ghostsec34

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

.

[spiderrrling]

Anybody have a map? - Chapter 2: Retaliation & Retribution

Series Masterlist - Masterlist - General Taglist

Chapter summary - The summer is in full swing, and you've started your retaliation against Eddie and his string of pranks

Word count - 8.6k

Chapter warnings - None in particular, more pranks, Eddie being a little shit, not beta read

A/N - I am so so so sorry this is late!! I didn't want it to be late this week just has not been it for me health wise but here it is and I hope it's everything you guys hoped for

Day 7 - Sunday, 12 days before

You slept peacefully through the night, knowing that last night Eddie crawled into his sleeping bag to find it filled with sand. A slightly evil idea suggested by one of your campers, and while you were hesitant to do it at first, you could not deny how tempting the thought was. To get just a sliver of revenge on Eddie after his water prank, that had left you cold and soaked for hours afterwards.

And that smug face, that smirk he had flashed you yesterday after you got soaked. That stupid smug smirk that had been haunting your mind for the rest of the day. God all you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Besides, the plan was painfully simple. You simply slipped away during dinner to execute your devious little plan, and returned to the mess before dinner was finished, no one even noticed. Except for your campers who simply could not stop grinning from ear to ear.

And based on the loud groan and assumed string of swears you could hear from the male counselors cabin, you safely assumed that your plan had succeeded.

You made sure to get to the mess hall before Eddie that morning for breakfast

“Slept well Munson?” You had to bite at the inside of your cheek to make sure your grin wasn’t too bright, maybe you were a little too pleased with your own accomplishment, but you felt you had earned it.

“As a matter of fact, I slept wonderfully,” Eddie said, rather contradictory as you could see the visible dark bags under his eyes that he rubbed at in a desperate attempt of trying to make them go away. “I’m not sure what you girls call it but I feel rather… exfoliated?”

But of course all wasn’t said and done at that. Your small victory was almost in vain with how short lived it ended up being.

When you didn’t see Eddie during the entire afternoon an anxiety settled in your stomach that you could not seem to get rid of no matter how hard you tried. A feeling that you soon felt was entirely justified as you returned your campers to your cabin in the evening.

Every spare square inch of the cabin was covered in string. Colourful yarn stretching from every piece of furniture creating an intricate maze of webs. And also making it impossible to enter.

Honestly you couldn’t even fathom how he had managed to do all of this in such a short amount of time. And you hated to admit it, but Eddie was a better pranker than you were. More skilled, more devious, and more playful. A proper fox through and through. Which made it almost impossible to compete with him. Almost.

But it was more than just a prank, it signified that you were both willing to retaliate. Which is how you wound up starting what some would call a prank war between yourselves and your cabins.

You couldn’t sleep that night, your eyes fast on the worn wood panelling that covered the ceiling, your bunk was so high up you could reach out your hand and drag your fingertips over the rough grain of the wood.

An endless stream of thoughts ran through your mind, but there was one that was more persistent than the other, one that no matter how tight you closed your eyes would still flash through your mind.

Eddie’s dumb, stupid smirk when you finally returned after carrying out armfuls of strings from Cabin 9. And his words, his words repeating in your mind like a broken record until you could scream with frustration.

“Your move, sunshine,” Eddie smirked at you, his voice was soaked deeply with satisfaction, as he leaned over the railing to the male counsellor cabin. But his words had deeper meaning than that 

“Oh, did you stay up waiting just for me?” While you had been exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into your bunk, you couldn’t help yourself but to quip back at him, and now as you were laying in bed you couldn’t help but cringe at your words and regret that you said anything at all.

You didn’t even bother waiting to hear his response, tuning out whatever he might have said and pushing into your own cabin and climbing into your bunk.

And that is what led you to your current position, eyes wide open and stinging from the lack of sleep as you desperately tossed and turned waiting for the relief that never seemed to come.

Deep down you knew why you couldn’t sleep, every time you closed your eyes to try and fall asleep your thoughts drifted to the last person in the world you actually wanted to think about.

He was expecting you to prank him back, to get back at him in some way. This clearly wasn’t a done and over deal, and a part of you feared that this could go on for much longer than either of you probably wanted to. With both of you incapable of taking the first step back and wave the white flag in defeat.

And you knew that you were in for a very, painstakingly long, night as you slowly started plotting your revenge.

Day 8 - Monday, 11 days before

The rain from the weekend had finally dwindled enough that Zoe finally announced there would be a return to regularly scheduled activities, which meant it was finally time for the Connies to have their time to shine as activity leaders.The two of them were in charge of any and all activities that occurred on the lake, and today on the schedule was canoeing. 

You hated canoeing, you were absolutely rotten at it, and you were dreading having to be around Eddie for it, who of course was a natural, at least from what you remembered from last summer.

And it certainly was not helping that your mind was clouded and disoriented from the lack of sleep, which was painfully visible on your face, once again thank you Eddie Munson, you thought.

The sun was once more starting to peek out from behind the once dark and rain heavy clouds, turning the surrounding forest damp and hot as the water finally started to evaporate.

Finally you had managed to pull your campers out of their cabin and were making your way towards the lake when you got a tap on your shoulder.

“Last one to the lake is a rotten egg!” The dark mop of curls bounced past you before you could understand what he had said. But that didn’t stop you from breaking into a dead sprint, leaving your campers behind and you swore you could have heard Zoe yelling at you through her trusted megaphone, while Tommy and Richie exchanged some questioning looks.

You ran until your legs ached and your entire body screamed for a breath of air as you felt the lactic acid building in your muscles. You had reacted so fast, just started running after him, and while you knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that you could win, you had to try.

Somehow he always made everything into a competition, and dangled the sweet price of victory just in front of you but never actually within your reach.

Eddie made it to the shore of the lake way before you did, and when you caught up to him you were a painting, breathy, sweaty mess, with your hair sticking out around your head and cheeks flushed ever so slightly with a tint of pink.

“Guess you’re the rotten egg-” Eddie wasn’t much better than you at least, but he sure was better at hiding it than you were, yet you could still pick up on his small gasps for breath between his words.

“You win- for now-” You didn’t want to admit defeat so easily, but with your still ragged breaths you really didn’t have a lot of options.

It didn’t take long before you were surrounded by the rest of the camp and you found your campers, ignoring the gleaming smiles coming from them.

“Happy canoe day!” Connie #2 stepped onto one of the tables that stood in the sand at the beach, Con sitting just by his feet. “I hope those of you who are returning campers remember all our boating rules, but for you newbies I will be reciting them quickly for you,”

“When you are in a boat you are wearing a life jacket, this is non negotiable, this also goes for all you counselors. On the water you will absolutely not be doing anything that I would consider, stupid, silly or reckless, and finally you will under no circumstances be allowed to-

“We will be mixing your cabins a little bit, Tommy has your canoe groups please organise yourselves into your selected groups, grab a life jacket and line up by a free canoe.”

Just as it was your luck, you ended up in a group with one of Eddie’s campers. The one called Dustin who looked like he was more curls than anything else, but he still seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, no matter how much he idealised the literal spawn of the devil who was standing only a stone's throw away from you.

The next half an hour went to help checking that all the campers had the necessary equipment and that everyone was wearing their life jackets the correct way. While you were pretty sure they could all swim, Zoe and Mark would not be taking any chances on it.

When finally you were out on the water it wasn’t as bad as you had previously thought it would be, in fact it was quite calming. The other campers in your canoe seemed to know what they were doing, which massively helped calm your nerves, yet you did feel your heart clench in your chest with every big wobble of the boat.

The Connies were up ahead in their own canoe, overseeing everyone and assisting where needed, making sure no one fell astray and knew what they were doing.

The rest of the afternoon was spent on the lake, each canoe becoming a team, and the Connies sure managed to come up with some strange games to play. Today on their docket they had canoe baseball, relay race and frisbee. All of them added up to quite the afternoon of activities, with more than a couple tipped canoes and drenched campers.

But it wasn’t until you were almost home clear, just about to head back to the shore that Eddie’s canoe slid up next to yours, halting the movements as he grabbed onto the side of your boat, his metal rings glinting in the soft sunlight of the afternoon.

Your head turned to the side as you were determined to ignore him, and whatever antics he for sure was planning on getting up to. His grip on your canoe forced you in place, and you rested your paddle across your knee. It was clear by the looks of him and the other campers that his canoe had tipped at least once previously, with the way his hair was hanging around his face in damp curls.

“What do you say Henderson?” You didn’t need to look over at him to know he had that evil glint in his eyes, instead you focused on bracing yourself for whatever cruel fate he was currently planning for you. “Are you ready for a little swim?”

