#i kinda disappeared for like half of yesterday

[alottiegoingon]

hc!friends to lovers

natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

summary: going from friends to lovers with nat

warnings: golden retriever gf x black cat gf dynamic, nat is secretly a softie, drugs and mommy/daddy issues mentions, cursing, pure fluff, not proofread

𖧊 to this day, nat still has no idea on how you two became friends. you were too different

𖧊 it started with you complimenting her makeup once and she was so rude cause she thought you were making fun of her

𖧊 “your eyeliner is so pretty,” you tried to be nice just to receive a “fuck off” and a middle finger right to your face. you were flabbergasted! you were just trying to be nice to a pretty blonde girl and now you were her enemy?

𖧊 your huge smile disappeared in seconds and when nat realized you weren’t mocking her, she got desperate. “oh, shit. you were actually serious?”

𖧊 she was constantly being slutshamed and harassed by the mean students and the idea of being complimented by you didn’t even make it to her head

𖧊 you were too sweet for her taste. too smiley, too happy, too soft and too excited. her words, not mine. but damn, you were pretty

𖧊 not that she would ever tell you that, but being friends with you was better than spending her days alone or with the other two guys she had for friends but were nothing but drug buddies

𖧊 “dude, what the fuck is that?” she grunts at the second you show her one of your favorite songs by backstreet boys “it’s so cheesy!”

𖧊 you held her arms and made her dance with you and she was so embarrassed and tried to brush it off by complaining a lot but her eyes didn’t lie. she kinda enjoyed that

𖧊 then, late at night when she’s unable to sleep, she secretly listen to the too happy and annoying shit type of songs you liked just to think of you :(

𖧊 she eventually found herself enjoying the cranberries, spice girls and lots of your catchy pop or soft songs while doing chores and would never forgive herself for that

𖧊 at first, nat was easily annoyed by you. by your overwhelming enthusiasm and positivity and how you would always see the good in others even if they didn’t deserve

𖧊 however, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t speak up for her. if anyone was caught talking shit about nat, you were always the first one to have her back. “excuse me? hi. that’s my friend you are talking about and you might wanna apologize to her right now!”

𖧊 bless your heart you really tried to be scary like her. at least the intention was there right

𖧊 “i don’t need you to defend me,” she was already snarling at you but you could see in her eyes that she didn’t mean that. she just didn’t like being vulnerable in front of others

𖧊 nat was tough, she could take care of herself. you knew that but you couldn’t let anyone be mean to her

𖧊 “i know, but i care about you!” “yeah, whatever 🙄🙂”

𖧊 and it worked the other way around as well. a single threatening glance of nat was enough to make anyone scared of even saying your name. yes, you were a pain in her ass but she was the only one who could say that

𖧊 “but you just said she was annoying,” her friend kevin defends himself from her scary look. “don’t call her that, asshole”

𖧊 nat couldn’t invite you over to her house trailer so you would usually hang out at your house or secret places she knew

𖧊 nat is a really lonely and independent person and that’s a consequence of her unstable childhood. running away from the mess she had for parents, she eventually discovered a nice small park with pretty trees around and thought it would be the perfect hiding spot

𖧊 smoking with nat? obviously a must. you would give her the old speech saying that it was terrible for her physical and mental health (🤓☝️) even if you were 100% sure that she wasn't listening and was just giving you ironic commments. "you don't say, princess"

𖧊 deep down, very deep down, she appreciated you

𖧊 “kevin told me he caught you listening to backstreet boys yesterday” you smile at her, watching her messy bleached hair cover half of her face as she smokes

𖧊 “fucking kevin,” she mutters under her breath and it’s the perfect opportunity to play around with her. “aren’t you gonna deny it? wow, you must really like me, nat”

𖧊 “shut up, princess.”

𖧊 it was meant to be ironic but since the first time she called you that, you two were sure that it was nothing but a caring nickname and you were a complete sucker for it

𖧊 spending time together became a casual thing and as essential as breathing. that didn’t go unnoticed

𖧊 showing up to support her on a game day or just practice, holding a big sign with her name written with gliter gel pens and smiley faces and cheering so loud that people near you had to cover their ears

𖧊 thanks to that, she was so flustered that couldn't focus on the actual game

𖧊 classically, the yellowjackets would always make fun of her when you were around but especially when you weren’t. “are you happy that your girlfriend came to see you today?” van teases nat and suddenly she became their favorite subject to talk about

𖧊 “she’s not my fucking girlfriend!” she flips them off and storms off to hide how unbelievably red her cheeks were

𖧊 nat didn't take long to realize she felt different about you. but her doing your eyeliner to match her after you insisted didn't help. it was pretty hard to mantain her toughness when you were lying in bed with her on top, straddling you with face so close that you could smell the blunt in her breath

𖧊 "thanks, nat. what do you think?" you ask when she's done

𖧊 "not bad. thanks to me, obviously," she acts casually but she's like 🧍🏼‍♀️😊😮‍💨😵 seeing you with her goth ass makeup

𖧊 being jealous of you near anyone who would say hi to you was also a clear sign

𖧊 going from friends to lovers with nat would be something hard for her at first. she isn't used to trusting people that much. loving someone? what was she thinking?!

𖧊 this means that she would definitely push you away, intentionally or not, and would act weird for days until you finally confronted her

𖧊 and she tries to be rude to make you leave but it doesn’t work. eventually she opens up about her feelings, shaking and at the verge of tears, and you hug her tightly

𖧊 “i like you too, nat”

𖧊 holds your chin when kissing you 😵‍💫

𖧊 jealous girlfriend that was always there to keep an eye on you but wouldn’t say the words “i’m jealous” even if her life depended on it

𖧊 dating nat meant her having part time jobs to save money for weeks just to buy you something nice for your birthday or to take you to a special place in a special occasion. you cried like a baby

𖧊 you were aware that she struggled with money and you weren't rich either, so you kept things discreet. you would come to her with a tape with lots of songs that reminded you of her, "nat, you won't believe what i made you!"

𖧊 “i have no idea, baby..." but she definitely did cause you would do that at least twice a month

𖧊 she would be the first one to say “i love you” accidentally and got so stressed trying to fix her mistake with a cough but you had heard her and was freaking out, smile from ear to ear

𖧊 “you’re a moron, i love you” it took her five seconds to go from 😁 to 😧

𖧊 “i love you too.”

𖧊 when it comes to affection, i feel like she would be hesitant at first, not knowing what to do. having sex with random people was really different from wanting to show her love for you, it was harder

𖧊 realistically, nat wouldn't be the touchy type. she never really experienced affection from her parents (at least not in a long time), so it would be something new, but wouldn't be opposed to it once she realized how comforting it felt

𖧊 100% touch starved. you stroke her cheek once and she's tearing up already

𖧊 pretends to be bothered but always melts completely when you kiss her and loves to hold hands and intertwine fingers

𖧊 not everything was perfect and sharing feelings wasn’t easy for her. either way, you were always there for her, listening to her talk about her shitty parents or just comforting her after a bad day

BONUS!!!

𖧊 if the iconic barbie movie was released in the 90s, you would BEG her to wear pink clothes to go to the movies together and she would deny it every single time

𖧊 “but it would be so cute! we would match 🥺” you insisted, knowing that she was so close to cave in

𖧊 “it’s gonna make me look stupid, i don’t wear pink. quit it, princess,” nat nods, convinced that you would eventually forget about it

𖧊 a week later, nat is found at the movie theater looking like a damn flamingo

𖧊 “what happened to you? met an unicorn on the way here?” shauna mocks her as soon as she sees the blondie wearing a bright pink suit and black boots, matching your same color dress

𖧊 “shut up,” she gives them her middle finger

𖧊 “happy wife, happy life,” tai murmurs and she just nods, defeated. shauna, tai and van, all in pink thanks to your incessant pleas, followed her to get the tickets while you and jackie were excitedly buying snacks and pink popcorn containers shaped like barbie’s car

𖧊 (she definitely cried at the end and you had to kiss her tears away)

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 27

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Poorly written smut; lots and lots of pregnancy stuff (kinda gross toward the last)

A/N: We are now exiting my area of expertise with pregnancy. Google will be my friend. If I made mistakes, please just pretend I didn’t. lol

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Opening your eyes, you had to immediately squint against the morning sun. It couldn’t be later than eight o’clock, give or take a few minutes. You were still in the same room Hershel had put you in two days ago, only allowed up to walk around, use the bathroom, and join for meals if you would like. Hershel had said you could still do light chores with no bending or reaching above your head, but Daryl had forbidden it without even saying a word. So, you mostly rested and focused on taking in enough water. Carl or Beth would bring each person’s bag so you could go through and inventory the contents, ensuring all the supplies were making it from each escape and taking note of any new supplies added. 

Stretching your legs, you winced at the ache in your pelvis. “Christ, Thumps. Why do you have to sit right on my bladder first thing in the morning?”

“S’prolly like a pillow.” 

You already wore a smirk when your head rolled toward the door, finding Daryl in the chair working on his crossbow. Did it really take that much upkeep? Or was he just that meticulous? Cradling your belly, you eased onto your side to face him, propping yourself on your elbow with your cheek on your palm. 

“Most women would find it creepy to wake up with a man watching them while tinkering with a weapon.” 

His hands kept moving but he looked up with a smirk of his own, a dark brow arched. “But not you?”

You shook your head against your hand, smiling gently. “Not me.” He laughed with a breath through his nose and refocused on what he was doing. You had to push yourself up on your arm and shimmy around a bit to get into an actual seated position. Your belly was warm and heavy against your upper thighs, a hand or foot pressing out next to your navel. You poked it and chuckled when it disappeared and popped right back out. “Good morning, baby.” 

In your peripheral, you could see Daryl had stilled, felt his eyes on you. He was watching the interaction in silence, as he usually did. Just as you watched his interactions without a word. You started to invite him over, but the baby shifted, the weight on your full bladder doubling and the discomfort growing tenfold. 

“Okay, time to pee. Like—yesterday.”

Your partner was already getting to his feet and standing next to the bed before you even maneuvered your way to the edge of the mattress. Daryl leaned forward for you to grab his biceps while his hands found purchase beneath your arms and pulled you the remainder of the way with what appeared to be little to no effort. Using the hold he still had on you, he lifted you straight up and let you find your footing. Your protruding stomach was pressed against him, immediately squashing any hope you had of stealing a kiss.

You looked up at him with a silly pout that instantly disappeared in the face of the tiny one-sided lift of his lips. He’d smiled at you before; hell, he’d even laughed at and with you. But this? This was the most peaceful, truest smile you had ever seen him wear. 

And then it was gone, replaced with a scowl that was half hearted at best. “What’s with the face?” 

“Nothing.” You brushed your fingers over his left temple at the same time that you felt his hands on either side of your belly. “As sweet as this moment is and as much as I love you, if we don’t get me somewhere to empty my bladder within the next two point three seconds—well, remember when I vomited on your boots?” 

“Gross.” Daryl’s lip curled. He knew where you were taking that implication and urged you toward the door with a hand on the small of your back. “Just walk. Or—waddle.” When you snapped your head around to gape at him, he was utterly stoic.

“I swear I’m gonna strap a watermelon to your stomach and we’ll see how sexy you can strut.”

The archer snorted, following you out the door.

You were impressed that you could still move as fast as you were, dodging and ducking, with Carol’s hand tight in one of yours. Your bag was on your shoulder, bouncing against your back, and your other hand braced the swell of your belly. The other woman was watchful, taking out anything that she knew you couldn’t get around. Daryl was at your heels, stabbing walkers that stumbled out from the sides.

“Get ‘er outta here, Carol!” He roared from behind you, sounding further away than you were entirely comfortable with, but he always said run, don’t look back. You had promised to listen to him. It’s how you kept the peace when you were just as stubborn as him. Each of you gave a little.

“I’m trying!” Carol hissed out through gritted teeth, letting go of your hand to push back a walker while she stabbed another. Your knife sheath was unsecured, the weapon easily accessible, but you had promised to only use it when absolutely necessary. The walker that Carol had shoved turned in a stagger that led it straight toward you. In your book, that qualified as necessary. You took it down with ease, unable to admit how good it felt to protect yourself because another took its place. And another. And another. “Go! Get to the truck!” 

You had the keys. Daryl always made sure you carried them now. You were perfectly capable of hot-wiring a vehicle but he didn’t want you wasting time. The two of you never discussed what would happen if he made it to the truck and you never did. He would never entertain the thought. Not for a moment. 

You gave Carol a look, one that said you knew you had to listen to her, to Daryl but that it was definitely not what you wanted to do. And then you ran, stabbing if needed, dodging when you could. There were so fucking many. You could hear the yells of the others making their way to the van, sending up a silent prayer that they all made it. Your lungs were on fire by the time you saw the truck. It should have been a straight shot but someone—who had yet to come clean because you were all running for your lives—had left the gate open and allowed the dead to fill the driveway.

You caught yourself against the cold metal passenger door, fumbling for the handle before jerking it open. You had lifted one foot into the cab when the door was forced inward, slamming it against the side of your head. With a shout, you pushed back, scrambling to get inside the truck while your ears rang and your vision blurred. How many head injuries were you going to rack up within a year? Hands were grabbing at you, pulling at your bag, your clothes, your hair. Finally, you were on the seat, holding the door tight while two arms and several hands kept you from closing it.

“Fuck!”

Their snarls and moans were so loud that you couldn’t hear anything beyond them and the steady knell in your ears. Hands hit the driver’s side window. More walkers. Daryl wasn’t there. Carol wasn’t there. You’d never be able to get across the seat to start the truck before at least one was in the cab with you, maybe more. 

But goddamnit, you had to try.  

It was the only option left. You had to save Thumper and that meant saving yourself. It was what Daryl made you promise.

Holding the door with one hand, you leaned and fumbled with the key against the ignition. “Come on!” After a few more tries, a few more agonizing seconds, the key slid home. “Yes!” You let the bag slide from your shoulder and to the floorboard. Turning yourself to put your feet against the door while still holding the handle was some seriously uncomfortable gymnastics shit but you didn’t hold the position long. Pushing against the door with your feet, you both propelled yourself toward the steering wheel and knocked back the walkers that had been blocking you. 

The seat was left between where it needed to be for you or Daryl to be able to drive. You could fix it later but you could fit well enough to get the fuck out of there. Turning the key, the engine barely started before you were throwing the shifter into drive. There were thumps that indicated a few had climbed into the bed but you could deal with that later. 

Mowing down walker after walker, you nearly sobbed when you saw the taillights of the van. The others had made it. Had everyone made it? Maybe Daryl and Carol were with them. It took only a few moments to get far enough away to stop. You pulled off the road, just behind the van, your passenger door hanging open. The truck rocked, reminding you that there were still the walkers in the bed, but as people filed out of the van, there was no Carol. No Daryl. 

And your world came to a screeching halt. “No.” You whispered against the hand you pressed to your mouth. Your other hand gripped the fabric of your coat over your stomach. Rick would never let the walkers get into the truck so you placed your head against the steering wheel and let the tears fall. How would you do this without Daryl? How could you live without him? The man you loved was gone and you knew in your heart of hearts that you needed to go back, face the herd, find him—along with Carol—and put them down. You wouldn’t leave them to walk. You couldn’t. You needed closure. A grave to visit if possible.

When the driver’s side door opened, you sobbed even harder, knowing Rick could never know how to comfort you. Your arms wrapped around your belly, your apologies to little Thumper for never being able to meet their father were choked down by each jerk of your shoulders, each wet breath. Distantly, inwardly, you hoped for a boy that you knew you would name DJ. You hoped he would be the spitting image of Daryl. 

“Christ, ya drive like a maniac. Ya hurt? Baby okay?”

You straightened so quickly that your belly bumped the steering wheel and you felt a twinge of pain in your back. Daryl—a little worse for wear—was standing at the door, staring at you like nothing had happened.

“Dar—how—” You sobbed.

“Jumped in the back ‘fore ya could peel outta there. Carol too.” He tilted his head and studied you, his eyes raking over you before stopping on the right side of your head. “Ya alright?” You didn’t even register his arm lifting, but then his calloused fingertips were touching a tender spot just behind your right temple. You hissed but that pain meant nothing. “Hey, talk to me.”

As quickly as you could manage with your rounded middle, you launched yourself at him, falling into his chest with his arms instantly encircling you beneath your own. He walked forward and pushed you back onto the seat for support and held you tight, his cheek against the top of your head.

“I thought you were dead, you absolute fucking asshole!”

A hand pressed against the back of your head, pulling you to rest against his collarbone. “M’right here. M’fine. Carol’s fine.” When he tried to push you back, you held on, digging your fingers into his back, taking fistfuls of his vest. “Want Hershel to look ya over, butcha gotta let go first.”

“No.” You stated bluntly.

He didn’t say anything for the longest time, simply letting you cling to him until your sobs had quieted to whimpers and hiccups, his large hands rubbing your back and cradling your head. “Alright. Least scoot over so I can drive. An’ ya gotta let ‘im take a look atcha when we get to wherever the fuck we’re going.”

With a sniff, you conceded, nodding against his chest. When you moved back across the seat, you kept a hand fisted in the front of his shirt until he climbed in after you. He was talking with Rick but you didn’t hear a word of it. Your forehead was pressed against the round of his shoulder, thigh against his, hands gripping the hem of his vest below the arm he had outstretched to the wheel. Your body rocked with his as he closed the door. He went still for a moment, likely examining how he was going to drive with you clinging to him like a fungus but not a word was said. You had never killed the engine, so he just shifted the gear and drove while you held onto him like a lifeline.

“Ssh. Gotta be qui—fuckin’ christ.”

You had purposefully clenched your walls around him while continuing the steady rocking of your hips. “Ssh,” you pressed a finger to your lips, “gotta be quiet, Daryl.” The scowl he gave you was impressive for a man teetering right on the edge of orgasm. You traced a line through the sheen of sweat on his chest, only stopping when you reached where your belly loomed over him. His fingers were digging into your thighs, moving up to your thickened waist to both guide and urge you. “I’m so close.”

Daryl only grunted, running a hand over your prominent belly and up to your breast, squeezing gently. You were still so sensitive—and sore—but with one flick of his thumb over your wet nipple, you crested, your palm swiftly covering your mouth to muffle your shout. He quickly let go of the soft mound of your chest to grab a thigh, digging blunt nails into your flesh as he followed you up, up, up with a series of heightened breaths, desperately keeping himself quiet as well.

Still panting, Daryl caught you by your bicep and rolled with you to lay you onto your side, slipping out of you in the process. You must have looked as dazed as you felt because he was brushing your sweaty mess of hair out of your face and narrowing his eyes. “Ya okay?”

“Mhm.” With a content sigh, you caught his hand and kissed his palm, smiling when he gave you that look as if he had no idea what to do next. “I love you.” His mouth twitched into a tiny smile, a hum vibrating behind his lips. He turned his hand to hold yours, placing them on the bed between you. He didn’t say it back but he didn’t need to; you knew. You knew about his dissent with emotions but he had said he loved you and you believed him. And that was that. “Let’s get cleaned up and go face the people we probably kept awake.” You chuckled.

He scoffed, throwing the blankets back from the bedroll as he sat up. The room was cold. There were even goosebumps on his skin where the air touched it, and that man was always hot. The house was more of a shack, one large room with the kitchen and a family area, one bedroom, and a bathroom. It was the third temporary safehouse in a week and a half. 

Daryl kept the truck close to the door now, as close as he could possibly get it. With you at around 38 weeks, he was taking no chances. Seriously. No chances. You had to pee? He was with you. He had to pee? You were with him. He was practically attached to your hip, but you were finding you didn’t feel crowded at all. You just couldn’t since the night you thought you’d lost him. 

The archer stood, pulling up his pants and underwear together, staring at the window as he buckled his belt. God, he was beautiful. The moonlight was bathing him just right. He didn’t look real. Licking your lips, you thought about asking him to get right back under the blankets but that train of thought derailed with the tightening of your abdomen. You made a noise of discomfort, even though this contraction didn’t hurt. It still wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

“What?” Daryl sniffed, looking down at you.

“Stupid fake contractions.” You grimaced, holding out a hand for something with which to clean yourself up. He was already on it, digging through the bag for the bra pads for you anyway. He tossed you one of his shirts, huffing a laugh when you regarded him with bewilderment. “Are we really going to have Carol washing jizz off one of your shirts? Oh my god, or Beth?! No! Give me something else!”

“Ain’t much else to use, Sunshine.” He tossed the bra pads at you but continued rifling through the bag. A box landed next to your hip which you recognized as squares of gauze. If it weren't for the fact that you not only needed to clean up the mess between your legs but the bedroll and blankets as well, you would have just thrown on your underwear and left it.

Daryl was buttoning his shirt and not really paying attention when you wiped through the sticky mess at your core, ready to open another square but then your hand was brought to a sudden halt. Along with your heart. 

“Daryl.” You knew there was fear in your voice, you couldn’t have hidden it if you tried. When you looked to him for reassurance, you found your expression mirrored.

“Hey, doc, get the fuck in here!” He bellowed, staring at the thick glob of red, white, and yellow on the white material. Everyone was asleep or had at least bedded down, so it would likely take a moment for anyone to appear in the doorway. Still, he moved fast, pulling the tank top he had tossed to you over your head. It had to be stretched over your belly and a portion of your breasts could be seen from the side but at least you were mostly covered since it was untelling how many would respond to his exclamation. 

“Daryl, it’s blood. I’m bleeding. Is this normal? Is something wrong?” You rambled, the hand holding the gauze shaking so fiercely that he was forced to take hold of your wrist to steady it.

“I dunno. Hershel can—he’ll look. S’gonna be okay.” On his knees beside you, he pulled you against him with his free arm, holding you so tightly that you just knew it was so you didn’t shatter. “Hershel!”

