break two apples in halves with his bare hands?" Jongho smiles brightly at your words.

"He may be the baby, but he's scary as fuck," Mingi mumbled from beside you, making you raise an eyebrow while you ate your piece of apple; you found Jongho absolutely adorable. You were about to say something, but Hongjoong came into the living room, his eyes on you.

"Can we talk?" he asked, making eye contact for barely three seconds before he turned around and walked away. You bit your lip nervously, unsure of what to do after the way he lashed out on you last night.

"Go on," Jongho said. "He won't yell at you or anything, I'm sure of it." You only nod before getting up and following Hongjoong.

You followed Hongjoong to the large library of the mansion. You didn't get to see the inside of the library when Mingi and Yunho showed you around. They said you would spend a lot of time in there anyway.

When you entered the library, your jaw dropped. The large bookshelves were floor to ceiling, and only one of the walls had a window that was floor to ceiling as well. You loved reading, so you were quite astonished at the amount of books they had in here. You could see big, thick books on one of the shelves and you just knew that they were definitely medical books. There were also large couches to lounge on while you read. It even had a fridge and a coffee maker.

Hongjoong sat down on one of the couches placed at the end. You stood there awkwardly, not uttering a word. He patted the free space beside him, signaling you to sit down.

You hesitantly move to sit down beside him, looking down at your hands and fiddling with your fingers while you waited for him to talk about whatever he wanted to talk about. Somehow, you felt quite nervous. Was he going to yell at you for causing a huge problem for his gang? Or was he going to kill you for that? If any of the two are going to happen, you were hoping for the former; you really did not want to die in a mafia's mansion… although, it wasn't that bad of a place to die in.

You heard him inhale and exhale deeply. "I'm sorry, Kiah."

You stopped playing with your fingers and looked up at him, wondering if you heard him clearly. "What…?"

"I’m sorry," he repeated, running a hand through his hair. "For lashing out on you like that without knowing what exactly happened." You were not expecting that at all, considering Hongjoong had quite the temper.  

Your eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. "Shouldn't you apologize to San and Yunho instead?"

"I already apologized to them," he remarked. "I shouldn't have yelled at you when you were in such a state."

"No, it’s okay, I understand why you did that," you mumbled, looking away. It was true, you really did understand. "I put your gang at risk."

He nodded. "Yes, you did. But I'm glad San and Yunho saved you before…" he gulped, “before anything worse could happen."

"Why?" you murmured. You really thought that he hated you after whatever happened.

Hongjoong leaned back against the couch, head titled back, staring at the ceiling.  "Because I had to witness someone I loved and cherished get raped in front of my eyes,” he said in a soft voice. "She was my sister… she didn't survive. They raped and then killed her right in front of my eyes… four months ago."  A soft gasp escaped from you; your heart felt like it just got shattered. Tears spilled from your eyes as you choked back a sob.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered to him, pulling him into a comforting hug that he immediately melted into. "I'm really sorry."

Hongjoong couldn't control his own tears. He broke down as soon as he saw your tears, unable to control himself any longer. As the leader of a powerful mafia gang, he always tried to stay strong in front of his gang members, never showing how broken he felt at times even though he knew that they knew how he felt. He just didn't want to show any signs of weakness when he has people to lead.

But right now, Hongjoong needed this. He really just wanted and needed someone to hold him while he cried his heart out.

He sniffled. "I know you hate this life, but I want you to stay with us… with me," he whispered the last part but you heard him.

"Please, let me protect you," he continued. "I will never forgive myself if anything happens to you. Please, stay here."

His words caused your heartbeat to speed up, butterflies fluttering about in your stomach. You pulled away from the embrace, reaching out to wipe his tears. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

He smiled a little, lightly placing his lips onto your head, making your heart go crazy. "Thank you, Kiah."

~

The next day during breakfast, you found two unfamiliar faces seated at the dining table with the rest of the boys and Jiwoo.

"Good morning," you greeted before you took the free seat beside Hongjoong. He gave you a smile that you couldn't help but return.

"Good morning!" A few of them said while the others just smiled at you. The dining table was filled with waffles, bacon, and cut fruits.

"Ah, so she's the little trouble!" one of the two girls with short hair said.

You chuckled. "The one and only," you replied, making her laugh.

"I like her already," she remarked with a smirk. "I believe we're the last of the members who you haven't met. I'm Aeji and she's Yeoreum." So these were Seonghwa's and Mingi's girls respectively.

"Sorry to interrupt your introduction session, ladies," Wooyoung said. "But could you please pass the chocolate syrup? My waffles are getting cold, you know?" 

Aeji snorted before passing the bottle of chocolate syrup to Wooyoung whose face lit up immediately at the sight of it.

Hongjoong put two chocolate chip waffles on your plate. "Eat well, hmm?" he said and you nodded before talking a bite of the waffle.

Your eyes widened at the taste; these were definitely the best waffles you have ever eaten in your twenty two years (and counting) of existence.

"She loves them," Aeji said to Seonghwa who gave you a happy smile while you ate.

"I'm glad," Seonghwa stated. He always felt good whenever someone enjoyed his food 

"Everyone loves whatever you make anyway," Mingi mumbled while stuffing his face. 

"So true," Yunho agreed. "If we didn't have Wooyoung and Seonghwa hyung, we would've pretty much survived on take out."

You couldn't even believe how these people were in the mafia. They just seemed so normal. At least in this very moment, they did.

All eleven of them made you feel so welcomed. Even Hongjoong was being so nice to you. When you told them that you decided on staying with them, everyone was ecstatic. You were quite surprised that they trusted you so easily; you had seen a couple of mafia movies before, and usually, the hostage isn't trusted at all. People in the mafia are portrayed as cold-hearted monsters, but these people in front of you seemed far from it.

After breakfast, you headed to the library of the mansion to check out which books they had. You were surprised to find so many fictions and comics. You pulled a book off of one of the shelves, reading the blurb on the cover at the back.

"Found something interesting?" you heard Hongjoong say from behind you, scaring you. You took a step back as reflex, your back pressed against the bookshelf. You had no idea when he entered the library.

"Fuck, you scared me!"

Hongjoong chuckled before his eyes fell to the book you were holding. "Mastering her senses," he read the title of the novel aloud . The way he said those three words made you suck in a breath; it sounded so hot. His eyes stared into yours while a smirk formed on his handsome face.

You involuntarily bit your lip and it didn't go unnoticed by him. "Have you read this book?" you questioned, looking up at him with innocent eyes despite holding a book that was erotic. 

Hongjoong took a small step towards your body that was still pressed against the bookshelf. "Mhmm, I have read it," he answered, his tongue darting out to wet his plump lips. "I like erotic romance novels," he remarked, his gaze falling to your lips for a second. His phone started ringing and he takes it out from his pocket. "You should read it," he said before walking away to answer the call.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before shakily exhaling. "Fuck," you whined, exasperated due to the dull ache you felt down there. Kim Hongjoong really just made you get aroused. You wondered if he did it on purpose or if you were just feeling that way because it has been pretty long since you got some action. You were guessing it was both.

~

Sometime before twilight, you decided to take a walk around the mansion, exploring the area more. There was a small building at the back that wasn't attached to the mansion; it was just a plain white block with a door and no windows. Mingi and Yunho didn't tell you what the building was used for when they gave you a tour around the mansion. You were quite curious to know about it now as you stared at the large steel doors that required a passcode to open.

The door of the building suddenly opened, revealing Wooyoung and Hongjoong who were having a conversation. They stopped talking when they noticed you standing a few feet away from the entrance.

"Oh? Kiah? What are you doing here?" Wooyoung asked, a little surprised to see you here of all places.

"I was taking a walk," you answered. "What is this building? Mingi and Yunho didn't tell me anything about it."

"Ah, they probably didn't want to scare you off," Hongjoong replied.

"Oh…” you murmured, obviously understanding that it had some mafia-related stuff inside.

"By the way," Wooyoung starts, making you look at him. "Uh, I don't know how else to put this, but you really need to learn how to use a gun, Kiah."

Your eyes widened. "A gun? Why?"

"To protect yourself, just in case," he answered. "Everyone saw your face at the auction and they all will assume that you're a sex slave now. If any of them find you roaming around freely, even if you're with any of us, they might abduct you." Wooyoung's words made a chill run down your spine, but you acted like as if you were fine. Honestly, you were terrified, and they both could see that.

"Okay," you agreed without a second thought.

"I'll teach her," Hongjoong said, earning a nod from Wooyoung. He looked at you, giving you a small smile. "Do you want to start now?"

"Sure," you answered and he took your hand in his, pulling you inside the white building. You were surprised to find that there was absolutely nothing inside except a few bicycles. Hongjoong pauses at another set of doors before entering the passcode, revealing a set of stairs. He pulled you along with him, walking past a couple of doors, and you felt like this place was familiar.

"Haven't I been here?" you questioned, eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion as you tried to recall when you’ve been here.

"Yes, the interrogation room is here," Hongjoong explained, "This entire area is connected to the mansion."

"What do you use this area for?" you blurted out.

"Various things," he simply answered before stopping in front of a door and entering a passcode again; they had a lot of security here. Once you entered the room, you realized that it was a large shooting range. Your eyes widened at the sight of various guns adorning one of the walls. You couldn’t even imagine how much money was spent on it.

Hongjoong took a pair of headphones and yellow tinted glasses before making you wear them. He handed you a small, thin silver gun after loading it with a few bullets. "Safety's off, be careful," he warned and you nodded, holding the gun like as if it was very delicate.

"Well, using a gun is very simple," Hongjoong starts, "It's exactly how they show it in movies, aim and pull the trigger. Your aim will always be the most important thing when it comes to shooting, and it's best to shoot the heart.”

Hongjoong demonstrates how to shoot, and the bullet perfectly hit the dummy target’s heart. “See? It’s that simple. You can try it now.”

You put both your hands on the grip of the gun, tilting your head slightly to check if your aim was at the dummy target's heart. You were shaking a little, but you tried your best to ignore it.

"Pull the trigger when you’re ready."

And so you did.

However, the gun recoiled, making you shriek as you fell backwards… right into Hongjoong’s arms.

"Oops, I forgot to mention about the knockback," he chuckled against your head before helping you stand up straight. He looked at the dummy target that you shot. "Mhmm, not bad for a beginner. You shot him in the liver, princess." Your heart raced at the name he called you.

Hongjoong put an arm around your waist, pulling your body against his while he raised your arm a little, focusing on the target. "Shoot," he whispered, and you pulled the trigger again. "See? Bullet to the heart. We're going to practice everyday, yeah? That’s how you’ll become better at it.”

[13uswntimagines]

Glad You Came (Julie x Reader)

Request: Julie x reader where reader is kind of the fuckgirl of the team. Reader knows that julie have feelings for her and like her attention. Julie thinks that reader plays with her feelings. But reader actually like julie and try to get her trust back. End with fluff please.

Author’s Note: Idk if this actually fits the prompt, but I just couldn’t get the image out of my head. I hope you all enjoy.

Jj had always been a sucker for a good Rom-Com. The ones where the good girl fell for the bad boy (with a good heart) and that bad boy stepped up to the plate and got his shit together for her. 

But alas, though you were the team’s resident bad girl, this wasn’t a rom-com and it appeared you had zero intention of making a dent in your precious reputation. At least that’s what she thought. 

You always did have a knack for proving people wrong. 

*****

The bouquet of roses was the first thing everyone noticed when they stepped into the locker room. It was an amazing surprise after such a rough practice. A not entirely unexpected, but still incredible surprise. 

JJ blushed as she approached her overflowing locker. This secret admirer stuff was getting a bit out of hand. 

“Why does Julie get roses, but none of the rest of us do?” Emily whined, settling down in front of her own bare cubby. 

Lindsey rolled her eyes. If JJ was going to keep getting gifts from a random person, she and the rest of the girls with significant others on the team were really going to have to step up their game. 

“You don’t like dead flowers Sonnett,” She called to the blond 3 lockers over. 

“Yeah, but it’s not fair if she gets them and the rest of us don’t,” Emily sighed dramatically, and the rest of the room giggled. 

“It's from her admirer,” Kelley chimed in, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

JJ’s blush deepened. She carefully reached out and grabbed the thornless Rose with a little tag on it, bringing the delicate petals to her nose before examining the little handwritten note. 

“Ooo, what’s the note say this time?” Kelley asked, as half the team crowded around the midfielder. 

Julie took a big deep breath before reading the black cursive words out loud. 

“I wanted to get you something as beautiful as you are, but couldn’t find anything that came close,”

“Awww,” the team cooed, some rubbing Julie’s back and others ruffling her hair as they made their way back to their respective areas. 

She ran her fingers over the little words, trying to imagine the face of the person who could have written them. The person who would go to such lengths to show their interest in her. But the gifts were always sweet and never creepy. 

The gifts ranged from coffee orders sent to her hotel room, to a signed Mia Hamm jersey that had shown up in her locker, but the thing that always remained was the smooth black cursive notes that accompanied them. 

She brushed the soft petals against her nose again. How she longed to know who thought so highly of her. 

“Who could get roses in here?” Sam snorted, pulling her boots off. 

“It’s gotta be a teammate. They show up literally everywhere we go,” Rose said thoughtfully, glancing around at all the women in the room, her eyes lingering on where you were grinning down at your phone. 

There was just something about your smile and the way you kept glancing up at a certain blond midfielder. 

“At least we know it’s not Y/n,” Emily cackled. 

You looked up at the group from your place across the room, where they all thought you were trying to ignore the commotion (probably in favor of texting a random girl for a hookup). 

You had the reputation of being the fuckgirl of the team. And you took pride in that. You liked when women gave you attention, and as long as everything was consensual, you didn’t see the harm in messing around. That didn’t mean you treated women like objects. Quite the opposite. You loved to woo them, to make them feel beautiful, and then move on to the next conquest. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“With a body count as high as yours, I doubt you’re capable of being this romantic,” Julie spat back, glaring at you. Your history with her was far from perfect, and she had found out about your reputation first hand. 

You smirked. If you couldn’t positively have her attention (the way you wanted but were too afraid to admit), then you would take the hostility any day. Angry Julie was still sexy after all. 

“How do you think I get them into my bed? Maybe I’m a secret mush at heart,” You asked, standing and approaching the woman. Your hands gently brushed over her shoulder and you began to lean in close to her. 

She brought her finger up to push against your nose, stopping you in your tracks. You tried and failed to cover your smile at the touch. 

“Yeah right,” She scoffed, shoving you back. 

Your smile widened, as you stepped back, your arms wide. “You never know till you try it, Jules,”

“Been there, done that. No thanks,” She shook her head and turned away from you. “At least I have enough class not to fuck anything with a pulse”

Rose tilted her head to the side at the brief look of sadness that crossed your features. Her eyebrows furrowed at the look, and how quickly it was gone. 

****

You picked at the tape around your wrist- a habit that started in middle school after an unfortunate event that required stitches and had become one of your many signatures within the team. The pressure around the area was calming now, and always put you in the right mode of a game.

It also gave you something to absentmindedly play with as you waited for the next set of drills on the bench (totally not checking out a certain blond when she wasn’t looking). 

“When are you going to tell her that you’re her admirer?” Rose said, settling down on the bench beside you. 

You shrugged. “First, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”  You glanced up at the bling again, before blinking back to Rose’s raised eyebrow. 

You took a deep breath, finally managing to get a finger under the tape. 

“And second never. I’m defective remember? Completely incapable of love,” 

You repeated the words JJ had said to you that fateful night. The night you had ruined the best almost relationship you ever had. It wasn’t you exactly, just the fact that a woman was texting you while you were in bed with Julie. You weren’t going to respond, but the blond midfielder had caught sight of the screen before you could clear the notification. 

That was enough proof for her. She kicked you out and didn’t let you explain- there was nothing to say apparently. 

“That’s why you always send her flowers and notes, and other gooey stuff right?” Rose rolled her eyes. 

She had known you since the two of you were in diapers. She knew all about your hang-ups on relationships, but she also knew the secret romantic side. The sweet side that you didn’t show to everyone. Everyone except a blond midfielder (who was still very smitten with you, even if you didn’t want to believe it). 

“I-,” You paused, biting your lip, your eyes getting that faraway look Rose knew all too well. You shook your head. You had your shot and it had blown up in your face. “She doesn’t want me. It’s just easier this way,” 

“What, to hopelessly pine after someone? Or to completely avoid rejection all together?” Rose snorted. 

You shook your head again, finally looking rose in the eyes. “I hurt her Rose. She doesn’t want someone she can’t trust,” 

Rose softened at the admission and the unspoken “I’m not good enough” that went with it. You had always struggled with that, maybe that’s why you were such a lady killer. You so badly wanted to be enough, that you jumped at every opportunity. But it was different after you met JJ. 

“How many people have you slept with within the last 3 months?” Rose asked suddenly. 

And you blinked at her a few times, completely unsure of where your best friend was going with this. 

“What?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “If you can’t think of an exact number, ballpark it for me,”

You vehemently shook your head. You hadn’t met a hookup since that night, too hung up on JJ, and afraid that continuing would destroy any remaining chance you had with the woman. 

“I haven’t,” 

Rose snapped, patting your shoulder. “Exactly. You’re proving to her, the entire team really, that you can change. She’ll come around, especially if you’re honest with her and I don’t know, try to keep it in your pants for once,” 

The team had taken notice of your change, how you hadn’t engaged in hookups. Only a few of them knew the real reason behind your apparent abstinence. 

“You think?” You asked softly, and Rose sent you an indulgent smile. 

“Yeah, you just gotta grow a pair and tell her you’ve been her secret admirer for the last 6 months,” She finished with a cackle and you blushed. 

That was easier said than done. 

*****

Julie had never been this impressed in her entire life. Sure she had been to some amazing restaurants before, but nothing like the little place her admirer had chosen. She felt every bit of hesitance leave her as she stepped into the building. It was quaint and romantic with an amazing buzz in the air. 

She had found the handwritten note with the time and place on the floor outside her hotel room door, along with one of the cutest black dresses she had ever seen. It fit her perfectly, and she looked good if she did say so herself. 

She approached the hostess stand, and the man behind the counter smiled at her. “Good evening miss, how may we assist you?”

She smiled back at him. “Um, I have a reservation. It’s under Mystique,” she said, suppressing a grin at the name her admirer had chosen. 

The man’s smile widened as he reached into his suit jacket pocket, and retrieved a neatly folded letter. “Ah, yes. I have this for you,” 

JJ to the heavy paper in her hands, running her fingers over her name written in familiar black cursive reverently. Her admirer rarely ever wrote her name out. 

She very carefully unfolded the note, revealing more of her favorite handwriting. 

Julie,

First and foremost, I’m so glad you could make it. I know I’ve written this beforehand, but I must say I’m sure you look amazing. You always look amazing. It doesn’t matter if it’s during practice, or during one of our very chill team bonding nights. You never fail to take my breath away, but that’s not why it’s taken me so long to finally grow a pair and come clean. 

I know that you and I have history and that I’m not your ideal significant other, but I promise you’re not just another person to add to my long list. You make me feel things I’ve never really felt before, and that scares me. I don’t know how to do this, and I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll try my best. I will do everything I can to show you how much I love you, and to be someone worthy of your love in return. 

Now comes the hard part. If you want to give me the chance to show you that I’ve grown up and am ready for a serious relationship, just tell the matroids you would like to take a drink at the bar. or If you don’t want to see me, but want to eat, just tell him you’re ready for your table. Your meal will be paid for, and I’ll leave you alone. We can even pretend it never happened if you would prefer. Or if you want neither of those things, you can walk away. 

The choice is yours J. Ill respect whatever you choose, and no hard feelings either way.

Truly yours,

Y/n

Julie stared down at the letter, completely stunned, almost unable to believe that you could ever do anything this remotely romantic. A small part of her cheered as if she was waiting for you to finally step up. 

She didn’t hate you, contrary to popular belief. She just thought you were incredibly confusing. You would flaunt your reputation, but then you would be sweet and shy with her. In the end, your first try at a relationship didn’t work because she was tired of you jerking her around. But this was a side to you she had never seen. One that intrigued her to no end. 

“Have you made your decision ma’am?” The maitre d’ asked kindly, sliding up beside her. She blinked up from the neat handwriting towards the man (who looked like he wanted to say more). 

She nodded at the man. “I have. I’d like to have a drink at the bar please,” 

his smile was blinding as he gestured to the left with his arm. “Right this way,” 

*****

You carefully swirled your finger around the rim of your drink, staring listlessly into the amber liquid. You weren’t quite sure how long you had been sitting here, but with every passing second, you couldn’t help but think about how much of a terrible idea this was. 

She was never going to choose to come sit with you at the bar, and the longer you waited, the more pathetic you would look in the end. 

You almost felt bad for the staff. They were so excited to help, so enthusiastic about helping you get the girl of your dreams. You were sure you were going to disappoint them. 

“Fancy meeting you here stranger,” Her voice cut through your internal monologue. You lifted your head to meet her blue eyes, and the sight alone took your breath away. 

“JJ, you came,” You said breathlessly, standing to greet the woman. 

“I did,” She nodded, blushing when you took her hand and kissed the back of it before pulling out a chair for her. You sat down next to her, flagging down the bartender for the woman. 

“You look stunning,” You said softly, finally turning in her direction, and she caught the light shade of pink that tinted your cheeks. 

“So you’ve said,” Julie laughed, holding up the letter. The red in your cheeks spread up to your ears and down your neck as you ducked your head in embarrassment. 

“Megan may have helped me pick it out…” You mumbled, your fingers returning to your glass. 

Rose may or may not have gotten the entire team involved when she finally convinced you to make your move. While you were relieved to have help picking out the perfect outfit, you hadn’t enjoyed being made fun of for your “questionable” fashion sense. 

“Was she behind the other gifts too?” Julie asked, taking a sip of her drink with a raised eyebrow. 

You shook your head, rubbing the back of your neck. “No. Those were all me,” 

Julie smiled softly, reaching up to intertwine your fingers. She wasn’t used to seeing you so shy. It was kinda adorable. 

“Well, I loved them,” 

You nodded again, taking a big gulp of your drink, trying to calm your racing heart. “I’m really glad you came. I was afraid you would find out it was me and change your mind,”

“I’m glad I came too,” 

You smiled brilliantly at the woman. You hadn’t completely redeemed yourself yet, not like Zuko or Snape, but at least you were going to have the chance to try. You weren’t going to let her slip through your fingers again. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬3

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, violence and abuse, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of death'; violence, attempted rape.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader’s husband brings home an unexpected houseguest.

Note: So this is for black Friday and then I’ll be working all today and tomorrow and schedule’s are super late so I dunno when Im working after that. Hope you guys enjoy and don’t hesitate to drop by my asks.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Arvin let you pick the record. You found it among the box of your daddy’s music. It was one of your favourites and you were glad he wasn’t bothered by Patsy Cline’s droll tones. He seemed to enjoy it as he sat and read a magazine and you searched for a button from your large tin to match that missing from Roy’s jacket.