Now, that made you turn around, your eyes meeting Dustin’s from under his hop of curls, mustering up the closest you could get to a death glare, which in all honesty couldn’t have been much based on the sound of Eddie’s laugh beside you.

“You know, I think I would love a swim.” The rest of the campers on your canoe laughed, and for a split second you truly wondered why you had accepted this job in the first place. Slowly Eddie started rocking the canoe from side to side, gaining a little more leverage with each rock of the boat. You felt your heart clench in your chest as you gripped the sides of the canoe for dear life, as if it would save you from your impending fate. The row of campers behind you helped the rocking a little bit, starkly contrasting to you they seemed to be having the time of their life.

But then, suddenly, Eddie stopped, letting the canoe sway a little in the water before he let it lay completely still.

“No- I am not that much of a bully, besides-” Eddie stood up abruptly, making his own canoe wobble slightly from the sharp movement, “captain has got to go down with the ship, right?” He took one big, and quite awkward step from his canoe to yours. His foot resting on the rim of the canoe, it was immediately dangerously unsteady, and he had all the leverage and power he would need to capsize you in an instant.

And he didn’t waste another second before he did just that, and a loud shriek left your lips as your body crashed into the water.

While the rain had stopped, the air was still chilly, and the lake was freezing cold. Cold that seeped into your body the second you hit the shining surface, seeping through you and freezing you to the bone. Thanks to your life jacket you didn’t stay under the water for long, your hands clawing through the silky-smooth water until you could gasp for air.

The water wasn’t shallow enough for you to stand so you did your best to hold yourself above water as you pulled air into your lungs, coughing slightly from the lake water that got stuck in your throat.

“You’re horrible,” you practically spat in Eddie’s direction, but he only took it with a smile and a laugh as he seemed to do with everything. “And you look really pretty when you’re pissed off.”

You groaned loudly and pushed water to splash him, the wave of water hitting him right in the face, and Eddie laughed as he made a face before immediately retaliating and splashing you back.

As he turned around to help empty the canoe of water you splashed at him again, getting him in the back of the head. Eddie only laughed, turning around and his arms landed around your waist as he clumsily grabbed at you and with ease he tossed you around, but carefully to not dip your head under water. Your body froze in his grip, every muscle hyper aware of how close to him you were and how tightly he was holding you to him.

“Truce! Truce!” you shrieked and threw your hands up over your head to signal your defeat, Eddie’s arms were still around your middle, slightly awkwardly given both of your life jackets, but he quickly released you from his grip and you felt you could breathe again.

“You okay?” he asked, and you were a bit shocked to hear him ask and for a moment you didn’t believe he actually had, that it was just a part of your oxygen starved brain making it up. You only gave him a curt nod in response to his question, taking a moment to breathe before helping your campers with turning and emptying your canoe of water.

-

You were sitting down by the small fire Tommy had built, your legs pulled up to your chest and your hands stretched out towards the fire, flexing your fingers intermittently as you tried to regain some level of warmth. Your body felt frozen to the bone, limbs numb from the shock of the water. A couple of the other campers that had fallen in the lake during the afternoon were sitting around you.

What warmed your heart a little was knowing that your campers had joined in on attempting to prank back Eddie and his campers, Max with her Halloween mask delivered more than one well done jump scare.

However, that didn’t mean that Eddie’s campers didn’t retaliate, but it truly was a genius prank to let the frogs from the arts and crafts block loose in Cabin 9. And you knew just which one of the little tricksters must have thought of that.

“Here-” A towel dropped around your shoulder and you instinctively pulled it closer around you, enjoying the feeling of the soft cotton against your skin. The voice belonged to no one else but the one who caused this situation in the first place. “Thought you might want this.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” That was all you said, 

“Is it really that far-fetched for you to believe a part of me might feel just the slightest amount of guilt about making you fall in the lake?”

“Yeah- yes I think it might actually be,” you laughed softly, pulling the towel tighter over your shoulders wrapping it closer to your body as you tried to regain some sense of warmth. “Why is it that whenever you’re around I always end up soaking wet?”

When you looked over at Eddie he was smirking at you like there was no tomorrow.

“Not like that jesus christ-”

“Sorry sunshine, you know it’s just too difficult for me to resist,” he said as he tried to put his arm around you, which you swiftly pushed away. He was saying sorry, but it was so clear he did not mean any of the words that came out of his mouth. Pulling your legs closer to your chest and quickly running your hands up and down the length of your limbs, desperate to try and bring some warmth back to your body. “What’s the standings now, me three, you one, huh-”

You didn’t say anything back, simply sitting there enjoying the warmth from the fire and breathing softly

“Not in the mood to talk?” he asked, and you didn’t bother responding to that either, desperately trying to tune him out of your brain. “That's ok, I can’t imagine you’d really want to talk to someone you’re currently losing to.”

Just as Eddie left your side, two others sitting down on either side of you, a Connie on each shoulder you thought. Almost like a devil and an angel, except they should both be classed as devils.

“You know-” Con started, an open packet of chips in her hand which she offered to  you, “if you want to get back at him you need to come up with something better than sand in his sleeping bag.”

You looked over at her and shot her a glare, which she only laughed at. Both of you knew that she was correct.

“What do you have planned?” Connie asked before he reached across from you and grabbed the chip back from Con. “Nothing?” you answered questioningly, and your eyes locked with the small bonfire, tracing the dancing outlines of the crackling fire.

“Nothing?” they both said in unison which was a little too creepy for your taste and looked at each other, something slightly wicked hidden beneath their voices. “How lucky for you that we just happen to be here…”

“Ok- what do the two of you actually want?” You looked between them, just to find them both grinning wildly at each other. “To help you, because this isn’t entertaining when you’re so bad at it.”

“Hey!” you protested but Con just rolled her eyes at you with a look that said, ‘you know it’s true’ and you dropped it. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You were losing, and quite badly at that. Eddie knew what he was doing, he was a natural at this just as he was so much else it seemed. God he was infuriating, and impossible to compete against.

“So… what exactly are you suggesting?”

If you wanted your next prank to be the best one yet, you knew you were going to need some help. And honestly, who better to plan and execute elaborate pranks than the Connies themselves. 

Day 9 - Tuesday 10 days before

The rest of yesterday had luckily gone without a hitch, no pranks of Eddie’s to be seen but you were still peeking around every corner in fear another one would crop up.

You felt much better knowing that the Connies were on your side with this one, both of them slightly dubious and cunning. Which was just what you needed if you wanted this to succeed

Thankfully they had done most of the planning, and execution. All you had to do was stand at the finish line and wait for the race to end. While it didn’t seem like much, both of them were insistent that you were the key to their so called masterplan.

Breakfast was already in full swing inside of the mess hall, where most of the awakened souls of the camp found themselves. Key word; most. Three major exceptions were you, Con, and Connie.

You had already been placed on the finished line before the race even began, your back pushed against the cold hard metal of the camp flag pole, your eyes searching the tree line for where Connie #2 should be emerging from any second.

With each second that passed your heart beat just a little bit louder, the sound echoing around in your head until you were sure it was going to drive you crazy. And with every moment you grew more and more anxious that your plan wasn’t going to succeed.

But just before your thoughts could spiral out of control any further Connie came sprinting down the gravel trail as fast as his legs could carry him, the piece of fabric tucked carefully under his arm and you gave him the sign to signal that the coast was all clear for phase two of the plan.

Turning around you quickly grabbed the strings of the flagpole in your hands, finding the clips and quickly helping Connie attach the article of clothing to them before roughly starting to pull it up the length of the pole.

Before you could reach the top you stopped, shooting each other a look before it was time for you to finish off the plan, fishing out Lisa’s camera that you had taken the liberty to borrow for the morning out from your bag.

Con had snuck around the back of the main building to grab your hopefully unsuspecting victim, while you and Connie got into hiding, the grins on your faces too big to contain.

You had no idea what Con had told Eddie, but you breathed a small sigh of relief when you saw both of them heading out of the mess and  to the flagpole, and Eddie immediately grabbed onto the rope, and you didn’t miss a beat.

“Hey Eddie, smile!” you called out, and his eyes immediately looked for your voice, but instead of finding yours they found the camera and you immediately snapped the picture. “Thank you.”

Halfway up the flagpole hung… Mark’s boxers? When the Connies pitched the idea to you, you had looked at them like they had grown a third head. But you couldn’t deny it, their plan was brilliant, if you could manage to pin it on Eddie it would hopefully be enough to prove yourself.