“What’s wrong?” Carol was the first in, wrapping her cardigan tightly around her, but Hershel was just behind her, wiping at his eyes.

“What on earth, son?”

“She’s bleedin’, she ain’t s’posed to bleed is she?” Now, you could feel Daryl shaking, even with his voice as steady as it was.

The others were filing into the room but Carol was on top of things, ushering them all right back out while the old man rolled up his sleeves.

“Carol, could you bring a couple more candles, please?” He asked, his tone so light that even you wanted to kick him. It was likely Daryl wanted to throw him out the window. “Let’s see what we have here.” Hershel picked up the one candle you and Daryl had lit and knelt down next to the bedroll, his knees cracking and popping. When he held his palm flat, you curled your lip, wishing gloves were something any of you had thought of on the runs. Daryl guided your hand with his hold on your wrist, keeping the gauze from flipping or spilling onto the man’s palm. “Hmm. Can you tell me what happened before this?”

You and Daryl turned beet red. There was obviously cum on the gauze as well.

“‘Sides the obvious?” The archer murmured.

“Okay, so sex.” Hershel nodded. Daryl blanched. “Anything else?”

You were suddenly blank, the fear gripping your heart so tightly that it was cutting off the circulation to your brain. How could he seem so calm about this?

“She had one’a them fake contractions.” Daryl supplied. If you weren’t a trembling wreck, you would have kissed him. 

Carol trotted back into the room with a candle in each hand, kneeling down next to the veterinarian. “Is that—?”

“I think so.”

You were looking back and forth between the two, still unable to find your voice. Once again, Daryl spoke for you. “Gonna make us guess?!” He snapped.

“Easy, Daryl.” Carol admonished, reaching a hand toward him but not touching.

“Don’t fuckin’ easy me! What the fuck is—”

“Calm down.” Hershel demanded in a no nonsense tone. You felt Daryl’s hold around your shoulders tighten. “I believe this is what is called the bloody show. Sometimes it just comes out on its own, but it can be triggered by intercourse. Now I have no way of knowing if the mucus plug has already passed and sadly, our woodland toilet would make it difficult to know anyway. It could actually be present in this. Regardless, that hardly matters.”

“M’gonna need some English an’ real fuckin’ quick, doc.”

“She’s fine, Daryl.” Carol soothed. “You know we wouldn’t say that if she weren’t.” The archer looked back and forth between the two again while you looked up at him. It took a long moment of uncomfortable silence but you felt the tension pressed against you loosen ever so slight. “Let him finish.”

Daryl gave a curt nod.

“This usually means the cervix is thinning and dilating; that the baby is nearly ready to be born. Now the contraction,” he continued while twisting to place the gauze somewhere behind him, “could have been Braxton Hicks, yes. It could have also been the real thing. Was it painful?”

You shook your head.

“They aren’t always in the beginning. According to my reading, some women are lucky enough to have very mild contractions all throughout labor and delivery.” He smiled, trying so hard to settle the unease eating its way through your sternum. “I’d like to examine you. Would you allow that?”

You nodded, feeling Daryl turn his head to see your permission with his own eyes.

“Okay, lie back please. Carol, I’ll need some water and soap please.” The woman was up and out the door before you could blink. “This will be just like the last one. Some mild discomfort but it shouldn’t be anything beyond that. Have you had any contractions since the last one?”

“No.” You sounded so small, even to your own ears.

“Okay, that’s good. We won’t rule anything out yet. Your water hasn’t broken, but I must warn you that it is possible I may accidentally cause that during the exam. If that happens, there’s no reason to be alarmed.” 

You were nodding, you felt yourself doing it but it didn’t feel like you were really there at all. The fear had won and you were falling victim to the panic stirring up within you, its tendrils snaking around your lungs, making it impossible to breathe. 

Then Daryl released your wrist and slipped his hand into yours.

He was listening carefully to Hershel, watching Carol return, but he was still attentive to what you needed at that moment as well. You felt the pressure in your chest recede, your lungs easily filling while your heartrate slowed. You were still scared. You still trembled, but so did he.

The vet had moved onto the bedroll but before he could do anything, Daryl was reaching down with a quick I got it and moving the blanket. His free hand was warm on your thigh, not removing it until you bent your knees and placed your feet flat. You watched the old man for a moment, suddenly self conscious when he stared impassively before his eyes flitted over to Daryl.

“Oh, uh—sorry for the—yeah.” The archer cleared his throat, his head ducking.

“Carol.” Hershel sighed. “If there are any runs to be made soon, please make sure gloves are mentioned as a necessity.” The other woman giggled behind her hand but quickly wiped it away and nodded. “Okay, here we go.”

It felt exactly as it had the first time, deeply uncomfortable and borderline painful at certain points, though this time you were able to remain still and silent. You chose to watch your partner as he eyed Hershel like a hawk, eyes squinted and focused. You squeezed his hand. Instantly, his attention was on you. His thumb swept back and forth over your knuckles, a grounding movement on which you could center yourself.

“Well.” Hershel had pulled his hand away and was washing up with the soap and water Carol had brought in for him. “You’re about 3cm, my dear. Now it’s anyone’s guess when your water will break or if it will at all. If not, I will likely need to intervene to speed things up but that’s down the road. Take it easy but walk around if you can. Drink lots of water, any extra that we can ration off for you. I’m sure others would be willing, myself included. Let me know of any contractions, even if they aren’t painful. We will need to start timing them. I can get Glenn to loan you the watch I gave to him, Daryl, but please don’t smash it.”

“Wait. That’s it?” You struggled to sit up until Daryl assisted you.

“That’s it. It’s a waiting game now.” Carol picked up what she could and promised to return for the rest, smiling at you before she left the room, likely to fill in the others. “But from the looks of things, your little Thumper will be making his or her debut in the very—and I mean very—near future.”

Both you and Daryl stared at the doorway long after it was empty. When you squeezed his hand, he squeezed back. And in unison, you both took a deep breath and uttered two words.

“Holy shit.”

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Parkers, Pots & Periods 

Summary: Reader is Peter’s sister and is going on a field trip to stark industries, the catch? She’s on her period and has POTS… things go badly and Wanda and Nat step in to take care of you. 

Words: 2324

TW: Periods, Pain, nausea (no puking), POTS, Cramps, Bullying, fainting, name calling, Flash (that’s its own warning), Flashes “nicknames” for peter, field trip trope. 

A/n Hi guys I’m alive! Sorry for disappearing (kinda). My life is chaos incarnate. I accidently got stabbed in the thigh yesterday.  But I stuck an avengers Band-Aid on it and I was fine :D

Somehow the universe decided to screw your over three times today. The first, you had POTS, whilst not a new condition it did make the next two things worse. Second you had a trip to stark towers which meant a lot of standing on a tour and being around your class and knowing the avengers would be lurking nearby. And third, the real icing on the cake … you were on your period as if you had blood to lose as someone with POTS and a low blood volume to start with. 

So that was how you were doing today as you arrived at school. Sure, you had graduated about three years ago but there had been talks that someone had found out Peter’s identity and was planning something, which was how you ended up undercover to be a glorified bodyguard for peter… well a glorified babysitter with homework.  You had been chosen by the team as you were the second youngest next to Peter and as a lesser-known member of the team who was young, you could pass as a high school student without raising suspicions. ‘Yay me.’ You thought sarcastically. Leaving high school was amazing and having to go back to babysit your little brother… not so much. 

You skipped training this morning as you were already feeling quite awful due to your period and your POTS which was always made worse when it was shark week. 

As you arrived at school with Peter, happy dropped you both at the block around the corner and you shouldered your old school backpack and sighed. 

“Let’s get this over with.” You grumbled and peter nodded. Neither of you feeling particularly excited to go on a trip through your own house with classmates who hated you. 

Peter was just as unhappy; flash had been giving him shit all week for his internship and wanted desperately to prove the Parker boy a liar today. When you had found out about the bullying you almost intervened before Peter had a talk with you. He reminded you of what uncle ben had said to you both before he died, and your eyes glossed over as you made the decision to respect his wishes and promise to your late uncle. 

As your shoes slapped the pavement with exaggerated steps and dragging movements, a grin itched your face when Ned began waving to you from across the quad. MJ looked up and gave a single half handed wave cross salute before going back to her sketchbook, her legs kicked up on the picnic table. 

You liked MJ and Ned. They had welcomed you to their group and they knew that you had already graduated but agreed to stay quiet if it meant keeping peter safe. They both knew you and your brothers’ real identities. As the second spider that protected the city aside from your brother and Natasha you had decided to keep your identity quiet until Peter graduated, knowing he would have just as many issues with the press if you were unmasked before he graduated compared to him being unmasked. 

You threw your backpack down and threw your head into your arms, letting out an exaggerated groan. 

“You feelin’ alright bonehead?” MJ said looking up from her sketch. 

You simply grunted before turning your head, still resting on your arms to look at her through a furrowed brow. 

“Shark week.” Was all you said, and MJ nodded before turning to her bag and digging around before fishing out a chocolate bar she threw at your head. Your spider sense kicked in and your hand flew up and caught it. 

“Thanks MJ.” You grunted. 

“Anytime Parker.” She said going back to her sketchbook. You leaned over to glance at the page and snorted. MJ simply suppressed a grin and kept working on the detailed drawing of Flash trapped in a display case at stark towers with a placard that read “Bullied Peter Stark, glass tapping encouraged.” With a drawing of Tony leaning on the display case eating a banana with Nat handing out tomatoes to the rest of the team to throw at flash. Leave it to MJ to make this trip better. 

You thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But curse your Parker luck because that was the moment flash began to storm over. MJ quickly shut her sketchbook as flash stood over Peter.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t penis Parker. I wasn’t expecting you to show up today. With your big lie going public today I thought you would be too much of a wuss to show up. Prepare to be publicly humiliated Parker. Today is the day your life is torn to shreds.” He said.

“Like the lie about you having a brain flash ‘cuz I think everyone knows that’s fake.” MJ said flicking a few pencil shavings at him. She glared at him, and he glared back before huffing. 

“Whatever idiots. I’ll see you on the bus. Parker don’t forget I would hate for you to miss your public execution.” He spat and headed off to wherever it was Flash lurked between tormenting Peter.

“Petey…” you began. 

“No y/n I’m handling it.” He said shutting you down. 

“Alright. Alright. I’ll leave it alone.” You said while silently wishing a piano to miraculously fall on flash. You desperately wanted to help but you also wanted to respect Peter’s decision especially as you knew his reason was fuelled by a very personal experience that had changed both of you tremendously. 

As the last class before the field trip ended you felt like death warmed over. Your head hurt and your period was only making your POTS worse. As you stood from your chair, you had to hold onto the table as your vision went fuzzy for a second. When your sight cleared Peter shot you a pointed look which you shrugged off and headed for the bus. 

If there was one thing you didn’t miss from high school it was field trips, twenty sweaty teenagers in a bus for who knows how long, most likely with no air conditioning which would only contribute to you feeling worse.  None of that was appealing to you in the slightest. 

As you all filed onto the bus you groaned when you sat down, putting your head in your hands, and taking deep breaths. The cramps had been getting worse all day and they were toeing the line of unbearable. 

MJ sat next to you and kept a close eye on your movements or lack thereof. 

As the bus lurched with the traffic you suppressed any of the wounded animal noises that were trying to escape you.

After what seemed like a torturously long bus trip you felt the bus slow to a stop. Looking outside the logo of stark towers was the first thing your eyes fixed on. 

As everyone filed off the bus you swayed slightly trying to fight off the dizzy lightheaded mess along with the cramping. Life really wasn’t being kind to you. 

With a hand resting around your stomach, you watched Peter sidestep flashes foot and walk inside. 

The building was cool when you entered which made you feel a tiny bit better but still largely awful. 

As the tour guide passed out the lanyards you and Peter hung around in the back. 

“I bet puny Parker won’t even have a lanyard, he’s too poor to be let in.” Flash said nearby and your fist tightened at your side in an attempt to stay there. 

When all the passes were handed out Flash was the first to point out you and Peter didn’t have one. 

“Hey! The Parker’s are missing their badges. We’ll have to leave them behind. Sorry no poor people allowed.” He said with a big grin and Peter looked like a deer in headlights as everyone turned to face the two of you. You just shrugged. 

“Friday?” The tour guide asked. “Has there been a mistake?”

“Ms Parker and Mister Parker do not require badges as they have tier 10 clearance, access is granted to all floors, labs and rooms.” A voice said from the ceiling startling a few people.

“That’s Friday.” The tour guide explained “she’s tony starks AI and she runs the tower.”

“I don’t know how you hacked the system, but you will pay Parker’s.” Flash said sticking a finger in Peter’s face. 

“Whatever flash, you’re just mad that you have level 1 clearance and can’t go in the toilets without permission.”  MJ said as flash stormed off after the group. 

As the tour progressed you were feeling worse and worse, all this walking was making the cramps worse, and all the standing was aggregating your POTS. Your vision had been spotty for a while now and your legs hurt. Your midsection was cramping something awful, and you saw no end in sight. 

As the group was shown to the museum floor you did your best to stay rooted to your body as your head felt like it was floating away. 

“Y/n/n you should really go home. If you sneak off upstairs, I’ll cover for you.” Peter said and MJ nodded. 

“I know your white girl, but you’re not meant to be that white… ever.” MJ said and you shot her a small glare with did nothing to deter her. 

“Can’t I have to stay with Peter.” You said swallowing down the nausea you had begun to feel. 

“I can look out for myself.” He said in a soft tone. But you shook your head which was a terrible idea as you swayed, having to lean on the wall the stay upright. 

“Right, that’s enough….” Peter begun but your hearing was fading as Peter seemed to keep talking. 

As your hearing and vision began to drift away Peter began softly alerting Friday to the situation, as he requested Wanda of Natasha to come and get you.

As he saw a flash of red hair down the hall, his spider sense flared, and he was just in time to catch you as your body finally gave up and went slack. 

Natasha seemed to arrive almost at the same time you passed out into Peter’s arms. 

The group had moved on and it seemed they were none to wiser to the avenger’s presence. 

Peter looked panicked for a second as he held you up. 

“I’ve got her Pete.” Natasha said as she picked you up effortlessly into a bridal carry.  “Go catch up with your group Wanda and I will look after her. Don’t worry.” 

“Alright. Text me updates.” He said and Natasha nodded dutifully before carrying you to the elevator.

When she arrived back on your floor that you shared with the two redheads, you shifted in her arms, letting out a small whimper. 

Natasha walked over to the door to her room, opening it to see Wanda already having everything set up for a movie day. 

“Oh my god is she ok? I know Peter said it was bad but … is she out?” Wanda said coming over and fussing. 

“She passed out as I got there. She must be feeling terrible.” Nat said as she set you down on the bed gently. Wanda came and sat next to you as Nat changed into some comfy clothes and took to your other side. 

Wanda’s hands carding through your hair was the first thing you registered when you came to.

“Nat, I think she’s coming around.” Wanda said softly. 

You let out a small, wounded noise as you tucked your knees to your chest in an attempt to stave off the relentless cramps. 

“Shhh y/n/n it’s ok. Natty and I have you baby. You’re alright.” Wanda said softly.

You whimpered again and shifted to clutch your midsection.

“Cramps?” Wanda asked knowingly still playing with your hair.

“Mmm.” You said softly. 

Before you knew it a hot pack was being slid onto your stomach and your muscles went lax as Wanda pulled you into her lap.

You opened an eye and saw her smiling down at you. 

“Hello sweet girl. How are you feeling.” She said gently.

“Bad.” You hummed.

“Chocolate?” Natasha said as she offered you an already unwrapped chocolate bar. Not bothering to use your hands you began eating it while Nat still held it. Making her smile softly in amusement as she fed you the chocolate. 

“Oh my god, I left Peter!” You said scrambling to sit up but Wanda kept you pinned. 

“It’s alright baby. Fridays watching him and you’re in no condition to be doing anything other than cuddling and watching movies with us. Ok?” Wanda said. She could see the gears turning behind your eyes and gently turned your chin to look at her. 

“Okay sweet girl?” She said again. 

“Okay.” You said softly. 

“Excellent. Now you pick the first movie.” Wanda said as Natasha returned with popcorn despite you not having seen her leave. 

As the day went on you began to feel better. Between the salty popcorn Wanda was feeding you and the blue electrolyte drinks that were stocked in Natasha’s mini fridge you began to feel less terrible. 

The girls had everything you needed, from a warm heat pack to chocolate to cuddles. You eventually drifted off feeling warm and only slightly in pain. Knowing you were safe with them. 

@barbarasstar @charlie56 @vlynes @lovelyy-moonlight

[unclewaynemunson]

Eddie can hear from Steve's breathing that he's sleeping deeply and he's wondering how the hell he can possibly be asleep right now. His own mind is spinning and he kinda feels like he might throw up soon. Steve went to sleep with his back to Eddie and now Eddie can do nothing but stare at his silhouette in the dark.

He doesn't really understand what happened: they had this big fight and the word slipped out of his mouth before he even realized it did. The one word he had promised Steve to never say to him. And then Steve stormed out and Eddie just fucking stood there, unable to move and nauseous as hell, tears prickling behind his eyes. By the time his brain started working again and he realized he should probably go look for Steve, he could already have gone anywhere.

Half an agonizing hour later he returned; Eddie didn't give a shit about their stupid fight anymore and tried to apologize, but Steve... wouldn't let him. I know you didn't mean it like that, was all he said. It's okay, but I'm really exhausted, so let's go to bed first and talk about it in the morning.

The worst part is that he doesn't know what he should prepare himself for. Steve has never done anything like this before, but Eddie sure as hell recognizes the signs: waving him off, attempting to make him feel safe, so he'll let his guard down and then it'll all come crashing down on him. He can hear his mother's voice again, so clearly that she might as well be standing right at his bedside:

No, of course I'm not mad at you, Eddie. You couldn't help it, it's not your fault.

Have you already forgotten about what you've done, Eddie? Looks like I have to punish you after all.

The worst one had been after his dad got locked up, five whole years of jailtime ahead of him. He had never been behind bars for more than a couple months on end before. And Eddie had been with him when it happened. No, worse: he had run away.

You couldn't help it, Eddie, you were scared, and you couldn't have gotten him out of it anyway.

He had been grateful for his mom's understanding words, had finally lowered his guard when she even made him a hot cocoa before bed. It only took one restless night of sleep until he'd find out what she really thought about him: a coward, a sissy, someone who didn't know what loyalty was. Didn't he love his father? Would he like to see his own dad rot in jail? She was often cruel with her words, but the times she was cruel with her hands were a rarity.

Eddie had never viewed Steve as being anything like his mother, but with yesterday's events in his mind and Steve unreachable on the other side of the bed, he supposes it's more than justified. However shit will go down tomorrow morning, he will most certainly deserve it.

------

He must've somehow drifted off in the early hours before morning, because he wakes up to light pouring through the windows and - an empty space on Steve's side of the bed.

He quietly slips out from under the blankets and tiptoes to the door, but when he peers around the corner, he finds the living room empty. Upon further inspection, the kitchen and the bathroom both turn out to be abandoned as well. Steve's nowhere to be seen. A new wave of nausea washes over Eddie when he realizes that things must be even worse than he was expecting.

He remembers those times, too: the times when his mother would disappear, sometimes for a couple hours, sometimes for days on end. When he was little, he'd get hungry. As he grew older and learned to take care of himself, he'd only get scared. When she'd finally get back, she'd tell him that he shouldn't be so dramatic, that surely she'd told him where she was off to and for how long she'd be gone. Sometimes, she'd even tell him that no, she hadn't been away for three days, she had only gone to the store, what the hell was he talking about?

When the realization hits him that Steve might never come back - the same realization that used to cause the paralyzing fear whenever his mom disappeared - it becomes difficult to breathe. He staggers and stumbles into the bedroom, where he starts randomly pulling the doors of their closets and dresser drawers open in a desperate attempt to see if all of Steve's clothes are still there. His polos are hanging in a neat row in the closet, and his underwear dresser is filled just fine. His toothbrush is still in the bathroom, just like his shaving cream and his medication: that should be enough confirmation that at least he'll come back but maybe that's exactly what he wants Eddie to think and he can't breathe anymore and -

-------

A good night's sleep and a morning run are the perfect cure for just about everything, if you ask Steve. He comes home all sweaty and short of breath, but feeling better than he has in days. His head is clear and yesterday's fight suddenly seems almost insignificant. He opens the door, ready to make some coffee and finally properly talk with Eddie, who was still fast asleep when he left the house two hours ago.

But when he calls out a "Hi, babe!" the apartment stays eerily quiet. There's no trace of Eddie in the kitchen, nor in the living room, and Steve wonders if maybe he has gone out to get some snacks. He shrugs and walks into the bedroom to take off his sweaty sports clothes - and chuckles quietly to himself when he sees the mop of dark curls above the blanket.

'Eddie, it's almost noon, man,' he says while walking up to the bed. It's only then that he notices that all their drawers and closets are opened, as if Eddie had been frantically searching for something.

'Have you been sleepwalking again?'

He goes to sit down on the bed, right next to the lump of the blanket that is Eddie's sleeping body. When Eddie still doesn't move, Steve gently combs a hand over the curls and then pulls back the blanket.

'Hey there.'

He traces a thumb over Eddie's cheek, which finally causes him to jolt up. Steve immediately clocks that there's a look on his face that can only be described as concerning: something frantic and fearful is radiating from those big brown eyes he knows so well.

'You came back,' Eddie sighs out when he sees it's Steve who woke him.

Steve frowns. 'Of course I came back. Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?'

'How long were you -'

There are tears in Eddie's eyes now, and he looks more scared than Steve has seen him look in years.