“You ever listen to Elvis?” He looked up from behind the pages.

“I… I heard him on the radio but you know we haven’t got new records since Daddy died,” you said as you continued your hunt. “And Roy don’t like all that new music. He says it’s no good.”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to like much, does he?” Arvin sniffed, “I always knew he was a grouch but I just thought it was the job.”

“He’s not… He’s just stressed. He works so much.” You looked down and settled on a button that was close enough. 

“You do too,” Arvin hid behind the magazine again. “You should be the one goin’ out and doin’ what you like on a Saturday. Hell, if he ain’t gonna spend his time with you, you should do something of your own.”

“I like sewing,” you shrugged as you threaded the button, “You know, it’s not so bad. I get time to myself. A lot of people can’t say that.”

“Sounds pretty lonely to me,” he flicked the page.

You were silent. You didn’t know how to respond. He was skirting around what he really wanted to say, what you didn’t want him to talk about. The tension in the air thickened as you feared he would admit that he knew or you might confess that your husband wasn’t much of one. Hell, you’d yet to accept that yourself.

Your fears were assuaged by the sudden clatter on the porch and the hinges of the door as it was swung open. You sat up and set aside Roy’s jacket. You stood as he staggered inside. He always did like to drink when he fished, or did much of anything else. You frowned as he tracked mud in on his tall rubber boots.

“Roy, you’re making a mess,” you said as you went to the doorway and watched him stumble around the entryway.

“Keep ya busy,” he slapped a hand on the wall and wiggled his leg free of a boot. “There’s a whole pail of fish out front too.”

“Mmm,” you hummed as his cheeks glowed. You doubted he’d be awake that long. “Well, I’ll just fry those up while you sit down.”

“Agh,” he tripped over his other boot as he slipped it off and Arvin brushed by you to catch him.

“Hey, Roy,” he took his arm, “How was the fishing? Why don’t you sit down? We’ll have a beer.”

“I almost forgot about you, boy,” he shook free of Arvin and ambled closer to you, “Maybe you can hide away after dinner for a while?”

He dragged his hand up your thigh and slapped your ass as he passed you. Arvin turned as Roy clumsily traipsed into the living room and fell onto the couch. He looked at you but you couldn’t stand to meet his.

“Sure,” Arvin uttered, “I’ll just go get those fish first.”

He disappeared through the front door and you crossed your arms as you turned to watch your husband. His head lolled as he chuckled.

“You think he ever fucked a girl?” He asked, “Boy tiptoes around like a virgin.”

“That’s crass, Roy,” you reproached.

“Don’t act so innocent,” he snapped, “If you didn’t, maybe I’d… well.”

His words trailed off and he closed his eyes. He yawned and sighed loudly. You grimaced and listened to the door as it hit the frame again. Arvin continued onto the kitchen as Roy began to snore. It must have been a record how quickly he’d passed out this time.

You went through to the kitchen as Arvin drained the water from the pail of fish. You went to the drawer and got a knife. You rest it on its end as you gripped it and looked out the window.

“He’s already out for the night,” you said, “You hungry?”

“I said I’d make the fish, I meant it.”

“Nah, I’ll flay them and put ‘em in the fridge,” you swallowed, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That you’re stuck here with us. Sorry he’s always drunk.” You looked down at the blade. You didn’t say what you really wanted to. Sorry you were stupid enough to choose Roy.

“That isn’t your fault and you know, I don’t mind it so much.” He neared, “We’re friends now, aren’t we? That’s worth it.”

You nodded but couldn’t smile. He always tried to make things seem nicer than they were. He was much better at it than you were.

“You comin’ to church tomorrow?”

“Of course,” he answered like it was obvious.

You turned away and laid out the fish across the cutting board. He stayed behind you, the record silenced and began to skip.

“I think I got somethin’ nice I can find.” He left you and the crackle of the Victrola died.

You slice the fish, careful not to cut your fingers as you deboned it and tossed away the heads and tails. You heard Arvin speak in a low voice and a grumble. Then heavy footsteps interspersed with lighter ones. The stairs groaned and you kept on, wrapping the filets in paper and tucking it away.

You cleaned up and washed the smell off your hands. The living room was empty so you climbed the stairs and found Roy face down on your bed. You turned to the open attic and Arvin descended the ladder.

“You got him to bed?” You tilted your head.

“Wasn’t so hard. Poked him a few times.” He grinned. “So what time do I needa be ready for church?”

“We leave about twenty minutes before service. It’s at eight.” You answered, “Oh, you know what--” You raised your index finger, “One sec.”

You spun and scurried into your father’s room. It was just as it had been before he died except now there were boxes stacked along one wall. You pushed open the closet and fluttered through the clothes hanging within. You pulled out the old grey suit and white shirt that had yet to yellow. You grabbed a tie from the drawer as you passed the dresser.

You smelled them as you went back to the door as Arvin peeked in.

“For church,” you held them out, “My daddy was a bit taller but he got skinny near the end. I can pin up the pants for you and you’ll look just fine.”

“Oh,” he face paled, “You-- I can’t--”

“Roy’ll never fit into these so please,” you pushed them against his chest. “And I don’t think he’ll be up in time for church so I need you to drive.”

He smiled and took the clothes. He hugged them as if they were precious. “Thank you. I’m gonna sound like you for a moment but you really didn’t have to.”

“You think I’m gonna forget that you promised to make the fish? It’ll be a nice Sunday night dinner.” You inhaled deeply, “I think that for tonight, I’m gonna lay down though.”

“Alright,” he let you past, “You have a good night.”

“You too,” you neared your bedroom door as Roy’s snores grew louder, “Might have to stuff my ears with cotton.”

🚬

As you expected, Roy was too hungover to get up for church. You didn’t really go for the sermons but your daddy made it a habit when you were young to make sure you got to see the other kids in town. Sunday school had socialised you in the circles of the small town but they had proven less than welcoming. And since you’d grown out of your education, you went to trade recipes with some of the other wives.

Arvin was awake before you. As you pulled a cardigan over your blue dress you stopped at the bottom of the stairs and he appeared from the front room.

“Oh, Arvin,” you smiled, “That suit looks real nice on you. And the pants…”

“I sewed them myself last night,” he lifted his foot, “Remembered a few stitches.” He straightened the jacket, “You look real good too.”

“Well, aren’t we a pair?” You chimed. “Gonna have to be since Roy hasn’t moved since you dragged him to bed.”

“After you,” he waved to the door, “Think we should get goin’. My daddy woulda whipped me being late for the lord’s prayer.

You led him out the door and climbed into the truck opposite him. He turned the ignition and the engine rumbled to life. You felt calm as you smelled the early morning dew and you looked out the window as he shifted into gear. The lush green grass passed you by and trees swayed as he steered along the old country road.

As always, the church was crowded. You and Arvin squeezed in at the back. He was quiet and sombre as you entered. As you sat, you looked over at him. His jaw squared as the preacher came out and began his weekly scourge. A fire burned behind Arvin’s brown irises and he scowled for a moment before his face went placid.

You looked forward and folded your hands as you listened to Father Milton. You never cared much for his talk of hellfire and brimstone, to be fair, your daddy didn’t either, but in a small town, everyone knew when one was away from service. Roy never cared what anyone thought but you had to deal with Noreen and the other ladies at the grocer or around town about their own tasks.

When mass finished, you stood but Arvin hesitated. He stared up at the altar before he finally rose. He nodded to you and followed you and the other worshippers out into the sun.

You heard your name as you headed for the truck. You stopped and Arvin did too. You turned as Noreen, a woman older than yourself who fashioned herself to be the model for all society ladies, approached you. She wore a wide-brimmed hat over her blonde hair and took short steps in her heels.

“You promised me that carrot cake recipe. The one with the raisins.” She said. “Now I’ve been hounding you for three weeks.”

“Oh, uh,” you unclasped your pocketbook and fished out the card you’d made sure to stow after last Sunday. “Right here. I’m sorry, Noreen, but I gotta get back.”

“Where is Roy? Was he off drinkin’ again? You know, the lord did warn us all against excess.”

“Well, perhaps we can get him to come next week and you can warn him,” Arvin intoned and Noreen looked over in shock.

“Excuse me. And who is this… man you have as your escort?”

“Roy is letting the attic out to him. They work together. This is Arvin.”

“Arvin Russell,” he introduced firmly. 

“That’s an unusual name,” Noreen remarked, “You’re not from here?”

“No, but from a place like this.” He countered, “I’m gonna go get the truck goin’.”

He turned without courtesy and marched away. You looked back to Noreen as she curled her lip.

“Oh, he is a rough one, isn’t he? You have that scoundrel livin’ with you?”

“He’s a good man. Helps around the house. It’s a big place and Missy Grable has a tenant of her own.”

“Missy Grable has a farmhand to tend the fields,” Noreen lifted her chin.

You weren’t certain what to say. Noreen always found issue with whatever you said and you hated to give her further reason to.

“Well, here’s the recipe. I really ought to go.” You said.

“I understand, honey,” She smirked, “Your husband needs his caretaker… oh sorry, wife.”

You flinched but said nothing else. Your shoulders dropped as you turned away and dragged your heels through the dirt. You opened the truck and climbed in without a word. You clutched your pocketbook and stared ahead as Arvin back out of the lot.

“Pardon my saying so and I don’t use this word often, but she was a bitch,” Arvin said. “Remind me why I ain’t go to church.”

You looked down and nervously unclasped and unclasped your purse. “You didn’t have to come.”

“No, it’s your house and I wanna be a good guest,” he said, “It’s nothing to do with you.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “My daddy hated goin’ too but he didn’t want me to be ostracised, you know? He told me, near the end, that he stopped believin’ durin’ the war. He said no god would let the things happen that he saw.” You leaned against the door and watched the buildings pass. “Seein’ how these Christians act, I can’t blame him.”

Arvin was quiet as you left the main street and the house began to thin out until the country sprawled out around you.

“My sister…” he said so low you barely heard him. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “My cousin, she was tricked by a preacher man. She was young and too willing to love. And he was just a liar. He knocked her up then refused her.” His voice was brittle and you glanced over as his hand tightened on the steering wheel. “She hung herself but it was that snake-tongued charlatan who killed her.” He shook his head. “No god would take her like that. No god would let a man sworn to him trick the innocent.” He rubbed his forehead as his eyes bore into the distance, “I’m sorry. Just been a while since I sat in a pew.”

“No, I’m… sorry. Sorry about your cousin.” You said, “I didn’t-- You can stay home next week.”

He pondered it and a little smile curled his lips. “Don’t think I will. Think I’d like to see that Noreen again. Maybe say a prayer for her soul, wherever it may be.”

🚬

Roy was still in bed when you got home. You tried to rouse him and he swatted you away. You brought him a sandwich and some water and left it beside him. You went back down to clean up as Arvin sat in the front room, As you wiped your hands, the record player buzzed and a tune rose on noontime air.

You went to the living room as Arvin stood straight and you listened to the smooth tones of Sinatra. He turned to you as you entered. 

“I like this one,” you said. 

“Me too,” He had shed the jacket and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, his tie disposed of. He turned his palm up as he stepped away from the player. “You dance?”

You giggled and shook your head. “No, not much of a dancer. Roy wouldn’t even at the wedding.”

“Come on. It’s a good song.” He got closer and began to sing out of tune, “I get no kick from champagne. Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all…”

You shied away and he caught your hand. You let him draw you closer and smiled as your cheeks warmed up.

“Just follow my lead,” he urged as he moved his feet, “Don’t look down, just one, two, one, two…” 

You moved your feet around his as he swayed you and turned you on the spot. His hand settled on your lower back and you grasped his shoulders. You were jittery as you moved with him in time to the music.

“Arvin…” You breathed. 

“Every pretty girl should dance,” he said, “I’d say you’re a hell of a dancer for a beginner.”

“Thanks,” you trilled and settled into his embrace.

“I mean it. You deserve more.” He leaned closer and you felt his hot breath on you. “You deserve the world.”

You smiled as he gazed across at you. Your heart leapt as there was a sudden clamour by the stairs and you pushed away from Arvin as Roy stomped into the doorframe. His hand fell away from your back and you tiptoed over to your husband.

“Roy, you’re awake? How ya feelin’?”

“All this goddamn noise you makin’ down here,” he grumbled, “Shut off that dang thing. There’s a game on.”

You flitted away and turned off the Victrola. You looked at Arvin as he watched Roy. He looked irritated and repulsed by the man.

“I gotta do some chores,” you muttered. “You boys enjoy the game.”

“I think I’m just gonna go upstairs,” Arvin tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be down to cook that fish in a bit.”

You watched the younger man leave and Roy turned the dial on the radio. Your husband flopped onto the couch as the commentator’s voice filled the room.

“How about a beer?” He demanded, not asked.

🚬

The day turned to night. Dinner was quiet and tense. Roy didn’t drink as much as the day before but the alcohol made little difference. Arvin was pensive and seemed to lose himself in thought. You were nervous as you thought of the dance and your temperamental husband.

You hadn’t done anything wrong. It was just a dance. How come Roy could spend his days drunk and dozing and you couldn’t do anything you liked?

You cleaned up after supper. Arvin retreated to his room once more as Roy sat in the living room with another bottle and you tidied up. You cleared the last of the mess and looked out into the front room. Roy belched and sneered as he saw you.

“Wife,” he beckoned you forward with two fingers, “What did you do today?”

“Went to church. Cleaned.” You edged closer. “That’s all. I was real worried about you, Roy.”

“Were you?” He snorted and stood as he dropped his bottle on the table. “You didn’t seem too bothered when I came down.”

“What do you mean?” You stopped a foot away from him.

“You and that kid. You get on real well, don’t ya?” He snickered. “You down here dancing.”

“Just a dance, Roy,” you said meekly, “I didn’t wanna be rude.”

“You just wanna be a whore,” he snarled, “Huh? What you doin’ with that boy? I’m your husband.”

“I know, I know that, Roy. I never-- I didn’t do nothing.” You pleaded as he stepped closer. “I was just waitin’ for you to wake up.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he hissed as he grabbed the back of your head and thrust you close to him. “You been doin’ everything but what a wife is meant for.”

He tore open the front of your dress and you cried out. “I’m gonna fuck you and let that boy hear who you belong to.”

“Stop, please.”

“Stop!? This is what you promised me, dear wife.”

You struggled with him as the smell of alcohol on his breath made you cringe. He spun you and shoved you so hard you stumbled back against the couch. You got up as he ambled after you and were knocked back by his fist. You cradled your cheek as you fell onto the cushions.

He pushed you up against the back of the couch and tried to wrench your legs apart. You squeezed your knees together and slapped at him blindly as fear bubbled in your veins. He forced your legs open and knelt on the couch between them. He grabbed your throat as you tried to wriggle away and he struck you again. He never hit your face; he didn’t like people to see what he did to you.

“I’ll show you,” he muttered, “I’ll show you, you little whore.”

He reached for his fly but his face mirrored your shock as he suddenly stilled and for a moment, he froze in time before he fell back onto the floor. Arvin stepped aside to avoid the crash and turned to hit him across the face. Roy’s brow split and began to stream with blood.

Arvin struck him a third time and pointed the gun at his head as he laid prone on the floor. Roy touched the back of his skull as he stared up barrel. The whack from the butt of the gun would likely leave a worse lump than his punches.

“Get up and go.” Arvin growled. “Or I’m gonna smear this carpet with your brains.”

“Are you crazy? This is my house!” Roy barked and pushed himself up. The pistol clicked and Arvin pressed it to his head. 

“It’s her daddy’s house.”

“She’s my wife, boy.”

“You don’t act like no husband,” Arvin said gruffly, “You think I’m scared? Think I haven’t shot a man before?”

“Sure you have, boy.”

“It’s different. You go out and you hunt your bucks and they don’t know what’s comin’, they don’t even know when they shot. But a man, oh he knows to the end. He begs, even if he can’t speak, he does. It’s in his eyes, in the way he gurgles as the life drains from his lips.” Arvin kicked Roy, “And once I pull this trigger, you’ll be begging too but it’ll be too late and there ain’t no words you can say to stop the blood. So you shut up and you go before you can’t.”

You were paralysed on the couch. Your head throbbed as you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You trembled as Roy stood slowly and winced as Arvin followed his movement with the muzzle of the gun. Arvin followed your husband to the door and you heard the sharp whine of the other before it clattered shut. 

Crickets chirped as dirt stirred beneath feet and you heard the old truck shudder to life. The door snapped shut and locked loudly. Arvin appeared and lowered the gun. You stared at it as he came close. He set it on the table and sat beside you as he touched your face and you winced.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he pulled you against him, “I’m sorry he hurt you. I shoulda-- shoulda been faster.”

“Arv…” Your voice turned to a wisp and you let him hold you.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I got you now.”

[liquid-luck-00]

Habits

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 4: Habits

@biodad-bruce-month

First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

The bat boys went out of their way to make Marinette feel included into the family. However she seemed to always get lost in the manor. Little did they know that she was using the horse miraculous to travel to and from Paris and still hasn't had enough practice with Kaalki.

Yet when they do happen to find her she seems to always be lost in thought while sketching or designing.

They had noticed early on that they could still hold a conversation with her and she would respond and remember the conversation.

---

Marinette hadn't been at the manor for two days when the first incident occurred.

It was Jason who first caught her completely focused and to say it was a shock was an understatement. He had walked into the living room, trying to find her and Tim to play Mecha strike, so when he saw she was designing and Tim was sitting on the other couch reading.

"Hey Replacement, Bluebell who wants to play UMS III?" Jason asked the room.

"I'll play," Tim responded looking up from his book. Both boys then looked at Mari, who seemingly didn't hear them. Tim got up and walked over to her along with him. While

Marinette seemed to be hyper focused on her design that she didn't respond when Jason asked her again. So Jason decided it would be smart to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. That was a bad idea. . He had snapped her out of her thoughts, but as he did she glared at them.

"Holy Fuck" Jason screamed as he backed away from her.

"What is wrong with you. You break my concentration and then scream. Like seriously Jason." She was holding her head covering her ears while glaring at him.

That was when Tim seemed to find his voice again. "Well if genetics hadn't proved you were Bruce's daughter, you giving Jason his signature glare would prove it."

"Well I guess that explains a few thing now" she hummed.

"That is all you get out of this?" Jason asks.

"What else was to get out of this?" she asked tilting her head, "so what did you guys want anyways?" she went back to her sunny personality.

---

The second incident occurred later that same day but with only Dick. He had gone to find her for dinner, so he went to her room. He had heard from both Jason and Tim that she could pull out the Bruce 'Batman' Glare so he did the smart choice of first knocking on the door.

"Come in" was her only response.

She was sitting at the desk staring at one of her sketchbooks. Her chin was resting on her arm her nose was scrunched and eyebrows furrowed concentrating on the image in front of her.

It wasn't the Batman Glare but she looked just like Bruce when he was in deep concentration.

"Dinner is almost ready" he answered after entering the room.

"Dick thank goodness" She snapped her head up and looked at him with her full attention. "I can’t decide on a color for this blazer. It would look nice in an emerald or in a sapphire blue. I know I want to use gold as an accent around the main part that is black stitched with holographic music notes but I don't know maybe"

"Mari" he interrupted her. God she even over thinks like Bruce, that was why he had stopped her. "Breathe please. Now is this for a certain person or no one in particular?" He asked breaking her slight panic.

"It is for a commission so a certain person." she answered calming down.

"So would the person's hair or eyes clash with those colors" Thank god Barbara always dragged him shopping and complains how certain colors clashed with her hair.

"Neither would clash necessarily, but the sapphire blue would complement his hair and skin tone better" she finished writing something in on the page.

"Okay now that, that is settled why don't we go down for dinner Little B" Dick gave her a smile.

"Little B?"

"Little Bruce" be elaborated, really be meant little bat, but she doesn't know that yet so he improvised.

"Why?"

"The way you scrunch your nose and eyebrows when concentrating is just like him. That and completely overthinking and over analyzing things is just like him"

"It's a habit I've been trying to break" she answers sheepishly.

"Don't, just ask yourself questions to not get sided tracked, it is one of the best qualities a person can have" he answered honestly. "God only knows Bruce wouldn't come up with half of what makes up WE if he didn't overanalyze every little thing" she seemed to cheer up a bit at this and he is glad he could help his little sister.

---

The third incident happened with Tim to say he was surprised when he saw her awake in the kitchen at 3 in the morning as he came back from patrol was shocking.

Honestly the only people awake at that hour were either the Bats, criminals, or him well him or even Bruce who would still be working. But here she is completely awake making, wait is that.

"Is that coffee?" He ended up asking out loud.

She turned to face him "Yes. Want some?"

"Please!!" he practically begged.

"Fair warning this is my special blend, I haven't found anyone else who could handle it" she warned him, but he took it as a challenge.

"Try me" and she did, she set a cup down in front of him and also poured herself one. After the first sip he realized it was strong, much stronger than his usual, and that usually had an entire cup of espresso. "That is good. You are making this again if you don't give me the recipe" she giggled.

"Let's see if you can handle a cup and make it to breakfast." she countered and she left to her room.

When morning came he was still wired in fact he was practically bouncing in his seat while having breakfast and everyone was staring at him. Granted he was usually a zombie in the morning so this was new, actually functioning properly that is.

"You okay there Timmy" Dick asked him, and that was confusing.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" Tim asked.

"Now your beginning to scare us. Wait did you actually sleep, Replacement?" Jason asked him.

"I don't think he did Jason" everyone turned and stared at Marinette. "Half a cup" she said staring at him.

"Care to explain Bluebell." 

"So turns out I'm not the only one awake late. Someone" she stared at Tim, "caught me making coffee last night, drank a single cup and still seems to be wired" she shrugged "so half a cup next time Tim"

"Wait, he is the most awake he has ever been in the, almost six years I've known him, and he hasn't slept." Damian stated bored. "what did you put in the coffee?"

"Nothing much, but if you know how to roast the beans right anything is possible" she rose the mug she was holding. That was when they all noticed the mug in her hand.

Out of concern, he is guessing, Dick and Jason moved to take the mug from her. They turned around to face each other with a smirk and they saw that they were both holding identical mugs to the one in, wait Marinette still has a mug.

"Enjoy the cocoa" she smiled as she took a sip from her cup.

"You really are Bruce's daughter if you can pull that with little to no sleep." Tim replied. Her only response was a head tilt. "I swear not sleeping and still being able to function absurdly well is genetic. You, Damian, and Bruce are alike in that."

---

The fourth incident happened and was witnessed by Damian. He was sure that he would be able to have the gym to himself as everyone was out on patrol but he was mistaken.