While you knew the picture wouldn’t be developed for weeks to come, you were still so pleased with yourself that you managed to capture the moment. 

And while he seemed incredibly amused and impressed by your efforts, his face quickly dropped and his eyes locked on something behind you. A cold chill ran down the length of your spine and you grimmaced before you turned around, your eyes meeting Zoe’s.

-

“Ok-” Zoe pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a breath before she continued to speak. Both you and Eddie were hauled into the base almost immediately after the little stunt you had pulled. “Ok, here is where we stand,”

“You two,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger between you, “cannot seem to understand the basic idea of having a conversation, instead you start this elaborate series of pranks, and you decide to get poor Mark involved.”

Being yelled at by Zoe was worse than being yelled at by your parents. She was the one person at camp you never wanted to disappoint, and now you had really done it and all you wanted to was to sink through the floor. When you brought home an F on a math test to your parents and you were grounded for two weeks, that could not compare to that moment with Zoe.

Eddie opened his mouth to say something, but Zoe held up a finger making him shut his mouth immediately and press his lips together, and silently you wished you had the ability to do that.

“No- quite frankly I am not interested in hearing what you have to say for yourself, because what is done is done,” Zoe spoke as she paced back and forth ever so slightly, “I want you both on dish duty, tonight and tomorrow.”

You didn’t dare open your mouth to argue, even though dish duty was the worst, you knew it could have been so, so much worse. In all reality she seemed to be going easy on you, which was probably the most shocking.

“Report to Sal after dinner tomorrow in the kitchen, he’ll have enough work for you, I’m sure.”

Day 10 - Wednesday, 9 days before

You had been dreading dish duty the whole day, the thought of being forced in such close proximity with Eddie built in your mind, with every hour, minute and second that passed. The dread built and built in your mind until there was no room for anything else.

However you were shocked when you walked into the kitchen at the hour of duty, and Eddie was already there quietly working away at the mountain of dishes that piled up after dinner. And much to your pleasant surprise he actually didn’t say much. Barely anything at all, until he asked one small question.

Dish duty was by far not the worst, but what made it your own personal hell was having to spend it with Eddie Munson. At least an hour of your life spent right up against the last person in the world that you wanted to see and the person who got you into this mess to begin with.

“Why-” He hesitated for a moment, not fully sure if he actually wanted to ask the question that he so desperately wanted to ask you. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Why do I hate you?” you repeated his question back to him, almost baffled that it was a question he had to ask, and you had to hold yourself back from letting a laugh escape from your lips.

“Eddie, you are seriously not asking me that-”

“What if I am?” he interrupted, “asking you that?” While you weren’t sure you could have sworn you heard some level of uncertainty in his voice, just the slightest quiver of his words that placed the small amount of doubt in your brain.

“Then I’d say you’re more of a fool than I ever took you for Eddie.” That was the last thing either of you said, and it wasn’t until later that you realised that you had used his name.

Day 11 - Thursday, 8 days before

“You do know this is all your fault right?” you muttered quietly, almost to yourself but you knew he would hear you anyway, your hands were already raw and aching from the scrubbing and hot water, and the strong smell of dishwashing soap stung in your nose.

You were both already stationed in the kitchen for your second day of dish duty,  already well away as you worked through the task at hand.

“My fault? Pray tell and enlighten me sunshine as to how this is my fault.” You looked over at Eddie and had to bite at the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing, he looked ridiculous in an apron, his hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing neon pink almost glow in the dark dish gloves as he focused on the seemingly never ending pile of dishes in front of him.

“If you hadn’t pulled that first prank, then we would never have been in this situation!”

“By that logic, if you hadn’t retaliated, then we also wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“No, my point is that you started all of this!”

“And for that I am sorry, is that what you want? An apology? Will that make you feel better and make you stop being so pissy with me?”

“Maybe?! I don’t know-” You threw your hands up in front of you in frustration and wondered how he had the ability to get under your skin so easily, it was driving you crazy.

Eddie didn’t say a lot after that, his lips pressed against each other as he quietly worked on his pile of plates, that he seemed to be getting through much faster than you were getting through yours. Was he just good at everything?

“Y’know-” The sound of Eddie’s voice almost made you jump, even though you were painfully aware of how close he was standing to you. “I was actually quite impressed by some of your pranks, I didn’t know you had the ability to be so… merciless.”

“Are you praising me for becoming a delinquent?” While it was strange being congratulated for pulling a couple of pranks, you did feel some sense of pride bubble in your chest. After all, you did spend the past couple of days feeling outmatched by Eddie in your little prank war.

“Sunshine, just take the compliment please-”

“Fine- thank you,” you said through a tight lipped smile, not wanting him to see it. “Why do you-” your words stopped for a moment and you bit your lip, now it was your time to be unsure of the question that had been hanging on your lips, “why do you call me that?”

“Sunshine?” Eddie asked, and you nodded slowly in response, your eyes glued to the plate in your hands, your fingers gripping around the dish brush until your knuckles strained against your skin and turned white. Beside you, you heard just the faintest chuckle escape from Eddie’s lips.

“Well- I suppose that in the beginning it was because I knew it drove you crazy, and you would get this crease right beside your eyebrow,” his voice was suspiciously hushed, a drastic change to how it normally was, loud and easily excitable. It was almost as if he didn’t want her to hear what he was saying, like he was letting her in on a well kept secret. “But then it just… stuck I guess? Would you rather I call you something else?”

When you didn’t answer, Eddie did what had to be his favourite thing he kept talking.

“Well if you’re not gonna give me any suggestions I suppose I’ll have to come up with one all on my own, how about…” Eddie’s voice trailed off and he tapped his still gloved finger to his chin as if he was deep in thought, and you rolled your eyes at him in return. “Mmhh what could fit someone as bitter and vengeful as you…” now that made you elbow him in the side, which only made him laugh, “sweetheart, it’s got to be sweetheart.” He decided with a laugh.

An audible annoyed groan escaped from your lips and you let your head fall back almost playfully in frustration as you heard the nickname fall from his lips.

“Ah, it’s perfect, thank you sweetheart.” And you knew that you really were in for it now, hoping that Eddie hadn’t caught the light flush of pink that had rushed to your cheeks, and if he did maybe he would be susceptible enough to think it was just how hot the room was.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” was all you said as you went back to washing, your tower of plates loomed over you and didn’t seem to be getting any smaller, whilst Eddie’s was significantly reduced compared to yours.

“And you don’t seem to know how to wash a plate properly, here-” Eddie dropped his sponge as he spoke, and before you could protest he had stepped up behind you, reaching his hands out to grab yours.

Your entire body froze as you stood there, with Eddie’s arms practically draped around your body and his front pressed to your back. He loomed over you and you could feel the stray pieces of hair that had escaped his ponytail brush over your skin.

“Just let me show you please- if I have to be here all night because of you I’ll never let you hear the end of it.” His hands had found yours, and you reluctantly let him start to carefully guide your movements.

The second time this week he had been this close, and it seemed to have the same effect on you. Your entire body freezing in his grasp and your head becoming heavy with thoughts.

He was impossibly close, you could feel every single one of his movements, and you had no idea what to make of it. Your mouth was running dry and you pressed your lips together in an attempt to ground yourself.

“See- just like that,” he said, and his voice was right by your neck, and an involuntary shiver slithered down the length of your spine. You hummed at him in response, but in all honesty you hadn’t been able to focus on anything he had been showing you with how close his body was to yours.

“Think you can manage now?”

“Yeah- yeah thanks,” you mumbled out your half heartfelt gratitude, almost through gritted teeth and breathed a sigh of relief when Eddie stepped away from you and back to his own pile of plates.

“Maybe now we can get out of here before the sun sets.”

Day 12 - Friday, 7 Days before

"Watchuuu reading..." Eddie said in his sing-song voice and slid into the seat next to you, pushing himself as close to your body as he could and stuck his face in the book you had been enjoying just a mere moment ago. "Is it one of those period historical romances? Not very camp-friendly, don't you think?" 

You snapped your book closed and placed it on the table with a heavy sigh, somehow he managed to ruin your little peace of freedom. It wasn’t common for you to have little get aways, and you did not appreciate being disturbed. You had been seeing way too much of him between your regular tasks and also being placed on dish duty together.

"Can I help you with anything?" turning to look at him you noticed just how close he was sitting, his face mere inches from your own, so close you could see all the tones of brown in his eyes in the late afternoon sun. "Zoe needs you to chop the wood for the fire tonight," Eddie said with a smile and the slightest hint of an evil glint in his eyes.

"Me? She wants me to chop the firewood for tonight?" There was no way he was serious, but the look on his face quickly discouraged you.