'Oh, baby, it's okay, I'm here,' he says, opening his arms to catch Eddie in an embrace. 'I was only gone on a run. Yesterday was pretty intense, remember? So I wanted to clear my head while you were sleeping in. I've only been away for two hours or so.'

Eddie slumps heavily against Steve's chest; his whole body is trembling like a leaf.

'What happened, baby?'

'What day is it?'

'Jesus, Eddie, you're scaring me. It's Saturday.'

Eddie lifts up his head; his cheeks are red and puffy and wet.

'Saturday?' Eddie repeats, voice sharp and frantic again. 'Is that true? Are you telling the truth?'

'Yes, what's going on, Eddie? Why would I - oh.' He doesn't need to finish that question to understand exactly what's happening, and he quietly curses himself for being so blind to it. 'Oh, fuck, Eddie, I didn't mean to - I'm so sorry.'

Not giving a shit about his sweaty sports clothes, he pushes Eddie a little bit to make space and crawls under the blanket beside him. He pulls him in his arms, cradling his head with his hand, and keeps repeating sweet-nothings like I'm here and I'm not going anywhere and I love you and I'm sorry for scaring you until Eddie has finally stopped trembling and his breathing is back to normal again.

'You're here,' Eddie finally says. His voice is creaky in a way that's breaking Steve's heart.

Steve leans forward to press a kiss against his temple.

'I'm here,' he repeats. 'And I promise you I would never do anything like the shit your mother used to pull, alright?'

'Watch out with that,' Eddie says. 'I also promised to never call you bullshit.'

Steve utters a sound that's somewhere between a sniff and a huff. 'Was that - a joke? Did you seriously just go from full breakdown to cracking jokes?'

Eddie hums something unintelligible and lets his eyes fall close while he nestles himself into a more comfortable position in Steve's arms.

'Why did you think I would ever do something like your mom?' Steve's question is almost a whisper.

Eddie sighs deeply. 'Because yesterday,' he says, burying his head against Steve's chest. 'It was too easy. You should've been mad, but you forgave me right away. And then you went to sleep with your back towards me and I - I had the whole night to spiral further about it. And then I woke up and you weren't there and - I dunno, my head was running wild, man.'

Too easy. That's exactly what it feels like, sometimes, with Eddie. To hear him say bullshit and know he doesn't do it to intentionally hurt him. To have a fight and know that they still love each other through it all. To come home in the apartment they share and have coffee together every day. It's too easy, too good to be true. Not something either of them ever thought they could have with someone. But they do. Even if they both take their damaged hearts with them. Even if they've both been raised on cruelty instead of love. Maybe it's not too easy after all; maybe they simply need to learn the difference between easy and too easy. Maybe easy is exactly what they deserve to share with each other.

Steve brushes some stray hairs out of Eddie's face. His cheeks are still swollen and his eyes are red. And it's never been easier to love him.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 18

Part 18:

"Why are you walking in circles around my house?" Art looked amused as he opened the door and leaned against the doorframe. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, and that he was a bit of a jerk for enjoying her embarrassment so much. But her flushed face and the staged eye roll were worth it.

"Because I was early." Liana muttered. "How did you know I was here?" she asked, stepping closer to him while he stayed put, taking his time to look at her. Still amused but also trying to hide his concern. He hadn’t heard from her for three weeks. Not since Atlanta. Until she sent a message yesterday asking if she could come over.

"I have windows in my house and you've been doing patrols here for ten minutes. The option to ring the bell exists, you know." He said, keeping his tone light. "I have a friend who always says that being early is just as rude as being late. You could have had plans." She said and shrugged. As if he would make plans half an hour before knowing Liana was supposed to come over. After five years of not being alone in the same room.

"I didn’t have plans and you can always come early when you come to me." He rolled his eyes. If he had the courage, he would have told her what he wanted to say and offered her a key to his apartment under the excuse that he wasn't always home, but if she was early, she could come in. He desperately wanted her to feel comfortable entering his home. Without knocking. Without ringing the bell. Just come in and sit on the couch or open the fridge. To be an active part of his life. The life he was trying to build for both of them.

"I brought wine. It's cheap, don't be a snob about it." She showed him the bottle and walked past him, causing him to move a bit but not manage to ignore the sensation of her body brushing against his for a second. He knew leaning on the doorframe like a douchebag was a good plan. God, in moments like these, Art felt so pathetic. "Put it in the fridge if you want. There's a bottle of white wine there, we can open it in the meantime." He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. As if he hadn’t put that bottle there especially because he saw her order white wine that night.

"So we won't drink my cheap wine?" she asked, opening the fridge and pulling out the cold bottle that even looked fancy. Annoying. "If you prefer the wine you brought, I can open it, it doesn't really matter, it'll just take time to chill, and there's already a cold one." Art said. He didn’t want to come off as condescending. He knew she hated that. He wasn’t trying to buy her friendship with money. He knew he couldn't. They both grew up in abundance, Liana never lacked anything. He wouldn't buy her with wine. But the hangover from the wine he offered would pass faster than from the one she bought.

"I don't know." She really thought about it.

"Next time you come and we want wine, we'll open the bottle you brought, deal?" He liked the sentence that came out of his mouth. As if stating she would come again. She just rolled her eyes. "You think that was smooth, don't you?" she asked and laughed. "You have to admit it was something." He retorted, seeing her move to the living room while he pulled out the wine and took out two glasses.

"Hey." He said after he sat next to her on the couch and they both took a sip of the wine. "This is really good wine. I kinda hate you." she said in response and he laughed. "It's whatever." He shrugged. "Hey." She replied, looking at him. "You disappeared on me." He said quietly, not taking his eyes off her. Art Donaldson had a way of examining Liana as if he saw all of her. As if he had all the time in the world to look at her, and he would use all of it. She felt her ears turn red under the intensity of his blue eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, Art. It makes me nervous." She sighed, and he shrugged again. "Do I have to think twice now about how I look at you so you won't get nervous? You're a big girl, stop getting nervous from looks." There was amusement in his voice. It was friendly but had an additional layer that Liana couldn’t quite put her finger on. "You're such a dick." Another sip of the wine.

"Tell me about those weeks." He stated. Almost not giving her a choice, there was no question mark at the end of his sentence. "It was a great fun, I watched all seasons of 'Gossip Girl' from the beginning." She smiled a forced smile.

Art recognized the exhaustion. She looked tired and sad, trying to hide it with excessive perkiness and humor. He didn’t want to give her the pleasure. He wanted her to talk to him. He wanted honesty and he wanted it now. He wanted to touch the raw flesh. He wanted to know her level of loneliness, if she was thinking about Patrick. If she was in contact with him. If she planned to forgive him.

"Liana." He sighed, running a hand over his neck as he took another sip of the wine. "You want to hear that it was shitty? Because I didn’t come here to cry, Arthur. I'm kinda tired of crying." She lifted her legs onto the couch and put her head on her knees.

"Then don’t cry. Just tell me what's going on here. I never know." He said, gently pointing at her head as she smiled a sad smile. Art thought that smile hurt him too much. He didn’t know that someone else’s smile could hurt him in his bones. How is that even possible? What kind of connection is this? How long has he felt this way? Did he feel her inside his body since he was born? Will it pass with the years?

"I miss him. A lot." She said after a few seconds of silence and didn’t look at Art. "I know it's not what you want to hear, Art. But that's the truth," she returned her gaze to him, her head still on her knees. Art moved close enough so he could hug her. He didn’t know what got into him, but she looked so small on his couch. So fragile.

"Can I?" he asked after her head was already on his chest, as if the question even mattered. He put down his glass and with his free hand ran his fingers through her hair. Inhaling what he could of her scent. "It doesn’t matter what I want to hear, Lia, I just want you to tell me something. It doesn’t have to be good this time." He muttered, wondering if she could hear his heart beating as she curled up on his chest.

"I feel so alone here, Art. Sometimes it hurts my whole body. It's like everyone dressed in white, and I dressed in black. And losing Patrick for so long was really too much. I feel crazy," her voice was so small and he knew her eyes were full of tears even without seeing her. It made him close his eyes and take a deep breath.

"You're not alone, Liana. Not in America. Not when you and I are in the same time zone..." He moved for a moment, missing her touch automatically. He felt the need to look her in the eyes when he spoke. "You could have called me. I would have come. I would have stayed with you." He meant every word he said. "You know that's not possible, Art, right?" she muttered, her voice accompanied by a faint sob. "I can't be what you want me to be right now." She looked back at him. Big green eyes full of tears. "You surely know by now that I'll take whatever you give me, Liana. If you need a friend, I'll be your friend. It doesn’t have to be more than that." And that probably hurt him to say more than it should have.

"You don’t want to be my friend, Art." She said, taking a sip of her wine that stood next to his on the table. "I want to be what you want me to be." And in Art's opinion, that sentence was the most logical thing that had ever come out of his mouth.

When Liana entered her apartment, she wasn’t drunk. She was tipsy. The boxes she had packed for Patrick were no longer in the middle of the living room, and getting to the kitchen to grab a glass of water wasn’t as complicated as it had been a few hours ago.

“Hey.” She heard from behind as she took a sip of water. “Fuck! Patrick!” she screamed a second after the glass fell from her hand and shattered on the floor. “Shit, don’t pick it up with your hands, wait a second.” He mumbled and went to get a broom and dustpan. She sat down on the kitchen chair and looked at him. He looked neglected. His stubble was long and messy, there was a stain on his shirt, and in her untrained opinion, he had lost weight.

When he finished cleaning up, he stood in front of her. Neither of them said anything; they just stared at each other, and Liana felt that if this silence continued, she would burst into uncontrollable tears. “Why are you here, Patrick? I gave you plenty of time to collect your shit.” She sighed. “I needed to see you.” He said quietly, leaning against the counter, not taking his eyes off her. “You’ve seen me. Now you can go.” She swallowed, afraid to stop looking at him.

“No. Liana. I need…” his eyes reddened. He tried to hold back the tears. Seeing him like this made Liana want to forget everything. To overlook. To let it pass. To give in. Because who is Liana Levy without Patrick Zweig at this stage of their lives? And how can she let him leave her (their) apartment when he looks like this? How can she continue living without knowing if she will ever see him again?

“I’m sorry I told you like that about the baby. It wasn’t right.” She said, forcing herself to keep looking at him, because turning her head now would be insensitive. Patrick respects her more when she doesn’t avoid looking at him. Why does she still care if he respects her? He definitely didn’t respect her in Atlanta.

“Can you tell me about it, please?” he asked in a choked voice, and she sighed. “There’s not much to tell,” she took a deep breath, hearing the tremor in her own voice. The whole situation was strange, “I don’t know if you remember, but about half a year ago, there were a few days when I felt really bad? I threw up a lot?” she asked, checking if he understood what she was talking about. He nodded silently.

“I didn’t know who to talk to,” she continued, and this time he looked away. As if to say what they both knew was in the air;  Why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you talk to me? “I talked to Tashi…” his gaze returned to her, surprised. “She went with me to the clinic, and that’s it.” Again, deafening silence.

“Do you want to know about Atlanta?” he asked. “Will it help you to know?” he added quietly, wiping away the tears and continuing to look at her. “What will it give us, Pat?” she asked with an exhausted chuckle. “Why didn’t you talk to me?” he asked what had been on his mind for the last few minutes. Maybe for the last three weeks, since she had venomously yelled at him about the baby, trying to hurt him as he had hurt her.

“Because I no longer think I know how to talk to you.” This time she couldn’t stop the tears. She was choked with them. Her hands covered her face from him, and he automatically moved closer to her, detaching from the counter. “Lilo, look at me for a second.” He asked softly. Where was this softness in the last few years? Where was the man she thought she knew so well?

She stood in front of him, letting him hold her hands by her sides. They looked at each other, his tears dried up while hers still flowed uncontrollably, her lip trembling almost as much as her leg. She just wanted one more moment. Just one. A good one. One she would remember fondly. “It’s me. It’s still me. I got a little lost, but it’s still me.” He said, wiping her face once more. Again, gentleness, again, tenderness. “I don’t know how to find you, Patrick, and I can’t keep wasting my life searching.” She hugged him suddenly, pressing her cheek against his chest while he wrapped her in his big arms, the ones that always promised it would be okay. But how would it be okay? How would it be okay if he left this apartment and didn’t come back?

“I love you.” He whispered above her head. “I love you too.” She replied. It was the truth. “I just don’t think it’s enough,” she pulled away from him.

All that was left were two people who knew each other perfectly. Every smile and every freckle. Every facial expression. Every emotion, but they caused each other more harm than good. “I wish you had told me.” He meant the baby again, and she nodded, “I wish I could have been there for you.” He added.

“I wish a lot of things.” She sighed.

She kissed him suddenly.  It wasn’t full of passion and wildness like most times their lips met, it was heavy and tense. A feeling of necessity and fragility conveyed in salty lips from tears. Tongues slowly uniting, an understanding of an end. Of something that would never return. Patrick’s lips parted from hers only when they were both desperate for air. His forehead touched hers amid short breaths.

“I love you so much, Liana. I don’t know who I am without you.” He said again. Like a child’s confession. Like a convict’s confession who received a death sentence. “We owe it to ourselves to find out. I have to learn to love myself enough alone. And you have to find real reasons to get up in the morning.” She responded After a few seconds. “I’m afraid that I’ll leave here and won’t have a way back into your life, Lilo. I’m afraid you’ll erase my existence as I can never erase yours.” Another confession. His eyes were closed; this time he couldn’t look at her. Not when he was this exposed. Not when he had no defenses.

‘So why did you do it?’ That’s what she wanted to ask in response. ‘Why did you throw away four years of our lives and many more years of pure friendship? Why didn’t you give us a real chance at any stage? Why do you always give up on yourself? why did you give up on us?’ “It hasn’t been working for a long time, Pat, we were just afraid to admit it.” She sighed again. “And if I’m still afraid to admit it?” Another quiet question. A rhetorical one because what else was there to say.

“I love you. I will always love you.” He said for the third time and placed his key on the table. His fingers touched hers for one more moment.

“Maybe in another lifetime, it’s enough,” she said with a forced smile as another tear fell. “Maybe there’s a world where Liana and Patrick are in love, and it’s enough.” He nodded and chuckled in defeat. “Sounds like a beautiful world. Call me when you find it, okay, Amanda?” He asked in a broken voice and left the apartment.

“I promise.” She said, but no one heard her.

Hey again, how are we doing with all the angst? I swear, this part was almost too sad to write, but I feel like it's important to have some healthy conversations. It helps them all to grow. As always, I love it when you message me what you're thinking, so use that askbox PLEASE :)

taglist (if anyone wants to join, just ask) @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[pintrestgrl]

loved your bsf!jj drabble!!!!! maybe a little drunken love confession from bsf!jj … and reader thinks its lowkey too good to be true bc she’s been yearning forever… but when they both sober up jj is like !!! i meant wtf i said !

hi i wrote this and then it completely disappeared. sigh. also im sorry if this is bad, i was half asleep bc i spent forever writing it the first time.

also i’m sorry for being inactive yesterday i was so so stressed nd had cramps and was dying… but hi !! hope u like this anon 🥹

note: after writing this, i rlly don’t like it. but i pray u guys do 😞

drunk!bsf!jj x pogue!reader.

“here, drink this.”

you spoke, shoving a glass of water into jj’s chest, sitting down next to him on the couch of the chateau.

he was clearly very wasted, and you were only a slight bit tipsy.

you two had both went out to the boneyard together, the rest of the group out doing god knows what.

he rambled on about not wanting to drink it, before giving in and chugging the clear liquid.

“thank god, you’re annoying when you’re drunk.”

“no, ‘m not. you are.”

“at least i’m not sloppy wasted, unlike somebody.”

“whatever. guilty by association.”

he spoke, slurring his words and laughing drunkenly.

“i’m not associated with you, you wish.”

“you’re my bestfriend, of course you are.”

he spoke, rolling his eyes amused at your denying.

you managed to let out a fake chuckle, silently cringing inside as he called you that. were you really only his ‘friend’ to him?

you wished to be so much more, and he had no idea whatsoever.

you were snapped out of your thoughts by his voice, drunkenly rambling again.

“thanks for the water. that was like, kinda sweet.”

“sweet?” you question, laughing as you furrowed your brows.

“yeah. you’re a sweet girl, i swear.”

you opened your mouth to protest, before being interrupted before you got the chance.

“you’re kinda pretty too.”

you froze at his words.

pretty?

that’s the last word you thought jj would use to describe you; at least to your face.

“what?”

“actually, no. you are pretty. very pretty.”

“jj, you’re drunk.”

“yeah, i am. and you’re pretty. probably beautiful if i could think right now.”

“you don’t mean that.”

“no, i do. i definitely do. i don’t know why you don’t have a boyfriend. or why i’m too dumb to ask you out.”

you were completely baffled at this point, trying to find any truth in his words. and to your surprise, he sounded genuine. drunk, but genuine.

you had liked him forever, and this was the most he’d ever showed any reciprocation.

you were always too scared to say anything, afraid of his rejection and what it would do to your friendship.

so, you opted for having some of him, rather then none at all.

“do you even understand a word you’re saying?”

you spoke, desperately needing to know if he was just drunkenly saying bullshit, or revealing the truth of how he felt.

“yeah, i do. you’re a sweet girl who is too pretty to not have a boyfriend. i mean, god. your face is perfect.”

“jj, shut up. stop.”

“no, you shut up. let me talk. i think i like you.”

“i’d hope so, considering i’m your bestfriend.”

“no, no. like actually like you. like seriously.”

you desperately were trying to deny his words, convincing yourself this was a dream and you needed to wake up.

“you think you like me?”

“no, i actually know i do. like a lot.

“jay, you’re joking.”

he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“can you let me be serious about one thing in my life? i mean, god. i’m not joking. i’m serious. serious about this, about you.”

you could tell he was probably getting agitated the way you kept denying him, the way his mood shifted from amusedly drunk, to pissed off.

“why don’t you sleep the ‘liking me’ off, yeah?”

it took a while, but you convinced him to just go to bed. and as he layed in the next room over, you couldn’t get over his words.

was he trying to get in your pants because he was wasted, or was he serious about liking you?

you knew the thought would keep you up all night if you let it, so you decided to drop it from your brain, drifting off to a light sleep.

next morning.

you woke up groggily, a slight hangover lingering on your body. once you registered everything, you decided to go to the room next door, consisting of a likely just as hungover jj.

you opened the door, sitting on john b’s his bed, silently shaking him awake.

you knew he’d probably get all mad, but you needed him to help you clear the lingering thought in your head.

he groaned, mumbling a sleepy short sentence.

“what do you need?”

“can we talk?”

“speak or forever hold your peace, stupid.”

you rolled your eyes at his tired insult, reluctantly continuing with your words.

“uh— last night, you told me some stuff. like that you liked me, thought i was pretty and stuff. were you serious?”

he shot up as the words spilled out, immediately sitting against the headboard.

“i told you that?”

“yeah, you did.”

“shit— um, well yeah. kinda. in a way.”

“kinda?”

“no. not kinda.”

he said, rubbing a hand over his face.

he spoke again, sounding embarrassed.

“yes. i did. i meant it. every word. ‘m sorry. i didn’t mean to— jesus, fuck.”

“no, it’s fine, uh— i ‘kinda’ like you too.”

you said, letting the words come out before you thought about their weight.

“kinda? you’re serious?”

“yes, i’m serious. and not kinda, i didn’t mean that. i like you a lot.”

“shut up.”

“i’m serious, i do.”

“well, why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“i don’t know. i was nervous.”

a silence filled the room, not awkward. just waiting for someone to figure out the right thing to say.

finally, jj spoke.

“uh— i’m like really hungover.”

you rolled your eyes at the subject change, finding it just like him to do something like that.

“that’s what your gonna say?”

“no, fuck—sorry. can you just sleep in here with me so i can think straight after?”

“you could’ve just said that.”

“well, i just did, didn’t i?”

“i guess. and yeah, i can. scoot over.”

he awkwardly listened to your demand, not used to the feeling of you knowing about his thoughts of you.

you both fell unconscious soon after, unknowingly shiftinging your bodies closer as you slept.

you slept for another hour or two, limbs tangled and intertwined together as your mind tried to decipher if this was a dream, or if your head was really resting on your bestfriends chest.

[heiayen]

gently wipe the sorrow off my life, i dream scaramouche x gn!reader

summary: "you didn’t know what happened, why it happened and that was breaking your heart, cutting it open, leaving burning pain in your chest, where once flowers of love bloomed." you're surprised and completely heartbroken when your lover, kunikuzushi, suddenly disappears without a trace. you think it's the end of the world, with your heart open and bleeding but soon you discover, that there is still happiness waiting for you.

tags: based on the prompt "there’ll be happiness after you but there was happiness because of you", scara's real name used, modern au (from highschool to college), scara basically pulls an irminsul but why? blame dottore angst/bittersweet, [name] is very much going through it </3 title name taken from the honkai star rail song "if i can stop one heart from breaking". not proofread

notes: hi. i come back with angst! written for @thexianzhoujade's personal memoires event and truthfully i kinda hate this fic HAJAHS but this is fine i am not fine blah blah blah yippee. i forgot how to write scara so sorry if this fic is kinda ooc but yeahhh have fun enjoy !! <3 as if anyone is going to enjoy angst LMAO

“Come on, it’s just one photo and besides, we barely have pictures of us…”

“...just one, fine. Get in here.”

A part of you wished you had taken more pictures with him. Pictures from dates in the blooming parks, from hangouts with your friends after school, from spending time together at his place, something to fill up the empty photo album you found hidden in your room. You filled only a few pages, with a few pictures of you and Kunikuzushi, of you taken by your friends, of your family during holidays, pictures of you and your friends, his friends, a picture of him you took when he didn’t see– the one you considered putting in your wallet, laughing how you’d look like a spouse missing their husband. 