There was Marinette a headset on, with her hands wrapped moving between punching a bag and a sequence of movements. He watched her until she seemed to finish her set. She looked up and when she noticed him he walked towards her. She wasn't being her usual bubbly self, in fact it looked to him that she was upset.

"I didn't think anyone else would be in here" he stated."

"Oh, really" she answered lowering her headset ”I won't be a bother and did you want to take the punching bag." she said a slight frown on her lips. Okay he may not be the best at dealing with emotions, but he was extremely good at perceiving them on others.

"Something is bothering you, isn't it?" he was blunt sure but he wasn't expecting her to freeze and look around before taking a breath and schooling her features.

"No, everything is fine"

"It. As if I would believe that"

"Really now why don't..."

"Either you talk or we spar" he cut her off. He was expecting her to speak not take off her headset completely, set it down, and take a stance. The two began to spar and after almost two hours they were both lying on the mat exhausted.

"Thanks Damian, I needed a good spar"

"Any time you need, ask" he got up and began walking back to his room.

If he didn't already know she was a Wayne then that would prove it. Only a Wayne would rather not face their emotions and would rather fight.

His sister was his and he would be damned if he didn't at least help her. Albeit it he wasn't the most mushy of the family but she already was the most bearable of his sibling. Maybe he'll teach her to sword fight, then maybe someone would be an actual challenge for him.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky @tazanna-blythe @tired-butterfly @lozzybowe @smolplantmum @queencommonsense @loopingtangent @chez-pezeater @paintedhope7 @technicallyburninggarden

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 10 - A Well-Deserved Rest

Me: "Now that we're reaching the end, the chapters will come a lot faster" :) Me now, a month later, sweating: "Okay so that was a lie"

My bad! Been pretty busy and I completely forgot to update this fic. Welp, hope you guys enjoy the chapter <3

________________________________________________________________

Stan’s awareness came back to him in little bits. The first thing he noticed was what his skin stung all over – like when he and Ford had gotten sunburnt on the beach, back when they first found the Stan ‘O War. It hurt when he moved his face. The next thing that came to him was the feeling of sticks and leaves and snow under his knees. His breaths were rasping in his throat, and sparks pitter-pattered to the ground before him. Ford’s fingers were digging into his arm and there was a triangle-shaped sunspot in his vision where the explosion had burned into his eyes. His heart was pounding, probably full of that chemical Ford talked about one time – ad-reny-lin?

“Oh mah lord!” Fiddleford’s voice sounded, muffled in Stan’s ears, high-pitched and breathless. “Oh my – are you two alright? Stanley, Stanford? Yer okay, right?”

“Um.” Stan did a quick mental once-over. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He tried to wriggle out of Ford’s grip but his brother was holding tight, breaths coming quick and fast. Stan managed to twist around to catch sight of Ford’s stunned expression. His cheeks and nose were a sunburned pink and he stared at where the triangle had just been with wide eyes.

“Ford, let me go.”

“What?” The scientist blinked, before quickly realizing who had spoken and bursting into action. “Stanley! Are you hurt? You were so close to the explosion-”

Before Stan could speak up Ford had adjusted his grip, grabbing Stan’s shoulders to scan him for injuries. Stan took the opportunity to look around. The whole clearing was kinda scorched, snow steaming where Bill had been only moments ago. The smell of burning filled his nose and he wrinkled his face up in displeasure, which only made it sting more.

And there was someone rushing towards them – Fidds! The thin scientist clutched the rifle to his chest with bandaged-up hands as he sloshed through half-melted snow.

Ford was still fussing, like their mother used to when one of them came home with a scraped knee or bloody nose. Stan pushed his hands away (one of which was bleeding through a temporary bandage, what happened to his hand???) “Ford, getoff! I’m fine.”

Ford snatched his hands back, a weird look on his face, before his eyes lit up as Fiddleford reached them. He grinned up at his old friend with something like amazement, and for a moment he looked kinda how Stan remembered him – a kid, all full of excitement and curiosity and shiny eyes.

“It worked. I can’t believe it worked!”

“Ah’m just glad I hit the bugger.” Fiddleford’s voice was still high and reedy – at least, more so than usual. “Look, I’m happy yer okay and all but let’s take this back to the house. Who knows what creepy things are hidin’ out here in the woods.”

Ford stood and the adults started talking about boring things. Stan did not get up yet. He took a deep breath and felt his heart rate begin to slow and suddenly realized that he was very tired.

It seemed kind of… anticlimactic, if Stan was being honest. He was expecting a huge showdown, during the pouring rain or a snowstorm, with fire in the background and maybe some lasers and explosions.

Instead he got a bully of a demon, scraped knees and Ford clutching him like his life depended on it.

Once Stan stood up, he quickly realized that those warm and fluffy boots Bill had created had disappeared alongside the demon, and his feet were numb again. It figured. He could probably walk back, but it would hurt like crazy. How long did it take to get frostbite? If he lost a toe or something it would be pretty cool. Babes loved scars, right?

Then again, seeing how every bone in his body felt like it was made of lead and his eyelids kept drooping shut on their own, maybe he couldn’t walk all the way back. He rubbed an eye with his fist and cast a glance at the two adults nearby – Ford insisting that the other man needed to go to the hospital to get his burns treated, Fiddleford retorting that he, in fact, did not. Fidds wouldn’t be able to give him a lift, not with how both his hands were injured.

Stan cringed. It was his stupid fault that Fidds had been hurt at all – he’d gotten burned trying to fix Stan’s dumb mistake. If Stan had just used his brain, not been such a moron, not messed with Ford’s experiments, then none of this would have happened in the first place. Why did he ever think he could help? Stan was just a no-good ignoramus like Pa always said-

“Stanley?” Ford was looking at him now, concern in his eyes, and Stan swallowed down his shame and instead reached out with grabby hands. Ford choked.

“My feet hurt.” Stan said flatly as a way of explanation. “Gimme a lift.” If Ford really felt sorry for saying all those mean things, then didn’t he owe Stan that much? That was how the adult world worked, right?

His brother had a confused look on his face, something that would have been funny if Stan was not falling asleep on his feet and feeling very cranky. “I – I don’t want to push your boundaries. I know I haven’t been fair to you recently, and if you don’t want me to touch you-”

“Ford I’m gonna get frostbite.”

“It’s – what do you – you’re not wearing shoes!”

 _______________________________________________________________

The doctors at Gravity Falls hospital were fairly used to Ford turning up with the strangest injuries. Of course, he only went there when Fiddleford insisted. The man was terrible at following his own advice though, so Ford had to bully him into getting his injuries checked out as well. The only qualified doctor there (he was assuming the pixies that worked out of the hospital’s parking lot didn’t have valid medical licenses) took one look at the party and waved them in with a sigh.

While Ford and Fiddleford faced their treatment, Stan refused to be awake. The child had fallen dead asleep on Ford’s shoulders soon after they left the scorched clearing, and proceeded to snore in his ear the whole way to the hospital. After a quick examination (made more difficult by Stan sleepily waving away the annoyed nurse) he was declared just scraped up and ‘sunburned’. Ford, on the other hand, was subjected to the time-wasting procedure of getting stitches. Honestly, the wound wasn’t even that big! Sure it hurt, but a few painkillers and he would be back at peak condition.

Stan did not wake up on the way home. He also did not wake up when Ford placed him into his bed and tucked the blankets up to his chin. Fiddleford, hovering behind Ford anxiously, peered over his shoulder at the snoring boy.

“Is – is he okay? He’s sleepin’ awfully heavy there Stanford, are ya sure he didn’t hit his head at all?”

Ford let out a snort, fiddling with the bandages wrapped around his injured hand. “Are you kidding? Stan always sleeps like the dead. He once slept through an explosion when I messed up my chemical formulas in high school. His bed had ash on it. When he woke up the next morning he asked me where my eyebrows were.”

Fiddleford quirked an eyebrow. “Well, I guess we don’t need to worry about wakin’ him up. Come on down to th’ kitchen now – I think we need to have a talk.”

“…about what?”

Fiddleford fixed him with a stare and Ford wilted. “How about the demon ya summoned? All that junk with the portal? How yer brother got turned into a kid and ended up havin’ to shoulder all this? Or about watchin’ me go half mad and not thinking that, just maybe, the whole portal deal was dangerous?”

Ford winced. Fiddleford patted him on the shoulder, lightly – an olive branch extended across the yawning chasm between them. Ford didn’t know how to begin breaching that gap.

“O’ course, you didn’t deserve what happened to you either. So for once let’s put aside the pride and stubbornness and just talk.”

His friend’s eyes were pale blue and determined, and his hands were still shaking, and Ford didn’t deserve this kindness. He nodded.

“Okay.”

 _______________________________________________________________

Stan woke up and immediately wished he was still asleep.

His skin stung all over, his face hot and itchy against the pillow he was curled up against. His feet ached and there was a crick in his neck, like he’d been thrown around on a rollercoaster. The sound of light scritching filled his ears – the scratching of a pen on paper from somewhere close by.

Being awake was overrated anyway. He tried to ignore the stinging and burrowed deeper into his blankets.

…nope, he was awake for good now. Darn it.

Stan peered up sleepily, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Ford’s room again? This felt weirdly familiar, like when he’d first woken up in the future. And like that time Ford was across the room at his desk, scribbling away in his fancy journal.

Stan rubbed his eyes and slung his legs over the edge of the bed, carefully dropping to the floor below. It was cold on his aching feet but he could stand, which was a plus! So he probably didn’t have frostbite.

Stan yawned and headed across the room to where his brother was frantically journaling.

“Mornin’, Sixer.”

“Oh! Good morning, Stanley.” Ford clicked his pen and looked around. Stan muffled a shriek.

“Oh geez! What’s wrong with your face?”

Ford’s face was green and shiny and very not normal. The scientist rolled his eyes and explained as though it was obvious, “It’s just a burn gel. I developed it to be far more effective than the regular medicinal kind. Now that you’re awake, you should put it on too.”

Stan let out a nervous laugh. “Uh, no thanks, I think I’m all better now-”

Ford caught him by the shirt before Stan could bolt. He kicked and complained as his brother produced a tube of gel.

“Don’t you dare put that on me, it looks like snot-”

Ford smeared a bit on his cheek.

It… actually made the pain go away. Stan stilled as the cool gel took effect, numbing the stinging of his skin. Ford let him go and offered him the tube. Stan wanted to smack it out of his hands just to stop Ford making that smug face, but his skin really stung…

He took the tube.

“Better now?” Ford said, annoyingly smug. Stan poked his tongue out. “Very mature, Stanley.”

“I’m not the adult! I’m not supposed to be mature.”

“That’s very true.” Ford turned around in his chair and continued writing.

Once Stan was done covering his face in gross-looking gel he stretched up on his tiptoes to see what Ford was doing. The nerd had one of his journals and he was writing in a new entry, a bunch of crumpled-up pieces of paper littering the table. Even if Stan had been good at reading, he doubted he would be able to understand Ford’s loopy scribbles.

“Where’s Fidds?” Stan asked after a moment. Ford reached the end of the page and flipped over to a fresh one.

“He’s gone home to see his family. Now that Bill isn’t a threat anymore he wants to mend bridges, so to speak. I… also need to do that.”

Ford looked around to meet his eyes and ugh, he was going to say something sappy wasn’t he? Stan reached up to try and pull himself onto the desk, but he didn’t quite have the upper body strength and ended up kicking in the air. Ford sighed, brushed his journal to the side and lifted Stan into its place. He swung his legs awkwardly.

“…I have an apology to make.” Ford said eventually. Stan tilted his head. “Listen, Stanley. I’ve recently come to terms with the fact that I – well, I haven’t been fair to you. I let anger cloud my judgment for years, I valued that anger more than my own brother. I’m sorry.” Ford lifted a head to rub at his neck, eyes darting around the room but never landing on Stan’s face. “We’ve both made mistakes, obviously, and neither of us is without blame, but… ugh, that’s not how you apologize.” He seemed to pull himself together and try again. “What I’m saying is that I was unfair to you. I was hurt so I hurt you, and I think I may have ruined your life-”

Stan burst out laughing.

He didn’t mean to laugh, honest, but the sight of Ford’s nervous, sincere expression covered in green goo was just too much to handle. He tried to stifle his giggles with his hands, caught sight of Ford’s shocked face, and burst out laughing again so hard that his ribs hurt.

“I – this is funny to you? I’m trying to apologize-”

“No, it’s not that!” The hurt in Ford’s voice made everything a little less funny. Stan opened his mouth to explain, choked on his own spit and went into a coughing fit. It turns out, it’s hard to speak when you’re hacking your lungs up. Ford seemed to take pity on him and thumped him on the back until Stan could breathe again. “It’s just-” Another cough. “You look so funny, Poindexter.”

Ford’s eyebrows furrowed, and Stan pointed at his own green face to demonstrate.

“We look like ogres and you’re choosing now to be all sappy and sorry. I mean, you gotta see that it’s a bit funny.”

“…I suppose.” The corner of Ford’s mouth lifted and he didn’t look mad, so Stan took that as a win. He paused, trying to understand everything that Ford had just thrown at him. Most of it was just confusing, and Ford really seemed to have decide that the weird dreams were memories even though Stan didn’t get most of them. He wasn’t dumb though. That science fair thing actually had happened, with Stan ruining Ford’s project and getting kicked out. Reaching out to his brother and having the curtains being closed in his face – that had really happened.

As for the rest, all those dark and depressing ones, he kinda hoped they were just dreams. If they weren’t, if they were real, he wasn’t sure he wanted to live through them.

…no, wait. He already had lived through them, hadn’t he? He just couldn’t remember it. Because these were memories he’d lost and was getting back, Ford said so. Stan wondered what kind of person he’d ended up being. Probably cool and badass. With a sword. No, knuckledusters, those were way cooler! And maybe an eyepatch.

He got the sense that a grown-up him with all those memories and experiences would be angrier, but he couldn’t imagine any version of himself turning their back on their brother.

“I mean, I don’t think you ruined my life.” Stan reasoned, making Ford blink. “It was Pa that kicked me out, right?”

“But it was my fault-”

“And probably mine too. I make plenty of mistakes. You remember that time I kinda accidentally stole Pa’s medallion because I broke the case and panicked?”

Ford let out a little laugh. Stan reached out to punch him in the shoulder.

“Look, I dunno, I’m a kid. You gotta talk to grown-up me. But I’ll always forgive ya, Ford. Otherwise I’d be a hip-oh-crit.”

“The word is ‘hypocrite’.” Ford muttered quietly, and Stan could have sworn his brother’s eyes were pink and shiny. He decided to be very cool and nice and not mention it.

“But!” Stan pointed a finger at Ford’s nose and the man went cross-eyed looking at it. “I’m still mad about you being a jerk. You gotta make up for that.”

“…what do you want me to do?”

Hm. Stan hadn’t thought this far ahead. He paused as he thought. “You have to… take me on an adventure! And I get to ride on your shoulders and be tall whenever I want.”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it again. Stan fist-pumped triumphantly.

“Yes! No takebacks! I wanna go beat up those unicorns!”

“Sure, Stan.” Ford let out a long-suffering sigh, but not the serious kind – the joking kind that meant he was having fun. It felt nice. It felt like coming home.

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

Dear Heart - Chapter 10

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​ @primusk​​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: First of all, sorry this update took so long! I’ve got a new OC to introduce here and I wanted to get her right. I hope you guys enjoy Juliet as much as I do :) Thank you again to @mercurygray​​ for being a wonderful beta reader, as always <3 

Warning(s): None for this one :)

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

Chapter 10 here we go!!!

Haguenau, with its slushy streets and unpredictable explosions, was a welcome reprieve from the hellish woods of the Bois Jacques. The improvements were small, but they had roofs over their heads, food in their bellies, and rumor had it that later there would be showers. Unfortunately, danger still lingered close by - right across the river. 

Melanie slipped and slid all the way to the company CP to check on Lipton. She was keeping an eye on his pneumonia so he wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. Dick had objected to this at first, but she assured him she could manage. Lip was too valuable to leave the company now, and Dick couldn’t argue with that. 

When she arrived, she saw Webster - clean and fresh from the replacement depot. She nearly did a double take when she spotted him. Holland felt like years ago now. Though he looked much the same as he did then - a handsome young Harvard man. 

“Oh! Hello, David,” she said pleasantly. “Glad you could join us.”

“Thank you,” he returned earnestly, for he knew she was the only person who said that without any sarcasm behind it. “How are you, Melanie?” 

“Oh, just fine,” she said. “How’s the leg?”

“Good, thanks,” he replied. 

Melanie had tended to him herself. It was a flesh wound, so she didn’t need a doctor. Just disinfectant, stitches, and a bandage, and he was good as new. She offered to cover for him if he wanted to get back to the line, but he refused. Now that she had seen combat first hand, she couldn’t say she blamed him.

She turned her attention back to Lipton. “Now, Lip, can I ask you to set those papers down at least long enough for me to take your temperature?”  

Lip nodded and let the papers in his hand fall into his lap. Luz pulled up a chair for her. She thanked him and took a seat while the thermometer did its work. She leaned closer to feel Lip’s forehead, which was still burning up. 

The temperature climbed and she frowned. “Still a fever. How’s the cough?”

“It’s okay,” he said, but then lost himself in another fit.

While she waited, another new face entered the room. A lieutenant she did not recognize. He introduced himself as Jones, and explained he was looking for Captain Speirs. As if summoned by the mention of him, the new Easy CO appeared. Melanie wasn’t quite sure how she felt about Speirs yet. There was no denying he was successful, but there was something frightening about him. He was so...intense. And she’d heard the rumors about what he did on D-Day, though she didn’t know if she believed them. Even having spent more time around him, she couldn’t make up her mind about whether he was capable of it or not. 

Lip began to introduce Jones, but Speirs cut across him. “Listen, for Christ’s sakes, will you go back in the back and sack out? Lieutenant, tell him he needs to be in bed.”

One thing Melanie appreciated about Speirs was his indifference to her presence in regard to her gender. Ever the practical leader, he seemed to just appreciate that she was there. Man or woman, if there was help, he took it. She did wish he would call her Melanie, but that sort of familiarity took time. 

“I can’t order him around, Captain, but I do agree with you,” she said, casting a stern look at Lip. 

“I will, sir,” Lip said to Speirs. “I was just trying to make myself useful, sir.”

“You can do that by listening to the nurse,” Speirs replied.

“And you won’t be useful to anybody unless you get better,” she added. “Do try and get some rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said tiredly. 

“Very good,” she said, patting his arm. “I’ll come back by and check on you later.” 

With Lip seen to, Melanie headed back to her billet. Now that they weren’t cut off, she had a stack of letters from her mother to sort through. She had only made it through about half of them so far, and though their contents steered more and more toward questions about her and Dick, she was eager to hear the news from home. She also had a few letters from her friend Rose, so when her mother’s letters got to be too much, she had something to fall back on. 

When the first letter from her unread stack from Lilian began with a question about Dick and his intentions, Melanie gave up. She could never make her mother understand what was between her and Dick, and so there was no use trying to explain it. She picked up Rose’s letter and began to read. She made a face at its contents. 

“Bad news?”

Melanie looked up to see Dick in the doorway. For a fleeting second, she took absurd notice of the bit of scruff on his face and admired it. He looked rather devil-may-care. So much so that for a moment she forgot her distress entirely. She shook her head to clear it, set the letter down, and nodded sadly. 

“I’m afraid so,” she said. “My friend, Rose...her husband is missing somewhere in the Pacific.” 

“This is your high school friend?” he asked. 

Melanie so rarely spoke about her loved ones back home, but she had mentioned Rose more than once. Rose was married to Patrick, a Marine. They had a little boy, Jonathan, and Melanie was his godmother. She nodded again.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, how awful…Poor Rose…”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Dick said, trying to sound convincing. “Could be captured.” That was certainly wishful thinking. He’d heard that the Japanese rarely, if ever, took prisoners. But he wouldn’t poison Melanie’s mind with that information.

She didn’t reply for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the letter, deep in thought. Then she sat back against her chair and sighed. Almost dreamily. His brow furrowed as he watched her. She turned her face to look out the window, and the light illuminated the bruises that still faintly clung to her skin. 

“This might sound like a horrible thing to say,” she said. "But you know, I sort of envy her. Husband, baby. Everything is...decided, it’s there. I know deep down that it worries her, having Patrick gone, but I...I envy that she had those things to lose." She looked at Dick. "Does that make sense?"

He knew exactly what she meant. Dick listened to the way some of the other men talked about their wives, and he did sometimes feel a little jealous that they had someone who was so counting on their return. True, it made the stakes higher - his frequent reasoning for not admitting his feelings to Melanie - but there was a certain beauty about that risk. 

“It makes sense,” he told her. “And I think it’s only human. She may envy you that you get to be part of the action, while she has to stay behind. Or that you don’t have something so heavy to worry about.”

Melanie considered arguing this. If anything happened to Dick, she’d be devastated. But of course, that was not something she could say. And besides, he was not her husband. Losing him would not put her in the same position as Rose socially. She would only have comparable heartbreak. She decided to change the subject, distraught at the very idea. 

“Did you need something?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. “There’s a patrol tonight. Sink wants you and Roe on standby in case of any casualties.”

“A patrol?” she questioned. 

He nodded, his own displeasure at the idea clear in the slight downturn of his mouth. She wished there was something she could say to comfort him, but unfortunately, they both knew it was no good. 

He explained the basics. Fifteen men from Easy Company would cross the river and try to capture a few Germans they knew to be residing in one of the buildings near the shore. Hopefully, they would have information to help the Allies push further into Germany. Melanie didn’t think the risk was worth it, but she didn’t have to say so. She knew Dick felt the same. But orders were orders. 

“Alright, I’ll try and have some things prepared,” she said with a sigh. If she had time, she might have gone to Colonel Sink to ask him about this patrol and if it was really necessary, but it seemed decided. “Would you like me to come to the briefing?” 

“Up to you,” he said. “I was just going to tell you to get some sleep while you can. Patrol sets off at 0100 hours.” 

She expected him to go then, but he lingered, looking at her as if there was something on the tip of his tongue. She searched his face for what it might be. 

“Is there anything else, Dick?” she asked.

There was, but he wouldn’t say it. Truthfully, he felt he related to Rose. After almost losing Melanie to a crumbling building, and wondering what she’d been through before those five days in the woods (which he still wondered), fearing that whatever it was had cost him his closeness to her, he realized he had done a lot more worrying about her lately. He was at the relative safety of battalion, while she had taken a position much closer to danger. The tables had certainly turned since D-Day. 

He shook his head. “No, that’s it. Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

He turned to leave, but was blocked by the appearance of a striking blonde woman. He stopped just before colliding with her, his surprise evident on his face.

“Crikey, sorry!” she gasped. She was English, based on the accent. “My fault!”