"Mmh that's what she told me, why I had to march all the way out here and find you so I could tell you," Eddie leaned in closer to you as he spoke, propping his head up with his elbow. "but of course if you don't think you're fit to do the task then I'll gladly help you, all you gotta do is ask."

"I'll manage but thank you."

That was a lie, a complete lie. And what made it so much worse is that you both knew it was a lie. However you were determined that you wouldn't give him the satisfaction that easily.

Your hands were burning as you held the axe between your fingers. It hung with a heavy head as you swung it and groaned as you hit the chopping block... again.

The original piece of wood you'd placed was still standing on the chopping block, intact and in one piece. Your head fell back and your own groan fell from your lips in frustration.

"I know you're looking, Munson," you exclaimed and turned around trying to see where he was standing, you could feel his eyes on you, "and I know you're smiling."

"Can't help but smile sweetheart, you're just so cute when you get all worked up." Eddie leaned out of a window on the side of the main building, and you were convinced he'd been looking at you for the better part of the past half an hour, like he didn't have anything better to do. "Still don't need my help?"

"I would rather die, than accept your help-" you said with a huff, you were exhausted and drenched in sweat with your hair all messy.

"With that stance you might get your wish sooner than you think, and we can’t have that now can we, sunshine?" Eddie retreated from the window and quickly sauntered down to where you were standing. "You're doing it wrong.”

"And?"

"And I would rather not have to drive you to the hospital, I don't want you bleeding all over my car." Eddie rolled up the sleeves of the flannel he was wearing up to his elbow and you could see the bats peeking out from below the fabric. "So please, will you let me?"

Reluctantly you stepped aside, and Eddie wrapped his hands around the handle of the axe, loosening it with ease from where it was stuck in the block. The cheap silver rings he always insisted on wearing glinted softly in the sunlight.

"What you need to do sweetheart, stand with your legs a little apart," Eddie narrated as be demonstrated to you, "and keep your hands at a good distance to give you enough leverage."

"Then- all you do is aim and go for a clean swing," he took a deep breath before raising the axe and bringing it down, the two halves of the log fell to the grass with a soft thud. Eddie turned around to face you, his entire face lit up with a smile and he gave you a quick bow, "and that's how it’s done.”

“Ah my knight in shining armour,” you pretended to swoon slightly, and maybe all of it wasn’t pretend, not even you could deny that Eddie Munson looked good holding an axe. Nonetheless, he was charmed by your perhaps fake gratitude. “You are most welcome, my lady.”

“Now I suggest you let me do this so Zoe doesn’t chop both of our heads off,” Eddie wasn’t looking at you when he spoke, he was too busy placing a new log on the block, his back was facing you and you could see the muscles under his shirt flexing as he worked. “Run along sunshine, I’ll see you later.”

The smile that he flashed was stuck on repeat in your brain for the rest of the day.

—

When the bonfire finally rolled around you were well beyond exhausted, and your arms aching from your almost helpless attempt at chopping wood. Luckily your dish duty buddy had managed to finish up the task in what you believed to be record time, as the fire in front of you was ginormous and you couldn’t sit too close without feeling like you were melting.

Once more Eddie had his time worn and trusted guitar perched across his lap and his fingers strumming against the strings, drawing the music out of the instrument with every rap of his fingers. You weren’t sure, but there almost seemed to be something extra to his songs that night.

Last week it had been his retelling of Victor Creel to serve as his half time performance, and you wondered to yourself what it would be this week. It was rare when he didn’t have something extra tucked up in his sleeve.

Something just a little bit extra special to leave the kids with something new and exciting, and you did really hope that this week it wouldn’t result in more than one nightmare.

But you didn’t have to wonder, or worry for that matter, for long. Eddie passed his guitar to Lisa and gave her a quick signal, letting her know it was time for whatever he had rehearsed for this week. And it wasn’t long before Joan started plucking away at the strings, quickly leading into an all familiar melody.

Eddie had stood up, and found a place for his little performance. You hadn’t noticed it when he was sitting, but one of the home made swords from the woodshop was strapped to his back.

He spun around slowly in a circle, making sure everyone’s eyes were on him before he pulled the sword from its sheath, twirling it around in his hand a couple of times in an attempt to stun the crowd.

Then he started telling the story of a knight, the story of all his adventures and quests, his life from beginning to end with the soft guitar in the background Lisa provided. You all knew the song, a classic song at Moonglade, and he encouraged your camp choir to sing along for the chorus.

When his performance ended he took a couple of deep bows in front of his audience, proclaiming “thank you, thank you but it was all you,” to everyone around him.

Then he did something you were not expecting him to, instead of returning to his old seat, Eddie slumped down in the limited space next to you. He was so close you were hyper aware of every movement you made, every breath you took, and every small shift in his body.

Then it was your turn to do something unexpected, your head tipped to the side and rested against his shoulder and Eddie’s arm wrapped around your back instinctively to help you steady yourself.

It was strange, sitting so close to him but you didn’t feel the slightest amount of worry, or anxiety in your body. And the feeling seemed to betray every rational thought you had in your head, and the only rational reasoning you could come up with was the exhaustion sweeping through your body.

Now you were close enough to feel every breath he took, you could hear whenever his breath hesitated or hitched in his throat, and you could breathe in his scent. He smelled of cheap cologne and campfire smoke. An impossible mix that could have made your head spin.

But your mind wasn’t the mess of thoughts it had been for the past two weeks, sitting there with loud campers and the quiet cackling of the campfire it felt as if your mind was still for the first time in a long time.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away for a moment, every ounce of you consumed by how close you were sitting to Eddie. Before you could register what was happening your eyes had started sliding shut, the exhaustion that had taken root in your body washing over you before you could even attempt to stop it. Your shallow breaths became heavy and perpetually slow.

He said something, but you couldn’t hear it.

A small yawn escaped from your lips, and if you hadn’t been sitting this close to him you wouldn’t have been able to hear the smallest chuckle resounding from Eddie’s chest, which only lulled you further into your trance of sleep.

Three soft taps to your shoulder tore you awake from your sleep and your eyes fluttered open. Only the hot, and red glowing embers were left from the fire pit, and Eddie was nowhere to be seen. 

But his scent still hung strongly in the air around you, and as you slowly regained your consciousness you realised it was because of the flannel he had been wearing earlier. Only now it was draped around your shoulders.

“Heey there you are, dosed off for a minute or two,” Tommy’s voice sounded, but you were convinced it had to have been more than a minute, most of the campers had cleared out and headed back to their cabin, the time for lights out quickly approaching. “Do you need help getting back to the cabin or will you be ok?”

Your eyes were still heavy with sleep, and you wanted nothing more than to return back to your blissful rest. A small yawn escaped from your lips as you stretched your arms out over your head.

“I’ll be ok,” you said with as much conviction as you could muster in your voice, but you honestly weren’t sure how you were supposed to manage. Your legs felt as if they had been filled with lead, and every thought in your head seemed against the idea of moving even just an inch from where you were sitting.

As soon as Tommy left your line of sight you stopped fighting the urge to let your eyes glide shut, and it didn’t take long before the sleep your body was so desperately craving washed over you once more.

Day 13 - Saturday, 6 days before

The cold morning contrasted sharply with the previous night. Basked in the warm golden glow of the bonfire, the dewy morning seeped in with much gratitude. The soft chill of the morning brought much needed relief, and you felt as if you were able to breathe again.

Already two weeks out at camp and your body still had not adjusted to the hot weather and poorly insulated cabins.

The watch on your wrist had told you you had woken up long before you needed to, but strangely enough you felt better rested than you had in the past two weeks.

The watch on your wrist confirmed your suspicions, you had woken up long before you needed to, 

Still unsure of how you had arrived at your cabin last night, the memories of the previous night hazy in your mind and you struggled to place the glimpses together into a whole picture.

Dew stuck to every available surface, clinging to leaves and leaving traces of soft condensation along the corners of cold glass windows. Camp early in the morning and late at night had a special timeless feel to it, when there was no one running around causing chaos, it felt timeless. But contrasting with the evening, the morning brought a sense of promise, the anticipation for the day ahead.

The cold and damp air seemed to stick ever so slightly to your skin, and the ground was blanketed by a thin, delicate layer of fog. With the sun just starting to peek above the horizon the camp was lit in the faint and bright morning sun shining through the leaves and reflecting off the lake.

At first you hadn’t been able to tell if you were imagining it or not, but as your footsteps crept closer to the mess the sound got louder.