(You counted exactly six photos of him in your album, compared to the twenty or so with others. Barely a quarter, not even a half, barely a page and a half of the album.)

You moved your fingers over one of them, the one you took after graduation– laughing with your friends, posing at the camera, tightly holding his hand, and tugging him closer, and wondered.

Did it have to end like this? If you only knew what was happening, would you somehow fix it in time?

Things were… nice, before. Being with him was nice, even if his personality sometimes made you tug at your hair in annoyance. But you found a common language and spoke in it till the very end, sharing your joy and sadness, annoyance and anger, silent tears and gentle fluttering in your chests. 

When you first met Kunikuzushi in school, you had your opinions about him– he wasn’t the nicest, wasn’t talking with many other students, and seemingly valued his time alone more than with someone. You understood it, some people simply weren’t the social butterflies but it became a problem when, by some unlucky charm (at least, you thought it was unlucky then), you ended up together to work on a project. You didn’t know him and your teacher decided to pair you by herself, saying how she wanted her students to interact more with each other. It seemed like a terrible idea at first.

(You rolled your eyes, giving a look to your friend. You really didn’t entertain this idea– to do a big project with someone other than your friend? You dealt with enough shitty groupmates leaving you on read or delivered in your life, and that was for small projects! What if you got someone as shitty as them? You shuddered at the thought alone.)

But, oh, how wrong you were. You didn’t expect to befriend that guy, and yet a few months in, Kunikuzushi became your best friend, and a year later– your lover. 

You remembered that love confession like yesterday; a little awkward, he jumbled over his words and you said something stupid in return, laughing awkwardly at yourself and almost getting up from that bench and marching back home. It was late, the bench in the park illuminated by the streetlight. A part of you was sure he planned for the confession to look different, yet whatever his ideal plan was, you wouldn’t exchange what you got for it. 

He walked you back home, you remembered, holding your hand.

To say you were happy was an understatement. Something bloomed in your chest with every day spent together with him, the little affections between you warming your heart and cheeks, and every morning seemed… a little brighter. It wasn’t wake up, get dressed, go to school, spend majority of your day studying, sleep, anymore.

Wake up, reply to Kunikuzushi’s late night message he sent. Get dressed and don’t forget about that chain necklace with a pendant he gave you for your birthday (you were matching, of course you were matching). Go to school and spend the day with your friends, with Kunikuzushi, with his friends (although you weren’t sure if that ginger guy was really his friend, but…). Spend the rest of your day studying, texting, and sometimes hanging out if you had free time (which turned into weekly hangouts with all your friends and… sometimes, more than once a week, just you and Kunikuzushi). Text him goodnight and smile at his, although short, reply back. Sleep. 

You hoped it would stay like this… for longer. For as long as possible, just living in this bliss, being happy and not alone, with people you loved and who loved you back, some even more than others.

(Selfishly, you wanted that to last forever. Forever the high school student with no worries other than passing exams and doing your homework on time. Forever with your friends, spending weekends with them, having fun and not caring about anything else. Was it selfish to want to be happy forever?)

Kunikuzushi was here with you for all your problems, even if, truthfully, he wasn’t the best at solving them, and neither he was good at words. But he was still here, offering you support and letting you talk about what annoyed you, what made you sad and sometimes, he still would try to comfort you, loudly agreeing with your complaints, (lovingly) threatening to beat someone up if they were an asshole to you, telling you to not worry. It wasn’t the end yet. 

His presence alone helped you manage through harder days– it was better to be with someone after all, rather than spend your days wallowing in sadness alone, with only the walls willing to listen. 

(You offered him help, too. Quietly sitting and listening to his rants about his mother, squeezing his hand and tugging him closer to you– or simply being next to him, when touch was something unwanted.)

When graduation came, in bittersweet tears you promised your friends (and Kunikuzushi, of course) to still be in touch with them, and never leave them alone just because you weren’t students from the same class anymore. That didn’t change anything, no.

The summer vacation you spent mostly with your friends, hanging out and enjoying the warm, summer weather. So many trips, so many walks with Kunikuzushi and dates– oh, that picnic you two went on one day… it started raining at one point (the weather reports lied to you, it seemed) and you only had a blanket to cover yourself from the rain. How funny it was, how much you wished you could get the chance to do it again, with him–

You sighed, closing the album. Sometime before the summer’s end, right before the start of college, you noticed… changes in Kunikuzushi’s behavior. He still was your lover, caring about you in his own ways, he still was the man you loved, but something seemed to always bug him. Something seemed to sit on his shoulders, heavy. You always asked him if he was okay because yes, yes, you noticed his worse mood, noticed all the little things he tried to hide and you were worried, really worried, and–

And yet, you never got a proper answer. Always to not worry, that nothing was wrong, and you were tired of that, maybe if you, at least this once, pressed him for answers, during that summer night you called a date–

Maybe you would know why he suddenly disappeared without a trace.

The many messages you sent, the many unanswered calls– you asked your friends around, his friends, and were greeted with radio silence in answer. You didn’t know what happened, why it happened and that was breaking your heart, cutting it open, leaving burning pain in your chest, where once flowers of love bloomed.

(These flowers would never truly burn, you feared. Some would still leave, polluting your heart and making it harder to breathe.)

What was once beautiful turned into a burden, far too heavy to carry alone. There was so much stress on your plate– because what if something happened to him? What if someone did something to him, what if there was something you could do to change it? Why were you so distracted throughout the day? Why was it hard to get up in the morning, why the only thing you wanted to do was to wait at your phone, with hopes of seeing at least a single message from him? Where went your motivation to study, to do well in college as you promised yourself?

Where was he? What happened? Could you change it?

Were you at fault?

(No, of course you weren’t. You did everything in your power, but it just wasn’t enough. None of this was your fault.)

Were you alone in it?

…no, you weren’t. It felt like you were, especially at first; with new people around you, your friends offering you support but ultimately being busy, you felt alone. Terribly so, loneliness gnawing at your soul all the time, leaving the icy cold feeling in its wake. 

But life forced you to get up from that pit, whether you wanted that or not. You couldn’t fail your major, not when you worked so hard to get into it in the first place. And neither you wanted to completely cut off your friends, so you started replying to their texts more. You’ve met new people, too, and made new friendships.

Things were getting back on track after, you thought that they wouldn’t. You pulled yourself up with your own strength, with your friends cheering for you from the distance, their cheers putting a smile on your face. 

(Younger you thought that if you ever were to break up with Kunikuzushi, the world would simply… end. You ignored that thought creeping into your mind, waved it away, pushed it deep at the bottom of your mind. It wouldn’t happen.)

Now, as you looked at the pictures, you still felt a sharp pang in your chest. You missed him, yes, and you still thought about the days you spent together with him, but they no longer brought you back into that darkness you once experienced.

They were a bittersweet memory now. Ones, you would cherish till the end, gently putting them on the shelf with new, happy memories. 

You hummed to yourself in thought, tapping at the cover of the album with your nail. Maybe instead of pondering how you should take more photos of the past, maybe you should take more of the future? Fill the album up with new photos of yourself, your friends, random things that you found pretty and worth remembering. 

Your phone threw you out of the thinking, the loud noise of the ringtone filling up the room. Right, you were supposed to meet up with your friends in an hour and here you were, going through your old stuff and procrastinating the shower. 

You put the album away and picked up your phone. A smile tugged at your lips hearing the overjoyed voice of your friend, telling you how excited they are to meet with you again (your last hangout was two weeks ago!) and that they already left.

You looked back at the album.

With today, you’d start filling it up with new memories of your happiness.

[rexlroze]

𝟐 — 𝐃𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Hobie Brown / SpiderPunk x Fem! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Use of Y/N, No physical description of reader other than mostly height comparison. Swearing, Mention of alcohol, drinking, vomiting, Fluff.

𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

A/N: I honestly had to rethink this over and over again so many times even though I was like half way thru the damn chapter so that's why making this took me long, also the fact I have the attention span of a child. I was really not sure about this whole thing cuz it kinda felt too sudden but hopefully, it turned out fine? for me it did tbh but like. *blink* yk? Or maybe it's just because I'm not confident in my fucking writing skills and need validation for every damn step I take<3 But anyways, I made half of the notes for this chapter during math class and the teacher caught me so that too (Spoiler Alert: I got sent to the principal's office :3) but that's besides the point. Also if some of the characters were a little OOC, I'm very sorry- I tried my best to make them as accurate as possible (some inaccurate shit tends to get on my nerve, mostly if it's produced by me) annnnd I need to stop ranting💀. I don't take requests nor do I plan on doing so in the future. Happy reading! 😉

Chapter 2 >>> Chapter 3

Each Stroke of paint is smooth, filling the wall with a little more color than before. The bristles of the paint brush gently swipes over the wall. Music flowed into your ears and through, making you hum.

The atmosphere was calming, like nothing could ever—

“Whatcha listenin’ to?” A teasing voice appeared beside you making you jump and your shoulder tense up.

Right. You forgot he was still here. Pushing your headphones off, “a song.” You answered flatly, turning away from him, your back facing Hobie as you dipped your paint brush into the thick minty liquid that was within the metal bucket and slid the brush across the wall.

“Really? I'll have to check it out when I get home.”

You scoff at the sarcasm in his tone.

After yesterday, he helped you with a little cleaning. You thought he was probably going to dip and disappear from your life after that so when he returned the next day (today), it did surprise you a little. He's been just hanging around. You don't know why, he doesn't owe you anything. “Why are you helping me again?” You turned to him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Mate, you've asked me that like 4 times already.” 

“And each time, I haven't gotten a proper answer.”

This time, he's the one to scoff. “Is it that bad to want to just help somebody?”

“You're dodging the question again.” You say in a sing-song voice.

He holds his hands up in surrender, “aight aight. I'm just tryna help out a friend of a friend, y'know? Plus. I ain't' hurtin’ anyone, right?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it means, love.”

You sighed, your arm falling to your side. Your other hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “okay. I'll admit, I'm being a little… douchey.” You say, biting your lip, “But I can't say that I don't appreciate your help, and company.”

“Little's an understatement.” Hobie quipped, snickering to himself which made you throw a side glance in his direction. An innocent smile spread across his face. 

You rolled your eyes turning back to the wall to continue what you were doing. Hobie took it as a sign to pursue his side of the wall.

A small spot was left just at the top of the wall making you push yourself up on your tiptoes, trying to get to the empty white patch on top of the wall.

Hobie, who was distracted by his own work, took a glance at you when he heard a few groans of frustration. Seeing you so frustrated over such a small thing brought a small smirk to his face. He settled his brush down into the paint bucket and made his way to you, your head turning to him when you caught a glimpse of him in the corner of your eye extending his hand, beckoning for you to give him the brush you held.

You raised your eyebrow but gave in, settling the brush into his extended hand, your fingers grazing his palm before you quickly withdrew your hand to your side.

He stepped forward closer to you and the wall, making you step back away, giving him space as he took care of the last white spot on the wall. 

“Thank you,” you gave him a small smile and a nod.

“No problem.” He returned the smile. You two stood there holding eye contact. His eyes were as pretty as they were in the poster. No. Prettier. You thought, why? You didn't know. 

You quickly cleared your throat and looked away to look at your progress the two of you had made whilst he sunk the paint brush back into the depths of the mint paint after filling the small white spot with paint.

The two of you had already completed three walls, the last wall was just about half done. The only other thing left to paint was the closet, you'd get to that later.

“You wanna go get a drink?” Hobie suddenly asked, turning his head towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather vest.

You rubbed a hand over your jaw, the thought of a break was very enticing right about now since you'd been busy for about a solid 4-5 hours. You answered after a second or two of silence. “Sure. I could use a little break.”

“Good cuz I know an awesome pub around here.”

“Lead the way.” You said extending your arm towards the door.

—

The two of you walked side by side, Hobie’s gaze fixed on the rock he kept kicking in front of him during your walk, yours lost in the sky that was split into hues of yellow and pink.

“So, I haven't really seen you around here before.” Hobie suddenly spoke up after his rock companion got left behind, a small pout formed on his face which disappeared as quickly as it appeared when it did but obviously he wasn't going back just to retrieve a rock.

“Just moved here about a few days ago, used to live in York with my parents.” You answered, crossing one of your arms behind your head.

“Hm.” He nodded before silence fell over the two of you again, seems neither of you knew what to say. Your eyes lingered on the sky, watching the purple mixing into the pink and orange.

This time, you decided to break the silence. “So, where are we going?” Your head turned towards him, tilting your head a little.

“It's a surprise.” He answered, shrugging his shoulders.

“It's a bar.”

“Your point?”

“I mean, how ‘exciting’ can a bar really be?” You snorted.

“Depends, you ever been in an underground pub?”

“No— say what now?” You gawked, turning to Hobie with wide eyes who just smirked and lifted his chin. When he didn't continue elaborating further, you decided to poke at the subject. “Wait, c'mon. You gotta tell me more.”

Chuckling, he let out a low whistle. “No, I don't.” 

“You can't just tell me we're going to an underground bar then shut up. Like- what if I get kidnapped or sumn?” You exaggerated, throwing your hands up in the air.

“I'll be right there beside you, love, won't even let anyone lay a hand. Good?” He proposed, playfully tilting his head a little.

“You're torturing me.” You groaned.

“Maybe that's my plan.” He shrugged, flicking invisible lint off his jacket.

“...”

“How do I know you're not the one who's trying to kidnap me?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Doesn't it seem oddly weird you just randomly appear at my parlor, offer me help and now you're taking me to a very secret underground bar.”

As Hobie heard you ramble on, he couldn't help but start to chuckle. His chuckle twisting into a flown blown laugh as you threw a playful punch in his shoulder.

“Tell me. You have trust issues or something?” He chuckled, wiping an unshed tear from his eye. “Just have a little patience. It'll be worth it, I promise. I mean, you can always go back if you’re too paranoid.”

“Hilarious.”

“I'm being serious, I can walk you back right now if you'd like.” He offered, slowing down.

Your lips parted as you thought about it for a quick second before shaking your head. “Nah, no thank you. I'm coming along.”

“Hm, suit yourself.” He shrugged looking back to the front of the street. Your footsteps falling in sync with one another once more.

Silence taking over, punctuated by the honking motorcycles and cars and the birds chirping.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Twelve minutes later, the both of you stood before an abandoned 2 storey office building. It looked like it hadn't been used in decades with its cracked windows which reflected the creamy moonlight. Graffiti turned the concrete structure into a riot of colors, doodles, swear words and penises with overgrown vines that clawed their way up the sides. 

As Hobie strode towards the door, his hand inches away from pushing the door when you suddenly spoke up, “it's in there?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He said turning his head towards you, “I know it don’ look it but I promise it's on purpose. Keeps the coopers away.”

“Ehh… I don't know. I'm starting to believe the whole “you're trying to kidnap me” thing.” Skepticism traced your voice.

“Oh, c’mon. Just trust me.”

“That's what I'm scared to do.” You scoffed. “This looks like a place where serial killers would stuff their victims in.”

“Dunno, never tried digging around. Two bodies at best?” He analyzed jokingly, covering up his laugh with a cough as he saw you pale a little. 

“You're not funny.”

“Dunno ‘bout that, love.” He snickered. “You comin’?” He didn't wait for you to answer before he disappeared into the building.

You crossed your arms tapping your foot, not wanting to follow him in because of your stubbornness but something about standing alone sent chills down your spine.

I'm gonna kill him. You quickly sprinted into the office-like building following Hobie's direction, running away from something you don't even know.

You find yourself walking behind Hobie who walks up to an elevator across the room. The walls were crumbling, chairs laidon the floor, tables flipped upside down “Why the hell is this place so run down?”

“It's a meeting ground made by the government, basically all the corrupted and secret shit that they wanted no one knowing happened around here but word got out. Eventually punks started graffiting the grounds, protesting, sneaking in and eventually drove them out to who knows where. Started using it as a club and a speakeasy after cuz it was spacious grounds. Coopers don’ blink an eye towards this direction cuz they're bloody cowards.” He casually explains (leaving out the part where he whooped their asses and corrupted all their data with a chip he made as Spider-Punk but you didn't need to know that.) 

He pressed a few buttons which opened up the elevator doors. Wordlessly, he gestured to you to get in.

“And you know this how?” You lifted an eyebrow climbing into the elevator, he followed suit.

When you asked that, it brought a proud smile to Hobie's face, “I was one of the punks.” He answered nonchalantly without glancing at you, the pockets of his leather vest stuffed with his hands. The elevator door slid back together locking the both of you in.

“Of course you were,” you said it like it was one of the most obvious things in the world for which you got a little nudge in the shoulder from his elbow. He pressed a button on a small keypad beside the door making the elevator flow down.

The elevator finally stopped making a small chiming sound after what seemed like minutes but in reality. It had been barely more than 40 seconds. Guess time just slowed down when you're in the presence of awkward silence… or Hobie.

The doors opened up letting bright neon lights seep in and illuminate your face. The ‘bar’ (which looked more like a rave) was more lively than most bars you've gone to. Vibrant blends of pink, blue, and yellow casted over you.

“W'dya think?” A voice shouted over the blasting songs, Hobie's voice. You just stared at him wide eyed, unable to make up a coherent response. “You'll get used to it.” He nudged you before stepping out the elevator, signaling for you to follow him.

You shook yourself out of your daze and promptly caught up with him. You swore to god you've put way too much trust in someone you met a day ago. Maybe not even a complete 24 hours yet but you're too deep in and too stubborn to turn around.

“You come here often then?” You arched an eyebrow in his direction, his gaze straight ahead but he tilted his head a little to meet yours.

“Occasionally. Usually—” He was cut off by someone who called out to him in the crowd. “Yo, it's Hobie everyone!”

People glanced in your (his) direction, waving at him and cheering him on. Said man waves back, winking in the direction of a few gals who probably fainted with how excited they got but you didn't bother checking.

“Mr.Popular, huh?”

“That's one way to put it. I come here to hang out often so I know people.”

“Do you usually take all your girls here?” You suddenly blurted out, heat clawed its way up your neck when you processed what you just had said. He raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress the shit-eating grin that came onto his face. “Shut up, I didn't mean it like that.” You grumbled, turning your head away from him. 

“I didn't say anything,” he shrugged, feigning obliviousness. 

“You implied it.”

“Did I?”

Something about his tone just wanted to make you sink into the floor and become one with the secretundergroundbarraveparty (whatever it was) or maybe punch that stupid smile off his face but you didn't do either. Instead you continued making your way through the crowd with him until you reached a bar. Several drinks lined up on several shelves behind the counter. You could tell that it wasn't just some cheap liquor crap either. It made you wonder where they had gotten it from.

He sat down on one of the stools, locking eyes with you before patting the stool beside him. Before you could say anything, your body moved on its own, settling yourself on the stool. Nobody else was really seated near your guys, most of the people were already drunk and partying.

Hobie leaned back against nothing but the air particles, his eyes resting on you when you stirred a little, turning to face him, “what?” you tilted your head.

“Nothin’, just thinking.” He gave you one of his small smiles before his attention averted to the raven-haired girl that walked through one of the doors that was hidden behind the counter. Her eyes fell on the two of you making them pop open, “are my eyes deceiving me or are those my most favorite people? Y/N, you didn't tell me you were in town!” She beamed.

“Yuri?” Your eyes harmonized hers. “I was gonna surprise you but… wait, what're you doing here?”

“Me? I work here, babe. The real question is what are the two of you doing here, hmm?” Yuri gaped, leaning against the counter. Her arms crossed over it.

“He dragged me into this.” You said pointing your thumb at the man beside you, making him gasp dramatically, “nah nah, I see how it is.” He drawled, turning his head away from you.

“Drama queen.” You accused, punched him in his bicep. The two of you acted like you had known each other for years by now.

“Ooh, you two must be close.” Yuri cooed, tilting her head, her cheek squished up against her hand as she watched the two of you interact.

“We met yesterday,” you scoffed, turning down any further suggestions that she could blurt out.

“Is that supposed to make a difference?” Yuri sassed, wiping a glass mug down with a cloth that was under the counter.

“Yuri.” Your eyebrows knitted together making her smirk, “what? I'm being serious.” She smirked.

“If this is you being serious, I don't wanna know what you being unserious is like.” Yuri snickered, placing two mugs in front of the two of you. Her body twisted around pulling out one of the alcoholic drinks out of the shelf and shaking the bottle before pouring it into your glass. “So darling, how've you been, how's Camden treating you so far?” She asked, pushing the two mugs across the counter towards you too.

“It's been alright. I've been working on my parlor recently. Otherwise… nothing special. Oh, Spider-Punk also saved my brain from spewing out like three days ago so that's something,” You shrugged when you suddenly heard Hobie choke on his drink, his beer going down the wrong pipe making him cough harshly. You and Yuri raise an eyebrow in his direction.

“Bloody hell. Sorry, this- this drink is really strong,” He sputtered, clearing his throat. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, tears stinging his eyes.

“Okay…” Your tone contained skepticism in it, “you good now?” You asked to which he nodded. “Fantastic.”

You nodded, turning back to Yuri. A silence washing over the three of you even with the blast of music and chitter chatter in the back.

Yuri opened her mouth to say something but quickly closed it when she heard the door squeak open. A brunette walked through, his face flushed as he stumbled towards the counter. “Hey!”

“Flash!” Yuri squeaked, her eyebrows knitting together. “You're not supposed to drink during your fucking shift!”

“Bloody hell. Chill, mom.” He rolled his eyes, voice awfully slurred leaning his hip against the counter but miserably failing after almost falling.