Melanie’s brow furrowed with confusion as Dick shuffled out of the way of the newcomer and her face came into view. She was beautiful with thick, wavy blonde hair, eyes the color of rain, and an enchanting smile. She clearly wasn’t military since she was in civilian clothes. Her presence was all charm and warmth, from the second she entered the room. 

“Juliet Fletcher,” she said, extending her hand. “You’ll have to excuse the sweat, I walked all the way through town. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to get a cab out here.” 

Melanie and Dick both chuckled and shook the woman’s hand. “I’m Melanie Davis, and this is Captain Dick Winters.”

“I see I’ve made it to the right place,” Juliet said. “I’m a reporter with the London Pursuit, and Colonel Sink said I can bunk with you while I cover the regiment.”

Melanie blinked, surprised by Colonel Sink allowing a war correspondent - especially one who was both female and English.  

“Most of my colleagues went to cover our own lads, but I thought I’d see what the Yanks are up to,” Juliet continued. “I hate to be unoriginal.”

Melanie and Dick exchanged an amused glance as Juliet stepped further into the room and set her bags down. 

“I promise you’ll be glad of the company,” she said. 

“Why do you say that?” Melanie asked, curious. 

“Well, there can’t be too many other women out here,” Juliet said. “With all the whistles I got on my way here, I’m quite certain we stand out.”

Melanie smiled again, feeling seen. Though the men knew better than to whistle at her. She thought it was out of respect for Colonel Sink, but really most of the men understood Melanie to be Dick’s girl, whether Dick and Melanie were aware of it or not. 

“I’ll let you get settled,” Dick said, then he turned to put his hand on Melanie’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“Of course,” Melanie replied, her gaze lingering on him just a moment longer. Her eyes flicked down to the stubble on his chin again for one last look at it. 

“Nice to meet you, Juliet,” he said, and then he was gone. 

Juliet glanced between where Dick disappeared and Melanie’s face. “You two seem rather smitten, is he your boyfriend?”

Melanie flushed. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

“Would you like him to be?” Juliet asked. 

The pink in Melanie’s cheeks deepened. “Well - I mean, I care for him, but -”

“What’s the matter?” Juliet pressed. “Family doesn’t approve?”

“We’ve never met each other’s families, so -”

“Oh, is he married?”

“No, he’s -”

Juliet’s nose wrinkled as she interrupted again. “Does he want you to do unusual things in the bedroom?”

The color drained from Melanie’s face and her eyes went wide as an owl’s. “No!”

“These are just routine questions,” Juliet said. 

“Are they?” Melanie wondered, shocked. 

“Of course,” Juliet answered, appearing completely earnest. Until she burst out laughing, which put Melanie at ease. “I’m joking, Melanie. We only just met, I’d never ask what your boyfriend likes in the bedroom. Unless of course you need to talk about it, in which case, I’m all ears.” 

Melanie blinked. She hadn’t met many reporters so she wondered if they were all as fast-paced as Juliet, whose mind seemed to run a hundred miles a second. She felt like she should be offended by the remarks, but she wasn’t. She found it all a bit silly. Which she appreciated after the news from Rose and the impending patrol. Juliet was like sunshine in this bleak and gray winter. She retrieved a cigarette from the box in her pocket, struck a match, and lit it, taking a long drag, and looking very graceful in Melanie’s opinion. 

“Dick and I are strictly platonic,” she said. “But I appreciate the offer for a confidant.” 

“Anytime,” Juliet said with a puff of smoke around the word. “I hope we can be friends.”

“Me too,” Melanie agreed. 

“Seriously, I don’t have any friends,” Juliet said. “People hate reporters.”

Melanie softened. Juliet was not teasing now, she was being honest. Melanie saw it in her eyes, the loneliness.

“I assure you, I have no such prejudice,” Melanie said. “Now, what can I do to help you settle in?”

Juliet had packed light, which was to be expected. But she had brought along her typewriter, which Melanie was surprised Juliet was able to carry at all. It was heavier than lead, and would have had Melanie tipping over if she tried to travel with it. As they got Juliet set up, they got to know each other more. Melanie did enjoy being in the company of a woman again, and the friendship she felt reminded her of her time with Renee and Anna, who she missed a great deal. Juliet explained that she had met some of the 101st before while they were in Aldbourne, which was part of what drew her to covering their unit now. 

“You didn’t make any friends?” Melanie asked. “I’ve found our boys to be rather friendly, especially with beautiful women.”

Juliet smiled. “Oh, they were perfectly kind. But it is hard to keep up once they’ve shipped out.”

“I understand,” Melanie said. “Why, my friend back home - her husband is in the Pacific and she gets so impatient for his letters. Of course now, he…” she trailed off, reminded once more of Patrick’s danger and Rose’s heartache. 

“Was he killed?” Juliet asked. 

Melanie shook her head. “Missing.”

“Crikey, I don’t know which is worse,” Juliet said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That’s not the only bad news,” Melanie confessed, and explained about the patrol. Juliet listened carefully, brow knitting over her eyes as she took it in. 

“It’s quite risky,” she remarked. “From what I’ve read, the war’s supposedly almost over.”

Melanie bit back a scoff. “Not quite. I wish it were, though. These men have been through enough.”

“You have too, I expect,” Juliet said. “Were you with them in Bastogne?”

“I was for the last week or so,” Melanie told her. “And I barely made it through that little.”

Melanie shuddered to recall those days. Not only because of the grueling nature of the battle, but also her distance from Dick. Things were beginning to get back to normal between them, but she could feel that he was still curious. She appreciated that he wouldn’t push her, but it made her feel guilty to keep something from him. 

“I’d love to get your story, if you’re up to sharing,” Juliet said. “I’m sure you’ve got a unique perspective.”

“I’m sorry, but I’d rather not,” Melanie told her. “If anyone’s voice deserves to be heard, it’s the men who were out there for weeks.”

Juliet shrugged. “I understand. I hope you know your voice matters too, though.” When Melanie didn’t reply, she continued. “Besides, I’m more interested in this patrol you mentioned. D’you think I’d be allowed at the briefing at least?”

Melanie pondered this, grateful for the change of subject. “We can certainly ask Dick. Or Easy’s CO, since that company will be executing the operation.”

“Great! When can I meet him?” Juliet wondered. 

Melanie admired Juliet’s eagerness. “I’ll be going by the company CP this afternoon to check up on Sergeant Lipton. Come with me, and I’m sure we can find out.”

“Perfect!”

The girls set out for something to eat. And Juliet was constantly making Melanie laugh. Not because Juliet was necessarily trying to be funny, but her remarks were unusual and amusing. Melanie felt like she’d been sent a sweet blessing - she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed this much. This winter had been the hardest of her life, and not only because of the weather. So much had happened to her. But now she felt like spring was right around the corner. 

Neither Dick nor Speirs were at the CP when Melanie and Juliet stopped by, and Lipton was about the same as far as his illness went. Melanie introduced her new friend, and Lip was welcoming to her. Melanie once again stressed his need for rest, and he promised her he would sleep within the hour. 

“I think Winters and Speirs are out by the river,” he told them. “They’re checking things out for the patrol.”

“Thank you, Lip,” Melanie replied. “We’ll go find them.”

She turned to go, but quickly realized that Juliet was not following her. The reporter was glued to her spot, and some of the color had drained from her face. She looked...rather frightened. 

“Did you say...Speirs?” she asked Lipton. 

He nodded. “Yeah. Captain Speirs has been our CO since Foy.”

She swallowed. Melanie’s brow furrowed. She guessed that perhaps Speirs was one of the people from the regiment Juliet met in Aldbourne, but judging by her face, it would not be a glad reunion. Juliet looked as if she were braced for impact. Melanie grew concerned. 

“I understand if you’re a little afraid of Speirs,” she said. “He’s -”

“Hey, I ain’t afraid of nothin’ except spiders, which is completely normal,” Juliet interjected, somehow both defensive and joking. She took a breath. “Okay...okay, you may see some things…”

Melanie immediately formed a hundred questions about that, but Juliet marched out of the building and into the street. Evidently, there would be no explanation of what Melanie might see upon finding Speirs. Melanie eagerly followed Juliet outside. She tried to strike up conversation again, but Juliet remained silent. Her eyes looked straight ahead, and yet, they were unfocused. Melanie gave up trying to talk before they finally reached the river bank, where Dick did in fact stand with Speirs, looking out at the water and the enemy on the other side. Melanie cleared her throat, and both men turned their heads. 

As soon as Speirs’ eyes landed on Juliet, the already thin air suddenly became colder and sparser. Melanie cast Dick a sideways glance and saw on his face that he felt it too. The tension was like a dam about to break. Juliet shifted uncomfortably under Speirs’ icy glare. 

“Hi, Ron,” she said quietly. “You look - you look good. I know you probably don’t think so, since - well, you know. Not that you were ever terribly concerned about things like that - I mean, that’s not to say you aren’t nice looking - I was just - you know what? I’m gonna stop now. You look well. War suits you.”

Juliet bit her lip, clearly regretting the last remark, but she didn’t try to correct herself again. Speirs did not reply. He only stared at her, his gaze alone seeming to order her away. Melanie stepped closer to Dick, for a shiver had gone up her spine. Beats passed in strained silence. 

“I wrote to you,” Juliet went on. “Several letters. Did you -”

“I didn’t read them,” he cut across her. His tone and expression were alarmingly blank.

She swallowed the sting of it. “That’s alright. I understand completely.” He continued to look at her in stony silence so she changed the subject again. “So, you’re a captain, now, are you? That’s nice! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” he said hollowly. 

“You deserve it,” she said. “Really.”

Speirs did not answer that. He only scowled.

Dick leaned over to whisper in Melanie’s ear. “What is going on?”

“No idea,” she breathed back. “They’ve got some sort of history, but I don’t know what.” 

Dick only nodded and looked back at Juliet, who was becoming more and more despondent by the second. He decided to rescue her. 

“Did you two need something?” he asked, so the group could hear. 

“Juliet was wondering if she could be present at the briefing in order to cover the patrol tonight,” Melanie said, eyes darting between Speirs and Dick. 

“No,” Speirs said shortly. 

“Please don’t make this personal, Ron,” Juliet sighed. “My editor is really counting on me getting a story out here, and -”

“Well, she fucked up, Jules, she trusted you!” he snapped. 

Juliet blinked, taken aback and wounded by the biting reply. Melanie got the distinct feeling Speirs was not talking about the story when it came to a breach of trust. Her mind was swirling with questions now. How did Juliet and Speirs know each other? What had happened to make him hate her so much? And could it be fixed?

Speirs took a deep breath and let it go slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. He looked at Juliet again. “Your mother, is she feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” Juliet said with a nod. “Yeah, much better.”

“Good,�� he replied. 

With that, he walked off. Melanie was completely bewildered. Speirs seemed like he was about ready to spit at Juliet, but then he asked about her mother? It was all so odd and complex. Dick watched Speirs’ disappearing form. 

Melanie had a horrifying thought as she watched Speirs depart and Juliet’s expression sink. When two people miscommunicated, and things shifted between them, the relationship could easily come to a devastating and tragic end. Melanie examined the change in her and Dick’s relationship since Terry assaulted her. If she couldn’t find the courage to share with him, would they become like Juliet and Speirs? All hurt feelings and unsaid intentions? What would happen to them if she gave into her fears and didn’t trust him with her heart?

[impalas-r-important]

Love of my Life - (2) New Guy

Summary: Bobby brings home an injured hunter. Dean's not so fond of him.

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Word Count: 3429

Series Masterlist

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“Hello?” You could hear Sam answer his phone from the living room. You were in the kitchen cleaning up. You, Sam and Bobby had a deal that whoever didn’t cook meals had to clean up after. Sam had made the both of you grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for a warm lunch on a chilly January afternoon. “Oh, hey Bobby, how did your hunt go?” A few seconds passed and then you heard Sam mutter, “Yeah, sure. We’ll be ready when you get here. How far away are you?” He walked into the kitchen, still on the phone, with a concerned look on his face. You gave him the what’s going on look and he held up his finger and said his goodbyes to Bobby.

“What happened, is Bobby okay?” You pressed.

“Yeah, he’s fine. He said that he met another hunter who was working the case, so they teamed up. I guess the new guy saved Bobby’s bacon and got pretty beat up. Bobby’s bringing him back here to get him all healed up. He said it was the least he could do. He asked if we could get the spare room cleaned out and ready.”

After days of researching for Bobby’s case, you had discovered it was yet another Greek god with another vendetta or unfinished business or whatever. Blah, blah, blah. It was getting repetitive at this point, but gods were always tricky to deal with. You were just glad to hear Bobby was okay and that someone was there to help him out.

“What happened? Do we know if he’s badly hurt?” You wondered.

“All Bobby said was that he doctored him up as much as he could. They aren’t far from here now.”

“Okay, I’ll go get the room ready.” You wiped your hands off on a dish towel and headed upstairs. You stripped the sheets off the bed and threw them in the washer, putting a set of new ones on. The room hadn’t been used in a long time. You and Sam were crashing there in 2 of the other spare bedrooms, but this one was pretty dusty from sitting idle all this time. After clearing out boxes of old books from the closet, you grabbed a duster and went over everything.

“They’re here!” Sam yelled from downstairs. “I’m gonna go help him inside.”

You ungracefully shoved your cleaning stuff into a bucket, then quickly sprayed a little air freshener to try and mask the smell you could only describe as “old”. You could hear voices coming closer down the hall. You grabbed your supplies and walked them to the bathroom to put them away. Their conversation was easily heard through the thin walls.

“Alright, here’s where you can crash.” Sam said as he helped the new guy into the room and sat him down on a chair in the corner. “You really took a beating, huh?” Sam gave him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think I caught your name, by the way.”

“I’m Nick.” He reached his hand out to shake Sam’s but didn’t make it all the way before he winced and grabbed his ribs.

“Well Nick, thanks for saving Bobby back there. He said he wouldn’t have made it out of that one if it weren’t for you. I’m Sam.”

“Sam, like as in Sam Winchester?” Nick raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’ve heard of me?”

“Buddy, I wasn’t born yesterday. Every hunter who knows what they’re doing has heard of you and your brother.” You heard Nick say as you walked into the room and leaned against the door frame. He turned to look at you and straightened his posture in the chair as much as he could. He gave you a little half smile and blinked a few times as he managed to say, “Wow, uh, hey, hi…”

His stammering made you laugh a little. “I overheard you boys talking. You’re Nick, right?” He nodded. “Well, anyone who saves Bobby Singer is a friend of ours. I’m Y/N.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Nick winked and gave you a cheeky grin which quickly turned into a grimace. He was definitely in pain. He was covered in mud stains and blood. His ankle was bent the wrong way and he had bloodied bandages wrapped around his bicep and thigh. But through all that, you couldn’t help but notice that he was surprisingly handsome. He had sandy blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Most of the hunters you met looked like truckers or smelled like dumpsters.

“Don’t even try man, she could kick your ass 3 different ways before you knew what hit you.” Sam joked. “I’m going to let Y/N take it from here. She’s better at the doctor thing than I am. I’ll go grab your bags and bring them up.”

“Why don’t we see what we can do about some of that bleeding.” You grabbed the first aid kit from on top of the dresser and walked over to him. “Can I?” You motioned to the bandage on his arm, and he nodded. You peeled away the layers to find a nasty looking gash. “Geez…” You whispered. “So, I can stitch you up, but it’s going to hurt pretty bad.”

“I’m no wussy. Do what you gotta do.” Nick looked up at you and for half a second you caught yourself studying his ocean eyes, but you looked away quickly and grabbed the sanitizing alcohol. “This will probably hurt the most. Sorry.” You dumped some on his wound and he clenched in pain and closed his eyes, letting a big exhale escape through his nose. You threaded your needle and began to stitch his cut closed. You had done this many times before and with Sam and Dean and liked to think you were decent. But you knew the key was distraction.

“So, where are you from?” You asked.

“Not really from anywhere. I grew up like a lot of hunters did. On the road with my dad and uncle, learning tricks of the trade as we went. What about you?”

“Well, I was born in Arizona, but my family was killed when I was six. I spent my life bouncing between hunters until I could drive. Then I went out on my own.”

“I’m sorry about your family.” His sympathy caught you off guard. Most hunters couldn’t care less about others.

“Thank you, but we all have our sob story. No one chooses to be a hunter just for kicks and giggles”

“Man, I’ve heard some crazy stories about those Winchester brothers.” Nick gave a small laugh. “It’s weird to actually meet one of them in person. What happened to Dean? I thought he and Sam were inseparable.”

You sighed and your heart dropped like it always did when his name was mentioned. “He actually got out of the hunting life. He lives close to here, stops by to check on us every once in a while.”

“I’d love to meet him. All I’ve heard is how badass he is. Like the ultimate hunting machine.”

“Well, you call him badass, I call him dumbass.”

“Hah! You guys close?”

“Not as close as we used to be. Sam and I try to keep him out of the hunting life as much as we can. He helps with research every now and then but hasn’t been out on a case in a while.” You finished your last stitch. “Your arm is all done but looks like we need to take care of this one as well.” You pointed down to his leg. “Do you care if I just cut your pant leg off? This pair looks like a goner anyway.”

“You can take my pants off anytime you want.” Nick smirked at you.

“I’m going to chalk that up to the loss of blood and pretend you didn’t say that. Keep in mind, I’m the one with the needle here.” You held up the long needle as you threaded it with a clean suture and gave him your best don’t go there face.

Nick reminded you a strange amount of the Dean of old. Handsome, but in a different way, snarky, and seemed like the kind of guy who flirted with any and every girl he could find. You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you didn’t like the attention he was giving you. Part of you still wished it were Dean giving you that attention though.

You finished up and started to pick up the bloody bandages off the floor. “I’m going to go get Sam and he can help you get into the shower. I think we need to take you to the doctor for your ankle though. Looks broken to me.”

“Damn, I was hoping to avoid the hospital. I don’t suppose you know how to set a broken ankle?” He looked at you hopefully.

“You’re outta luck, sorry.” You shrugged and began to head out the door.

“Y/N?” Nick stopped you before you left, and you turned to face him. “Thank you.” You shot him a smile and a nod before heading downstairs to find Sam.

After Sam had helped Nick wash all the blood off of himself, you two had taken him to the hospital where they set his ankle and gave him some pain killers for the broken ribs. Sam had gotten him upstairs and into bed and you brought some food up for him.

“Here you go, a Singer specialty.” You placed a tray with Bobby’s chili on his lap and handed him the remote to the ancient box tv.

“What makes it so special?” Nick asked, stirring the chili skeptically.

“If you ask Bobby, he’ll say it’s a secret family recipe, but I’ve been around long enough to know that the real magic happens when he dumps it from the can into the pot.” Nick laughs as you get his food situated so it won’t spill. “I brought you in some movies if you want to watch them. Mostly Dean’s old western tapes. We’re in short supply of variety.”

“Thank you. But I do have to say, I feel a little uncomfortable having you guys help me this much. I’m usually a strictly independent person…”

“We all need a little help sometimes.” You were actually glad that Nick was here. It gave you something to keep your mind off of Dean. “I’m in the room next to yours, just bang on the wall if you need anything.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. I owe you one.” He flashed his tired smile at you, and you returned the gesture.

“Night, Nick.”

You woke the next morning to find Sam’s car gone. You figured he was at the gym or swung by Dean’s house for something. You headed into the kitchen and started on making breakfast. The cupboards were pretty empty, but you knew there was always pancake mix around somewhere. You whipped up a few cakes with a side of scrambled eggs. When you were done, you headed up to Nick’s room to see how he was doing. You knocked softly, careful not to wake him if he was still sleeping. A few seconds passed with no response, so you cracked the door open and saw him dead asleep with the half-eaten bowl of chili still on his lap and the tv crackling with black and white static. This made you chuckle a little. You tiptoed over to him and gently lifted the tray off his lap to take with you downstairs and turned off the television.

The rest of the morning was spent looking for cases in the papers and online, but you didn’t have much luck. You gave up after a while when you heard a boot clomping down the stairs, letting you know that Nick was on his way.

“Morning, sunshine!” Nick pronounced and winked at you as he walked in the room.

“It’s 2 in the afternoon, lazy bones.” He laughed a little and sat down in the chair across from you. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I was yesterday, that’s for sure.”

“I bet you’re hungry.”

“Starved, actually.” He placed a hand on his stomach.

“Do you feel up for going out and grabbing a bite? We’re short on supplies here, but I know a great little diner just a few miles into town. Mel’s.”

“That sounds amazing! I could really go for a great big cheeseburger right now.” Look at that, yet another similarity to Dean. You could swear this was the universe playing a cruel joke on you.

“Sam’s not here and Bobby’s holed up in his room, so it’s just you and me. Hope that’s ok.”

“More than fine with me.” He flirted. “Our first date!”

“Whatever. Come on, gimpy.” You helped him up out of the chair and led him out the door and towards your car.

You had actually really enjoyed your late lunch with Nick. It was nice to get to know someone new and you were surprised at how well the two of you got along. You usually butted heads with other hunters, but Nick was pretty easy going and had a good sense of humor.

A little while later, you pulled back into the driveway of Bobby’s house to see both Sam and Dean’s cars in the driveway.

“Wow, that’s a beauty of a car.” Nick remarked as the two of you walked past the Impala.

“Don’t touch it. That’s Dean’s baby. He’ll kill you if you scratch it.” You warned as you walked into the house.

Dean quickly rushed at you as soon as you opened the door and pulled you into a bear hug. “Y/N where the hell have you been?! I’ve been calling you over and over! No one knew where you were! Don’t scare me like that!”

“What? We were just in town. We haven’t even been gone 2 hours…” You pulled out your phone to check for his missed calls but found it to be dead.

“We?” Dean interrogated. Nick walked in a few steps behind you and Dean glared at him. “Who the hell are you?” He instinctively pulled you behind him.

"Whoa, whoa easy there tiger." You put your hand on Dean's arm and he looked at you, with questioning eyes. "That's Nick. Didn’t Sam tell you? He saved Bobby's ass on their last hunt and got pretty beat up in the process. Bobby brought him back here to heal up a bit."

"And you're what, just hanging out with some hunter you barely know? He could be a psychopath! You know better than this!"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes and feel annoyed at Dean’s over-protectiveness. "He's got a broken ankle, bruised ribs, and massive gashes on his arm and leg. You really think I couldn't handle him if I needed to?"

Dean kept his eyes on Nick the whole time, looking him up and down, trying to get a read on him. Bobby slammed the door of his room and walked out to the commotion. "Would you idjits keep it down out here? I could hear every word of this stupid conversation!" Bobby looked to Dean who was clearly still in defense mode. "Oh, pull the stick out, Dean. The kid literally saved my life. He's harmless."