You couldn’t see him, but you didn’t have to in order to know it was him. The soft plucking at guitar strings was so different to what he usually played, but to anyone listening it was still clear as day who was commanding the instrument.

Your footsteps stopped right before you rounded the bend around to the mess hall, and there he was, sitting on the steps up to the small deck, his trusted guitar in hand as he mindlessly plucked away at the strings of the instrument.

His hair pulled out and away from his face, the T-shirt he was wearing revealing some of his tattoos sneaking up his bare skin. You leaned against one of the trees, simply observing him from a distance as he played for a moment.

You had only barely seen it before, the look he gets when he plays music, just small glimpses of it during campfires, but here basking in the soft glow of the morning sun you could see all of it. His busy and slightly messy eyebrows pushed together, creating a series of creases between them, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth.

“You know I can see you right?” Eddie’s voice sounded, but instead of freezing up like you might have done, you instead smiled and stepped out from your clearly insufficient hiding place.

Ironically, his eyes were much too focused on his guitar to pay you any real amount of attention, he wasn’t even looking in your direction. “Don’t tell me you’ve started stalking me sunshine, that’s gonna make all of this so awkward.”

“You called me sunshine there,” you noted as you walked over to where he was sitting on the steps, sitting down next to him but making sure there was still a respectable distance between the two of you. “And not sweetheart.”

“Well, I like both so I will be using both, sweetheart, why do you care anyway?” You ignored his question, because when you thought about it you could not come up with a simple rational thought as to why you did care.

“What were you playing?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to the side as you looked at him, noting that his guitar had fallen silent between your conversation.

“Nothing much, just kinda playing around.”

“You’re in a band back home right?” You didn’t really know why you were asking, especially since you knew the answer. Maybe you just wanted to hear him talk, and in that moment you wondered if you truly had gone crazy.

“Corroded coffin,” Eddie practically beamed at you, “we play actually, I’d invite you to come and listen but you don’t seem to want anything to do with me back home… or here for that matter.”

“Well, I’m here now arent I?” The words seemed to come out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“That you are-” Eddie hesitated for a moment before he looked over at where you were sitting next to him, “why exactly are you here?” His eyes narrowed for a moment, examining the features that outlined your face.

“I couldn’t sleep, and my cabin is a little bit too crowded for my liking at the moment, and here-”

“Here I am?”

“Exactly, here you are,” you laughed softly. There was something hanging in the air between you, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was almost as if something had shifted, changed, and it left the strangest feeling in your mouth.

“Now will you shut up so I can get back to playing? You just sit there and look pretty ok sunshine?” You playfully wrinkled your nose at him and shook your head ever so slightly before you settled into the old and worn wood beneath you.

Eddie picked up his guitar once more, his fingers carefully strumming along the strings of the instrument. Drawing out the softest of melodies from the instrument, and your eyes slid shut. The melodies and riffs of the guitar mixed so easily with the sounds of the woods around you, with the creaking of the steps with every shift in your weight, and with the faintly sounding, but loud beating of your heart in your ears.

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[samsoleil]

okay okay so. homeschooled au. essentially, sam and dean were homeschooled by john and now they're codependent (surprise surprise). let's pick up (more or less) where we left off, huh?

Sammy doesn't know how to freaking talk to people. Actually, correction: Sam talks to people like people talk in books, like people talk on TV. Dean swears, every time he meets someone new he has the same routine. This bubbly, "Hi, how are you?" that they saw in a TV show in Michigan, "I'm Sam, and this is Dean" from a book he read in Wisconsin, and that's about it.

It's still new, seeing people. But he's getting better every day, pausing for less and less time, and sure, he still hides behind Dean a lot of the time, but he's still small enough that all the moms coo like the news presenters when they see something cute. Dean's been watching the news in the cafes they go to, trying to figure out how to say "I'm sorry, he's shy" the way they do in Nevada, which is where they are now. Dean's not the biggest fan of talking, gets tired as hell afterwards, but he can fumble his way through a conversation with the waitstaff without adopting that deer-in-the-headlights look Sam gets when they go off-script.

The only people they really need to talk to are each other, and Sam and Dean manage that just fine.

Once Dean's finished ordering for them (the waitress asks if he's from out of town and he names the nearest city he knows, but she doesn't call him out on the accent, so he must be doing a pretty good job), he turns back to Sam, seated unhappily on the bench across from him, intently reading the menu.

"Sammy," Dean calls, and Sam looks up.

"It's Sam," he says, routine.

Dean raises an eyebrow and fans his fingers, palm facing Sam, tilting his hand from left to right. Sam's nose crinkles, then scrunches his mouth to the side and cocks his head towards the kitchens.

And yeah, Dean feels the same way. It's not the safest, going around in public like this, but they've gotta eat somehow. It's been two weeks since they were meant to meet back up with Dad, and every day has left Sam feeling more and more anxious. But they're being careful. They know how Dad usually evades people, CPS and the police and those hunters that they met when Sam was 7, and they've bastardised it into their own version. Two steps forward, one step back.

Sam asks him how he's doing, the same fanning motion, and Dean copies Sam, who softly kicks him under the table. Dean exaggerates his response, groaning in pain and reaching underneath to rub his knee, and Sam rolls his eyes but he's smiling, just slightly, so Dean calls that a win.

God, he doesn't know the last time Sammy smiled. It’s a scary thing to think, that Sam just stopped smiling one day and Dean didn’t even notice. Sammy looks the same as he always has, until Dean actually looks and realises that he’s grown older without him realising. And it's awful, but whenever Dean looks at Sam, he pictures the way he looked in that motel room. Not when Dean walked in, but after, when Dean told him they were leaving and Sam looked at him like he'd discovered the holy grail, or something. Dean sees it superimposed on top of him, all Sam's ugly crying made beatific by that relief, the rush Dean had felt when he saw it.

(He'd fallen apart after Sammy fell asleep, still curled up in his arms and so, so small. He'd felt something break, leaving him doubled over and aching, burying his face in Sam's soft hair and just breathing him in, warmth and life and Sammy. Dean's never been so scared. He hopes he never has to feel that scared again.)

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Dean huffs out a breath and starts tapping his pointer finger against the table, and Sam glares.

"Sleeping ugly?" Dean asks, and Sam rolls his eyes, all attitude.

"I slept just fine, thank you," he says, and they both know it's a lie. "You should- you should be more patient."

And that's when Dean knows something's wrong, because Sammy was the one to pick that one. He read about the cardinal virtues in one of Bobby's books, and spent the next weeks cajoling Dean in Latin.

"Temperantia," Dean says, "Dude, what gives?"

Sam gestures that he doesn't want to talk about it, but that's not an option at the moment, sorry, kiddo. Sam pulls a bitchface, which quickly disappears when Dean widens his eyes, looking over Sam's shoulder, and Sam wriggles around in his seat to see their pancakes making their way towards them.

"Alrighty, then!" their waitress, Isabelle, says brightly. "I've got one vanilla with fruit and one choc chip."

Dean nods his head towards Sam. "That one's vanilla."

"Thank you," Sam says with careful precision as the waitress places the plate down in front of them.

Dean watches the lady serving them bite her lip to hide a smile.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," she says, and Dean looks at Sam to see his mouth shaping the words.

"Thanks," Dean says, and she gives him a warm nod before leaving.

When she's gone, Sam takes a large enough bite of his pancake that he has a reason for not answering. And Dean's stomach is growling, so he guesses they're eating first. Except neither of them have ever been any good at eating slowly, and this is the first meal they’ve had since yesterday night, so this won’t stop Dean for long. Plus, Dean’s rushing.

“Sibling tax,” he says, claiming an apple slice from Sam’s plate. Sam sighs around his mouthful, and Dean will never admit it, but fruit goes ridiculously well with choc chip pancakes, what the hell.

When he’s finished, he places his knife and fork in the centre of the plate, like they do in those cooking shows, and he waits for Sam to be done. It doesn’t take long, and then Sam is pushing away his plate in favour of fidgeting, hands half forming nonsensical words and phrases. Colours, how are you, storm, guest, storm. Dean just waits. Temperantia.

Finally, Sam confesses. “I’m practicing.”

“Practicing what, talking? Sammy, you know how to talk.”

“With you,” Sam says, but the emphasis on the ‘you’ is just slightly off and yeah, okay, maybe the kid does need to practice. “I can’t- I can’t talk to anyone else.”

“And practicing with me helps?”

“It tells,” Sam says with a shrug.

“I don’t have a tell,” Dean protests.

“You do.”

“I don’t!”

“Do.”

“Don’t!”

“Do.”

“Well, then, what is it, Mr Pokerface?”