“Ay,” Hobie lifted his head in a greeting while you sat beside him thinned-lipped.

“Oh my god. Hobie, is that you my man?” Flash exclaimed, throwing his arms out in a hug but unable to reach him due to the counter that separated them so going for a high-wave instead that he missed by a head.

“The one and only,” Hobie snickered, grabbing Flash's wrist and guiding him through the high five properly.

Flash clicked his tongue, turning his head towards you, “Ooh, and who's this pretty little thing?” He smirked, grabbing your hand that laid atop the counter and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You gave him a polite smile, retracting your hand. You opened your mouth to introduce yourself but Hobie beat you to it. “Y/N Y/L/N. We met yesterday.”

“What he said,” you dipped your chin in agreement.

“A pretty name for a prettier lady,” Flash winked at you when Yuri pushed him away with her whole hand pressed up against his face, “don't mind this idiot. He always gets like this when he's woozy.”

“‘m not woozy.” Flash grumbled, pushing her hand off his face and crossing his arms over his chest like a child who didn't get what they wanted.

“Sure you aren't.” Yuri rolled her eyes, wiping the black marble counter with gold veinings etched into them with a scruffy cloth tinted a light brown at hand (you assumed that it used to be white once.)

“Just a little bit, alright?” He grunted.

You tune in and out of the conversation thinking about what you could do back at the parlor, what you still need to do and improve, how you're going to start developing and promoting your work. Making a website could do me goods, never hurts to try. Maybe I should make a Facebook page— You jumped out of your twilight zone when a pair of fingers snapped right in front of your face.

“Welcome back to earth, love.” Hobie's voice was the first one you processed. 

“Sorry, just got some things on my mind.” You ran a hand over your head till the nape of your neck, letting it settle there.

“I can see that,” Hobie took the empty glass of beer in your hand and replaced it with a refilled one. Your eyes lingered on his hands, watching them with precision before your eyes found their way back to your glass, staring at the foam floating at the top of the glass. You brought the glass up to your lips letting the liquid burn down your throat.

Hobies eyes lit up with amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Calm down, love. The drink ain’ gonna run away from you.” He quipped, his fingers gently wrapping around your forearm pulling the drink down from your lips. Your body slightly tensed up as his warmth seeped into your skin and throughout your body, your eyes meeting his.

Hobie's amused smirk seemed to drop into a line when he noticed the change in the atmosphere. His eyes stuck on yours, yours on his.

The tension suddenly drowned out by the cackle of Yuri who was watching Flash flirt (and fail miserably) with some gals that sat a few seats away from the two of you. His hand quickly untangled itself from your arm finding its way back onto the counter. You let out a breath of relief thankful for brief distraction.

Flash trudged back to where the three of you were, his shoulders slumped with a small pout planted on his face after the girls left with scowls and disgust etched on their faces.

“No luck?” Yuri teased.

“Shut up.” Flash huffed, snapping his head away from her to which Yuri hummed smugly.

Hobie reassured Flash by giving him a small pat on his back whispering some words into his ear that seemed to lighten him up. 

“Hey, up for some dare or drink?” Flash beamed suddenly, his movement more animated than before.

“What?” you tilt your head quizzically. 

“Dare or drink, do the dare or chug a beer.” Flash summarized with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“Oh no, I should probably get back in a couple of minutes,” you interjected, waving your hands in the air dismissively. 

Yuri frowned, “c'mon babe, my shift is almost over. It won't hurt you to have a little fun, y'know?”

“I really shouldn't-” You protested but quickly folded with Yuri's small pout the alcohol in your system. I'm so gonna regret this later.

—

“Chug, chug, chug!” The three chanted while your hazy eyes tried to focus on the mug of beer in front of you. This might've been your fifth drink of the night, but could you blame yourself? You were definitely NOT texting your fucking ex that you missed him (given by our dear Flash). Not in a million years, but it was more tempting than chugging another beer and inevitably using the next person near you as a vomit bucket.

“Fuck, 'm gonna vomit.” You slurred, putting the glass mug down on the marble counter. Somehow, even with four and a half beers in your system, you could kind of think properly.

Kind of.

“It's the beer or the dare, babe.” Yuri reminded, wiggling her finger.

“Mhm,” you pinched the bridge of your nose trying to rub the blur out of your eyesight. “I-I’m going to find the bathroom.” You shook your head, standing up clumsily. You swallowed the saliva that had built up in your mouth but it didn't help with your slurring at all.

You just whipped around and showed yourself the way towards the bathroom which you had no idea where the fuck it was simply disappearing into the crowd.

“That's not even the direction of the bathroom.” Yuri murmured, sighing defeatedly.

“So… who's going with her?” Flash raised an eyebrow, his eyes bouncing between Hobie and Yuri. The two stared back at him, making him raise his hands in the air defensively, “not it.”

It made both Hobie and Yuri roll their eyes. Yuri turned towards Hobie, opening her mouth to say something but Hobie interrupted her before she could.

“I'll go, ya both enjoy. If we don't return, we left, ‘ight?” Hobie gave them a curt nod and small goodbyes before he headed your way quickly just in case you were about to do something stupidly stupid and wouldn't be able to take it back.

Hobie strutted through the packed room, hands in pocket, eyes searching for a certain (h/c) headed individual. His height an advantage as he could see over the array of people. His nostrils taking in a whiff of the sweat and alcohol mixed in with the air, dancing bodies bumping against his.

Where did she go? He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes wandered over the room, skimming through the crowd but unable to spot you. You went in the complete wrong direction so you couldn't possibly have made it to the bathroom.

Should he call your name? Probably not, as tempting as it was, you weren't really a lost child.

He caught a glimpse of you – your back turned to him whilst you talked to two other girls. He doesn't remember introducing you to them. Maybe you knew them already? He pushed the thoughts aside, walking over towards you.

He tapped your shoulder, “Y/N-” only to freeze in his stance when he saw ‘you’ turn around.

“Huh?” The amber-eyed woman looked Hobie up and down, her eyes sparkling. “Sorry, can I help you?” She spoke softly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“Sorry love, thought you were somebody else.” He explained noticing her smile slip a little.

“Oh.” She murmured melancholy, plastering a fake smile on her face. Hobie nodded and quickly left before she could say anything else.

Something – Someone – suddenly slammed into his side, his hands reaching down and grabbing their waist to steady them.

He looked down, finding your hazy eyes melding with his, “you good?”

“Just a little… light-headed.” You reassured, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm unable to ignore the uneasiness in the back of your throat but you didn't see why he had to know that.

“You wanna get outta here?” Hobie suggested, watching you narrow your eyes at him before nodding and mumbling something he assumed was a yes.

He moved his hand up wrapping around your shoulder and leading you towards the elevator.

—

Ding.

The Elevator had reached the top, the metal doors sliding out revealing how the dark blue had taken over the sky, multiple glowing specks adorning the sky. What time was it? Where were you two going now? You wondered, your thoughts racing from one to another. At least they hadn't gone completely blank… yet.

Your body moved on its own — with the help of Hobie, of course. Otherwise you'd probably still be tossed around the crowd like a colorful toy among a group of children.

You'd rushed over dipped your head over a plant pot that busied the wall right next to the elevator when you reached it. Gagging and retching, expecting your half-digested lunch and almost 5 beers to make a quick reappearance but it never did.

“You feelin’ better?” The voice snapped you out of your musing.

“Nope,” you answered with a pop of the p. “I think… I think it's probably gotten worse actually.” Your answer was slow, trying to comprehend each syllable you spit out of your mouth.

“Eh, should've known better before dragging ya into a bar and making you chug beer.” He sighed, feeling you lean against him while he continued to steady your movement.

“Probably.”

“Definitely.”

“Did you enjoy at least?” Hobie asked, trying to make some good of the situation.

“Mhm.” You crooned, stumbling over your own foot but never making it to the floor. He twisted the door knob that probably would've broken down if the breeze of air was too fast. “So where do you live?”

“Eh… my apartment.” You answered.

He chuckled at your ominous answer, “and where would your ‘apartment’ be?”

Huh… your apartment? It was on street… Your thoughts went blank. Did you just forget where you fucking live? yes. Yes you did. But if you think hard enough– nope. nothing. Maybe you shouldn't have drank that much.

With how long you were silent for, Hobie realized the problem. “Ya forgot?”

“I forgot.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @the-kr8tor @missshelleyduvall @hobieszeze

Banner(s) by @/cafekitsune

[1d1195]

Protection VIII

Read the rest here: Protection

Hi, this is kinda fast paced, idk. I'm def not confident about this section at all. I feel like it's got potential but I don't think I know what I'm doing. But I don't have a choice but to give it a shot anyway. I know I've mentioned before, but I like Grey's Anatomy and stupid cheesy movies with scenes like this.

Warnings: angst, blood, weapons, lots of sad sad stuff. I actually don't know how blood loss works or g*n shot wounds either but it's for the plot also this is very dramatized because the writing side of my brain is a drama queen. I don’t think it’s very accurate scientifically or logically so if you would be as so kind as to look at it “holistically” and try to just envision something super serious along these lines I would GRATEFULLY appreciate it. Also, I don't know how tech works. Sorry if it seems a bit awful

~5.9k words.

Thank you oh so much to @freedomfireflies for beta reading so I could feel a little better about actually posting this.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Harry, for better or for worse, prided himself on being a hard worker. But for the last three days, and especially today, he didn’t care. He had spent the first half of that horrific day answering thousands of questions. The latter half was spent learning his new office job. When he got back to his apartment—a place he’d hardly spent any time in over the last two weeks—he finally let the tears and frustration course through him. He tried to call her again, but he received a message that his number had been blocked.

He called his mum and broke down.

So, he entered the building. It would be this way now. Day three of filing paperwork that he had spent so many hours writing for her. Now he was at the other end of it. Learning an office job when all he wanted was to head right to her flowery little place and beg her to explain. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, and promise her anything her heart wanted. He didn’t understand and he was floundering. How did he fix this? How was he supposed to breathe? After all that. After all the kisses, all the touches. All the touches he didn’t get and all the ones he deprived her of because it wasn’t protocol. What a stupid idiot.

Good luck, honey bun :( his mum texted. She texted it yesterday too and he wondered how long she would have to text it to him before the frowny face disappeared.

Harry was destined for another hundred meetings explaining that he had no idea she was feeling this way. Because of course, despite the fact he did know what she was feeling—because he felt it too—he felt so much loyalty to her. He didn’t know what her game was or why she was trying to sell it that it was one-sided, but despite how sad he was, she was brilliant. A biochemist in the making, of course, and if she had to break his heart, he believed (or wanted to believe) that she was doing the right thing.

Harry sat at his newly assigned desk and looked at the papers in front of him. Eventually, he would make her grovel for forgiveness. This was too much paperwork for him, and she had to have known how much he would have hated it. But he also thought that she would just look at him through her pretty eyelashes that drove him mad, smelling like flowers, and say sorry and that would be plenty.

There had to be an end to this. He was certain of it.

Niall wasn't allowed to tell him anything that he heard. Harry wasn't allowed to ask about her either (Niall, naturally a stickler for protocol, was following the rule--he didn't even know what she was up to. His job was to train Harry. Their supervisor saw to it that she was under his own surveillance.

"It feels m'being forced t'write with m'left hand after being right handed for m'whole life," he explained to Niall dejectedly. For five months his thoughts were consumed with the flowery girl he fell so incredibly hard for. Overnight she was just gone.

Harry began flipping through papers and tapping at his keyboard for all of four minutes when Niall suddenly dragged him out of his seat, down the hall, and back out the front door without a word. “Niall!” He ground out bitterly. He wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to kill his friend a bit for even recommending he be part of this. He wished he wasn’t her bodyguard. At least he wouldn’t be sour with heartache.

But honestly, Harry owed Niall his entire life for bringing him to her.

“She’s gone.”

Harry stared at him blankly. “Who?”

Niall slapped him across the face—not quite hard but enough to stun him and knock some sense into him. “She’s gone.”

Harry felt like this was a dream. His brain was floating distantly. “What are y’talking ‘bout?”

“There's an email on my phone, to my private email, from a random address, a random IP address. It’s her. She said DSS is compromised...that someone in the department wants her out of the picture and if I’m reading it, it means that she is not in her apartment regardless of what they say. The very same email is going to be sent in ninety minutes to everyone at DSS.”

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s a lie.”

“Harry,” Niall said. “It’s going to...blow everything up. You have to—”

“Niall, that’s ridiculous. She would—”

“She said to tell you the email is from Miss Wildflower.”

The words died in his throat. “No,” he shook his head. That wasn’t something he’d ever written down, wasn’t something he called her to anyone else. That was for him and her...and... “No...it’s not her. She’s fine,” he was in denial. How could he not be? The thought that something happened to her? This wasn’t just some long routed way of her anxiety taking over and ruining something before it started. It wasn’t getting Harry off her detail so they could spend Christmas together (something he had convinced himself of when he was crying to his mom the night before).

“No, Harry, and I'm gonna have to go make a scene and tell them but I’m giving you a head start because she's giving you a head start. You don’t have time to waste here. I’m telling them I sent you home. That you’re too distraught to work.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Okay.”

“She didn’t want you to get hurt,” Niall said. “She was...scared.” Harry frowned and nodded even though he thought he was going to be sick. He winced as he thought it over. Put his hands on his knees as he took heaving breaths. “Harry,” Niall said gently. “You don’t have time—”

“Jus’ shut up, Niall,” he croaked. Niall was silent, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t imagine the heartache and anguish his friend was feeling.

“At least...at least there was a reason, right?” Niall murmured.

If it meant her harm or kidnapping or...worse. No. It wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter the reason. “Yeah...” he mumbled.

*

Since Harry was no longer on her detail, he assumed he wouldn’t be allowed into her apartment building—at least not through the main entrance.

Even if he was allowed in the main entrance, he had to work under the assumption that whatever compromised agents would be waiting out front for him. So he would need an alternate route.

He hurried up her fire escape and opened her bedroom window just as he knew she did the very first day he met her. He was suddenly grateful for her never listening to Harry about protocol. He was glad the window was unlocked. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Her pretty poinsettia and snowdrop apartment enveloped him like a hug. He wanted to bask in the smell of her pine-scented Christmas tree, the way her perfume made him feel at home, and just be there with her. But instead, he was trying hard to keep focus while he wanted nothing more than to break down and sob into the pillow that smelled like her shampoo.

He listened quietly and heard no one in the rest of the apartment. He searched for clues of any kind but there were none. No sign of a struggle. It was like she went with them willingly. Knowing her, she probably convinced them to let her walk on her own. But part of him believed she would have put up a fight. She had to have, right?

Her phone was on the counter. So there was no way to track her, he saw the tens of messages that came from him before he was blocked, a few from Niall, and several from the professor she would be working with next semester.

But it was Harry’s phone vibrating in his pocket was the one that pulled him from his thoughts.

Unknown: Video Attachment.

She was there. He could see her in the preview. Seeing her was like breathing again after being stuck under water for a hair too long. She was alive. She had memorized Harry’s number.

Harry thought memorizing his number was...

If it were possible to fall more in love with her, he did. It couldn't be possible because there simply wasn't room. He was already so in love with her. And it was just his phone number, after all. But he did. He fell so much harder. It felt like the marrow in his bones were aching for her touch.

Harry swallowed and sat on her sofa as he played it.

“Hi Dad...um...” she swallowed hard, like there was a lump in her throat. She looked okay. Her hair was in a braid, strands of it coming out and there was a redness to only one of her cheeks...like she had been slapped. Harry gripped his phone tightly to keep from throwing it. Her eyelashes, those pretty fluttery things that drove him nuts with desire for her, looked wet. His heart pounded. “You know,” she took a deep, shaky breath and she sucked her lip into her mouth.

“Hurry up,” he heard in the background. Wherever she was was nondescript. A construction site by the look of it. Nothing in the video sounded or looked like anything of use to finding her location. She shook her head quickly and tried again. Swallowed again.

“When Mom died, I thought the people that murdered her should have just...ended my life too. I know you know someone murdered her. No one believed me. Not one person. And I thought...I was the only person left in your life. You were supposed to love me and take care of me the way she always did. It killed me every single day that you didn’t—that you don't. It hurts so much that you hate me. Please. Just do what he asks; give him whatever...I don't want to die," she was being so brave. It was the way she held herself. How she seemed to stand straighter in the video. But Harry could hear the nervousness. Who wouldn't be nervous? It broke his heart that she was fighting and being so incredibly brave. "I’ll never bother you ever again. I’ll...go....I'll leave the country...I’ll just go."

“You have two hours,” and then he received a message from the same unknown number, the location of the park he went to when she twisted her ankle.

Harry only had a little under an hour because he knew DSS was going to be on their way soon—especially after Niall sent them on their way. If they received this message too, they would go through some inane plan that would decidedly not work--especially knowing that they were compromised. He was going to send the messages to Niall’s email from an rerouted IP address as soon as he watched the videos a few more times because if they were going to terrify her, Harry was going to help ruin their plan. They would wait for the park. It was what they did. It was the surest way. Protocol.

Harry would have given anything to see her roll her eyes at the word.

He watched the video again. And again. On the third time he was looking at the screen so closely, his eyes looking for some secret message hidden in the pixels. She looked okay, cozy. She was wearing the sweatshirt that Harry wore when he was soaked with rain—when the worst thing that happened to her was that stupid guy leaving her injured in a park. She didn’t look injured now, at least. His heart was aching. It had to be something. She wouldn’t have sent this to him for no reason--it was intended for her dad. It had to be a sign. Moreover, she said something about leaving the country--that had to be for Harry.

Harry felt like he would die if he didn’t figure it out on the next play through. It couldn’t be too hard. She may be a biochemist, but she couldn't have made it something ridiculous for him to solve. He wasn't a biochemist after all. That concert seemed like a lifetime ago. His agitation for losing her phone seemed stupid in comparison. He would tell her such as soon as he found her.

Now he was thinking about everything, every interaction they had as he stared at his phone, trying to will the hidden message to appear. It felt like it was a miracle she lost her phone at that concert. At least he told her she needed a failsafe at that point in time. Although he thought it would be for a guy that was too forward.

It was her hands.

They fidgeted throughout the entire video. He didn’t notice at first. She was nervous, her hands were tied together. Her fingers had to be going numb. He wished he had taught her how to break out of zip ties, maybe she could have escaped all on her own.

But that was when he noticed it. If it weren’t for him knowing the basics enough to know his own name when he saw it, he might not have paid any mind to the shape of her fist. Her fingers were shaking near the middle of her stomach. Her left hand was fidgeting wildly. But her right hand had a pattern, a fist, her pinky, her index and middle finger, another fist, her index finger.

Harry was glad her backpack was untouched. He grabbed one of her index cards and searched on his phone for the American Sign Language alphabet. He knew the first one was A because of his own name. Her pinky meant I. An R. Harry got it...it was her failsafe.

“Good girl,” he murmured to no one. Air. It took him four extra seconds to discern between S, M, N, E, A before he finally moved to the last two. He settled on T because the next letters were another A and G.

AirTag.

What would have an AirTag on her? He didn't have time to question it. He slid her computer out of her bag next, an index card falling from it.

His heart broke.

Harry— I Am SO sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I know you’re going to find me because...you’re you and you make me feel safe. And because...well... I adore you. So much. I tried so hard not to, and I tried so hard to push you away and... Please TRY to forgive me. I promise I did it with reason. I’m so sorry, Harry. SO sorry.

He didn’t have time to cry but he shoved the note in his pocket, wishing he told her he loved her at least once. Ever. He couldn’t pore over her words. Couldn’t guess what she was thinking or doing. There wasn’t time for him to guess how she knew he would find this note. Of course, she couldn’t just put all the answers on this index card because if she did, anyone could find it. Someone at DSS would have found it if she hadn’t perfectly planned for Niall to send him here beforehand. He had to find her faster and before that stupid, corrupt building got there.

Now he was tasked with her password.

Please be easy.

He clicked on the “forgot password" link. A helpful little reminder was there: Flower!number. It seemed daunting immediately. Especially because he was so distraught and worried. There were so many flowers she could have put. He tried Sunflower!14. Snowdrop!14. Peonies!14. How many times could he try? He was terrified it would lock him out. He took a deep breath and he only had moments to figure it out because he was certain people would be hurrying to her apartment from DSS soon.

Tilting his head back at the ceiling he almost felt embarrassed at how easy it seemed now.

Wildflower!14 did the trick.

With a sigh of relief, he searched AirTag on her computer. He opened the application.

She had no less than 50 AirTags. Forty-nine of which were in her apartment with Harry. All labeled with various names for her shoes.

Good girl. He thought. It was in her shoe. When would she be without shoes?

The only shoes that weren’t in her apartment were in a warehouse across the city. He scribbled the address on another index card and shoved it in his pocket alongside her perfect note telling him she loved him.

Harry could hear a commotion starting in the lobby. Sirens were ringing outside. They were coming up the stairs. He closed her laptop, slid it back into her backpack and hurried to her bedroom hoping everything look untouched. He quietly closed the window behind him as they entered her apartment. He descended the fire escape before they made it to her room.

If she could see him breaking protocol, he imagined she would laugh.

*

Harry parked a block away from the address. As soon as he entered the building, he hurried up two flights of stairs to where he heard talking. “It was a risk I had to take!” It was a man’s voice. Harry felt sick. “It was suspicious!” He shouted. “She said she would get more money. How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Get up,” he snapped.

She yelped and Harry thought he might die before he made it to her if he heard her getting hurt even slightly. If he pulled her hair or caused her to stub her toe, Harry would genuinely contemplate murdering him.

Harry pulled the gun from the holster around his ankle. He pointed it down toward the ground and waited by the entrance to the floor and peered so very briefly around the corner of the wall. He caught a glimpse of her beautiful being walking on her own. A gun pressed to her back. Harry swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

If something happened to her, Harry would never forgive himself.