It took Nick a few seconds to process the situation. He walked over to Dean and reached his hand out. "It's an honor to meet you, Dean. I look up to you a lot. You’ve got some great people here; they’ve been nothing but nice to me and I’d never do anything to hurt them.”

Dean was clearly expecting him to say anything but that, and reluctantly shook his hand. You wished you had a camera to take a picture of look on Dean's face. Priceless.

"I hate to break up the fan fest, but what are you doing here, boy?" Bobby questioned Dean. "Not that I ain't happy to see you, but you haven't been around here much lately."

“I, uh, was going to see if Y/N wanted to hit up Mel’s. I’m starved.” Dean looked at you for an answer.

“Nick and I were actually just there…” You felt a bit guilty, but you didn’t know that Dean was even planning on coming over today. “I’m sure Sam would go with you. I haven’t seen him yet today, but it sounds like he’s up in his room.”

“Oh, okay.” Dean looked dejected but nodded and headed towards the staircase.

Dean kind of knocked on Sam’s door as he walked in.

“Uh, sure, come on in.” Sam gave Dean a glare as he folded clothes and organized them neatly on his bed.

“I knocked. You want to go grab some food, Sammy?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m almost done here.”

Dean walked further inside and over to the dresser to fiddle with some things sitting on top of it. “Why didn’t you tell me about the new guy?”

“I doubt he’s sticking around. I didn’t think there was anything to tell.” Sam shrugged.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t let Y/N just hang around some stranger all day. We don’t know anything about him.”

“Dean, he seems like a teddy bear. We’ve been doing this for long enough to know when someone is a piece of crap. Nick seems genuine.” Sam let out a small laugh. “You know, he’s actually a lot like you. I think you’d really get along with him if you were still hunting.”

“Yeah whatever.” Dean grumbled as he played with a knife he had picked up.

“What crawled up your butt?” Sam shot him a sideways glace. Dean didn’t respond. “Oh, I see. You just don’t like him hanging around Y/N.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “Well, I’m so sorry if I just want to make sure she’s safe. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to look out for her. Someone’s gotta do it if you aren’t.”

Sam scoffed. “Hey, I am looking out for her, Dean. But she doesn’t need me to. She is way more than capable of handling herself and honestly, it’s none of your business who she decides to spend her time with. She’s not your girl anymore.” Sam knew it was a touchy subject, but he didn’t care. He hated to see how much Y/N was hurting because of Dean.

Dean slammed the knife into the top of the dresser. He shook his head and turned to leave. “I’m outta here.” He walked down the hall but stopped at the top of the stairs as he watched you grab a soda from the fridge and a bottle of pain pills which you then took over to Nick. He hated the way that Nick looked at you. He hated that you sat down next to him and smiled your perfect smile at someone other than himself. Dean ran his hand along the railing and subconsciously made his way back to his brother’s room.

“Does she like him?” Dean asked in a broken voice as he leaned against the doorframe, looking at the ground.

“I don’t know.” Sam could easily see that his brother was genuinely hurting. “But I meant what I said, Dean. She’s not your girl anymore. You chose Lisa over her.”

Dean didn’t have words to describe the heartache he was feeling. “I didn’t… I… I don’t know…” Was all he managed to get out.

“Dean, Y/N is still like a sister to me even though you two aren’t together anymore. We’ve gotten a lot closer since we both died and came back, and honestly, I’m happy to see that a guy is making her smile. She was really heartbroken over you. She still is. So maybe it sucks for you to see her with a guy that’s not you, but now you know how she feels every time she sees you with Lisa.”

Dean slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, with his head hanging in his lap and his hands on the back of his neck. Sam sat down next to him.

“Dean, I’m not trying to be harsh on you.”

“I know. You’re right though.”

“Maybe it’s none of my business, but why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you move in with Lisa so soon after we died?”

Dean cleared his throat. “I don’t know Sam. I guess, she was there, and Y/N wasn’t. There’s just a lot to it and I don’t expect you to understand.” Dean got up, regained his composure and left swiftly. Making sure Y/N and Nick were out of sight before he left.

Chapter 3

[thisisawonderfulusername]

let's save the world

season one, episode three

five hargreeves x reader

trigger warnings: cursing, a bit of angst if you squint, violence

summary: five gets his apocalypse lover back and the two of you have a small argument. then, when you’re back at the academy, looking around for clues, you have some visitors.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: bro all this support that i’m getting for this series means so much to me ;-; i don’t want to be all sappy but i used to write on wattpad and like it’s hard to get anyone on there to read your stories, but coming on here really just brought my motivation way up because of how nice you all are :) so thank you, and i hope you like the third part of this series *3*

"you're a fucking idiot." you grumble as you sit at five's side, the medical kit beside you open with it's contents disarranged from the panic you went through as five woke you up, a huge gash in his arm. now, you were helping him clean it up, and you weren't very happy with what he had done with his night.

sighing softly, five glanced at you. "it's not like i died." he defends himself, as if it would help your worrying. "it's just a scratch. it'll heal quick."

glaring at him as you finished stitching him up, you cleaned up all the blood. "’just a scratch’ my ass." throwing the bloodied rag to the side, you grab one of the bandaids, which happened to be designed with 'billy the choo-choo' which would have made you laugh if you weren't angry with him. "all this for a mannequin? seriously?"

that comment irked him, and he stood from the bed, putting his old uniform back on over the tank top he wore. "she's not just a mannequin." he mutters, going to grab the big duffel bag, which you knew 'delores' and various other things were inside.

"i'm glad i didn't go as mad as you." you throw everything back into the box, shutting it and just leaving it on the bed. you knew you'd need it again anyways.

five rolls his eyes as he pushes the window open, and you look at him in confusion. "you above doors now?" you question as he hops out onto the fire escape, quickly following behind.

he looked up at you as he started climbing down the ladder. “we don’t have much time, and this is the quickest way.”

sighing softly, you follow him down, and are met with klaus who was digging through the dumpster. stopping for a moment to look at him, you raise an eyebrow. “having fun?”

he looks to the two of you, a flask in hand as he leans against the edge of the trash. “oh! hey, hey.” he takes a swig, a goofy smile on his face, “you guys need any more company today? i could, uh, clear my schedule.”

five stops just a few feet away, holding onto the straps of the duffel hanging over his shoulders. “looks like you got your hands full.” he nods to the bin he had been digging around in, and klaus pushes himself away from the rim, practically slapping the metal.

“no, no, i can do this whenever. i just-” he suddenly falls down into the dumpster, and you jump slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “i’ve misplaced something.” he calls out as you could hear him rifling around all the trash, and your nose scrunched up at the thought. suddenly he pops back up again, holding up a bagel, taking a bite out of it, “found it!”

you swear you could have thrown up right there. he really was an interesting character. “i’m done funding your drug habit.” the young looking boy says simply, turning on his heel to leave, which you quickly follow.

-

“why are we here again?” you question, leaning back in the seat of the stolen plumbing truck. for some reason, five brought the two of you back to meritech, and you found it useless. “this is a dead end. we don’t know when the eye will be made and we can’t just wait here until the apocalypse comes.”

pursing his lips, five doesn’t take his gaze away from the building as people walk up and down the street, sometimes going inside or leaving. “this eye is our only clue to what makes the world end. we will wait here if it takes the whole week to find out when it’s made and who gets it.”

you groan, letting your head fall back against the cushioned head rest. there was no way in hell that you would wait in this stuffy van for more than a few hours.

slapping your hand against the arm rest, you sit up, “alright, then. you do that.” opening the door, you hop out, looking to five as he finally looks away from meritech.

“where are you going?” he hisses, eyes narrowed in the way that told you he was definitely mad. you just didn’t care at this moment.

brushing your skirt off, you glance around, “i’m not sitting around waiting for something that may not even have anything to do with what happens. so i’m going to look for clues.”

he just looked at you for a moment, obviously in disbelief by what you were saying. “you’re just going to leave me? you don’t trust me?”

at the accusation, you groan. “you’re kidding, right?” you lean against the side of the seat, the door still open next to you. “of course i trust you. i’ve trusted you for over forty years, and sometimes, five, you’re wrong!” you laugh bitterly, motioning to the building across the street. “i’m not going to wait around in hopes that your hunch about this eye is right!”

five just stares at you, eyes slightly widened from your outburst. after a moment, he turns away and looks back to the building. “fine. do what you want.” he mutters, and you almost feel bad about blowing up on him. almost.

“have fun with your mannequin lover.” you grumble, letting the door slam shut behind you as you walk away from the van, determined to figure this out by actually doing something.

-

your day was spent rooting around the academy, looking in every nook and cranny of every single room. the rest of the siblings showed up around noon, and they stood around in the main room, arguing about something that you didn’t care about. it was all useless to you, unless it lead to the end of the world.

now, night had fallen, and you didn’t find a single thing. you thought reginald might have known something. maybe left a clue for the kids to find. but no.

absolutely nothing.

you laid on five’s bed, fingers laced together on your stomach as you stared up at the ceiling. while you were trying to figure out somewhere you might find a hint to what ended the world, you were also worrying about five and how you blew up on him. sure, you two would get over it, but you weren’t sure how angry he was. he could hold grudges, and you knew that very well.

your train of thought was interrupted by gun shots, and your body shot up as your eyes widened. jumping up from the bed, you grabbed the pistol that you had carried around with you from your days at the commission, which you brought with you when you went through that portal. you just hadn’t gotten the chance to use it yet, and you assumed this was it’s shining moment.

running downstairs, the shots got louder, and you cursed under your breath. looking down off the balcony into the main room, where you could see diego curled behind the couch with two people shooting mercilessly at the furniture. before they could notice you, you ran towards the stairs, thinking up a plan for how to deal with this.

they were definitely from the commission. you were absolutely sure of that. the suits they wore, paired with the metallic and colorful animal helmets gave it away. so they were here for you and five. you just didn’t know if they knew of the reverse-aging you guys went through. here’s to hoping.

as you got to the archway, one of the assassins was thrown through it, you barely dodging it as luther followed them out, probably prepared to fight. looking back into the room, you saw allison being choked by the other, and quickly jumped into action.

not wanting to risk shooting the woman, you stick the gun in your skirt’s pocket before jumping onto his back, your hands igniting with flames.

there goes another perfectly good shirt

the burning was enough to get him to let go of allison, but he quickly threw you off of himself, not getting the chance to turn on you as luther came back in and chucked him out the door as well.

all three of the siblings looked at you, breathing heavily and shocked, “what the hell was that?” diego questions, and you groan, pushing your now burnt sleeves up.

“we don’t have time for this right now. let’s deal with these assholes and maybe we can have a nice little pow-wow after.”

the discussion was cut off when the assassins got back up and started firing again, all of you dropping to the floor to avoid the shots and you quickly crawled away, managing to get cover behind the bar. grabbing your pistol, you hear luther and diego shouting at each other and the fire ceases. you assume they scrambled to safety and neither of the assassins wanted to waste bullets.

you heard them converse before they separated, and you noticed one of their shadows approaching from behind the bar. calming your breath, you pull the hammer of the pistol down, hearing the soft click that told you it was ready to fire. as the man rounded the corner, turned away and towards a glass case, you jumped up from your spot, quickly shooting at him and effectively landing a hit on his arm.

with a shout of pain, he turns on you, and though you can’t see his face, you know he’s angry. he holds a mace that he took from the glass case, and you quickly cock the gun again as he makes a move towards you.

“it’s you.” he snarls, and you smirk.

taking a step back, you don’t lower the gun as you grab an empty bottle, “so she did send you.” you state, lunging towards him and smashing the bottle over his head. he stumbled back, the mace swinging around on it’s chain.

a voice calling out from the hall caught your attention, and while he was dazed, you take a glance towards where the arch was, seeing vanya. you curse, taking a shot at the man before sliding over the bar and running to her.

“you can’t be here!” you yell at her, and you’re lucky that luther comes in just in time to stop the man from attacking you once again.

she looked confused, and you didn’t blame her, but you didn’t have time right now. you just had to get her out. you glanced back into the room as the man with the blue helmet lifted luther and threw him to the ground, wincing at the sight.

when he turns to leave the room, you grab vanya and pull her against the wall, steadying your breathing as you somehow managed to go unnoticed when he looked down the halls and turning the other way.

once he disappeared down the hall, you run back into the room to see if luther was okay, not even caring if another attack would happen. as you got to him, the other two came barreling in, allison calling out to him and both of them swinging one of his arms around their shoulders to help him up.

as he stood up, he noticed the woman atop the balcony, a bloodied knife in her hand as she went to cut the rope that held the chandelier up. you didn’t have time to move out of the way and unfortunately luther didn’t have three arms to push all of you away, so it crashed down on both of you, though you got more lucky as it landed on your thigh.

still hurt like a bitch, though.

hissing from the pain, when luther lifts himself up it gives you the wiggle room to pull your leg out from under the chandelier, cursing as you see the blood that surrounds a shard of glass that managed to wedge into the side of your leg.

the room went silent when everyone saw luther’s hairy body, something you never expected to see, and honestly, you wish you didn’t. he runs up the stairs, and you sigh as you fall back, hand wrapped around the glass as you hyped yourself up to pull it out.

a few minutes later, you managed to get the glass out and wrap an old rag around it to hopefully slow the bleeding, and you were ready to pass out from the exhaustion coursing through your veins. you didn’t even care about the fact that your wound may get infected.

you stood from the ground, watching the others as allison and vanya sit down, diego pacing back and forth. when allison asked him if he was okay, he burst, yelling at the two of them before he turned on you. “and what the hell was it that you did?” he hisses, pointing his finger at your singed sleeves, “i don’t remember you having any kind of power like us. so what was that?”

you glare at him, pushing his hand away. “i was lying about the pow-wow.” you state simply before turning away and making your way up the stairs.

-

main taglist: @horrorklaus​

tua taglist: none yet

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official

lstw taglist: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender

if you would like to be added to any taglist, just ask! :)

[livingforcoopsandoknutzy]

if there isn't a second part where I don't see Remus being comforted by his team and Greyback getting his ass handed to him I will set myself on fire (jk you're not forced to do anything I just loved your protective!sirius fic so much)

Don't set yourself on fire and thank you so much!! <3

Characters belong to @lumoenous

TW: injuries

Sirius hadn't wanted to leave but Remus was sleeping and Dumo had asked him to tell them how Remus was doing.

He was only slightly shocked to see most of the team sitting in the waiting room, but it sent a wave of affection and appreciation to see them all sitting there.

The cubs were all sitting together, Logan was curled into Leo's side seemingly asleep Finn playing with his dark curls as he talked quietly to Leo with his eyebrows furrowed.

James was sitting with Harry in his lap, bouncing him gently as Lily whispered to him and ran her fingers through his hair.

Dumo was talking to Thomas and Kasey who were both shaking slightly, from the cold or worry Sirius couldn't tell.

With the lump in his throat renewed, he went and sat on the floor in front of James and took Harry from him. The rest of the team got quiet as Sirius rested his head on Harry's tiny chest while Harry cuddled in to him cooing.

"Is- is he okay?" Thomas asked, quieter than Sirius had ever heard him. Sirius laughed suddenly, a hysterical, oh-god-i've-lost-my-mind, kind of laugh.

"He's okay. He had five cuts that needed stitches and he had hypothermia so he's drowning in blankets but he's okay. He's asleep right now." Sirius said quietly, staring at Harry instead of looking at anyone else.

He looked up when he heard a dull thud and saw Kasey with a murderous look on his face, his fist having slammed down on the armrest. Natalie grabbed his hand and ran her thumb over his knuckles.

"Who the hell would do that? Why would anyone do that to him?" Kasey said angrily glaring at the floor.

Most of the team seemed to have taken on that view as well. "Who could he have made that mad?" Finn asked with poorly masked anger that woke Logan up.

Leo shushed Finn and rubbed Logan's back as he opened his eyes tiredly. "Wha?" His tired voice slurred slightly and Leo sighed and kissed his head.

"Nothing babe, we were just trying to figure out who did it." Logan tensed for a second before sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

"He-" Logan cut himself off and slumped in the back or the chair. Sirius looked up at him slowly. "Did he say something to you?" Logan swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

"He was probably too tired to tell you but he told me not to say anything until he did." Logan said quietly, his voice sounding as if it had aged five years. Sirius felt his heart sink, it must have been bad for Remus to want to tell him himself.

Sirius sighed and handed Harry back to James. "Okay I'm going to go see if he's awake," he turned and looked at Dumo and the cubs. "Can y'all come with me please?" They all stood up and followed. Logan was moving a little slower than the rest of them so Finn and Leo fell into step beside him on either side.

"Why am I coming?" Dumo asked Sirius as they walked back to Remus's room, Sirius glanced back to Leo, Logan, and Finn before answering Dumo. "I was planning on asking him and I thought he'd probably want the cubs there too so he doesn't have to explain it twice because they mean a lot to him. You're here because if it's bad I don't think Leo will be enough of a peace maker to wound all three of us down."

Dumo nods in understanding as he walked into the room Sirius gestured to. Remus was awake when they walked in, his eyes sleepy in a way that informed Sirius he'd just woken up.

"Hey guys." He said in a scratchy voice that normally would be a turn on for Sirius. Leo smiled at him and took a seat in one of the chairs by his bed, Logan sat in his lap tucking his head under his boyfriends chin while Finn took a spot in front of their chair, his back against Leo's legs.

Dumo sat in the chair on the opposite side if the bed and grabbed Remus's hand before letting go.

Sirius sat on the bed next to Remus, careful of his bruises and stitches. Remus just put his arm around Sirius and cuddled closer. Sirius shivered when Remus's cold skin met his.

"You're warm." Remus said with a sigh and Sirius pulled him closer trying his best to warm him up.

"You feeling any better?" Logan asked from his spot of Leo's lap. Remus nodded, smiling fondly at the three of them.

"I'm okay just a little cold. Did you get them to check you?" He asked and furrowed his eyes when Logan snuggled closer to Leo without answering. "Check what?" Finn asked looking between Logan and Remus.

"Nothing I'm fine." Logan said, his face sufficiently hidden in Leo. Sirius felt Remus huff. "C'est de la merde, prends une couverture." Remus tried to take a blanket off but his fingers were shaking so Sirius took it for him and handed it to Logan who shook his head.

"No. You need it more Loops I'm fine." Remus rolled his eyes and adjusted his head on Sirius's chest. "It's my fault you were out there for so long, just take the blanket."

Logan sighed but Leo took the blanket and dropped it over him, tightening his arms around his cold boyfriend.

"Who did this?" Sirius asked softly, kissing Remus's brown curls. He rested his face there, breathing in the comforting smell. Remus fell silent, his body tensing as his arms tightening around Sirius.

"You can't freak out baby." He said and then added to the rest of the room. "None of you, specifically you Finn because you'll get Logan worked up too." They all nodded, listening to Remus intently. Sirius felt Remus let out a breath against him and his hand found Sirius's.

"I was getting the stuff together and it only took an hour and so I was on my way home and I was walking cause it was nice outside, as I'm sure you all know I love cold weather, and they cornered me. He just, they just punched me a lot a-and they hit my face with their skates. I'm okay though." He added quickly when Sirius let out a low sound.

Sirius took a few calming breaths as he realized who it was that hurt his boy. "They left after a while, he said that it he couldn't get me to stop playing he could break us up." He whispered as he lifted his head and turned to look at Sirius.

Sirius gave him a confused look and held him closer. "How the hell does he think he can do that? Il n'est rien, tu es tout pour moi." Remus laughed sadly and rested his forehead against Sirius's.

"He thought that if he left scars all over my face you would leave me. He thought you'd think me weak. Je l'ai fait aussi pendant une minute." He added softly, closing his eyes so he didn't have to see Sirius.

"Re, no. I would never, mon loup. Tu es belle tu as toujours été et tu le seras toujours. He can't change that." Sirius said fiercely. "I love you for you, how you look is just a plus." He adds trying to lighten the mood slightly, it worked and Remus let out a wet laugh.

Sirius wiped the tears off his face before looking at the cubs. Leo had tears falling silently down his face as he subconsciously hugged Logan closer to his body as his hands found Finn.

Finn was positively fuming, which as Remus had predicted was affecting Logan too. Logan had been relatively calm albeit sad but now he had his fists clenched and he was shaking, this time it was evident anger.

Sirius gave Dumo a pointed look and Dumo nodded slightly as he walked over to the boys. "Alright, Finn you need to calm down, Logan you do too. You'll set Remus off again and inadvertently Sirius too if you keep it up." Logan swallowed thickly and nodded, clutching Leo's hand. Leo bent down and whispered in his ear as he rubbing his thumb comfortingly over Logan's knuckles.

Finn stood up abruptly. "I'm going to go cool off for a second." He mumbled storming out of the room. Leo and Logan watched him go with troubled expressions. "You can go after him, it's all right." Remus said softly.

The two of them hesitated before nodding and going after Finn. Leo hesitated again at the door. "The team will want to see you, is that okay?" Remus laughed and nodded and Leo turned to follow his boyfriends.

Dumo stood up and hugged Remus carefully. "I'm glad you're okay Loops and I'm sorry for what happened. I'll give you two a minute before you get bombarded." He winked before he left and Sirius and Remus laughed.

Sirius adjusted them so he was sitting up and Remus was tucked under his arm, his head resting on Sirius's chest while Sirius rested his chin on Remus's head.

"You okay?" Remus asked after a minute of comfortable silence, Sirius couldn't help the incredulous laugh that escaped him. "You're in a hospital bed with stitches and hypothermia and you're asking me if I'm okay?"

Remus laughed as he playing with Sirius's fingers. "I guess when you put it that way it sounds funny but I know it made you worry all day so I'm sorry." Sirius frowned and lifted Remus's chin with his finger so their eyes met.

"Don't apologize for this, any of this. None of this was your fault in the slightest." He said sternly, trying to get the point across. Remus smiled at him and brought Sirius closer so their lips could meet.

"I love you so much." Remus whispered against his lips and Sirius smiled into the kiss. "I love you too mon loup."

They broke apart as eight people stumbled in. Lily was by Remus's side in seconds, her eyes rimmed in red. "Re," she cut off when he voice wobbled.

Remus held out a hand and Lily clasped it in both of hers. "Oh god Re, everyone was so worried and we couldn't get a hold of you." Lily broke off again and squeezed his hand helplessly.

Remus smiled at her, it was tired but it was there. Sirius had to appreciate his strength to talk to all these people while he was in this state.

"I'm sorry to have worried all of you, but I'm okay. Really." He added when everyone gave him disbelieving looks.

Dumo shook his head while Natalie smiled sadly. "Don't apologize, it's not like you did it on purpose." James said, holding Harry on his hip.

Harry was making grabby hands towards Remus but James was holding him tightly whispering 'not right now' repeatedly. Remus smiled fondly at them.