Sam’s hand curves sadness into the air, and Dean isn’t as hungry anymore. Because, fine, Dean blames himself. Dad brought it up all the time, how difficult it was to teach him how to read, how long it took him to talk. And he’s just fine at it now - yeah, it’s tiring, but that’s because nobody else is as smart as Sam, so every conversation just goes so slowly - but Sam, for all that he’s the biggest geek Dean has ever met, has always found it harder to talk with people that aren’t Dean. Even when he was talking with Dad, half the time he’d be restarting the same sentence until it came out the way he wanted it to.

And Dean knows that he’s the reason why. Because for all his life, he’s been so caught up in talking with Sam that he’s never thought about Sam talking with anyone else.

“It’s not your fault,” Sammy says, “Practice makes perfect. I’m a quick learner.”

The kid’s got a point, because Dean’s pretty sure he knows more than Dean does at this point. And that’s not Dean being jealous. He’s proud, so proud that it sometimes hurts. He couldn’t be jealous, not when it’s Sam. Not when he sees him at every age, yammering on about whatever at a hundred miles a minute but still taking the time to explain it to Dean. And if Sam’s right, then Dean’s smart, too, just in a different way. And Sam hasn’t been wrong about Dean yet.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam returns, and Dean leans across the table to trace a circle around his heart.

Sam lifts his hands to bat Dean away but when Dean gestures for Baby on his chest through his shirt he instead grabs Dean’s hand in his, resting them there for a second, and Dean loves him, he loves him.

“Gold,” Sam says, eyes big, and Dean pulls a face at him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he replies, tugging his hand out of Sam’s softly and pulling it back.

He mentally shakes himself, blinking, and Sam settles back in his seat. Chapter closed on that conversation. Sam’ll keep practicing, Dean will keep giving him shit; between the two of them, they’ll turn Pinocchio into a real boy. Sam spears a strawberry with his fork and eats it, pulling a face. He’s full, but they don’t want to waste food. Maybe they can get a container to go or something. Dean nods at Sam and the frown clears.

Dean looks around, making eye contact with Isabelle. She nods acknowledgement and weaves her way to their booth.

“Migist?” Dean asks, and Sam nods, pushing his plate slightly further away.

“Anything I can get you boys?” she asks, and Dean puts on an easy smile.

“Yeah, could we get the leftovers to go?” he asks. He’s pretty sure he’s read that phrase before.

Isabelle smiles, amused, and shit, Dean’s said it wrong, god, she’s going to know-

“You know, you boys are the just the most polite little things,” she says, and okay, Dean doesn’t have that much of a babyface, seriously. “Sure thing, I’ll bring you a container with the bill.”

“Calm down, weirdo,” Sam says when she’s gone, the little shit.

“You try next time,” Dean shoots back.

Sam expresses that that isn’t fair but, uh, last time Dean checked, taking turns was polite. That earns him another kick.

Once they’ve paid the bill (and tipped 20%, thanks Sammy. People in movies actually have money to spend, you twerp), they step out into the late afternoon air. They drove all night and slept most of the day, but Dean is strung out from all Sam’s nervous energy. They’ll stay another night before they venture forth.

“But soft?” Sam asks, finger tracing Baby in the air.

Dean takes a second to mentally calculate how far they have to travel. They’re heading to Uncle Bobby’s place and, yeah, it’s been forever since they last saw him, but they don’t really have anyone else who’s on better terms with them than their dad. And, yeah, it’s 1.4 thousand miles in a line, but that’s not the pattern they’re making. They’ll dip past the Crow reservation and stay there for a night or two, then go from there. A thousand miles, give or take. That’ll take, what, 15 hours? Check-in’s usually around 4pm.

“Midnight,” Dean says, and Sam groans.

“You have the damned spot,” he accuses.

“It’s not gonna kill you.”

Sam’s expression says he finds the truth of that statement dubious, but Sam’s not the one driving. Dean’s blessed with the ability to pass the hell out literally wherever, so he’s had no trouble sleeping, even with Sam pressed against his side as a wriggling pile of heat. Dean’ll be fine, Sam can sleep in the car.

Sam sighs in acceptance. Dean ruffles his hair, but it’s not enough, not really. He ducks down slightly to pick Sammy up, and he comes easily, hugging Dean back just as tight. He feels Sam bury his face in Dean’s neck, feels his hummingbird heart against Dean’s chest. Sam gets worried easily. Dean hates it. He knows Sam hates it too, but for different reasons than Dean. Sam just hates having to rely on people. What he doesn’t get is that it doesn’t matter how smart he is, he’ll always be Dean’s little brother.

“C’mon, kiddo,” Dean murmurs. “Let’s head home.”

Dean feels Sam’s mouth brush against his skin when he replies.

“I’m already home.”

[lantur]

notes,

I FINALLY slept well last night for the first time in a little more than a week! I forgot how good it felt to get 8 straight hours of sleep. It's like I unlocked a superpower. I feel so much better than I have for the past week.

I tried the sencha green tea my mother-in-law got me for Christmas this morning, and I love how energizing it is! It got me through a run, 3 consecutive hours of meetings :/, and all of my work tasks afterward.

I finally finished The Poppy War trilogy by RF Kuang on Sunday. This is definitely one of my top book series ever.

I started listening to Iron Widow, by Xiran Jay Zhao, today. I'm on chapter three. I've heard that this book is polarizing, but it captured my interest from the first chapter. The audiobook is only 11 hours, compared to the other books I've listened to lately, which are more in the neighborhood of 18-23 hours, so I think I should be finished with this one relatively quickly.

I'm still working my way through the Old Kingdom trilogy by Garth Nix. I have about 150 pages left in Lirael, and it is even more delightful than Sabriel.

I got the Libby app on my phone and my work laptop, so I can read at the clinic if I have free time between patients. The hold times for a lot of the ebooks I'm interested in are extremely long, but I was able to quickly get my hands on Betrayal of Trust, a public health book by Laurie Garrett. It's been on my to-read list for months. The first couple of chapters have dealt with the plague epidemic in India in 1994, and the Ebola outbreak in Zaire in 1995. It's been super fascinating to learn about.

Two patients canceled their afternoon appointments at the clinic yesterday, so I got to come home early, take a nap (much needed after like 5 hours of sleep), stretch, and take a hot bath. As hard as things get sometimes with work, I so appreciate how it feels to take a hot bath, watch a show or read a book, and go to bed early.

Derek and I are coming up on the last few episodes of Arcane. Every time I watch this show, there are multiple times per episode where I'm amazed at how striking the art and the animation is. The settings and character design also make me so happy, and the characters, conflict, and plot are compelling.

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 23

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: HELLO EVERYBODY. BIG APOLOGIES FOR THE LONG ASS WAIT BUT HERE SHE IS. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. I AM STILL WORKING ON THE NEXT CHAPTER AND I CAN’T PROMISE WHEN I WILL POST AGAIN, BUT HOPEFULLY IT WILL BE SOON. HOPE YOU’RE ALL WELL!!! (If you feel so inclined, I do have a ko-fi now, and coffee sure does help me on writing sprees. *wink wink*)

“Mel.” Harry skimmed a hand down the side of her neck to the bandage that covered her small cut, where she’d been sliced by Colton’s knife. For all intents and purposes, she appeared dead to the world, but she usually did when she slept this late into the day. “Melody, wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, vision blurry. And she jumped when she felt Harry’s hand shift on her throat, pushing him away with a gasp.

“‘S me,” he told her gently, crouching down beside the bed until he was at eye level with her, watching her face relax in realization. “‘S only me.”

“You’re okay?” she whispered. She hadn’t been able to speak to him at all the night before. He’d been whisked away for an MRI the moment they’d stepped foot in the hospital, and when she’d been allowed into his room, the pain meds they’d pumped into him had already knocked him unconscious. At some point in the middle of the night, he’d woken her and coaxed her out of her chair, into the hospital bed with him, but they’d both been too tired to speak more than a couple words before falling back to sleep.

“‘M fine,” he answered, nodding.

Melody sighed in relief. She watched Harry rest his chin on the edge of the mattress as she shifted onto her back, then rubbed at her tired eyes. “Did you hear what Brian said?” she whispered. It was almost too quiet to be a hospital. She wasn’t surprised when she glanced at the door and found it closed.

“Not last night,” he said. “Didn’ hear anythin’ anyone said last night. I was completely out of it.” He paused and then nodded slowly. “But he told me this mornin’.”

The air felt heavy. Melody had so many thoughts, but she didn’t know what any of them were. Her mind was a jumble of string, and she couldn’t find an end to yank and untangle.