"Listen," she said almost gently. Like she was going to reason with someone with a gun. She was going to get herself murdered and Harry couldn't stop her right now. "I know...I know you want money. I get that, honestly I do. Who doesn't, right?"

God Harry envied her serenity in a moment like this.

He wasn't actively putting bullets in her so she continued. "You're a smart guy. They wouldn't have picked you to do this if you weren't, but you...you have to realize you're their fall guy. This is a national security matter. The first sign of trouble they're going to say you kidnapped me, you hurt me. They will come out clean because they have to," she explained so rationally it would have been obvious to anyone with a pulse. "You don't have to take me there," she finally whimpered the true emotion she was feeling. Harry winced as if her pain was in his own body--he certainly felt like it was. "I can just go...I have a plan. I...or we can fake my death. It doesn't have to be this way," she promised. Like they were going to be a team.

But Harry knew what it was: all her rambling. It was a distraction, it was stalling.

Because she had no way of knowing if Harry made it in time to save her--but the one thing she did know? If she was brought to the park...it was all over.

Harry took a deep silent breath trying very hard to keep as calm as possible because he could not afford one second of hesitation or any kind of slip up. He turned the corner aiming his weapon toward the man holding her at gunpoint. “Harry!” She gasped and made three bold steps toward him; hands still bound up in front of her. The man behind her fired off a round right toward the concrete wall just feet away. Harry didn’t waver, holding his own gun steady in front of him as she yelped again, pausing her steps. It was long enough that he snagged her back before she got any closer to Harry.

The person behind her had his arm around the front of her shoulders. He pressed the cold metal to her temple. She wanted to scream or cry or something. Her hands clutched to the man’s forearm trying desperately to wriggle free. He was using her as a shield—the coward. Harry wanted to scream too. He held his gun aimed directly at his head from several meters away. But it was way too close of a shot for him to even think about taking it. Not with her right there. Not with a weapon held to her beautiful, perfect face.

It felt like all those times he watched guys lean too close to her at the bar amplified by ten thousand. It felt like the realization that stupid prick slipped something in her drink multiplied by a million. His lips were near her ear. Harry was so grateful she was alive and awake.

And maybe, most importantly to Harry, she looked pissed.

“He’s going to kill you,” she hissed at him, tears in her eyes. Bless her angry little heart.

That’s my girl. Harry thought. Harry was going to kill him. Especially if he harmed her in any capacity. He pressed the gun harder against her skin and she winced. Harry faltered for half a second.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sounding so much braver than he felt. He was a mess internally. It was a wonder his hands didn’t shake holding his weapon. He wanted to surrender himself—him for her, he would have taken her spot in a heartbeat. He would do anything to get her out of here.

“Right as rain,” the man said. Harry wondered if he should just take his shot right now. Damn it all because he wanted to kill him for thinking this was funny.

She nodded, just barely. Harry felt the most minor amount of relief.

She could try to run for him again. She was certain she could make it—she almost did. Harry would stop him before he even realized she managed to get away from him. A kick to the shin—or worse. The only thing that stopped her was the metal against her head. She was terrified that one wrong movement would set off a reflexive action that would take her life. Harry inched closer. Six measly feet away from her. She could nearly smell his fresh cologne probably applied habitually before he headed to work.

But six feet may as well have been six thousand miles.

“I can kill her, now,” he said. “Makes no difference to me. I get paid either way,” she inhaled sharply. She thought there would be a bruise from the circular barrel pressing to her skull.

She swallowed, staring at Harry. Perfect, wonderful Harry. If this was the last time her eyes were opened, at least he would be the last thing she saw. Harry had to focus on staying as calm as humanly possible. Even though the thrum of his pulse was like thunder in every inch of his body. She looked unharmed and said she was okay...other than her wrists tied together. “If you kill me, you’ll never get to my dad,” she reminded him. Harry was surprised to hear her talk about her dad. There had to be something more. But he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to get her out of here.

He eyed Harry as he inched even closer. “Keep moving, I’ll kill her,” he promised with a shrug. Harry stopped in his tracks, and she tried to pull her head from the gun. She was so brave, not even the tears in her eyes were stopping her from trying to get away.

Harry was going to give her anything she wanted. A thousand coffees, a million movies, a new set of pens and a fresh batch of index cards, or a hundred fake bouquets to decorate her place. Whatever she wanted.

“Harry,” she whispered breathlessly. He wanted to cry at the sound of worry in her voice.

“I know, love,” he murmured, trying to feign this wasn’t killing him.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked.

He wanted to wince, but he couldn’t blink. It felt like if he dropped his gaze for even a second it would be over. He would lose. He could not lose her. He didn’t respond to her. “Shut up,” the man snapped. She dropped her hands from his arm and Harry wondered how he didn’t drop his gun at the sight. It looked like she was giving up. It felt like they had to give up. What were they supposed to do? It was so quiet; even the cars outside the building seemed to be silent.

Harry and the unknown man stared at each other unmoving from their positions. It was almost like he was watching her in his peripheral vision he saw her fingers fidgeting just like they had in the video. A repetitive movement. Except this wasn’t quite sign language.

This was her thumb and index finger forming the shape of a gun and then her thumb pointing back toward herself shifting ever so slightly so her movement wouldn’t alert the man holding her hostage. Harry shook his head imperceptibly.

“Please,” she begged.

“I said, ‘shut up’,” he gripped her tighter, shaking her and Harry allowed himself to wince. He shook his head more obviously.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I’m going to put a bullet right in your mouth, shut. Up,” he pulled on the safety which clicked so loudly in her ear she thought it was the trigger on its own.

She released a horrific, terrified sob. “Harry, please,” she croaked.

Harry thought his heart was going to break. He nearly closed his eyes as he pulled his trigger right when she sobbed.

The sound of her cry marginally covered the ear-piercing ring of the weapon. She tore herself from the man’s grip impulsively. It was primal, the need to tend to her new wound. The sound and sight of Harry shooting at her had clearly done exactly as she wanted: completely distracted him. Trying to grab at the burning pain in her thigh with her wrists held together. She screamed so violently, so loud, Harry swore it was louder than the sound of the bullet.

As she dropped to the ground; Harry had a clear shot of the man and took it. It pierced directly through his forearm, so he dropped the gun. Harry placed another precise shot to the opposite shoulder rendering both his arms useless.

She was writhing in agony but somehow managed to reach for his weapon with her tied arms, and awkwardly shoved it out of his reach. Harry thought she was his hero. He was going to give her anything she wanted for as long as she lived.

Blood was pooling from both parties and Harry grabbed the man by his injured arm, nearly digging his thumb into the wound to make it worse. He groaned and yelled. He sounded worse than she did. He tried not to think about his beautiful angel bleeding with a wound he caused. All of the wounds he inflicted were well out of harm's way. They would repair eventually.

But Harry didn't need to be shot with a bullet to know it hurt. There was a reason people used the expression I need it like I need a hole in the head when they talked about something they definitely didn't want.

Harry thought honestly about snapping his neck. Instead, he shoved him behind the pole facing away from them, blood dripping in his path and wrapped his arms around the pole, handcuffed them together so he couldn’t escape with a set of zip ties he brought with himself--because Harry was not taking any risks when he found her. He had to be dealt with quickly, but he wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things.

With the few seconds it took Harry to rid himself of the nuisance now stuck behind the pole, moaning in agony until he could get DSS and the cops, (and everyone under the sun) here. It took a moment for Harry to realize he hadn’t heard her screams of pain as he did. She was lying on the ground, eyes closed, face paling, blood pooling around her lower half.

Oh fuck.

“Love?” He whispered brokenly. Harry dropped to his knees beside her. She was bleeding so much. Too much. The training he had from his EMT days was kicking in reflexively thank God. His movements were quick: yanking his belt off, violently pulling himself out of his coat and ripping the bottom part of his shirt off. Her jeans were soaked with her blood, seeping its way up her sweatshirt. He yanked her wrists free of the zip ties finally. I have to get her a new sweatshirt he thought uselessly.

Harry wasn’t nauseous about blood. But the thought of her dying because of blood loss made him feel so sick. Why did he listen to her? Why would he shoot her? Why, why, why!?

He was trying to do too many things at once. His right hand was holding pressure with the piece of his shirt against her wound. He pressed so hard; an insane amount of pressure—he thought he might break her already fragile leg, but it would be worth it if she would wake up. He nicked something. Something bad. Or she had a clotting problem. Something was amiss. This...this was one of the safest places he could have aimed. It had one of the highest recovery rates. All he had to do was follow her stupid fucking plan.

But it wasn't stupid. It was exactly what she wanted. It was what she expected. Harry just had no idea she had prepared for that.

If she could talk Harry down she would have. It wasn't his fault. He followed her plan even though she never explicitly told him. Even though he had no idea she didn't know her own anatomy all that well and accidentally lined up one of the arteries (but fortunately did miss her femoral artery--just barely).

His left hand dialed 911. He didn’t let the operator talk, he was spewing out the address, who he was, what the issue was, barely getting the details out in a messy rush. Harry barely waited a moment before he hung up and called Niall. He didn’t listen to anything he had to say at the other end of the line and repeated the same summary again, this time losing it the longer he talked, his voice coming out in a strangled cry and if it was anyone but Niall he would worry more about professionalism.

“Baby,” he croaked leaving the phone on, shaking her by the shoulder, he lifted her head out of the puddle of blood, her face and hair sticky with the substance. He slipped his jacket beneath her head, a cushion something to get her off the cold, bloody floor. “You gotta let me see those beautiful eyes...” he shook her head. “Love, please,” he begged giving her a squeeze. She moaned and her eyes fluttered behind the lids a bit. The slight relief he felt seemed like hope. “That’s good. Hey, hi, angel,” he cooed. Her eyes turned to little slits as she opened them so very barely. “Good job,” he praised. “Y’jus' gotta stay awake for like 10 more minutes, sweetheart. Okay? Ambulance is coming,” he promised. He continued working on her leg. He was wrapping his belt around her thigh, high around the top. He pulled it into a tight knot. She moaned at the feeling.

“Stop,” she whimpered reaching with her freed hand uselessly for his ministrations.

“I know, love, m’sorry,” he felt his voice dying in his throat. This was bad. So horrifically, bad. “Y’got a bit of a gash here, Miss Wildflower, jus’ like when y’were cooking,” he reminded her. “Remember?”

She didn’t respond and Harry found a piece of metal, like something from the construction that was left lying around, to slip in the knot he made. He twisted it causing an involuntary scream to rip from her throat. He winced at the sound of her agony.

“Harry please,” she begged, eyes dripping with tears. Her hands reached again for him to stop. “It hurts!”

“I know, m'love. M’sorry. Jus’ gotta...” he kept twisting and holding pressure on the wound. Her hands reached for it again, he grabbed both, she was too weak to do anything anyway, but he held them both against her side. “There,” he felt a pinch more relief seeing the gushing had stopped.

“S’cold,” she whispered after a moment of stillness. The burning seemed to stop. It was overshadowed by how cold she was.

Harry thought he might die if she died right in front of him. His heart was racing, the adrenaline was violently coursing through him. “I know beautiful, I know. Goddammit,” he hissed. “Niall, I need back up. Now!”

He pressed harder on her wound and looked at the pool of blood surrounding her. It was too much, too dark. “Ow, Harry! Please, stop! It hurts!” She whimpered.

“I know, honey, I know. I’m so sorry m’angel. I’m so sorry.” He could hear the sirens. “Jus’ another minute.”

She groaned for a few seconds before silence took over again. Harry pressed on her wound again. He was covered in her blood as well. She moaned again at the fiery pain. “M’sleepy,” she managed.

“I know, beautiful. I know; but y’can’t sleep yet. Not yet. I’ll let you sleep soon, I promise.”

More silence. “S’really cold.”

Harry wanted to cry. He sniffled and realized he already was. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“M’sorry I ran away,” she mumbled. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want her to know how mad he was even though she seemed close to dying. “I had...had to...get you away...they’d kill you. And then... I’d have no one…at least this way...” she trailed off.

“Kitten,” he said firmly, he swallowed back the tears. Squeezed her hands. “You are going t’get in an ambulance in thirty seconds and you are going t’live a long, beautiful life. Please jus’ stay awake for jus’ a few more minutes.”

Harry swore she smiled faintly. “...With you?”

“God, if s’what y’want. I'll stay forever, love. Jus’ stay awake, please,” he begged. She didn't respond and Harry began to panic. Where was the fucking ambulance? “Angel, Tell me the functional groups.”

“Hmm?”

“Please, love. Tell them t’me again.”

“Ketone. Carbonyl. Acyl…” she sighed.

“Describe aldehyde,” he croaked. “Niall! Where is it?! Please, baby,” she could feel his hand on her face, but she realized she couldn’t see him anymore. “Kitten, honey, please open your eyes.”

Was he crying?

She wanted to say she loved him out loud. Wanted to say she was sorry for everything one more time but unfortunately her tongue was suddenly too heavy to speak. She swore she heard Harry crying, shouting, and whispering he loved her right in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

--

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[h-ski3]

pov ur photographer finds out ur brother isnt actually ur brother /j

just a randm thing i thought of lol its basically just if when Ingo disappeared, he was just immediately replaced by a Zoroark(like, literally an hour after him disappearing or something. instant.) and Emmet just assumed everything was still normal. there would be signs he was a Zoroark, but Emmet would kinda just be oblivious to all of it. probably would assume Ingo was trying a new hairstyle or something when he has his hair a bit longer than normal. also, before anyone says it, the Zoroark can in fact talk as Ingo, specifically by mimicking his voice. there's a few cases of this happening in the games and the anime, so don't jump at me lol. i think that the Zoroark would have been watching the twins for a while, and when Ingo disappeared, it would've taken its chance to kind of act in place of Ingo. idk this was kinda a spur of the moment thing that i thought of when looking at that one theory where N was a Zoroark loll. got a real good idea for a drawing of it too, so i literally stopped everything i was doing to draw it LMAO, i think this took me like a little over 11 hours or something lol, i was up half the night plus working on it this morning, and i started it at like 3:20 yesterday or something, I think maybe a bit earlier because that's when i finished the sketch. at least its done now, an it was fun to draw !! :3

[brooooswriting]

Heyyyy I finally got an idea (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

It again Mafia Au since I liked the prev one so much shshshhshshs.

Buuuuut this time it's an enemies to lovers.

R and J's gangs have a rivalry for wtvr reason.

But when J and her groopies gets captured by another gang (too many gangs) one of jens dudes who fled the scene came to R for help.

After a while she went and got her rival back (and the others ಠ⁠∀⁠ಠ)

Maybe R patching up Jenna, them getting together? only if you want. though

Again if this makes you uncomfortable pls delete or ignore this

Thank you broko loco

I hope you have a wonderful day

<3

I love your requests 🫶🏻

Small heads up: I still don’t know anything about the mafia so this kinda sucks soooorrrrryyyy.

Also I figured out that Mafia stories aren’t really my thing, they just aren’t as good because I don’t know shit about it

Changes

Jenna Ortega x reader

The mafia was something you grew up in, as a small kid you lost your dad. Your mom didn’t have a lot of money, you were about to live on the street when someone swoop in and decided to help you. He was a friend of your dads, his death hit him nearly as much as it hit you guys so he decided to take you in. It was how your family got into the mafia thing.

18 years later you were second leader of the group, after your second dad. He thought you everything, how to use guns, the codes of the mafia and how to earn yourself respect in a group of men.

This was also how you met the Ortegas, leader of one of the other biggest Mafia groups around. You were taught to despise them and honestly you got why, they were arrogant, it was impossible to talk to them and they were unfriendly. Your group also had its flaws, that’s for sure, but there was no way that you were this bad. Sure, sometimes you guys were a bit stubborn but you were always willing to help, or at least most of the time, and it was always possible to talk to you.

The rivalry with the other group went from verbal fights to physical fights in open spaces or bars. Nobody has ever been killed but people were hurt to the point where it was a close call. Sometimes you wish for the fights and the rivalry to end but then their first and second leader showed up, being all snappy and up on their high horse because they had a lot of money and suddenly you were back to understanding why you had these fights.

Every once in a while on a blue moon you met Jenna, daughter of the leader of your rivals, in a bar. If you were both alone you’d sit next to each other and drink in silence for a while, then you’d talk for a minute before a weird tension builds between you two which is the moment the conversation turns into a fight and you guys part.

You were sitting in a cafe one of your members had as a side hustle, it was nice, kinda cute with lights and plants everywhere, coffee and cake, just like any other pastry were great. You were doing some work, looking for your own side hustle and drinking some iced coffee when a friend of yours came in. “It’s been quiet lately hasn’t it? I mean like suspiciously quiet” he said as he sat next to you, stealing a piece of your cake. “What are you talking about?” You mumbled as you kept scrabbling down numbers, “the Ortegas. No fight in 3 days, nobody of us has seen any of them. You have been home from the bar early yesterday which means that miss Ortega wasn’t there like she normally was” he explained, and it suddenly clicked. He was right, she wasn’t there yesterday and nobody came running to you about how someone was beaten up again. “Well, maybe they finally backed off” you answered as if you didn’t care where the girl was. “Oh, be honest. You were sad that she wasn’t there” he teased earning himself an elbow to the ribs. “Shut up and get going, I still have work to do” by now he has eaten your cake, drank half of your coffee and destroyed your order. “Alright, if you wanna lie to me” he grinned before disappearing.

Two days later and nothing happened with the Ortegas again, they were nowhere to be seen and nobody heard anything. You also hadn’t seen Jenna for a while now.

———————————————————————————

“Go and get us out of here” mister Ortega whispered towards one of his newbies who managed to escape the handcuffs and ropes. “Who am I supposed to get?!” He whispered back, “just anyone” he looked around anxiously. “I don’t know anyone, I’m new and nobody listens to me. The only one I know is y/n y/l/n” he said and started creeping away a bit. “No! Everyone but them” the leader scream whispered, “just get anyone to get us out of here. Damnit” Jenna said and ended the discussion with that.

———————————————————————————

It was rather late, you were in a bar playing billiard with the owner. It was only you, the owner, your dad Marc and about four other members when somebody entered. “We are closed” the owner said as soon as the door squeaked, when there was no response you finally looked up. “Owen?” You asked as you saw the smaller man, “I-we need help” he mumbled out as he walked further towards you. It was the first time you could take a good look at him, he had some bruises in his face and was covered in blood. “Who needs help?” One of the members asked, “the Ortega group. We-We were captured, I could escape but I can’t get them out alone, please” he pleaded looking at you. “No! We are not going. It’s their own business” Marc said causing you to gasp, “Marc” you started but he interrupted you, “no. We are rivals. We are not going to save them” Owen stood between you, unsure of what to do or what to say. “You took me in back then, you took my mother in. You told me you did it because everybody deserves a chance. Where is their chance?!” You asked, stomping onto the ground like a little kid. “They had their chance y/n! We tried to make peace. So no, we are not going. Nowhere. They brought themselves into it, they can get theirselves out of it!” He raised his voice, towering in front of you. It was something you rarely did, probably never but the way he stood there looking down at you made you uncomfortable.

But if this man taught you one thing, it was to never back down if you really believe in something. “If you aren’t going then I am” you said looking him straight in the eyes. “This is my gang y/l/n and I say we are not going” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “Then I’m going alone. You don’t have any control over me” you answered and stepped away from him to get a warm coffee for Owen.

You sat on a bench further away talking about what happened, “mister Ortega said that they are from downtown, something about them wanting to form one gang and something about a marriage but his daughter didn’t wanna marry their son. So they chose whatever this is. Y/n, I wasn’t made for this. I didn’t know it would be this hard” he explained, his hands shaking spilling some of the coffee. The thing about Jenna made your heart stop. “Give me an address and about 30 minutes. I’ll figure something out but we definitely need more people.”

So Owen gave you an address, you called one member and he send you a map of the building. “I think I have a plan” you called out, Owen immediately scooting closed. “It’s going to be extremely hard but we may be able to do it together” you started when suddenly somebody scooted in next to you. “You would really risk your life to save them?” Marc asked you as he looked down onto the plan you made. “For these unfriendly and arrogant assholes?” You nodded not daring to look at the man, scarred that you’d see the disappointment you feared would appear. “Well then, let’s call the rest” he smiled warmly with his arm around you shoulder.

He called the rest and you explained the plan. It wasn’t really a plan by now, storm the thing act like you guys were one gang and then fuck off again. “We are trying to set an example so no fights with the Ortegas!” He said before grabbing his gun and walking towards the car.

It took about 25 minutes to get there, you didn’t even try to be discreet about it, you wanted them to know that you were there. After 10 minutes you found the hostages, they were tied together. Mister Ortega looked the worst, he had open wounds, a broken leg where you could see the bone and he had bruises all over his body. You looked through the whole place but Jenna was nowhere to be found, “where is she?!” You asked her father as you pulled the gag out and untied him, “I don’t know. They took her, we couldn’t do anything” he was too weak to even stand alone. “Y/n, we have someone screaming over here” Marc called out causing you to immediately sprint towards them. The screams that came from the other side of the door made your heart clench. “We gotta go in there” you said, pulling out your gun. You kicked in the door and stepped to the side letting the others flood the room, there were around 4 shots and a like two screams, both male before you entered the room. One of yours guys was shot in the arm and the guy in front Jenna was from the other group, he was laying in front of the girl holding his stomach. You guessed that the rest of the shots didn’t hit anybody. Then your eyes finally fell onto the petite girl, her body was bloody, her nose broken and her left eye bruised, there was a cut just above her check bone and one over her eyebrow. Tears streamed down her face, rolling over the cut one her lip. Her hands were bound behind the chair and her legs were bound to a leg of the chair. She yelped out a sigh of relief when her eyes fell onto you.