Kasey and Thomas were bouncing slightly, both being uncharacteristically quiet. Remus cuddled closer to Sirius and smiled at them. "I'm alright I promise. They said I can leave when they get my temperature back up."

Everyone nodded and a tense silence fell over them. "Is everything set for tonight? I was going to go back to finish a few things but I didn't get to it." Remus said, breaking the silence. Leo laughed from where he was standing behind Finn with his arms wrapped loosely in front of Finn's chest.

"Don't worry about that Loops, Moody finished everything. We're leaving at eight tonight if you're out, if not then we're probably going to leave when you get out." Logan said standing next to Dumo, he gave Remus a fond smile.

Remus huffed a laugh. "Y'all don't have to wait for me!" He said chuckling while everyone laughed. "Yeah, like we could get Sirius out of this place before then." Sirius nodded his agreement and Remus laughed, butting Sirius's chin gently.

They all talked and laughed for a while and Sirius just listened, content to have boyfriend in his arms while they were surrounded by their team.

Eventually when everyone left and it was just Remus and Sirius again as they drifted off to sleep.

Sirius was glad he had someone he depended on as much as Remus, even of it caused him stress.

He would choose Remus and the anxiety that came with loving someone so much over a day without anxiety if it meant no Remus in a heartbeat.

[fictionalabyss]

Eight kids and counting.

Pairing : Garth x Reader, Hailey -15(OC), Hunter -13 (OC), Twins Connor & Coen - 8 (OCs), Twins Amber & Aaron - 5 (OCs), Jackson - 3 (OC)

Word count : 1,909

Written for : @spnabobingo​

Square : Pups.

Warnings : A/B/O,  Pregnancy, breeding kink mentioned in passing, Heat (mentioned), children roughhousing/not listening to mom, minor injury, almost a fire, pregnancy brain. Fluffy.

Beta’d by : @artemisthebadger​

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

SPN A/B/O Bingo Round 5 Masterlist.

“Mommy!” Amber, your 5 year old daughter, whined from next to you as you tried to set the dining room table.

“Boys..”

“Mom!” she tugged on your shirt.

“Boys, please..” They were running, fast as they could, chasing each other around the house showing off how fast they were getting. Your 8 year old twins coming into their abilities with reckless abandon, and bringing the other children into their shenanigans as much as possible.

“Mommy, Aaron he-”

“Hunter, can you please get them to stop before they-” You heard a crash, one twin yelling that he was okay while the other yelled it wasn’t him.

“I got it, mom!” Came your oldest son, now 13 years old.

“Mommy!” Amber yanked on your shirt and you heard a stitch tear at the strain. “Aaron he-”

The fire alarm sounded and you yanked her hand off your shirt a little harshly as you ran for the kitchen, cursing the whole way. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” You burst back into the room to find Hailey, your oldest child at 15, pulling dinner from the oven.

“Sorry mom.” she winced at the roast now charred black.

“Shit..” Your shoulders dropped.

“Mommy, you keep saying bad words.” Amber scolded.

“I’m sorry honey. And for whatever Aaron did-”

“He gave my new dolly a haircut.” she held up the doll that had no head and claw marks down it’s front. “With his claws.”

“AARON!” you called out in a firm tone.

“I didn’t do anything! She’s lying!” he called back from wherever he was.

“Mom?” Hailey tried to get your attention. “Did you have something in the other oven, too?”

“SHIT!” you yanked the oven mits from her hands and pulled open the oven, smoke billowing out and making you cough.

Firm hands yanked you back and pulled the burning hot tray from your hands and tossed it onto the counter. “Hailey, go open the windows. Hunter, you get the door. Amber, honey, you bring mommy out back for some fresh air okay.” he crouched down to her eye level. “The smoke isn’t good for the baby.”

“Aye Aye, Daddy.” She saluted him before taking your hand and leading you towards the door. “Do you think you can fix her, mommy? Or do I need a new dolly again.”

You sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.” You glanced down and she smiled. “And I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you tried to tell me.”

“It’s okay, mommy. I’ll just cut his hair with my claws.”

“Please don’t.” you groaned, stepping out into the fresh air.  She gave you an innocent grin that you knew not to trust. “You’re supposed to be the good one, Amber.” you teased as you dropped to sit in the porch swing, hand moving over your large stomach. “Our little angel, remember?” you poked her nose and her whole face scrunched up making you chuckle.

“Is Aaron the evil twin?” You cocked an eyebrow at that. “Hailey says that there’s always a good twin and a bad twin. That Hunter was so bad he ate his!”

“Hailey!” you called out and shot an accusatory glare at the doorway to the kitchen, despite her not being there.

“Then tell Hunter to stay out of my room!” she yelled back from inside the kitchen.

“Then stop taking my things!” Hunter shot back.

“Come on, guys.” you groaned, letting your head fall down. You heard footsteps approaching, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. “No more kids, Garth. I swear to god. Eight is more than enough.”

“You weren’t exactly stopping me.” When you looked up, he had a smirk on his face. “In fact, you were rather encouraging.”

“I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows came together in confusion. “About what? About encouraging me so many times? Wouldn’t change a damn thing.” he was smiling wide again.

“About dinner.” you pouted up at him, and his smile fell. “I burnt it all, I- shit!” you shot up from your seat. “I had things on the stove, I-”

“I turned them off, relax.” he chuckled, stepping closer and bringing you into a hug.

“Did I ruin them, too?”

“No, they were just... overdone with love?”

“I ruined them.” you started to cry.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, it’s okay. It’s just dinner, it’s no big deal.” Garth ran one hand down your hair while the other went up the back of your shirt spreading warmth in its wake. The feel of his skin against yours was calming. “Take a deep breath for me, breathe it in.”

Taking a deep breath, you let the smell of him fill your nose. He smelled of sweat, since he hadn’t showered yet, wood, gunpowder and “Chocolate?” your head snapped up to meet his eyes.

“Ruined the surprise.” he teased, before pulling a chocolate bar out of his pocket. “I know how bad you’ve been craving this the last few days.”

“They don’t even have these here..”

“Well, I found one.” he brought his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. “Feel better?”

“I will when the pack you’ve got me building starts to listen.” you teased. “It’s hard enough with my brain all scattered, but with the boys-”

“I know. I’ll talk to them.”

“No more, Garth. Two sets of twins already, the other three kids, and now this one.” you looked down at your stomach. “This is the last one.”

“Hunter was supposed to be the last one.” he teased. “And then you went into heat, and-”

“I remember.” you groaned, letting your forehead fall to rest against his chest.

“Amber and Aaron were suppose to be the last, as well.” he teased. “Second set of twins, you didn’t want to risk another. Then I came home one night.” Garth’s lips were against the top of your head as he spoke. “And you-”

“I remember.” you sighed softly, and could feel his lips spread into a smile.

“What happened?”  You groaned softly, having all but forgot Amber was outside with you as Garth sent you down memory lane. “What’s heat, Daddy?”

“We’ll talk when you’re older.”

“I wanna know now!” she stomped her foot. “I’ll ask Hailey or Hunter.” she skipped off into the house.

“Aaron messed up her new doll again.”

“Yeah, I saw it.” he sighed.

“Connor and Coen are getting faster. They’ve been teasing Jackson again.”

“And put a hole in the wall, breaking a few family pictures in the process.” Your head shot up. “Hunter’s cleaning up the mess, and I’ll get the boys to help me fix it all tomorrow.”

“No more pups, Garth.”

He smiled softly, giving you another tender kiss. “I know. Go eat your chocolate on the couch, I’ll order us all some pizza before I shower, okay? Anything you want, it’s yours, my love.” You smiled up at him, a smile filled with as much love and adoration as he always showered on you. “Except that. You said no more kids and this one isn’t even out yet.” he teased, making you roll your eyes. “Mind out of the gutter.”

“Mom? Why is Amber asking us about heats?” Hunter asked from the doorway, making you groan, your forehead against Garth’s chest again as he laughed.

“THAT’S DISGUSTING!” came Ambers yell, while Hailey laughed hysterically.

“Hailey!”

“Heats is kissing!?” Amber came out, shooting you and Garth glares, and Garth laughed even harder. “I never want a heat.” she spat. “Boys are gross.”

“You’re gross!” yelled Aaron.

“No more.” you muttered to Garth one last time.

Pizza had arrived, and feeding time at the zoo started. The kids practically shoving each other to fill their plates and rush back to the living room to get good seats and not get stuck sitting on the floor. You watched from your spot on the couch as they rushed into the room, sometimes arguing over which spot was who’s, who had dibs and if dibs were even allowed.

This was why you didn’t let them eat in here every day. To be fair though, the dinner table wasn’t much different.

“Sit.” At the command from their father, everyone settled down. Garth all but smiled triumphantly to himself before walking over and sitting next to you, handing you the plate he’d made for you.

“Never leave.” you pleaded, making him laugh.

“Who picked the movie?”

“Hunter.” Everyone answered at once.

“Alright, Connor’s turn next.”

“Yes!” Connor pumped his fist. “Get ready for blood and guts!”

“Coen’s turn is next.” Garth countered.

“Hey!” Connor turned, shooting his father a glare while Coen grinned happily. Connor turned his glare on his twin and gave him a shove.

“Boys.” Again, at their father’s firm tone, they stopped. “Hunter, turn it on.”

The plates were all stacked on the coffee table. Discarded crusts, chicken wing bones, and crumbled napkins formed a mountain on the top one. The kids were all focused on the action movie that played on the screen. Amber ducked into Hunter every time an explosion made her jump, while her twin brother Aaron was on the edge of his seat with wide eyes.

Jackson, your three year old, was half asleep in Hailey’s lap where she sat on the floor with her back against the couch. Connor and Coen were on the floor as well, punching and shoving each other with excitement every time something happened.

You, you had your arm wrapped around Garth’s, your head on his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his hand gently stroking your thigh. You took a deep breath, breathing him in once again, and let out a soft moan.

Garth chuckled.

“You seem happy.” he whispered quietly, his lips brushing your head.

“I am. It’s quiet, and nice. I love it.” you looked around the room at your pups, at how sweet they could be once the chaos died down.

“You said no more.” When you looked up at him, he smiled knowingly. “I can already smell that your mind is changing.” he gripped your thigh and you licked your lips.

“We’ll see in a few years.”

“Guess I’m not the only one with a breeding kink.” his voice was lower than before and in your ear.

“Don’t start, Garth.” you warned, eyes falling shut as a wave of arousal coursed through you.

“I’m so glad I found the perfect woman to carry my pups for me.” he stroked at your chin before pulling you in for a kiss.

“EW! MOM! ARE YOU HEATING!?”

You couldn’t help but laugh against Garth’s lips. “No, honey. I just really love daddy.”

“I love daddy too!”

“Then come here, princess.” Garth opened his arms, and Amber jumped down from her spot on the couch with Hunter to rush to her father’s arms. As soon as he had her in his arms, he began to pepper kisses all over her face.

“Daddy!” she shrieked as they both laughed and she tried to wiggle free. You giggled as well as you watched them.

“Oh, god.” Hailey groaned, letting her head fall back.

“What?” Hunter asked, looking down at his sister, who’s shoulder was just inches from his leg.

“That’s moms ‘I want another one’ face.”

Hunter winced. “I’m moving out.”

“We’re going to have to just to make room.” Hailey laughed. “Eight kids and counting.” she sighed.

“Better not be twins again.” Hunter muttered.

“I heard that!” Aaron shot his older brother a glare. “Now shut up, I’m watching the movie.”

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[hains-mae]

Flowers - Pt. 5 (The End)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (The End)

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

The Flowers: @call-me-prodigy @annoylinglyaries @zphilophobiaz @comic-brew @biglilwing @awkwardspontaneity @lozzybowe @mariiecapo @distressedearie @diyosku @dracoaereum @thesuitelifeofafangirl @chims-kookies @blade-xingston @danicalifxrnia

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays.

Notes: Wow that was a fun ride. But every story comes to an end, I hope you guys enjoy the final chapter! And thank you everyone who has taken their time to like, comment, and reblog. I appreciate it a lot <3

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

Robin visited every other night after that. It was surreal to have a hero that you’ve so long admired become your frequent visitor. Then again, nothing seemed normal anymore.

“It’s past the convention week. How do you keep coming here?” I asked curiously one night.

Robin gave me a lopsided grin and tapped the side of his nose. “I have my ways.”

After Mom’s week long leave was up she begrudgingly had to go back to work. The hospital assured her that I was healing fairly well, and that I would be transferred to Gotham Hospital the following weekend.

I was never really lonely though. Besides the friendly staff, my midnight visitor always came right on time. I wondered why he would take the time. Maybe it was to get to know me better? Perhaps my speech that night managed to get through to him. I had hoped it was both.

If I was being honest though, I was a little more than glad he did. I had meant it when I told the boy that I found him intriguing. He was a tough nut to crack though. I couldn’t blame him.

During the day when I would shower, I’d trace the flowers across my frame and wonder just how much he had gone through.

Soul marks start to appear at 10 years of age. You could imagine the shock (and worry) my parents had gone through when they found me one day absolutely covered in flowers.

From a young age I would hide them. Always wearing my sleeves till my palms, my neck constantly covered with either my jacket, scarf or high placed collars. It wasn’t that I was ashamed, but Gotham liked to talk – and when you’re the subject of attention, then you’re an easy target for criminals.

As I got older, the marks around my neck forearms slowly faded. I had worried about my soul mate and their well-being. Now that I understood everything, it was a different type of worry all together. The kind that would sit at the pit of your stomach and tie knots, heavy enough to keep you on edge.

My T.V in the hospital room was always on the same channel, Gotham News. Every battle would have my heart clenching as the camera’s desperately tried to follow the fight. Most of the time’s they wouldn’t be able to capture the end, and I’d be left holding my breath.

That’s one other reason I looked forward to our nightly visits. I could relax knowing he was alright.

I still wasn’t sure what I felt for this enigma of a person. But I knew that I wanted to get closer.

“I have an idea.” Robin said one evening. There was a glint his eye, the mask was off since my mom wasn’t around anymore. “And it’s got something to do with your invention.”

I arched a brow. “The bullets are complete but I still have yet to finalize the counter measures.”

He nodded understandingly. “Counter affect can wait. We don’t want to encase anyone in rock at the moment, but I’m putting it out there since you wanted to help.”

Intrigued, I urged him to continue.

Damian was quite brilliant in his own way. After much thought and planning, we had about 3 more types of chemically enhanced concoctions laid out. All of which were to go through Batman before beginning the experimentation process. He has assured me that I would be leading the research team for that under Wayne Ent.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital.

“Do you like sweets?” He asked randomly.

Arching a brow I studied him. He was slouched on the couch with his leg dangling on one side and a book in his hands.

Charles Dickens.

“Yes.” I said, noting his obvious attempt to look natural. “Do you?”

“On occasion.” The boy shifted a shoulder to mimic a shrug.

The very next visit he had a black bag slung across his shoulder. His face gave nothing away but from the times I’ve spent with him, I realised it was his eyes that did most of the talking.

“Whatcha got over there?” I asked curiously, scooting closer to him at the edge of the bed.

“Patience.” He said and pulled up the make shift table that was attached to the side of my bed. Placing a medium sized box on top, he carefully undid the lid and opened it. “I present to you, baklavas.”

In the dim light I saw that they were flaky, almost like a croissant. There were some with a mix of nuts, from pistachios to almonds. Others were plain but still looked heavenly. They gleamed with a moistness, as if coated with a syrupy substance. I picked one up and popped it into my mouth.

It burst with flavour and dissolved much too fast. I squeaked at the exotic taste.

“Oh my gosh these are so good.” I said, licking my thumb.

Robin looked pleased.

“You should have one.” I pushed the box towards him but he shook his head.

“They’re yours.” He said.

“Nonsense. Food always taste better when shared.” I picked another one up intending to eat it.

“If you insist.”

I had barely managed to register the wicked glint in his eye before he took hold of my wrist and brought my hand that was holding the sweet close to his mouth. He took it carefully from me in one easy motion and lightly licked my finger.

“You’re right. It does taste better when shared.”

I felt the burn on my cheeks and ears before I heard the warning blare of the heart monitor. Immediately, Robin slipped behind the couch just as the nurses for the nightshift burst into my room in a panic. They fussed over me as I repeatedly tried to tell them I was alright. My heart finally calmed and once they left, Robin got up covering his mouth. He was trying to keep himself from laughing.

-x-x-x-

The weekend came much faster than I had anticipated. When the doctors checked on my progress, they gave the thumbs up for me to be transferred to Gotham’s hospital.  Mom was relieved, and wouldn’t stop fussing over me when we got there. I let it be though, thinking it was more for her own peace of mind than mine.

After that it was a short two weeks before I was fully discharged.

Robins visits never wavered though. If anything, he had stayed for longer periods of time. I got to know the boy under the mask more than I had hoped for and opened up in return more than I had intended.

I found out his brothers were vigilantes too. He pointed them all out one evening with a family picture he’d secretly stashed in his wallet. They were a “thorn” to his side — as he had so eloquently described, but I could see just how much he loved them. That was another thing I learnt about him, his speech patterns were very posh. He liked to use formal names and slang was not completely in his vocabulary. I asked him about that one time, to which he only replied “another time”. It was probably a touchy subject, where he exactly grew up.

His favourite colour was green, and his adoration for animals was as deep as black hole. It was crazy how perfect my mind painted him to be, and the more I knew, the harder it was to ignore the feelings growing inside me.

He enjoys reading, but would gladly spend the day locked in his room with his tablet and pen drawing the day away. He is good both in traditional and digital art, and sometimes dabbles in graphic design when he feels like it. He prefers his tea without any additives, but would not hesitate to pour bucket loads of milk and sugar in his coffee during the rare moments he drinks it.

I could list everything down but it would just solidify my attraction to him, and honestly I doubt this was he needed right now. Juggling a double life sounded a lot more stressful than he showed it to be. He hardly ever talked about it but from the amount of flowers blooming on me, it was difficult to see it any other way but exhausting. He’d kick butt at night, get hurt, then go to school the very next day like nothing happened.

He arrived one evening like he normally did and I had rushed up to pull off his glove. I felt a sting earlier and found a Sakura branch littered with pink flowers. I was right, his arm was soaked in red, and the gash looked bad.

“It’s just a scratch.” He promised me.

I didn’t reply. Taking him straight to the bathroom, I rinsed out the remaining blood and addressed the wound. After bandaging him up I finally looked into his eyes and showed him just how worried I was.

That evening we sat next to each other, with our fingers intertwined and his thumb randomly brushing against my knuckles.

-x-x-x-

Finally I was able to return home. Being able to lie down on my own bed, inside my own house, I could let loose and properly relax. I threw myself onto the soft comforters that smelled like fabric softener and smiled to myself.

Home sweet home.

But not for long, I reminded myself that this evening I would be dining with the Wayne’s. Swallowing hard, I hurried my face onto the pillows. I can’t mess this up, not after everything they’ve done for me.

Damian’s smirking face suddenly came to mind, and all his welcomed visits. It made my stomach grow warm. Remembering us sharing the sweets he gifted – soft lips against my fingers.

I groaned into the pillow, the room was getting a little hot. Getting up gingerly, as to not aggravate the newly healed stitches, I manoeuvred my way to the window and pushed it open. The cold evening air felt good against my heated skin. I sighed in content.

If I were being honest, I didn’t know what exactly was happening between us. I didn’t know if I wanted anything to happen between us. Wouldn’t it be weird, considering that I’d be interning for his dad in just a couple of months. Possibly work there if my luck doesn’t run out first. Not to mention WHO he was.

You’re just a normal girl, I chided myself. Not someone important enough to stand beside such a prestigious boy and his ridiculously wealthy family.

But even then – I found myself wondering. Seeking. Imagining… What if we were to become something more? What if it works? What if we fall in –

“Y/n!” Mom’s voice broke through my reverie, waking me up from the needless train of thought.

Closing my window, I poked my head out the door and found her putting on a bracelet.

“Are you ready? The cab is nearly here.” She asked.

I nodded and took a step closer to her. Looking quickly at the vanity mirror in the hallway, I gave myself a once over to make sure everything was in place. I had on a slightly fitting turtle neck sweater, paired with a high waisted pleated skirt and dark stockings. On my feet I sported on my boots. It was safe to assume no one would be able to see my soul marks.

My mom grabbed her purse and headed downstairs. I followed close behind her, handing her her coat before locking up the front door.

The cab driver arrived a few minutes in, and we drove off straight to Wayne Manor.

“This is exciting isn’t it?” She said to me with a lift in her voice, as she exited the cab to get the gates opened.

Once we could enter, we were greeted with a very large land that was pristinely kept. The grass was cut evenly, and the trees lining the estate were trimmed to perfection. Bushes were perfectly shaped into different animals, and flowers systematically grown to create swirls and shapes beside the road. A big fountain was situated just in front of the mansion while a man in a black suit waited beside the opened doors.

We exited the cab after paying and did our best to take it all in without looking like fishes out of water.

“Ah, Mrs. & Ms. Y/l/n.” It was the man who I saw pick up Damian that one night in Metropolis appeared. I also remembered him in the family photograph. His accent was thickly laced with British poise. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth, I shall be you’re attendant for the evening.”

“Thank you.” Mom was quick to compose herself.

As soon as I entered the house I felt my breath stolen away. It was huge. Everything looked so new and polished.

I barely registered my mom and Alfred chatting away as he led her to the dining hall.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

I nearly jumped at the voice that startled me. Whipping my head around, I found Jason standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I remember my first time coming in here. Completely floored.” He chucked.

I waved a small greeting. “Everything looks so –“

“Expensive? Exorbitant? Grand?” He tried to guess.

“Beautiful.” I breathed out.

He laughed. “Not what I expected. But you’re full of surprises aren’t you.”

I blushed. “Ah, I’m not sure about that. I’m just me.”

“Hey, no stealing our guest before dinner.” Dick walked down the stair case with Tim beside him.

“Feeling better Y/n?” Tim asked as we grouped just below the stairs.

“Yeah, thank you.” I answered, suddenly feeling flustered as they surrounded me.

Stay calm.

“Don’t be nervous.” Dick said with an air of comfort.

I wanted to ask what made him think so, but he answered before I even began to articulate the words.

“You’re fidgeting like a college student during a thesis debate.” He said simply.

“You’re… very good at reading people.” I arched a brow at him.

“One of my many amazing abilities” He winked.

Jason let out an air of playful frustration and pulled Dick aside. “And now you’re stealing her. Can’t hold a normal conversation can you Dickie, always a flirt.”

“First of all – do I need to remind you who mostly does all the talking during dad’s parties. And second of all – I am not a flirt. I can’t help it if I’m charming.” Dick mocked a suave look and shot it as his brother.

Jason looked like he was about to gag and Tim was less than pleased. I laughed at their antics.