“Are yeh okay?” Harry asked. He reached for her hand, dragging it across the bed and pressing his lips to her knuckles, gentle with the dark bruises from when she’d hit CJ. “Mel, yeh don’ feel bad, do yeh?” His voice was quiet, gentle. It was so different from everything she’d heard leave his mouth the day before—when he’d argued with CJ, when he’d snapped at her in the car, when he’d spoken so urgently to her and Colton. “He wouldn’ have felt bad if he hurt yeh. He didn’ regret almost killin’ me.”

Melody shook her head, sitting up. “No,” she muttered, pulling the strap of her tank top back up her shoulder. “No, of course not. It’s just...complicated.”

Harry agreed. None of this was simple. “Yeh wanna get dressed, love?” he asked. “Bea and Josie are here. And Sean went downstairs to grab us some breakfast.”

Melody glanced toward the door, nodding. “Is Vanessa here?”

Harry stood, dropping Melody’s hand to reach for the bag that Bea had brought for her. He dug beneath her dress—now rumpled and bloody—for the fresh clothes Bea had packed, tossing a t-shirt and leggings onto the bed. “She wanted to stay until yeh woke up,” he said, “but she worked a double yesterday. She went home to sleep. She said to have you call her when yeh feel like it.”

Melody glanced at her phone on the table beside the bed. Somehow, Bea had found it in her suitcase before leaving the apartment. But Melody hadn’t taken a moment to check her notifications. She knew that she’d have to talk to her mom. Speaking with Vanessa sounded a lot less dreadful, but despite the deep sleep Harry had woken her from, it was as if she had no energy left to explain what had happened. She barely had the energy to process it herself.

Trying not to fall into the vivid memories of the night before, Melody slipped her tank top off and switched it for the t-shirt Harry had laid out for her. When she’d changed her pants and raked her hands through her hair, she found Harry staring out the window, his arms crossed, his eyes unfocused.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, lifting a hand to touch his shoulder when he didn’t respond. “Harry?”

“Hm?” he murmured. He glanced down at her, dazed, and nodded. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Uh, Brian needs me to identify the body.”

Melody’s stomach seized up. If she had eaten anything since early yesterday afternoon, she might’ve been sick.

“Do you...” she began, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Uh, do you need me to come with you?”

“No.” Harry shook his head fiercely. He watched relief spread across her face. “No, you can just go home with Bea, yeah?”

Melody clasped her hands in her lap, her brows knitting together. “Are you sure?”

“Of course ‘m sure,” Harry said. “I can do it alone.”

The minutes of panic from the day before raced through Harry’s mind again—minutes that had seemed to last for hours. Despite his efforts to shake them, the memories had flashed like strobe lights since he’d woken up. Melody’s terrified face, Colton’s grin, the gleam of the knife, the feeling of sheer uselessness, of helplessness. And the apologies afterward, like Melody had expected to take Colton down single-handedly.

“Melody,” Harry said quietly, uncrossing his arms to press his palms into the mattress, “yeh know I didn’ expect yeh to turn around and knock him out, right?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth and turned her head away from him. Like she was embarrassed. He shook his head slowly, confused and exasperated.

“He had a fuckin’ knife to your throat,” he reminded her.

Melody sighed, staring at the wall before her. “But I—”

“But nothin’, okay?” Harry interrupted. He caught her chin, turning her face toward him. “If all yeh ended up with was this little cut,” he continued, running a finger down to the edge of the bandage on her neck, “then I don’ care. Yeh’re okay. Tha’s what matters to me.” Melody blinked silently, shivering as his fingers drifted over her skin. Harry drew in a deep breath. “And ‘m sorry for snappin’ at yeh in the car,” he added in a whisper.

Melody’s lips pursed. She reached up to grip his wrist, dragging his hand away from her neck, where his touch still tickled. “It’s fine.”

“No, ‘s not. It wasn’ fair,” he protested. “Yeh weren’ doin’ anythin’ wrong.”

Melody studied the tense lines of his face. Their conversation before arriving back at the apartment was the last thing she was worried about. It seemed weeks ago, rather than only a few hours. “How’s your head?” she asked.

Harry nodded softly. “Okay. Still aches a little, but ’m fine. How’s your hand?” He reached for the one in her lap when she merely shrugged, bending her fingers, gentle. “That hurt?”

Melody’s wince answered him. She pressed her lips tightly together. “Mhmm.”

Someone knocked at the door. Melody stiffened.

“Can we come in yet?” Bea asked, poking her head into the room. “Is she awake?”

“I’m awake,” Melody assured her, drawing her hand out of Harry’s and relaxing her sore fingers.

“Oh, good.” The door swung open as Bea entered the room, closely followed by Josie. Sean trailed after them, his hands full, hugging cups of coffee to his chest. They all looked just as tired as Melody felt, and the unbridled worry in their eyes had her fighting back a rush of tears.

“Hi,” Sean murmured, stepping in front of Bea and Josie to hand Melody some breakfast—a bagel and a container of fruit. She took the cup of coffee he handed her with a sigh of thanks. But it was quiet as he passed another breakfast off to Harry, like everyone was wondering where to start a conversation.

“Um,” Bea began, scratching at her temple, where a curl was tickling her, “how did the visit go?”

Melody took a sip of lukewarm, watery coffee and shook her head.

“Oh, no.” Bea glanced at Harry, her eyes narrowed in accusation. “What’d he do?”

Josie barked out a laugh and then clapped a hand over her mouth, turning toward the door. But the damage had already been done. Harry cocked his head at both of them, raising an eyebrow in offense.

“It was me, actually,” Melody said. She watched Bea shoot Harry a short, apologetic look and then avoid his gaze. “CJ showed up.”

“Yikes,” Bea hissed. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “I thought he wasn’t going. Didn’t he have a tennis match or something?”

Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered him, but hearing Bea talk about CJ so casually rubbed Harry the wrong way. When had she and Melody talked about him? How did Bea know that CJ had a tennis match? And if CJ’s presence or absence was so important, why did Harry feel so out of the loop? But instead of wondering aloud, he only muttered, “Of course he plays fuckin’ tennis.”

Josie gave a dry snort, side-eyeing him. “What’s wrong with tennis?”

“Do yeh play?”

“No.”

“Then, why does it matter?”

Josie rolled her eyes and turned toward Melody. “Well, we’re kind of having the same issue,” she said, tipping her head in Bea’s direction. “My parents won’t even let me in the house.” When Harry looked blankly at her, she added, “Very religious family.”

Harry frowned, raising a brow. “Yeh work in a bar.”

Josie scoffed. “And you’re unemployed,” she snapped back. “See how rude it sounds?”

Melody set her coffee to the side and pressed a hand to her forehead when Harry opened his mouth to speak again. She was relieved that everyone was avoiding the topic of Colton, of the entire reason they were in the hospital to begin with, but this was not the sort of conversation she wanted to hear instead. “Can you both stop, please?” she muttered.

Bea sighed. “Do you wanna go home?” she asked Melody. “You’re ready?”

A swift nod later, Harry was stuffing her dirty clothes back into her bag, zipping it up and handing it over to Bea. Josie reached for Melody’s coffee.

“I’m gonna stick with Harry,” Sean said as Melody climbed off of the bed.

For the first time since she woke, she let her hand drift to her neck, to her bandaged wound. She could feel the slightest sting when she applied pressure. It was a small cut—insignificant, really—but that didn’t stop her mind from wandering. What if Colton had kept a better grip? What if she hadn’t slipped so perfectly from the circle of his arm? And what if Harry hadn’t been so lucky? What if he’d suffered more than that skull-splitting headache?

“Melody,” Harry whispered. She blinked and he was standing in front of her, rubbing his chin, the skin smooth and shaven so neatly for meeting her parents. He lifted his other hand and his fingers circled her wrist, drawing her arm back to her side. She hadn’t realized she’d still been touching the bandage. “Are yeh still here?”

“What?” she murmured back.

He drew in a slow breath and shrugged. “Yeh space out when yeh’re stressed,” he explained. “Sure yeh’re okay?”

Melody glanced down at his hand, still looped around her wrist, his thumb dancing across the thin bones. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.”

He nodded briefly, though he didn’t believe her in the slightest. “I’ll go right back to the apartment when ‘m done here, okay?” He waited for a nod or a hum, some form of acknowledgment, but it didn’t come. “Mel.”

She shook her head, as if waking from a daze, and looked up to meet his eyes. “Okay.”

Harry pressed his palm to the side of her face, thumbing over her cheekbone. The skin beneath her eyes was dark and swollen, her lips raw from all of her constant chewing, the bruise at her chin only just beginning to yellow. She looked like she’d been dragged through hell, and maybe she had. Maybe this was her personal hell.