You had to take a second to calm yourself before you finally walked towards her, pulling the gag out of her mouth just like you did with her father minutes ago. Pulling a pocket knife out you cut through the tape that bound her hands and legs together finally freeing her. She was still panicking and immediately stood up looking around hastily. Not even 10 seconds later her legs gave out, luckily you stood behind her and were quick to catch her. “Careful, your das seems to be okay. My guys are getting him fixed and now we need to fix you” you told her and wrapped an arm around her waist to try and support her to walk but it was no use. “I’m gonna carry you okay?” You asked her and as soon as she nodded you swooped her up, carrying her bridal style into the car. You sat in the backseat with her.

“How do you always get into stupid shit like this? You guys, all of you, could have died!” You said looking out of the window, “for real? So this is our fault?” She asked clearly pissed but you were too. “If you guys werent arrogant and wouldn’t always show how much money you have it would be possible that this didn’t happen?” She rolled her eyes but kept quiet which scared you. You looked over scanning her face, her head was leaning against the headrest with her eyes closed. There was blood coming thru her shirt and her hands were still shaking.

“Come on, let’s get you out od here. We need to take care of your wounds” and that’s what you did. You carried her out of the car and into the house where you cleaned to wounds on her face. As carefully as possible you cleaned up the dried blood and everything else before putting band aids on the cuts. “The cuts are taken care of, so you have any wounds somewhere else?” You ask as you throw the wrappers away. She shyly pulled her shirt up, which was weird because she was normally really overconfident. There were some cuts and some bruises, “I’ll clean the cuts, once the doc is done with your dad he’s going to look at the bruises alright? Don’t wanna risk Internal bleeding” you told her and disinfected the cuts. Your phone blinged, “your dad is alright. They had to bring him to the hospital to take care of his leg but other than that he has a small concussion. He will be completely fine” she smiled at you and pulled you into a hug which surprised you but you hugged her back nonetheless. “Thank you. For saving us and looking out for me” she mumbled into your neck and then you suddenly felt tears streaming down your neck. You tightened your arms that were wrapped around her waist, trying to give her comfort.

You hugged in silence for a while, then you pulled away and whipped the tears away too. “Dad didn’t think that you’d come, I know that we don’t have the best relationship but when Owen said that he only knew you I knew that we’d be safe. And I finally wanna do something about that damn tension” she rambled, her sentences weren’t really connected but it was cute. You liked her like this, it was the real her. And while you thought about how cute she was when she rambled she surged forward and pressed her lips to yours. You were quick to reciprocate the kiss, your hand on her cheek.

“Y/n, I’m here to look after … oh” the doc came inside causing you to break apart. “Oh, no. It’s fine. Come on check her out, I wanna be sure she’s fine” you smiled at her softly, a smile nobody has ever seen. “So an arranged marriage to form two gangs into one? What year is it? 1750?” You laughed out while the doc pressed onto her stomach. “I feel terrible about it. If I had agreed none of this would have happened”she sighed sadly, you grabbed her hand and shook your head. “No, that’s not true. It would have happened anyway and now you’re at least free. Which means that I can take you on a date right?” You smiled which made her smile too. “Yeah, let’s do it. I will give my dad a heart attack but hey” she laughed out causing you to grin. When the doc was done he told you that she was fine. “So how about I cook something as a first date?” You asked her making your way to the freezer to grab her something that she could press onto her bruised eye. “Or we could go to your guys bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink and I kinda just want your comfort, and you can’t do that when you’re cooking” the way she talked so shyly made your heart beat faster. Without another word you stretched your hand out for her to take. You grabbed your keys and drove her to the bar where you ordered drinks and food.

“Gosh, I’m so tired” she mumbled and rested her head on your shoulder. Without a second thought you kissed her forehead and grabbed her hand, your thumb stroking circles on the back of her hand. “I’m gonna get you home, you should sleep” you whispered into her hair. “You’re really sweet” she mumbled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, followed by some more. When you parted you saw Marc and mister Ortega starring at you. “Are you guys trying to kill us?” Marc asked, holding a hand over his chest while Mister Ortega just had his mouth open. “Well, we are going home so if you guys die do it outside, I don’t want my bar to smell like death” you said before standing up and pulling the young Ortega with you. “Wanna sleep over tonight?” You asked her as you started the car, she immediately nodded.

That night you laid in bed, cuddled up with Jenna in your arms. Something you didn’t really imagine would happen anytime soon. “What does this make us?” You asked her, unsure of yourself, “oh wow, the big y/n y/l/n wants to talk about what we are?” She grinned and turned around in your arms. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow okay? I’m so tired” she kissed you again before laying her head on your chest and falling asleep.

You’d talk about it tomorrow. Then you could figure out what you’d do about the rivalry and about the gangs. It would work out in the end. Right?

[fanficsforfun]

Pretty as a peach

Paring: Merle Dixon x shy female reader

Era: Woodbury

Word count: 1,6k

Warnings: body insecurity, some hard language and sexual tension

Summary: You have had a problem with your looks for a long time, but then you meet Merle who, as surprising it is, makes you feel better about yourself.

---

You weren't always too happy with your body. There were things you wanted to change, things that had bothered you for a long time. And because of them, you felt somehow less of a woman, which, despite knowing it was stupid, was undoubtedly one of the worst feelings you had ever experienced.

After the hell broke loose things had changed. Not because you had no time to think about your looks anymore (well, that had in fact been the case for the first half a year or so) but because you met someone who saw you worthy of his attention. That someone was Merle Dixon, a rowdy Southern redneck who everyone seemed to hate or be afraid of. Before you met him, you had been in Woodbury for a few days and quickly found out how others perceived him. They even warned you about him, told you it’s better to stay away from him. It had made you nervous and hoping you wouldn’t even have to meet him, that he wouldn’t ever come back from the supply run. But you should have known not to believe any rumors.

When Merle had got back, he had noticed you pretty much right away. You could still remember it like it was yesterday; you had been walking towards him on the street, and he had studied you closely, his eyes lingering on your body way longer than what would be appropriate, before stopping in front of you.

"I don't think I've seen ya around here before" was the first thing he had said to you. His tone had been flirty and his body language and the way he looked at you got butterflies fluttering in your belly. He wasn't like you had expected. Not quite. He wasn't threatening or repelling, on the contrary he was somehow... charming.

“What’s your name, sugar?” He had asked, making the butterflies in your belly go crazy. Somehow you had still managed to introduce yourself. 

“You’re a newcomer, ain’t ya?” He had guessed, and after you had answered affirmatively but explained you had been around for a few days already, he had continued: “Then ya probably have already heard all the flattering opinions these ladies here have of ol’ Merle.”

You had nodded, becoming visibly nervous.

“Don’t ya worry, darling, I'm not all that bad”, Merle had ginned before stepping out of your way to let you walk past him. “I’ll see ya around”, he had added.

You had continued on your way, your heart pounding, and feeling confused. The others considered Merle more or less like a monster, but that wasn't the impression you got. Sure, he was bold and the prosthesis and his rugged appearance made him look kinda scary but he had still been rather nice to you.

Your conflicted feelings got even worse when the Governor organized a little show where men fought each other, surrounded by walkers. The whole form of "entertainment" terrified you, but you couldn't help but admire Merle's hand-to-hand combat skills. He had gone there voluntarily and did great. Still, it was a foolish thing to do, a stupid way of showing off. As if people didn’t already know he was a tough guy.

By this day, your conflicted feelings had not disappeared, but your positive feelings were nevertheless stronger. Unlike anyone ever before, Merle flirted with you whenever he could and always seemed happy to see you. He had even made a habit of calling you “pretty as a peach”, which you learned was a great compliment in the southern states. And he often said something dirty but cute in the middle of a conversation or just as passing by.

It wasn’t just what he said though; he was also touching you all the time. While you were reaching for something on the top shelf, Merle might come up behind you, place his good hand on your waist, on the bare skin your shirt had exposed, and ask if you needed help. Or he might slap your ass as he walked past you. Or brush your neck or lower back discreetly whenever he was close enough to do so. And you always blushed and a smug grin always spread across his face. It was a bit crazy, but you loved every second.

One day, you were heading to the laundry room when Merle appeared seemingly out of nowhere to walk beside you.

"Mornin’, sweetheart", he greeted you. "Where are ya off to this early?"

“Morning”, you replied with a pleased smile. “I gotta do the laundry and I rather do it right away than leave it later. It’s not too nice to do at noon, it gets too hot there.”

"Hardworking little girl, I must admit", he chuckled. "Ya want some company?"

"Sure thing", you accepted the offer and gave him a shy glance accompanied with a timid grin.

“Oh, come on! We’ve known each other for some time now, and you’re still all shy and quiet around me.”

You blushed and lowered your gaze. He was absolutely right and it irritated you. Merle was pleasant to be around, even though he might surprise you with his straightforward comments or his shameless touches. But you didn’t mind, quite the opposite in fact - you enjoyed it. So why didn't you have the courage to show him how you felt? You didn’t know. Every time you thought about it, you just got really nervous and never managed to do it. Never. 

"I'm sorry", you muttered sheepishly. "You're not bothering me or anything, I just..."

But you couldn't finish your sentence so you just let your voice trail off. Silence fell between the two of you but then Merle stopped you at the door of the laundry room and looked at you seriously.

"Well, clearly not. It seems to me that ya downright seekin’ my company... So be straight with me now, darling. Do ya have feelings for me?"

You were visibly surprised by his words, but then nodded slowly. You wanted him to know it, and since he had asked, there was no way you would have lied. Now when he knew, you felt a rush of relief but then the nervousness hit you again. And what's gonna happen now, you wondered before Merle's voice interrupted your thoughts.

"That's all I need to know." 

His tone had changed from serious back to teasing and the next thing you knew, his hand was wrapped in your hair, the other on your waist and his lips pressed against yours. You gasped in surprise but didn't have time to do anything before he pulled away.

"Hope ya didn’t mind that", he grinned.

"I didn't", you managed to say, dropping your laundry bag on the ground and deciding to interpret the kiss as an okay for a hug. So you wrapped your arms around Merle and pressed yourself tightly against him, letting your eyes fall shut. He had his arms wrapped around you too and you were completely surrounded by him. His body was strong yet soft against yours, his arms protectively closed around you. You sighed and snuggled tighter against him. Oh, how wonderful it felt.

"Hmm, ya really have a thing for me, don't ya?" His voice was low and both gentle and mischievous at the same time.

“Uh-huh”, you mumbled. You wanted to say more than that, but you didn't have the words to describe how you felt at that moment. The morning around you was cool and quiet except for the birds singing, but you didn't feel cold. Merle's body exuded enough warmth to keep you cozy. For once, after a long time, you felt totally calm.

“Well then girl, ya gotta go doin’ your laundry, don’t ya think?” Merle's voice entered your mind after a moment of just standing there with your arms around each other.

“Yeah, but can’t that wait?” You asked, not willing to let go just yet.

“Oh, so now it’s ‘not gonna let go of ol’ Merle’”? He chuckled.

“Um, yeah.”

Merle laughed. "I ain't goin’ nowhere, if that's what you're afraid of. Let's get the laundry done and we'll have the rest of the day to do whatever the hell we please!"

Now it was your turn to laugh. You agreed and were happy to see Merle actually follow you into the laundry room and help you with the water and all. It was something you never in a million years would have expected but there he was, heating up the water in a kettle and pouring it into the washing tub. You couldn’t help but smile. He didn't, however, want to do any washing. Not so that you would mind, it was your laundry after all, not his. And how could he even get it done with only one hand?

While washing your laundry, Merle stood behind you and let his good hand wander along your body. The touch carried so much desire yet it was gentle, more like caress than anything else. And gosh, you loved it. Whenever you took a break from what was, frankly, exhausting work, you leaned against him and rested your hands on the edge of the tub. It was hot in the laundry room and you were sweaty, but Merle didn't seem to mind. Instead he made his usual dirty comments to which you giggled. 

Once the laundry was done and hung out to dry, you and Merle were free unless the Governor would come up with something for him to do. Free to do whatever you wanted, as Merle had said. And you had a certain idea in mind. And so did he, for that matter.

[katyawriteswhump]

The power of love pt 6 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part Five Part Seven Part eight Part Nine Part Ten Part 11 Part 12

Steve POV

“Hey!” shouts Steve, the next morning, as Robin hauls a mass of supplies onto her back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He half-runs, half-skids down the slippery rocks outside the cave. He tries to wrest the pack from her. She turns sharply, and he loses his grip.

“Steve, chivalry sucks and should’ve died in the Middle Ages.”

“What? I’m not being—”

“I can totally manage! Most of its bedding, and Eddie’s got half the water. You’re sick, remember?”

He rakes his fingers through the hair he’s just wrested into some sort of sub-standard shape. “Honestly, I’m good.”

Honestly, he feels dead rough, though better than yesterday. Anybody would feel achy after a night in some dingy cave. Even with Eddie Munson’s lap as a pillow.

Not that he spent the whole night there. Hell, no.

He woke up with Eddie spooning him from behind, Eddie���s chin tucked on his shoulder. Which screwed him up big-time. Fortunately, Robin was also cuddled up with him, which… helped. Yeah, he’d been kinda nestled on her boobs, but it wasn’t intentional. And it was Robin, and she’d laughed when he’d apologized.

Thinking about snuggles with Eddie is waaaay more problematic—underlined by the swift and silent fashion they’d extracted themselves from each other, both apparently awakening simultaneously.

Both far too groggy to deal.

Almost as bad, he can’t recall exactly what he’d said to the guy last night. He’s pretty damn sure he made an idiot of himself.

He’s still squirming when they set off, neither he nor Eddie having exchanged more than a passing word. Steve insists on taking his turn with the luggage, as well as using the compass and reading the sky. He’s terrible at it, mainly because squinting at the bright sun gives him an epic headache. He ends up walking behind with Robin, while Eddie disappears off ahead.

“By my reckoning, we took twice as long as we should’ve to reach those caves yesterday,” says Steve to Robin. “Do we really trust him with this pathfinding shit?”

“He’s shockingly decent at it. Not sure I trust him with you. Or vice versa.”

Steve stops dead. He can’t cope with walking and with any Eddie-Munson-related bombshells. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on! I could carve the sexual tension between you two with a knife then sculpt a little love-heart with it. He literally can’t stop flirting with you.”

“That’s total bull. Eddie flirts with everyone.”

“Uh… no. He really doesn’t. I mean, without belittling your troubles, I wish my love life had ever presented me with such straightforward opportunities.”

He facepalms. “Oh Christ, I’m sorry. I-I just can’t right now.” He pushes his increasingly sweaty hair from his eyes. God, he’d kill for a shower. And why didn’t Eddie pack more hairspray?

“Steve?” She hooks her arm through his, and they trudge on together.

“Okay, I surrender. I like him.” He sighs. Why do they seem to be walking forever uphill? “I don’t see how he can be into me, how I’ve been the past few days, and I’m not sure I want to go there. Period. And before you lecture me, it’s not because I think being gay is bad, you know that. It’s because… I honestly don’t know what I am.”

“You’re bi, Steve,” says Robin, very quietly.

“Yeah, and it’s a lot to get my thick head around.”

“You’re not thick, you know—"

“Whatever.” He swipes his wrist across his brow. “We’ve talked this over a billion times. I really don’t need any more meaningless sexual relationships.”

“Why would it be? You reckon you wanna jump his bones, and it’ll flush him out of your system?”

Steve pauses again. Robin’s questions stab his brain, and yet… He finds he can answer the last one, easy enough. “No,” he says. “I don’t want that. I mean, I got urges to be with him, but it feels different… from Nance or whatever.”

“That’s ’cos he’s a dude.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Slowly, they walk on again, both breathing hard. “You know, I’ve had fantasies and stuff, but they were just that, and…” I want Eddie to jump my bones and... Oooookay, that’s a revelation he didn’t want to deal with this morning, on top of the rest of the shit. “Why are we discussing this now?”

“Because the pair of you are driving me ment—"

A loud roar scythes through the quiet woodlands. Steve barely hears Robin’s terrified squeak. He grabs her bodily, makes a dive for the undergrowth. A chopper passes low overhead, setting the trees shaking, the ground juddering. They’ve landed hard—on Steve’s injured side—and bracken prods everywhere. Extra bruises and scratches, however, are the least of his concerns.

Another large chopper is about to pass directly overhead.

Eddie! Has he been spotted? Are they all about to be rounded up and frogmarched straight to jail? Steve crouches, squints ahead and realises the forest thins out into a clearing. There are only bushy tree stumps, no real cover. The sky above is clear as summer… and he still can’t see Eddie.

Steve’s desperate to sprint on, to find him. However, even hunkered down, he starts to feel sick. Jesus, not now! He squeezes his eyes tight; squeezes Robin tighter, kinda prays, because he’s that desperate. He’d do anything to protect them both. Anything. Anything! Pleeeease? Apart from he can’t hardly breathe, let alone move. There’s a freaky-ass electric crackling in his head, and he’s on the verge of…

Steve blacks out, but only momentarily. He slams a palm to the earth, stopping himself crumpling.

The roar lessens, as the second chopper forges on. A third follows noisily in its wake. Steve glances up. A thick cloud has settled, low enough to obscure the top of the trees.

“Do you think they saw us?” asks Robin, when it’s quiet enough to be heard.

“Nah,” says Steve, forcing himself to think straight. “It’s military, heading toward Hawkins. Bet they didn’t even look down.”

“If they did,” says Robin, “that cloud couldn’t have arrived at a better time.” They extract themselves from the foliage. Robin offers Steve a hand, which he ignores, clambering up himself. “I mean, it’s beyond nuts. The sky was blue—totally clear—a moment ago.”

She folds her arms, narrows her eyes.

He tosses a hand up, exasperated. “What are you driving at, Robin?”

“I don’t know. Weird shit is afoot.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Jesus, is Eddie, like, taking a slash or something?”

They both yell his name, while Steve surreptitiously checks his bandages. Blood hasn’t soaked through them, so that’s one thing. He’s even more relieved, when Eddie comes thrashing back through the trees.

“That was waaay too close.” Eddie’s totally spooked, and Steve restrains a burning desire to both hug him and pick out the dry leaves that have gotten stuck in his hair. “Is this logger camp really such a great idea? I mean, we’re rounding back on ourselves—getting closer to Hawkins again.”

“I reckon it’s sound.” Steve rolls his shoulders back with a click. “It’d be beyond tricky to land a chopper round here. Too many trees and slopes. If this place we’re heading for is as remote as we hope, it’ll be impossible there.”

“You sound better,” says Eddie, eyes narrowing, like Robin’s had.

“That’s because I am, moron.” Unable to withstand Eddie’s sudden intensity, he turns to Robin. Who remains staring at him, pretty much the same.

He wants to yell, What now? On the other hand, he is indeed feeling more himself. He might test the waters concerning his ‘thing’ with Eddie. Not with Robin AND Eddie gawking at him, like he’s some kinda freak.

Sure, he’s thought about what Robin said concerning Lover’s Lake—about him asking to go there when he was sick. He really doesn’t want to think too hard on it. Yeah, he’s had a couple of close calls there, and yeah, there’s a gate to the Upside Down in Lover’s Lake, but there wasn't always one, and...

“Look, if you two have a problem with me, I really wish you’d come clean.”

“No problem,” says Robin, perhaps a little too quickly.

Frustration flushes through Steve. "Be honest with me, Robin."

"I am! It's just... what with supernatural creepiness swallowing our lives on an apocalyptic scale, I'm so hugely relieved you're okay. It's hard to trust in anything good being real these days."

Yeah, he buys that, and he sure as heck trusts her, plus Eddie's nodding vigorously. He believes them. Maybe too readily, but he does.

Then he hears it—the merest rustle in the undergrowth. Followed by the patter of footfalls. On reflex, he slams into Eddie, hustles him behind the nearest thick-trunked tree. They tumble to the ground, Steve on top. You were wrong, Harrington. Those choppers landed men after all, and… Shit, Robin!

She hasn’t followed. He straddles Eddie’s upper thighs, straining to see. He hears her cry out, “Oh my God, they’re so pretty!”

A bunch of brown deer streak by, their fluffy white bottoms flashing behind them. Doubtless, the chopper spooked them too.

Steve’s jaw drops. Flat on his back beneath Steve, Eddie hoots, sweeping his hair from his mouth: “Thanks for saving me from Bambi, dude.”

Yeah, he’s mocking him. Eddie’s laugh is still totally delicious. Their troubles forgotten, Steve retaliates with his best dreamboat smile. “You’re welcome. I’m at least 2-1 up again in the lifesaving game, huh?”

“The world is back to rights, Harrington.”

Steve leans closer, revelling in Eddie’s laughing eyes, mesmerised by that gleaming smile... This is where we kiss, right?

A twinge of pain, and the effort of disguising it, totally throws him. He lifts his butt from Eddie’s thighs, then offers Eddie his hand. Which Eddie takes. The strain of tugging sets perspiration dripping from his brow.

“My eternal saviour.” Eddie affects a silly bow. Robin laughs too.

Steve dabs his eyes: “We did that joke, Munson.” He slings his pack up over his shoulder and motions them onwards: “Come on, Princesses. Let’s go, let’s go.”

Part 7

...

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

[hey-hey-j]

skipped yesterday because I had an appointment in the morning and frankly I just didn't feel like sitting down and watching this movie again but.

How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World. I feel like I'm losing my mind because this movie is sooooooo bad in how it spits in the face of everything the first movie stood for yet every time I look up reviews everyone and their mother is praising this movie like it's the second coming of christ and am I going insane here? Am I the crazy one for thinking this movie is garbage?? I'm half convinced that a large part of those positive reviews are blinded by love for the original movie and by the supposedly ""breathtaking"" animation because if you actually sit down and pick apart the story??