“What’s funny?” Damian appeared beside me. I jumped and held a hand to my racing heart.

“Jeez, do all of you have a talent for sneaking up on people?” I wheezed out, trying to gather my bearings.

They all grinned at me without answering.

Robins, my inner muse whispered. I brushed off the thought as quick as it had come.

We had made it to the dining area just in time for Alfred to begin serving the meals. My mother was already chatting up a storm with Mr. Wayne. A wine glass in hand and a slight tint to her cheeks. She looked happy.

I began walking towards the seat beside my mother when Damian pulled out the chair like a gentleman. I bit the inside of my cheek and mumbled a thank you.

He took the space beside me and the rest of his brothers seated themselves opposite us.

As we opened our plates for dinner, I was amazed to see how well it was presented. Mr. Pennyworth continued to serves other dishes, and once he was done he left the room.

The food tasted just as good as it looked.

Easy conversation wafted around us, the usual topics of school, and future plans. Mr. Wayne brought up the internship which I nearly gushed over due to my excitement. Damian held back a laugh with a cough when he noticed my little slip up before I composed myself again. I bumped his knee under the table and playfully glared at him. He smirked and bumped me back.

“My compliments to the chef Mr. Wayne.” Mom said.

“I’ll be sure to tell him.” He smiled through a glass of wine. How many glasses in were they at this point? Damian and I were the only ones who weren’t allowed so both our glasses were filled with water and juice.

“And, please,” Mr. Wayne continued. “Call me Bruce.”

“Hey, we should give the women a tour.” Dick suggested. “I’m sure you’ll both love it.”

Jason and Tim had excused themselves, and I had an inkling as to what they were up to. Patrols were a common thing, as Damian told me.

And so with Dick and Bruce leading, my mother and I followed as they showed off the grandness of the manor.

I couldn’t help but be awestruck all over again. The library was huge. Their shelves towered from ceiling to floor, and filled with all kinds of books. From novels to more informative documents. I recognised a couple of titles from the times Damian spent the night reading.

The sunroom was next. The glass was near invisible. I took in the sight of the gorgeous garden just beyond the panels, being able to outline a gazebo at the far end with flowers twisting around its pillars. I unconsciously touched my stomach where the stitches were, randomly pondering what kind of flower had bloomed from such a brutal wound.

“Are you okay?” Damian was beside me immediately and his hand supported my elbow. His voice was laced with concern.

“Oh.” I realised what he was talking about and pulled my hand down. “I’m okay, just a little tired.”

“Honey?” My mom’s face pinched in concern. “Is it hurting again?”

“I just need to rest Mom, I’m fine.” I assured her. “You should continue, I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

Mom was hesitant but there wasn’t much she could do, and she knew it. So they moved on, but not without Mr. Wayne asking for some painkillers to be brought to me.

After taking the medicine, I thanked ‘Alfred’ (as he had asked me to call him) before he left.

Damian was sitting on the arm rest of the couch. My hand was in his and he rubbed random circles around my knuckles. His brows were furrowed, and his features were set in a deep scowl. I could practically feel the guilt and worry radiating off of him.

“I have to be honest, I thought I’d see more animals around.” I said, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Father asked me to keep Titus in my room for the time-being, he didn’t know how you two would react to a Great Dane, or vice-versa.” The boy said simply.

“Great Dane?” I asked flabbergasted.

The corner of Damian’s lips turned upwards. “When you feel better I’ll introduce you.”

“It’s a date.” I answered before thinking. All at once I realised what I said and felt my cheeks burn. “Ah – I mean, not date. If you aren’t comfortable with that, people just use the word date as a meeting time or –“

“It’s a date.” He brought my fingers up and ghosted his lips over them. I had to hold my breath fearing that my heart would stop.

I was momentarily stunned by his forwardness and calm. Looking away I managed to slow down my heart rate to a regular beat.

“I still need to guess the rest right?” I asked coyly.

He gestured for me to continue.

“Let’s see.” I rested my head on the couch and closed my eyes to recall our conversation back in the ball room. “We’ve got a dog, a cat.”

“Mhm.” Damian nodded, moving from the arm rest to the empty space next to me.

My brain brought up an old song from the Princess and the Frog, when they had to ‘Dig a Little Deeper’.

A dog, a pig, a cow, a goat – the lyrics were sung in my subconscious before I could stop it.

“A cow.” I guessed.

Damian’s eyes grew a little wide, before a grin made its way to his lips. “Yes.”

“What seriously?” I giggled. “You actually have a cow?”

“Bat-Cow.” He chuckled. “I was a child, and that was the first name to come up.”

I was full on laughing now. “I cannot wait to meet them. But that was seriously a random guess, now I feel like my confidence is dwindling.”

“Then how about you wait till you see them?” He suggested.

I bit my lip and shifted in my seat, our knees brushed and I felt that warmth spread across my chest. We’re close. A little too close.

When I looked at him I found he was staring at the garden outside. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. There was something about this boy that just drew me closer, making me want more. I traced the little moles across his cheek and wondered when I had let this magnetic pull take over me.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Damian commented. His intense green eyes bore into mine as he threw a deviously charming smirk my way.

I blushed and looked away, suddenly finding my shoes a lot more interesting than it was. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

He turned towards me. And I made the mistake of facing him again, because now our faces were just mere inches apart.

I found myself gazing at his beautiful green eyes that contrasted so well with his tanned olive skin. There were so many different shades of green looping and mixing with one another, it felt like a maze – one that I would willingly get lost in.

My fingers rested in the spaces between his, and I marvelled at how everything in that moment felt right.

I tilted towards him, and he did the same towards me.

“What are we doing?” I whispered, stealing a glance at his lips.

Heart pounding.

Blood racing.

It left me dizzy.

“I’m… not sure.” Damian replied, his tone low. “But if you asked me to kiss you, I would.”

His thumb grazed the inside of my wrist with a feather-light touch and I burst into flames.

“Kiss me.”

And he did.

-THE END-

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 6: Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Finally, I write most of the chapter before the day I’m supposed to post it. This was mostly done on my laptop (which I’m not used to) as we just moved and my PC is barely set up, so forgive anything that looks weird or wonky. As always, I hope you enjoy. I love getting all your kind messages <3 (Also message me if you want to be on the taglist - I suppose I should be better about that!)

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 6, Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter Summary: Events during a new case test your ability to keep your feelings hidden, and a night out takes an unforeseen turn. 

Words: 3736

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Turns out, lying to Hotch was easier than you thought.

It helped that you were lying to yourself too, of course - that you pretended your gaze didn't linger on his form whenever he was in your vicinity, that the swell of pride in your chest when he agreed with something you said was purely professional. There were times, though, that the facade was much harder to maintain. The most recent case had been one of those times.

You had been tracking down an unsub abducting children in a rural Iowa town. Three kids had gone missing in the span of two weeks, and after Garcia matched the victimology and MO with neighboring states, it looked to be close to a dozen in the years before that. The case started off rough enough - locals refused to believe it could be one of their own, police resisted the BAU’s guidance, the usual - but it came to a head when a fourth child went missing during the investigation.

Thankfully, the team figured out the identity of the unsub relatively quickly. Reid did a geographical profile of all the locations where victims were taken and found a public health clinic that had branches in each area. Garcia cross-checked the employee records to find that only one doctor had done travel shifts at each clinic during the time the children were taken, and within minutes, you were rushing to his address.

The SUV carrying Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss arrived long enough before yours that by the time you pulled up, they were already kicking down the door and entering the home. The first thing you heard after you flung the car door open was the deafening crack of a weapon firing, and despite your lack of training with firearms, it was apparent that it was not an FBI-issue pistol.

You would never describe yourself as fragile - you couldn't be, not in this line of work. But when you registered the implications of that sound, your knees buckled, instantly bringing you down onto the dusty ground outside the farmhouse. The rest of the team sprinted in, guns drawn. You faintly registered Prentiss yelling inside, then more gunshots, but your head was ringing so loudly from the visceral panic that you couldn’t make out anything specific.

When Hotch burst back out onto the porch, you thought you might honestly sob with relief. That is, until you caught the glint of the sun in the slick, dark blood dripping down the sleeve of his suit.

That was when you puked.

Something about the sight of Aaron Hotchner bleeding felt so wrong that even as you struggled to your feet and stepped over the pile of sick you left in the dirt, even as you got closer and saw the rivulets of blood drip down to his fingertips and dot the wooden floors of the porch, you felt like you were in a dream. Your mind couldn’t grasp the sudden shock of his mortality, that he could bleed, that he could die, even, and he very well might, depending on what vessels were hit. You made it up the steps, only managing to call out his name - his first name - your throat still burning from bile. Despite the chaos of the current moment, he still whipped his head around at the sound of that, as if hearing the name Aaron desperately falling from your lips was more attention-grabbing than the rest of the team gathering around him trying to stem the bleeding.

“It looks worse than it is,” said Rossi, peering through the holes in Hotch’s mangled sleeve. “It was just buckshot, and he barely hit you. Nothing a few stitches won’t fix.”

He turned out to be right, thank god, and later that afternoon, Hotch was freshly bandaged and sitting across from you on the return flight to Quantico.

So, yeah, the “lying to yourself” thing wasn’t going so well at that moment. Hotch was absorbed in paperwork while the rest of the team napped - because of course he was; even being shot didn’t sway his apparently relentless refusal to relax - and each time he winced at the movement of his arm, your vice grip around your chest tightened a little more.

He must have sensed you staring, because he looked up, frown softening slightly as he saw the concern on your face.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” he assured you with a half smile.

Teetering on an emotional precipice, too scared to respond for fear of falling over the edge, you went back to your reading. After a few minutes of listening to him write while not turning a single page in your book, he set his pen down and took a breath.

“You were screaming my name,” he said, quietly, despite you two being the only ones awake.

“What?”

“Earlier,” he clarified, “when we went into the house. I could hear you outside, yelling my name.”

You looked at him, incredulous. “Of course I did. I heard the shotgun go off. Clearly,” you gestured at his arm, “I had a reason to be worried.”

He shook his head and cleared his throat, as if you didn’t understand the question. “Dave and Emily were with me. Any of us could have gotten hit. You only yelled for me.”

Oh.

You shrugged. “You’re the team leader. It’s my instinct to call for you when something goes wrong."

It was a lie, and a bad one at that, but Hotch gave you an unreadable look and let the subject drop.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and when you finally made it back to your apartment, you had no plans other than to sleep off the stress of the case and the embarrassment of Hotch calling your actions into question. Garcia, however, wasn't about to let that happen.

BAU-tiful People Group Chat

Garcia: *added You to the conversation*

Garcia: Ok, my lovely children, I know you’re all tired, but I miss your faces, so I’ll see u at Whimsy tonight at 9! Notice I didn’t use a question mark bc it is NOT a question!

You knew from overhearing the team talk that Whimsy was a bar downtown they liked to frequent, but you’d never been invited before. Despite your overwhelming exhaustion, the idea of going out with the team, of finally feeling accepted by them, was enough to make you amenable to the concept. It may have seemed insignificant on the surface, but Garcia adding you to their group chat was the biggest welcome gesture you’d received yet.

Morgan: Only if you wear that dress you know I like ;)

You lived for the day they would realize they were actually flirting with each other instead of just pretending to.

Prentiss: Garcia… you’re killing me… but you know I’ll be there.

JJ: Contacting the babysitter as we speak.

Morgan: Fuck yeah!!! Pretty Boy, you in?

Reid: Can’t we ever go somewhere quiet?

As the group chimed in with various iterations of, “Shut up, Reid,” you hesitantly typed out a text to confirm your attendance. You were excited, of course, but nervous to be the new kid at their favorite hangout. After today's events, though, the desire not to be sober won out over nerves.

You: I’ll be there! Thanks for the invite!

Rossi: Hope you kids are ready for me to drink you under the table, as usual.

Morgan: Eyyy, you KNOW we party hard! See y’all tonight.

____________

Turns out, Morgan was not exaggerating. Not even a little bit. By the time you arrived, 15 minutes late, everyone looked to be at least 3 shots deep. Garcia ran over to greet you, squealing, and wrapped you in a suffocating hug.

“I’m so glad you came! What do you drink? Tequila? I’ll grab the next round!”

You laughed and confirmed that tequila sounded great, and as she scurried off to the bar with Morgan on her heels, you had a chance to look around.

The atmosphere of the club surprised you - it was all glass and steel and modernity, packed with people dancing to something with intense bass - not the low-key joint you’d pictured the team wanting to unwind at. But as you watched JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi cheer on Reid as he threw back a shot, doubling over in hysterics as he coughed and sputtered at the taste, you realized that this place was just loud and energetic enough to keep them from thinking about anything other than work. In that way, you definitely saw the appeal.

“I come bearing shots!” Garcia yelled as her and Morgan made it back to the table. “Grab yours… here we go- whoops! Alright, everyone got theirs?”

She turned to you, grinning behind a pair of hot pink spectacles. “Cheers not ONLY to rescuing four kidnapped children alive, but also to our lovely intern and her first Whimsy outing!”

The team erupted in cheers and you smiled back, downing the tequila. You chatted with the group while Garcia ordered more drinks, and then more drinks, and soon you felt a pleasant buzz filling your head.

“Morgan, you better ask me to dance right now before I go find another man to do the job,” Garcia said with a wink in his direction.

Morgan grinned and mock-bowed, holding out a hand for her to take, and led her off to the dancefloor.

“Should we join them?” JJ asked around the table.

“Someone’s gotta make sure they don’t do anything worth getting kicked out for,” Prentiss shot back. You giggled and followed the girls, leaving Rossi and Reid behind at the table in the midst of a heated debate about childhood brain development that you couldn’t even hope to comprehend.

Not long after you started dancing, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and turned around, looking up into the stunning green eyes of a man who looked to be about your age. It was hard to really tell what he looked like in the dim lighting, but by the way Prentiss was giving you a thumbs up and mouthing, “Go for it,” from your side, he was good enough for you.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked above the music. You smiled and nodded in confirmation, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to his hips.

He knew how to move, that was for certain. He ground against your backside lightly, snaking his hands around your stomach. You weren’t used to this kind of thing - dancing with random men at bars, letting them touch you like this - but the combination of the music and the booze and the relief at the last case being over was making you feel more free than you had in recent memory.

You exchanged grins with Morgan, who was dancing a few feet away in a much more R-rated manner with Garcia. The man behind you (whose name you didn’t know, but who cared?) leaned down to kiss your neck and you arched against him in response, reaching up to run your hand through his hair.

Throughout the song, you had rotated back to facing the table where the rest of your team was sitting. You glanced over, saw Reid and Rossi still deep in discussion, along with another man in a black button-up with a very familiar side profile and-

Hotch.

Hotch was here, and as if the powers that be were insistent upon proving to you that the opposite of serendipity existed, at the exact moment you had that realization, he turned and made direct eye contact with you. Drunk, wearing a skintight dress, a random man grinding on your ass, and staring right back at your Unit Chief at the motherfucking Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and if you had been drunker, you might have hurled tequila all over the dancefloor. Instead, you pulled away from the mystery man behind you, ignoring his shocked, “Wait!” and beelined to the bar.

“Tequila. Shot. Please, I’m sorry, just saw someone I didn’t expect to,” you blurted out to the bartender, swearing you could feel Hotch’s eyes on your back from across the club.

The bartender, probably having seen much worse, nodded in understanding and poured your drink. You gulped it down, wiped your mouth, and leaned on the bar to get your bearings.

It’s not weird. It’s not. It’s a bar, it’s outside of work hours, it’s perfectly fine that you’re buzzed and dancing and having fun. Everyone else is!

Really, it wasn’t that you were worried about your job, or even that he would judge you (he probably would, but that was unavoidable regardless of the setting), it was just that you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for the possibility that he would come. He was in the group chat - obviously, if he had seen Garcia’s invite - but had never struck you as the social type, the kind of boss that would interact with his team outside of work.

“Did you see that Hotch is here?” Prentiss asked breathlessly, appearing at the bar beside you.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one surprised.

“I did,” you whispered back, despite the thumping music and the rowdy patrons making it logically impossible for your words to reach the table 20 feet away. “Does he usually join you guys?”

“Never,” she said, before thinking and correcting herself, “Not in years, anyways. When Haley… we used to drag him out, but we stopped after a while.”

“Why do you think he came tonight?"

She shrugged. “Who knows? Far be it from me to explain why Hotch does anything.” An idea seemed to pop in her head, and she grinned. “Maybe it’s because of you!”

“M-me?” Your reaction to the suggestion wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as you’d tried for, but Prentiss was too drunk to notice.

“Yeah, gotta help initiate the intern on her first night out, right?” She grinned and clapped you on the shoulder, then turned away to head back to the dancefloor, leaving you alone. You sighed, gathered yourself as much as you could considering the effects of the tequila, and turned around to go greet him.

“Hey, Agent Hotchner. Didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Yes, well. Thought I’d show up for a bit; it’s been a while.” He gave you a tight lipped smile then looked back down at his glass of whisky, the awkward energy palpable.

Probably because he just saw you basically dry-humping some random dude.

“Well, I’m glad you came! Feel free to, uh, come dance if you want! Morgan and Garcia are showing us all up,” you said, gesturing to where Morgan and Garcia were in fact drawing the attention of several onlookers.

He chuckled at that. “They’re certainly a sight to behold, aren’t they?”

You nodded in agreement and headed back to the bar, the brief conversation pointing you towards yet another drink. Talking to him was so easy , sometimes, and others it was like pulling teeth to get a human response out of him. Could you blame him, though? Your last one-on-one interaction was you basically inviting yourself over to his apartment with takeout and listening to him spill his guts about his dead wife and kid, and he probably felt uncomfortable with you after that, and then you went right to this case without any chance for things to go back to normal, and then he got shot, and oh my god, you didn’t even ask him how his arm was doing, how fucking rude can you be, dumbass? and-

“Whoops! Shit, I’m sorry!”

You looked at the person you’d just bumped into in the midst of your internal crisis.

“Hey, it’s you!”

The man you’d been dancing with earlier, now much more obviously handsome in the brighter lights of the bar area, grinned in recognition.

“Hey, I thought I’d scared you off there!”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. Just saw my boss and freaked out a little bit.”

“Oh shit, your boss is here?” he asked. “That’s uncomfortable, damn. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, it’s just… yeah. Anyways. Wanna pick up where we left off?” you asked, more desperate than ever to get Hotch out of your head. If he didn’t want to see you having a wild night, he shouldn’t have come to the club.

He took your hand, looking pleased. “Lead the way.”

It really was so much easier, you thought, to let yourself feel attraction for guys like this. Uncomplicated, willing to take what you give them, no backstory to speak of. They weren’t riddled with tragic history, unattainable in both position and personality, not to mention impossible to even imagine ever returning your feelings. Guys like Cooper (you’d finally learned his name somewhere amid the grinding and groping) were easy and fun and they didn’t keep you up at night agonizing over whether that thing you said at work was impressive enough.

But then again, they didn’t give you the roller-coaster feeling in your stomach that Aaron Hotchner did every time you locked eyes.

And lock eyes you did - an increasingly frequent number of times, actually. It seemed like whenever you turned to face his direction, he was staring you down. He always went back to his conversation with Rossi and Reid, but you noticed that he seemed to get more and more pissed off with every song that played. His frown was deepened, his expression dark, and you could tell even from a distance that his knuckles were white from gripping his glass.

You shrugged it off as Hotch being Hotch - who knew what that man was thinking? And besides, you were trying to forget him, damn it. At least, that was until a particularly raunchy song came on and you were in the middle of getting your ass felt up, when you felt a hand squeeze your shoulder and whip you around, bringing you face-to-face with your boss himself.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is something wrong?” you asked, utterly bewildered as to why he was interrupting you.

He ignored you, instead staring down Cooper, who very quickly decided Hotch wasn’t one to fuck with and walked away.

“Hotch! Is there a case? Should I grab the others?”

He shook his head. “Can you come with me, please?”

Perplexed, you acquiesced (not that you had much of a choice, with the way he was gripping your elbow) and followed him through the crowd, out the back door, and into an alley. He let go of you then, sighing and crossing his arms.

Your mind was wild with questions - did you do something you shouldn’t have? Get too drunk? Everyone was drunk, though, and you weren’t even half as wasted as some of the others. Did Reid or Rossi tell him something bad about you? Were you about to somehow get yourself fired off the clock?

“The boy you were dancing with was bad news,” he said, after an uncomfortably long period of silence.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” you repeated, this time out loud, and you knew you shouldn’t be talking to him like this, but you were too caught off guard to conduct yourself more appropriately.

“He was a drug user,” Hotch said, as if that would explain everything.

“A drug user,” you repeated back, no less confused.

“Cocaine,” he continued. “He was high - his pupils were dilated, he was rubbing his nose, and he's been to the bathroom several times.”

“So… you’re going to arrest him? For doing cocaine?” you asked, still baffled as to what he was insinuating.

“What? No,” he said, “I’m trying to warn you not to get involved.”

You had entered some parallel universe, you decided. There was no other explanation for your boss, a man you’d known all of four months, dragging you outside a bar on a Friday night and telling you not to dance with a hot stranger because he was on cocaine.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you really did get yourself fired. “Sir, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t think it’s really any of your business.”

His face hardened at that. “It is exactly my business,” he said, eyes boring a hole through your skull, “to watch out for things that may compromise my team.”

“Compromise your team?” you repeated his words again. “I was dancing, not getting engaged to the guy.”

“Should I allow you to dance with a sexual sadist if it’s just dancing?” he pressed, using the stern voice that usually caused any sort of dissent to whither and die right in your throat.

It didn’t work this time, probably because he was acting fucking insane. “Are you seriously comparing a sexual sadist to a guy who does cocaine while he’s out partying?”

“It’s not just while he’s out partying, by the way he conducted himself, he was a chronic-”

“It doesn’t matter!” you said, nearly yelling now. “You had no right! I'm sorry, what are you, my dad?!”

His eyes flashed at that. “If I hadn’t already had to sit through an 8 hour surgery not knowing if Garcia was going to make it out alive because her date shot her, then perhaps I would have no right. But as it stands, I do. Please be more careful with who you associate with, even if it’s just dancing.”

He spat that last part out, more vitriolic than you’d ever seen him, and stalked back inside. You were left outside in the alley, alone, reeling from confusion surrounding the entire interaction and shock at the emotional charge he’d leveled at you.

Reentering the bar, you saw that Hotch’s seat had been vacated and his jacket was gone. You rolled your eyes, and on your way to the bathroom, nearly ran into Cooper again.

“Hey!” he said. “What was that all about? You good?”

You looked up at his face and for the first time, noticed faint traces of white dust around his nose. He looked keyed up, jumpy - his pulse racing and visible on his carotid. You sighed.