I've rarely seen a film series that wastes its audience's time like How to Train Your Dragon. The first movie is a sweet little story about the beautiful unlikely friendship between a lonely teenager and an even lonelier dragon and I can see why so many people vibed with it! And then the sequels proceed to throw that lovely little story back in the viewer's face and say "SIKE! NEVERMIND! NONE OF THIS MATTERS IN THE END! HICCUP WAS WRONG ALL ALONG, TOOTHLESS IS GOING TO ABANDON HIM FOR A GIRL, AND YOU WERE STUPID FOR BELIEVING THINGS COULD CHANGE!!" Like?? What a stupid message to be sending, and for what?? For the sake of giving the movies the same ending as the books?? THE MOVIES AND THE BOOKS ARE TWO FUNDAMENTALLY DIFFERENT STORIES!! IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE FOR THEM TO END THE SAME WAY!! At WHAT point were the movies building towards a "all the dragons disappear" ending, did I miss that?? Did I fall asleep during that setup because I can't seem to find it!! And on top of that, this movie is just BORING!! Soooooo many segments just drag ON and get SO REPETITIVE like DAMN just get ON WITH IT ALREADY I WANT TO WATCH SOMETHING ELSE!!!

the only reason this movie is higher up than Shark Tale and Shrek the Third is because it is objectively a more competently made movie, and because I genuinely really like the little moments of casual affection between Hiccup and Astrid. I can believe that these are two people who have been together for six years and care for each other deeply. I also don't care much for the Light Fury but I kinda like the montage of Toothless trying to woo her, it's charming it gets a few decent chuckles out of me.

so yeah. Hidden World bad, this is the last time I ever want to talk about this movie.

[bbyjenks]

Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

Notes from the writter:

I am not the best writter and I preffer first person. Enjoy though!

I have been a monster since the beginning. I have taken out my share of threatening people and terrifying monsters. I have gained the ability to fly. I am assuming that is because during life I ran toward danger rather than away. I have always been what others would call an "adrenaline junky." I volunteered as a rescuer on Mount T'aebaek and worked as a Helicopter pilot. I don't know, I have always felt like I was meant to do something more. I soared whenever I felt a slight sense of danger and I just kept chasing after it.

Well, here I am now, laying on this dumb roof, My black wings stretched as I am burning spam, watching the clear skied sunset. I guess that is something good about the death of so many people...Less pollution. It really does seem like the earth is taking herself back and then some with these hostile monsters.

Yesterday night, I heard a massive explosion and a series of small explosions near the stadium. It's about a days walk. I plan on walking there today. Look through the wreckage, take whatever I can, maybe help some people. It's kinda hard to come up to people with my wings now. People automatically start shooting at me. I mean, I get it but I am friendly... Most of the time. I chose to walk places to help not be obvious. I wear a giant leather jacket to hide my wings.

I happened upon a greenhouse the next day on my way to the stadium. I haven't seen something this beautiful that wasn't tainted by monsters in months. I go in and pick some yellow Canola Flower. I piled them all next to me and take a seat on a blanket that just happened to be sitting on the ground. I start making a flower crown. I haven't done this since I was a kid. Half way through my crown, I hear a crunch. I stop my work and look around the parameter. I slid my jacket off to be more agile. Through the brush, I see the face of what looks to be a small human girl. I become less tense and settle back onto the blanket. She doesn't seem a match for me. I look at her with my crown and hold it out.

"Do you want this when I am done?"

The girl turns her head slightly in confusion.

"Why are you sitting on my blanket?"

"Didn't know it was yours kid. How are you okay out here all by yourself?"

I continue making the flower crown. The little girl starts walking away from me and makes a chirping type of noise. From around a bush, I see a monster. It's very small and looks to be a baby. "They're reproducing now. what an ugly little thing" I think.

Unbothered, I look up.

"I don't have enough for all of us."

The girl laughs.

"You are like me."

Quizzically, I look up at her. She looks normal. Holding my flower crown, I get up for a closer inspection. I walk around her, looking her up and down. She looks normal but something in me tells me she isn't.

"Hm, it's not often that you find people that have held their human form. You must be one strong willed kid."

I place the finished flower crown on her head. The baby seems to jump at the act like I was going to hurt her or something.

"You guys must protect each other, huh?" I gather more flowers to make another crown. She looks at herself in a pc of broken glass and smiles.

"We do and my oppa takes care of us too." She says

"Oppa? Is he like us?" I sit back down and get back to work.

I notice that the baby has disappeared. I look around and at what seems like the back of the greenhouse through some broken glass I see a somber looking man with the baby on shoulders. By this time, the sun is starting lower in the sky. He looks normal. I finish the crown and putting on the babies head. The baby jumps off his shoulders onto the ground and starts inspecting the flowers with curiousity.

The girl goes to the man and hugs him. "Oppa, I found a friend."

I laughingly say, "I don't know about friends but friendly. I have to work my way up to friendship." I turn to look at him. "Are you guys actually related?"

He shrugs and looks at me quizcally and then laughs. "No, I knew her mom."

"Oh... I am Amai Saito. What are your names?" I blush a little. He is a very good looking man.

He rubs his neck and sits down next to me on the ground.

"Cha Hyun-su" he says quickly. "You can just call her Dongsaeng." he says with a slight frown.

i finish the crowns and plop one on his head and one on my head. He smiles and Dongsaeng comes up and hugs him. Shortly after, she runs away with the monsters baby. They play in the street.

Shyly, I pace around the greenhouse looking at the wildflowers. finding that my eyes, keep wondering to him. It's been awhile since ya know. This sickness really puts a damper on meeting men. Looking at a purple flower and not paying attention, I accidently run into his tall frame.

He looks at me through his hair. "why are you here?" he says sternly.

I backup, and stretch out my wings a little and smirk. "the better question is why are you here? But honestly, I heard some explosions at the stadium and I am making my way there for resources and to see if there are people I can help."

He turns away to look at Dongsaeng. He shrugs and says "Oh... I would stay away from the stadium if I were you."

I out stretch my wings and look at him with a smug face. "I think I'll be fine." I say sarcastically.

Dongsaeng comes up to me and starts touching my wings. I didn't see or hear her so I jump from suprise haha. Then, my stomache gurgles so loud everyone hears it. I laugh, " Well, I am hungry. You guys know of any places I can get some food."

Hyun-su shrugs and says " I guess I can show you. I have to get us food anyway." and starts walking away. He looks back and yells "Dongsaeng, stay here."

I jog towards him and start keeping pace with him. Hyun-su and I walk the streets on high alert. He takes me to a beaten down mall. It looks deserted but scavengers have gone through everything. We walk to the food court part of the mall. He jumps the counter of Tonkatsu House and I follow suit. We get to the back of the store where food storage is. There really isn't much there but there is enough for us.

"Well, I guess this will do. Too bad we can't use any of the appliances."

He looks at me and shhhs me. I hear rustling far off in the mall. I crouch and start looking for something hold the door to the front closed. I pick up a broom. When I pick up the broom, the mop against the wall falls. making a crack sound. I hurriedly close the door and lock it with the broom in the handles.

He shakes his head and looks mad but crouches down to the ground with me. We both sit in front of the doors to keep weight on them. I can hear a monster lurking in the food court. The excitement making me think a million things a min. We wait for the monster to go away.

He relaxes, release tension from his shoulders. He looks at me and says "we should wait here for a little before we head back." I shake my head in agreement.

He turns to face me and I stare at his handsome face. Admiring his cute little smirk. Immediatetly, I think of how pretty he would be smirking up at me while I was on top of him.

i think "well, we have time to kill. So, why not." I take his hand and put it on my waist and get on top of him. He is confused and looking up at me. I look down and give a quiet laugh. I put his other hand on my other side. I take my hand and bring it up to the nape of his neck and start kissing him. I move my hands to feel his body. Rubbing them down his abs as we make out. I get to the edge of his shirt and start pulling it up over his head. He lets me but for a slight second when I look into his eyes they twinkle blue.

I start untying my make shift tye shirt while rolling my hip on his heat. He helps me untie it all the way and remove. He grabs my neck and kisses me passionately. Pushing me back and fondeling my breasts while kissing me down to the floor. My wings acting as a cushion. He starts kissing my neck, my stomache, and my waist. He stops and looks up at me and smirks. It's exactly what I wanted. But there was something different about his eyes.

He takes of my pants kissing my waist, getting lower with every kiss. I starts kissing my other lips, teasing me. I push his head into me to show what I want. He licks my clit repeatively grasping my ass. I moan with pure pleasure. My legs start to shake and I know am about to cum. My panting increases. Then, all the sudden he lifts his head and wipes his face.

He laughs and winks at me with one blue eye. "Not yet." He takes off his pants and starts rubbing his dick on my wet opening, hitting my clit every time. I am squirming with the need of his dick. finally, he slowly slips into me, riding me slow. He kisses my breast and then my mouth. I grab his ass and push him further into me. I pull my legs clower to my face to get him in just the right position. I explode all over him.

He turns me around and starts playing with my clit from behind and I squirt everywhere. He slides his dick back in and this extasy is too good. He starts ramming me hard from the back. My ass bouncing off his body. He grabs my breats and then my face to turn back to him. He kisses me and he lets out a sound of completion.

I roll over exhausted and a mess bare chested trying to catch my breath. He lies next to me. I look at him and I was right. I think "why did his eyes change to blue."

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 41 - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Rated M for violence, swearing, and innuendo.

You and Astarion do a bit of reconnaissance.

On AO3.

Wyll is now a devil. That is a thing that can, apparently, fucking happen in Faerun. You quietly add “Mizora” to your “fuckheads to kill??” mental list. You ain’t sure if Wyll’s new look is permanent, or if it even goes more than skin deep. He, understandably, wants some time to process the whole thing—away from y’all—so you don’t ask.

“Mmm,” Astarion tuts. “That’s a warlock bargain for you.”

Catches your blank stare, scoffs, and has to explain (“Not even devils? What do you mean Ay-yarth only has humans?”)

Karlach goes real quiet. You think she might be tearing up, but she runs so hot, any tears evaporate before they can pool.

You sit with her a bit. Let her talk at you. You don’t got much to say—isolated as Earth is from all this shit (is it, though? Seems to be an awful lot of cultural and culinary crossover to be coincidence). You ain’t sure why somebody like Wyll ever felt so desperate he had to make a deal with a devil for power.

“I think he’ll be okay,” you say.

“Really?” Karlach says. She’s big and intimidating, but she’s still got that golden retriever softness to her. When she’s not swinging that ax around. Or ripping saplings out of the ground and replanting them with her bare fucking hands.

“He don’t seem the type to give up,” you say.

And this gets a snort out of her. “He chased my big, red ass halfway through the hells, alright. Yeah. Yeah. Good old Blade of the Frontiers wouldn’t let that sack of shit win, will he? And between you and me, I’m gonna find a way to get that bitch’s claws out of him, if I have to smash her face in to do it.”

She’s like a black hole, only bright and shining, pulling you into her gravity well. “I’d pay money to watch that. Shit, I’ll help you do it.”

“You will?” And sweet god, all that violence-tinged enthusiasm focuses on you and your spine melts all warm and gooey like taffy in the sun. You want to swoon into her giant arms.

But can’t. Because she’s on fire.

Instead, you nod. “If we get a chance to get him out of this bullshit contract, we do it.”

“Fuck yeah. I knew you’d be alright!”

You would do almost anything to make this giant, flaming woman smile.

***

Naturally, that means killing the fuck out of some fake paladins. You should probably be more squeamish about that. None of the others are. Karlach is downright chipper and Lae’zel smiled for less than half a second when y’all set out.

“How many did you say were there?” Gale says.

Karlach answers, but your gaze slides to Wyll, sticking to the middle of the group. His cheeks have ridges, now. His eye turned black and red. And he’s got an impressive set of oil-black horns curving up from his forehead.

He was so eager, yesterday. So in his element, confidant he could remove a piece of evil from the world. And it was a lie. The whole thing might be a lie.

You know what that feels like.

“You okay?” you say, dropping back to his side.

He tries to smile, but it’s like a gray cloud blocking the sun. “I’ll be alright. Best focus on the mission at hand. It won’t be easy fighting agents of Zariel. Even if we outnumber them.”

This close, and you can trace the ridges disappearing down the neckline of his shirt. His cheekbones jut out, now. The whole look is sharper than before. But his eyes are still soft and kind.

“You’ll be okay, Wyll,” you say. “If you need anything, ask, yeah? I mean it.”

He kinda blinks at you. Attempts a smile and almost sticks the landing this time.

Then the wind shifts and the reek of carrion left out to rot washes over you. The road is up ahead. And beyond that, the tollhouse.

“Keep yourself safe,” Wyll says.

“You, too.”

***

Karlach wants to kick down the front door and start smashing heads together. You talk her down. Barely. She’s literally blazing by the time she steps back, sulking. She says there were five. Astarion noticed four, and they’d said they were “gravely wounded.” They mighta lost somebody.

Y’all need to scout the area.

Your gaze lands on Astarion. His eyes narrow.

“You and me take a peek?” you say.

And half the group objects. Not over Astarion—which he goes full offended cat about. Rather, it’s you. Until you remind them that 1. you got Lae’zel outta that trap by yourself 2. nobody's stabbed you yet, and 3. you are the most unassuming out of y’all’s entire group.

Lae’zel with her fuck off sword and her silver armor. Shadowheart with her cool, skin peeling glare (and also her armor and that mace). Gale is a fucking wizard and anybody at fifty paces can clock that. Wyll and Karlach both have horns, and Karlach is on fire.

“Sides, I ain’t going through the front door,” you say. “Hopefully they don’t see us at all.”

So with a reluctant “be careful” and “I can’t heal a severed limb, you know” and a “fuck yeah, bust some heads!” you both go scuttling towards the nearest overturned wagon to the tollhouse, the one that’s part of the makeshift barricade.

“Hmph,” Astarion sniffs. “No sending off for me, then.”

You kick her body like the football, your brain chimes in helpfully.

“Poor Miette,” you say. Flap your hand when he frowns. “It’s a saying. I would very much like it if you don’t get hurt.”

He settles. A bit.

Them bodies are still sprawled everywhere like lawn clippings. That alone makes you side with Karlach.

“Who leaves bodies just lying around where they sleep?” you say, as the two of you crouch down (your knee crack is barely audible) to watch.

“Oh, most monsters,” Astarion says.

You remember how he just left that pig in the road. “Huh.”

There. Backroom Lurker woman emerges from a side door on the second story. Stares out over the woods a bit. Stares out so long your left calf goes from burn to cramp. Astarion is absolutely fixated on her. Eyes not moving, not even twitching. His nostrils flare and he goes so utterly still, you know he’s not breathing. He’s every inch a big cat on the stalk. It sends a shiver down your spine.

Eventually, Backroom Lurker starts towards the stairs leading down to the porch. Stands there as you start sweating, swearing without using your vocal cords, before she finally opens a door at ground level and slips inside.

You fall on your ass and hiss as you stretch your legs. Astarion gives you an eyebrow arch and you know the bastard is laughing in his head. At least it broke up his eerie staring.

“What now?” you say.

He hesitates a second. Something flashes across his face, but then he looks back to the tollhouse and shifts his crouch.

“We wait.” His voice is so soft it gives you an ASMR shiver. Which he notices, and because he’s an asshole, it makes him smirk. “We need to establish her pattern before we try to slip between her little outings. At least one more go should give us a rough estimation.”

You nod. Stretch your legs a bit more before folding them in criss-cross applesauce (Sasha taught you that phrasing; you refuse to abandon it). And wait. And wait. The sun beats down and you ain’t even in armor and you’re starting to overheat. Astarion isn’t sweating, though. Nor does he seem bothered. He watches the tollhouse—gaze still creepily fixed, but has tilted his head so he catches as much of the light on his face that he can. He’s a cat sprawled on a windowsill. One watching for a pretty bird.

And there she finally is. Backroom Lurker reappears upstairs again some fifteen minutes later. Does her whole “standing around and looking at the trees” schtick before making her round and going back inside.

Astarion lifts his crouch. You scramble back to your feet just in time for him to take off. God, he’s fast and he is fucking silent. More like a ghost streaking towards that porch while you lumber and pant behind him. He barely slows as he sort of flows up onto the porch, still without a sound. There, he turns back. Frowns to find you about half the distance behind and already panting. You redouble your effort (maybe Lae’zel had the right idea; you would not have been able to do this a week ago).

You stop before the porch. Turn and reverse hop your ass onto it and roll as quietly as you can to your own feet. He keeps glancing behind you (the door where Lurker disappeared into) and up the stairs.

“Keep quiet,” he says as if you aren’t already smothering your own urge to fucking pant under trembling slow breaths. Then he starts up the stairs.

You tread carefully, much more slowly, up after him. Until you’re both at the upper deck. He starts to move and then stops so fast and completely, you think something shot him. But then his face twists—oh fuck, that man is a fucking vampire—and his lips peel back in the most fucked up grin you’ve ever seen. He silent-sprints over to the other side of the door, crouches down.

Leaves you standing there all dumb and awkward. Just in time for the door to swing open. For Backroom Lurker to step out, muttering, and take two steps and notice your own frozen ass.

“What—” she says.

And Astarion is on her. He rises up, something terrible, something that locks your bones and trips your heart. A hand comes around her front, glittering silver. The knife flashes. Opens her neck in a spray of blood. And before the first drop can even hit the deck, he tears into the wound with his fucking mouth. His other hand comes up, clamps her own lips shut—pretty sure he severed the vocal cords, oh god, is that just instinct? And he clutches her to him.

It’s part cat, part python. Her legs kick and she reaches up to try to tear at him, wrench him off her. But her neck is open and his teeth savage the wound and she makes these horrifying gurgling, gasping sounds. She looks at you. All fear and desperation—

You look away. You don’t need to see this. Don’t need this burned into your memory. You track the both of them out of the corner of your eye as she slumps. As he follows her down, until she’s sprawled out and he’s hunched over her, making those slurping, half-moaning noises of his own.

Until he finally wrenches himself off, panting, looking high as fuck. His grin is a wet, red smear across his face.

That…

Holy shit.

“That’s, uh…” you say. You ain’t even sure what you meant to finish.

He sighs happily. Stands. Pulls a rag from his pocket to clean off the knife.

Backroom Lurker lies deader than the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. Just like Olodan, her head is damn near sliced off, only the spine and a flap of skin holding it to the rest of her. Astarion’s lower face is absolutely soaked in blood, a sheen of it running down the front of his armor.

He notices you staring. “Is there something in my teeth, darling?”

You ogle a second. And then you can’t help yourself. There’s so much death and maiming, and your brain always did short circuit to humor.

You laugh. It’s a quiet thing, high-pitched, more of a wheeze. You motion to his mouth. “Yeah. You got a spot right…right there.”

His eyebrows lift, eyes glittering. The game between you is shifting and you’re kind of stuck in this raft as the current veers off course. This seems to tickle him right back. He wipes the corner of his mouth with a gloved hand. Pops it back in to suck it clean, glove and all.

“Better?” he says.

He’s smeared it, is what he’s done.

And the only thing you can come up with it, “Eh, I don’t think anyone’ll notice.”

A drop pools on his chin and falls to the deck between his feet.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, and he damn well knows. Has to feel all that wet on his face, but he makes no move to clean it (aside from occasional finger swipes, like stealing icing from a mixing bowl).

He examines the dead woman a second. But doesn't crouch to go through her things. Instead, he looks at you.

“She’s all yours,” he says. When you only stand there and stare, he motions to her. “You claimed first shot at jewelry, didn’t you? Her pockets are right there, my dear. I’ll let you have your turn.”

You…what. What the fuck? Why does that sound…what?

But he just stands there, smiling at you. Like he’s not covered in blood. Like he didn’t quite literally tear her throat open with his own teeth and now you’re both standing here, in the sunlight, over her cooling corpse and talking about dibs rights.

“We are running out of time, darling,” he says. “If you want to continue this scouting venture, that is.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fake paladins y’all gotta kill. Right. And he’s going to stand there until you do this, isn’t he? Fucking asshole. Fucking goblin ass psycho man.

You look down at Lurker. This was your idea. You know he had to kill her—it ain’t actually that easy to knock people out and it causes literal brain damage; she might’ve died anyway. And y’all are here to kill all of them. And, well…you do need money. She won’t.

Fuck.

You reach down, careful not to look past the arm flung over her torso, careful not to touch her anymore than you have to. A quick rummage through her pockets and you draw out five gold pieces.

“Hmm, no jewelry,” Astarion says. “How unfortunate.”

No jewelry. Just your first corpse robbing. Dead-thieving? What the fuck does one even call this, and why does it feel like some kinda test? One Astarion seems to approve of, judging from the glint in his eyes.

Though that might be the blood lust.

“We may only have a few moments before the others notice her deviation,” he says and pads over to the ladder next to the door. He gestures for you to go first and gives a bow at the waist, like some fancy pants doorman.

You got a dead woman’s coins in your pocket and he’s covered in blood, so you do the normal person thing and give him a silly bow back. What the fuck even is your life.

Your knees bitch about the climb, but you make it anyway. Settle into a crouch on the open patio to let Astarion take the lead. He palms the door handle, cracks it and pauses, listening. He ain’t breathing again, so you hold your own lungs as still as you can until he gives what you assume is an “all clear” gesture. Then he eases through.

You glance back, catch a flash of red at the barricade—the crew ducking down. Close enough that if you two get caught, one of them might get to you both before y’all get your asses skewered.

You breathe deep, flick your shaking hands a couple of times, and follow Astarion.

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