“I’m good. Just not in the mood right now, sorry,” and pushed past him into the bathroom.

Hotch was an emotionally stunted asshole with a control complex, but he was also never fucking wrong.

[thetomorrowshow]

unless you take your army back ch. 5

First  -  Previous  -  Next  -  Read on AO3!

yo once again giving you guys a chapter how’s everyone doing? My posting dates will never again be on tuesday lol expect wednesdays or fridays when possible <3

anyways other business if you see an A/N in here somewhere (it’ll be between brackets) lmk and I’ll edit it out

Enjoy :)

cw: food, eating disorders, discussion of injuries

~

Jack didn’t leave to sell papes the next morning, instead bringing a cup of coffee and some porridge to Crutchie, then settling in beside him with a real fancy sketchbook and a charcoal pencil.

The coffee wasn’t that great, but Crutchie drank it all, hoping the energy would distract him from the uncomfortable tightness of his fresh bandages. Only one of the cuts that had split open was one that had needed stitches (Katherine had snipped the thread and pulled it out three days ago), but they would all probably scar. At least he already liked to wear long shirts and pants.

The porridge was fine, but rich. After about four bites, Crutchie rested the bowl on the windowsill. Just weeks ago, he would’ve been able to scarf down twice that amount in a matter of minutes, but now he could barely handle eating enough to feed a baby. He was sure he’d get better faster if he’d just eat more, but he just--couldn’t.

This wasn’t even the first time Crutchie had seen kids have trouble eating. At least half the newsies who did a stint in the Refuge came back uneasy around food, too accustomed to there being too little to go around. A lot of food was a trick, just the right amount was too much to stomach, and the little bit that they felt they needed wasn’t enough to keep them going.

So Crutchie knew that what he was going through with his food aversion was normal--expected, even. The frustrating problem was that Crutchie knew how to fix it. He had seen the others go through this, had watched Jack and Race and Specs help others, had even guided Tommy Boy through recovery himself just a few months ago. He knew the signs, he knew how to work through it, and yet he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t snap himself out of it.

Just the thought of food made him queasy, scared, uncertain of what was to come. When the guards brought food, it meant the respite was over. It meant scraps shoved down his throat as quickly as possible, followed by a day of grueling, pointless work with no breaks. He didn’t have the time to finish this bowl of porridge. More than a few bites and he was going to be tardy, the guards were going to beat him and he would fall and he wouldn't be able to get back up, not again not again not again--

“Crutchie, you gonna finish that?”

Crutchie looked up from his lap to see Jack, concern creasing his brow. He shrugged, not sure if he could even pretend to smile. “I didn’t see you eat, wanted to save some for you.” He didn’t need anyone’s help. He knew how to handle this.

Jack frowned. “Nah, I ate on the way up, nicked a bun. Is there some . . . other . . . reason?”

Stupid Jack Kelly and his ‘subtle’ prodding. Crutchie stretched his arms out a bit, affecting a casual look. A bandage rubbed against a raw patch of his chest, but instead of burning, it . . . itched.

That meant he was starting to get better, right? Or was it infected or something? Whatever it meant, it was a good excuse.

“Not really, just been itchin’ all mornin’, so I ain't all that hungry,” he explained, scratching his stomach for emphasis. “Bit bothering, y’know?”

He was sure he didn’t quite have Jack convinced, but it was enough for him to drop the matter. After all, Jack was under the impression that Crutchie had eaten a whole apple the morning before, and he’d been fairly good at emptying bowls of soup all week (not necessarily into his mouth, but Jack didn’t need to know that).

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack smiled. “Hey, itchy, huh?” He lightly punched Crutchie’s knee, which also didn’t hurt like he expected. “That’s good, means stuff is startin’ ta close up and heal.”

Crutchie nodded, feeling something in his chest try to jump excitedly. Even after falling so badly last night, he was getting better. That meant that maybe soon, he could be right back out there, hawking headlines and getting enough pity from his regulars and strangers to make twice the amount he usually did.

Thinking of it-- “Jack, why ain’t you out sellin’?”

Jack looked away--ashamed? Guilty? What? Had he gotten in trouble with the bulls again already? Jack muttered something, then buried his face in his new sketchbook, the tips of his ears burning red.

“That ain’t gonna cut it,” Crutchie said incredulously. “Who d’ya think I am, Race? I ain’t distracted that easy.”

Jack huffed, but didn’t drop his sketchbook. In a barely audible voice, he said very quickly “I soaked the Delanceys yesterday and the fellas think I oughtta stay away from ‘em and maybe take a day off ta give ‘em time ta forget about it.”

Okay, but attacking the Delanceys was something Jack did on a weekly basis. The Delanceys weren’t bright enough to carry a grudge overnight, and they were in a constant state of goading Jack, so what was different about this time?

Then Crutchie remembered their argument last night, what Jack and Davey had told him about how Oscar and Morris had been talking.

“Have they, uh,” Crutchie started, quiet, “been talking about . . . uh, ‘bout me . . . all week?”

Jack stiffened from behind his sketchbook, but nodded jerkily. “Tha’s what Specs said, anyhow.”

“Right.” Crutchie swallowed, looking away out the window. Buttons was out there, looped around a fire escape, calling something through cupped hands. The Delanceys were somewhere out there too, and could be talking about him that very moment, maybe even making plans to come after him. There was no way he could stop them, no way anyone could stop them. After all, Jack couldn’t be here all the time, and Kloppman was old, wiry but feeble compared to Oscar and Morris. They could take the man down in no time, then be up here and Crutchie would have nowhere to go and no way to escape.

Crutchie was suddenly very glad that Jack was here.

There were a few moments of silence, during which Crutchie continued to watch Buttons. His grin was visible even from this distance, growing wider any time he managed to sell a paper or two. Buttons had been having trouble selling lately--he was a little timid, too shy when it counts--so it was nice to see him having some success.

The lady talking to him now seemed nice, by the way Buttons was nodding and had fully disentangled himself from the fire escape to converse with her. The lady turned slightly, her face visible under her sun hat, and--hey! That was one of Crutchie’s regulars! She bought a paper on her way to visit her mother-in-law every other day, and always passed Crutchie’s selling spot on purpose. It was nice to see her again, almost . . . sentimental. Crutchie never thought he would feel almost misty-eyed over some lady whom he briefly interacted with a handful of times a week, but here he was. More than miss her, he missed being out there, he supposed.

“Hey, Crutch?”

Crutchie startled out of his thoughts. The woman was no longer there, Buttons once again attaching himself to the fire escape. Jack was watching him, a carefully disguised look of something on his face. Crutchie raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, so, I missed a union thing, what with last night,” Jack said. “So I’m gonna hafta do it today sometime. That cool with you?”

“What sorta thing?” Crutchie asked suspiciously. If it involved reporters and pictures and all that, Crutchie was not going to allow it to happen in here.

Not that you could stop it, a nasty voice in the back of his mind whispered, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. Jack could do anything to you right now. He was pretty angry last night, after all. You know what anger leads to.

Crutchie swallowed drily. He didn’t need to think about that.

“Oh, just a guy I gotta meet with,” Jack said, far too casually. He made a show of scratching his head. “He might bring another couple o’ fellas with him, so I’s just . . . lettin’ you know.”

Okay, so this wasn’t something he could stop. Great. That calmed him down so much. Crutchie gripped the blanket over him tightly, trying to not show that his hands had begun to tremble. He was fine, he didn’t need Jack getting all worried over nothing. It was just some . . . unknown guy. With bodyguards. Coming into the room to have a discussion with Jack.

“Hey. Hey.”

Crutchie pulled himself from his spiral to see Jack laying his hands over his. “It’s okay,” Jack said seriously. “I can chat with ‘em in another room, or outside. You don’t oughtta have guys in here that you ain’t know.”

Crutchie released his grip, more to assuage Jack than his nerves. He nodded, not sure what he was even expected to say. What if a fight broke out? And Jack was all alone, against three or four guys? He couldn’t let Jack be alone.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Crutchie said hoarsely. Wow, he needed something to drink. He hadn’t noticed his throat drying up. “I uh, I can be your second?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he regretted them. Of course Jack didn’t want him as his second! He was just some stupid, useless, injured cripple, and Jackhad to still be mad at him for last night. He’d want Davey there, probably--Davey was one of the union heads too, right? And Davey was so good at talking things through and being all smart. All Crutchie could do was make people laugh or feel bad for him--great for selling papes and living on the street, terrible for union business.

“Would ya?” Jack asked. He almost looked a little bit relieved, which took Crutchie aback. “You know how I can get. It’s--it’s nice, havin’ somebody backin’ me up. ‘Specially you, Crutch, you’s real good at talkin’ to folks.”

The air left Crutchie’s lungs. Was he? He was pretty good at selling to just about anyone. Jack used to joke that he would be able to sell a pape to Pulitzer himself for a dollar, without the man even realizing it was his own paper or too high a price. Jack would say that to just about anyone who would listen, actually.

How had Crutchie forgotten that?

“Who’s these folks, then?” Crutchie asked, shifting a bit so that his head was almost level with Jack’s. He liked to think that he was pretty accustomed to the broken ribs at this point--they hurt, but he could now sit up without even breathing heavy. After the week he’d had, Crutchie counted that as a win.

Jack’s carefully casual air was back, clear in the stiff lines of his body and the forced half-grin on his lips. “Just some guys who got a say in newsie union stuff, y’know? From one o’ the other turfs.”

That made sense, actually. The Manhattan newsies weren’t the only ones in the union, after all. In fact, if what Elmer had excitedly told him was true, Davey had shook hands with Spot Conlon and led him straight to Pulitzer’s office, after Conlon had spoken at Davey’s rally--

Oh.

Oh no.

“You’s bringin’ Spot Conlon to the place we sleep?!”

“It was--”

“No no no, lemme get this straight,” Crutchie said, incredulous. “Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn borough, is comin’ here. To Manhattan’s lodging house. Now I know that Brooklyn joined the strike, but there is no way we’s become friends with Brooklyn in the two weeks I ain’t been around, and ya don’t show allies where ya sleep.”

“They already knows where we sleep, there’s a huge sign on the buildin’!” Jack shot back. He dropped his work and gestured widely. “Manhattan newsboys lodgin’ house, in big ol’ letters, smack on the front! Was it s’posed ta be a secret? Or do ya think they just can’t read?”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Crutchie replied stubbornly. “Ya don’t invite them into your home, you hold ‘em at arm’s length for when they in’vitably scab!”

“Well, that ain’t no way ta treat your allies,” a voice said from the doorway.

Crutchie and Jack both looked up to see the man himself, an unimpressed Spot Conlon, with two lackeys--and also Racetrack. Race waved casually.

“Hey Jack, hey Crutch!” Race said. “Spot’s here ta meet with ya.”

Jack strode across the room, spat and shook with Spot, anxiously adjusting his hat with his other hand. “Nice ta see ya, Conlon,” he said, the geniality in his voice a stark contrast from his heated arguing moments before. Crutchie snorted. Jack shot him a glare.

“So, what’s sayin’ we get straight ta business, Kelly?” Spot suggested, walking further into the room without invitation. Race tipped his hat at them all, then stuck his cigar in his mouth and took off. “This here’s Hotshot, and the other’s Sharpshooter,” Spot threw out, gesturing at the two guys with him. They each nodded in turn.

“Right,” Jack said, “This is Crutchie, he’s my second.”

Spot turned a piercing gaze on Crutchie. Crutchie felt his face heat up as Spot’s sharp eyes took in the patchwork of yellow-brown bruises on his face and throat, the scabbed-over gash on his temple, the splint wrapping his left arm. Finally, he turned away to face Jack.

“You met with Joe of late?” Spot asked. Jack nodded.

“Saw ‘im yesterday. No complaints from his side--he’s sayin’ they’s already noticed circulation goin’ up. You’s been meetin’ with the Journal and the Sun, yeah?”

Spot gave an affirmative nod. “We got ‘em where we want ‘em,” he said with a chuckle. Crutchie waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

Jack seemed sort of disconcerted--Crutchie wondered if Spot could tell. This was all happening so suddenly. Moments ago, Crutchie hadn’t even known anyone was coming. Now there were three Brooklyn newsies standing over his bed, and he couldn’t do anything to defend himself or make them leave. Brooklyn was always angry, always jeering, doing nothing to strengthen the tentative peace they had come to a few months ago.  Really, Crutchie had good reason to be wary. Brooklyn newsies had more than once kicked his crutch out from under him.

Spot and Jack were talking about something, but Crutchie couldn’t really pay attention to them. The one called Sharpshooter was staring him down, in a way that said both I’m-trying-to-intimidate-you and I-don’t-need-to-intimidate-you-weakling. Hotshot was doing the exact same thing to Jack, but Jack seemed unbothered. Crutchie was pretty sure he wasn’t pulling that off near as well. He hadn’t been stared at like that--like he was a piece of dirt that stubbornly remained as you scrubbed at a window--since he’d been . . . there. The Refuge.

Crutchie turned his gaze to the window. Buttons was out of sight, the fire escape likely blazing hot in the sun. There weren’t very many people visible whatsoever--it was stifling out, which was probably why Brooklyn was already here. Selling would have to be done in a very particular fashion today--morning, at the coolest, when everyone was headed for work, then around the lunch hours, then the last few in the evening. Crutchie felt bad for the likely sunburned newsies, frantically trying to sell all their papes in those short windows of time, clothes sticking to them with sweat and the hot air weighing them down.

“Hey, Crutch?”

Crutchie looked back to the conversation. Jack was watching him expectantly, as was Spot. Crutchie tried to not look clueless--he had really been zoning out, hadn’t he? How much time had passed? Why was everyone looking at him?

“D’you mind answerin’ any questions Spot has? I’m gettin’ us all some water.”

Crutchie nodded. It couldn’t be that hard, right? He had totally lost track of the conversation, but he knew a fair bit about what had happened and what was going to happen with the union, mostly from Jack rambling in the afternoons when the silence became too much for one of them.

“So,” Spot said brusquely as soon as the door closed behind Jack. “All that from the strike?”

Crutchie blinked. All what? He needed a bit more context. He should’ve been listening. He opened his mouth to ask, then saw Spot vaguely waving at his body. Oh.

“Nah,” Crutchie mumbled, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Some of it, yeah. Mostly the Refuge, though.”

Spot sucked a breath in through his teeth, and Hotshot turned away. “Looks like you was lucky to make it out alive.”

“Oh, yeah,” Crutchie said bitterly. He almost laughed. “By the end there I was ’lucinatin’ so bad I thought I’d been buried already. Probably I was hours from bein’ gone forever.”

Silence. He’d made it awkward, hadn’t he? Crutchie tried to come up with some useful purpose for Spot Conlon to know this, like maybe he’d get pity or sympathy or something and the Brooklyn newsies would leave him alone, but it honestly sounded worse than Conlon straight up hating him. Crutchie was tired of being pitied. He was tired of being a charity case.

“How long?” That was Sharpshooter, his voice pitched a lot higher than Crutchie expected. It didn’t quite match his height and dark eyes.“Was you there, I means.”

“A week, I think. It’s sorta blurry.”

Spot whistled. “Snyder musta had it out for ya. All that in just a week? I’s had boys in there for months come out lookin’ better.”

Again, Crutchie almost laughed. “Everybody has it out for the crip,” he said bluntly, his eyes on his hands as he twisted the blanket between his fingers. “Throw in my personal connection ta Jack Kelly union leader, and a week is a long time ta be lastin’.”

Crutchie looked up. Spot was giving him a strange look--it wasn't pity, like Crutchie expected. It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t even shock that he was still alive. It was--he didn’t know. And then it was gone.

“Crutchie, right?” Spot asked, glancing out a window aloofly. Crutchie nodded. “You’s a good kid. If you ever finds you in some sorta trouble . . . you’s welcome in Brooklyn.”

What?

He understood that they were allies, but allies did not mean that anyone from either turf was allowed to just go wandering over. The only person who had ever been allowed to was Race, who sold in Brooklyn--why, Crutchie didn’t know. Crutchie didn’t think anyone knew. There were plenty of good spots in Manhattan--why did Race trek all the way to a hostile turf just to sell papes? The point was, this wasn’t something that just happened. Ever. Brooklyn and Manhattan had been on bad terms for as long as Crutchie had been a newsie, and before that as far as anyone could remember.

Crutchie didn’t have much more time to think about it, though, as Jack reentered the room, balancing three glasses of water carelessly enough that it made Crutchie tense up, as if ready to catch one when it dropped. One he handed to Spot, one to Crutchie, and the last to Hotshot. Sharpshooter rolled his eyes and swiped it, half-draining the glass before handing it back.

“Crutchie clear anything up?” Jack asked. Spot continued to stare at Crutchie, a slight crease between his brows.

“Yeah, a few things,” Spot answered absently. “A few.”

The discussions continued for another ten minutes or so, Jack eventually convincing Spot that they were not currently trying to lower the price even further (“I’ve already got Bill down ta fifty-two per hundred, why should I stop?”), and got him to agree to work closely with Davey when Jack wasn’t available. That seemed to be all they could resolve for the time being without attacking each other, which was probably the most that had ever been done by a Manhattan newsie and a Brooklyn newsie working together. When Spot went to leave, though, he turned to Crutchie.

“Ol’ Jack ever oversteps, ya know where ta find us,” he said with a firm nod. “Any guy from Brooklyn will bring ya to me, jus’ say the word.” With that, he was gone, Sharpshooter and Hotshot marching after him.

Jack froze, halfway to gathering the two glasses from where they’d been set on the floor, his mouth agape. “Wh--” he tried. Crutchie could have laughed. He didn’t. But he could’ve. “Did Spot Conlon jus’--” he whipped around to stare at Crutchie. “What’d you talk about?” he demanded. “How’d ya get Spot Conlon ta make you an honorary Brooklyn boy?”

Crutchie shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure what had passed between them himself, and he also wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. It wasn’t like he’d done anything. Spot barely knew who he was. The first time they met had been today.

“W-well, if you isn’t gonna eat that, hand it to me.”

The change in subject took Crutchie by surprise, but he passed the partly-eaten bowl of porridge to Jack, who gave him one last suspicious glance before leaving the room.

Crutchie hated being alone these days--the only things worth doing were sleeping and practicing walking. The second one was off the table after yesterday, and he was sick of sleeping, but when there was nobody around there was nothing to do but think. Nothing to do but fall deeper and deeper into a dark chasm that yawned open in his mind. Nothing to do but slowly become more and more paranoid. . . .

He wished he had asked Jack for some more water before he left. Not that Jack wasn’t coming back or anything, it just would’ve been nice to not force him to make another trip.

When Jack returned some ten minutes later, though, he was not alone. Holding his hand was Katherine, laughing at something Jack had said before they entered the room. Crutchie shrunk away. He didn’t want to see Katherine--she would try to pay for a doctor to come see him or insist on checking each of his wounds or something equally mortifying.

“Look who turned up!” Jack said brightly, and Crutchie tried not to frown too obviously.

“Hi, Katherine,” he said politely. “How’re you?”

“Oh, Crutchie, you look so much better!” Katherine exclaimed. Crutchie examined her face carefully. Mostly the truth, but something in her eyes told him that she was still worried about him. “Look at you, sitting up and everything!” a pause. “Have you, um, been eating well?”

There it was. Crutchie hadn’t seen himself in the mirror in a while--every time someone carried him to the washroom, he’d resolutely avoided it. He knew that his face was still multicolored from the various stages of healing his bruises were in, but he hadn’t even thought that he might look malnourished. Elmer’s bracelet was pretty loose on his wrist, now that he was thinking about it. His unwrapped elbow practically jutted out of his skin.

Great. He’d spent a week in the Refuge and had come out looking like the most pitiful creature ever. He was so weak--it had been such a short amount of time! And now he’d been in bed for just as long, when he should’ve been recovered by now!

“Been workin’ on it,” Crutchie managed, trying not to let his thoughts show too obviously. “Hard ta get back up ta where it’s s’posed ta be, y’know?”

“Yeah, he’s been eating less,” Jack added. “It happens, but he’s been tryin’ ta eat most everything I bring him.”

Crutchie resolutely did not blush or look away. There was no reason for Katherine to believe anything to the contrary. Still, she and Jack watched him carefully for a few moments, then exchanged a look. Was he supposed to say something?

“Jack said there was quite the scare last night,” continued Katherine. “Are you feeling okay after your fall?”

Crutchie nodded. He wasn’t lying, actually. He did feel better than he had all week, even if all of his injuries felt raw from falling. Nothing was hazy anymore, nor particularly sharp. It felt almost normal, if the pain could be ignored. He was getting better.

“Why’re you here, Kath?”

Katherine’s smile strained. “Can’t a girl check up on her best friend?”

Crutchie leveled a stare of his own at her. This was the first he’d heard of being best friends. She had to have some sort of ulterior motive--a doctor or a medicine or something stupid like that. He hated to think it, but couldn’t she just leave him alone?

“Okay, I came--of my own volition, by the way--to ask you if you’d be willing to be seen by my family doctor--”

“Nope, thanks,” Crutchie said loudly, glaring hard enough to bore a hole in Katherine’s head. “As you can see, I’s healin’ up just fine.”

“It wouldn’t cost anything, my father--”

“I won’t be botherin’ your father, if it’s all the same ta you,” Crutchie retorted. “Nor no one. I’m gonna be out there sellin’ again soon, an’ if I decides I need a doctor, I’ll save up the cost myself and see ‘im when I feel like it.”

Katherine and Jack exchanged another look, one that told Crutchie they thought he was being stubborn. And so what if he was? Stubbornness had kept him alive countless times. His particular brand of stubborn had been considered both adorable and inspiring in the past. Maybe he was being annoying, but so what? Was it why they wouldn’t listen to him? Did acting annoying really mean he was stripped of his worth to them, his autonomy?

After a long staring contest with Jack, Katherine huffed and rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she muttered, turning away from both of them. Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The lines of Katherine’s shoulders were sharp and tight, radiating tension that was echoed in Jack’s nervous stance.

Crutchie picked at the blanket. Why did every conversation seem to turn into a fight lately? He just wanted people to respect his choices. Heck, maybe he would take Spot up on that offer. It sounded nice to be around people who had no history with him, a fresh slate, a new standard to set. He would get to prove he was strong to them, instead of being cooped up because they were too afraid of how broken he was.

“Well,” Katherine said, straightening her shoulders and facing them again, “take off your shirt, then.”

Crutchie choked. So did Jack. “Uh, what?” Jack sputtered.

“Buy me dinner first,” Crutchie managed.

Katherine rolled her eyes. “You want to be back out there, don’t you?” she asked Crutchie. He nodded, a little scared of where this was going. “I need to make sure you’re healing well enough, if you won’t see a doctor. Then I’ll tell you when you can continue to sell newspapers. And Jack? Get us something to drink.”