“See yeh soon,” Harry breathed, ducking to press a swift kiss to her forehead. He stepped aside so that Bea and Josie could usher her out of the room, and he watched until they disappeared around the edge of the doorway.

“Are you ready?” Sean asked when they were alone, clapping Harry’s shoulder with a firm hand. “Might as well get it over with, right?”

“Right,” Harry muttered. He dragged a palm down his face, setting his shoulders. Even if he wasn’t ready, time wasn’t going to pause until he could collect himself, so he would fake it. The same way Melody faked that calm stolidity.

“Let’s go.”

***

The following days were uncomfortable. Melody’s apartment, the place she’d made her own, the space she’d spent so much time occupying, no longer seemed to belong to her. There was a dull spot in the floor where Bea had scrubbed at Colton’s dried blood. And no matter how hard she tried to remember that he’d only spent minutes inside, whereas she’d lived there for years, Melody couldn’t stop picturing him in the kitchen, imagining him stepping through the door behind her while she was letting her suitcase topple over, unaware. Somehow, he seemed so much more present when his actual presence was impossible. He was no longer a distant figure standing in the shadows, but he’d already come and gone, and forgetting how it had felt to be pressed against him, his clammy hand tangled in her dress, was not going to happen overnight. He was a ghost, lurking in the corners, breathing down the back of her neck.

Harry was at a loss. When he’d helped ease Melody’s nightmares those months ago, he’d felt purposeful, useful, maybe even needed. But nothing he did now seemed to lessen the strain. He could comfort her when she woke in a fit, but he couldn’t keep Melody’s bad dreams at bay. And it was eating at him. He wished she could share with him, that he could press his forehead to hers and lighten the load she carried, or that he could at least understand the terror that still gripped her while she slept. That same agonizing helplessness that he’d felt when Colton had tried pulling her out of the apartment—Harry felt it spark in his gut each time Melody awoke in tears.

And to add to it, Colton’s face seemed permanently etched into the backs of Harry’s eyelids. Not his sneer or his chafing laughter, not that sharp smirk that he liked to wear—the cold, lifeless face he wore in death. It was the calm face that had appeared when the coroner had unzipped that black body bag in the morgue. Harry had never seen Colton look so peaceful and still. He’d always been moving. Even in sleep he mumbled and twitched. Seeing him so utterly devoid of noise and movement made the finality of it all almost palpable.

Harry’s mind was constantly churning now. The length of time for which he could focus seemed to wane as his thoughts flitted by like frames in a film reel. He was somewhere else entirely when he felt the electric force of Melody’s right-handed swing through the mitt she aimed for.

Her next punch came harder.

His eyes, which had been passively following her form—watching her muscles twist and her limbs stretch in order to gauge where to position his mitts—snapped to her face. Her skin was sheeted in sweat, strands of hair plastered to her temples. The red in her cheeks only highlighted the raw, torn skin of her chewed lips.

“Mel,” Harry tried. She wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t sure if she was even registering that he was behind those mitts or if she’d simply clocked out. Her torso twisted back and forth with the brutal speed of her alternating hits. “Melody,” he tried again, raising his voice to cut through her stupor, “tha’s enough.”

Melody redirected her arm mid-swing. The change in course threw her off-balance and she stumbled sideways, toward the boxing ring beside them. Harry caught her with an arm around her waist before she fell completely. The two of them froze for a moment. Then Melody’s head swung, her eyes darting about the gym until she was satisfied that nobody was watching them.

A strangled whimper passed her lips. Harry’s arm tightened on her sweaty torso, pressing her into his chest. “Shh,” he murmured softly, batting the mitts from his hands with a couple of impatient flicks, “shh.” He stepped backward, lifting her off her feet and swinging her into the hallway that led to the locker rooms. It was quieter here.

Harry set Melody down, propping her against the closest wall. He took a short step back and leaned down until he could see her face clearly, brushing hair away from her cheeks, noting the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Yeh’re fine, love. Wha’s wrong?”

Melody swallowed, then blinked, and in the next second she was tearing at the velcro of her right glove and flinging it to the floor, then closing the space which separated her from Harry, grasping the back of his neck as he began to draw away. She pulled at him until she could reach his lips and kissed him with a firm mouth. His palms tightened on her jaw for a moment, his lips stilled with surprise. There was a moment before he kissed her back, and then it only lasted for a heartbeat. He reached behind him for her wrist, withdrawing her fingers from his hair, his other hand slipping over her side.

“Melody,” he breathed, pushing against her hip to add space between them. “Mel, hey.”

Melody relented, flattening against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she tipped her head back, peeling her eyes open to look up at the ceiling. The tears that had collected began to drip down her face, one by one.

Harry shook his head in confusion. “Wha’s goin’ on?” he asked gently, reaching for her face again. He drew his thumbs through the wet tracks streaking her cheeks. “I thought yeh’d feel better.”

Melody let out a garbled sob, twisting her head until she could see out into the rest of the gym. Everyone else continued on, oblivious.

“Melody,” Harry pressed.

“It’s not fair!” she cried, dipping her chin for a moment and finally freeing her other hand from its glove. When she looked up again, she met his gaze head-on. “It’s not fair that he almost killed you and now he’s just gone. And I still close my eyes and see his face like he’s right in front of me. And what he did to you and what he did to me, we have to live with that for the rest of our lives and he just gets to—” She cut herself off with a hiccuped gasp. Her eyes dropped to the collar of Harry’s shirt. She could see the pulse in his neck before his face lowered into her line of sight.

“Die?” Harry finished, a deep, troubled divot between his brows. “He’s dead,” he said slowly. “Yeh’d rather be dead?”

Melody deflated beneath his stare, shaking her head.  “No,” she whispered.

“No,” he repeated. His fingers traced her cheekbone. “Yeh’re safe, love.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

The words felt like a wicked blow. It was merely weeks ago that she’d said differently. You make me feel safe, Harry. But he schooled his features and nodded curtly.

“Maybe yeh don’ feel like it yet, but yeh are.”

Melody shut her eyes, collecting herself. She felt Harry’s lips at her temple, but then his phone rang, loud and shrill, and both of them jumped. She wiped her lingering tears with the back of her wrist as Harry stepped back, glancing down at the screen. She met his pause with a frown.

“Who is it?”

Harry cleared his throat, flashing her a brief, vague look. “‘S my mum.”

Melody drew in a breath, nodding. “Answer it.” She waited for him to move, but he seemed frozen, still as a wax sculpture. “Harry,” she said, “answer the phone.”

He gave a sharp nod and then spun around, bringing the phone to his ear. Melody watched him move further down the hall, his voice a low murmur, and then she stepped back into the main area of the gym to offer him a modicum of privacy. His mitts lay abandoned on the floor. She pressed her shoulders into the wall and slid down to sit, stretching her legs out before her.

It seemed like only minutes had passed before Harry stepped around the corner. Melody glanced up at him, but he was staring across the room, his expression drawn, impassive. He slid down the wall beside her, settling on the floor, and threw his arms over his crooked-up knees.

“What’s wrong?” Melody asked. She reached for his hand when he didn’t respond, her heart pounding so hard that her chest ached. “Harry?”

“She’s in remission.”

Melody froze, her fingers partly intertwined with his. “What?”

He nodded, confirming that she’d heard him correctly.

“That’s great,” she said. She studied his profile—the hard set of his jaw, the troubling, cool stare. “That’s incredible. Why don’t you look happy?”

Harry let out a dry laugh, his fingers closing around Melody’s, still avoiding her eyes. “She called to tell me good news, and then we had to talk about how her son is dead.”

Melody licked her dry lips. She hadn’t even considered that Harry might not have spoken to his mother since everything had happened. And she certainly hadn’t thought about his mom’s heartache. She’d been consumed by her own fear and the lack of good sleep she’d been getting. And now she felt guilt gnaw at her.

“What did she say?” she whispered.

“Not much.” Harry’s jaw tightened. He reached up to rake a hand through his hair. “I don’ think she really has any words.”

As she watched him, Harry’s stone face cracked. It was small, just a rapid blink and a twitch of his mouth, and anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Melody reached for him. She turned her body, pressing a kiss to his cheek, sliding an arm around his neck and stroking his hair. Harry closed his eyes, effectively blocking out everyone around them.

“Just—‘m not upset that he’s gone. ‘M relieved.” He sighed, shivering at the tickle of Melody’s hair on his neck. “‘M so fuckin’ relieved. And that feels wrong when my mum has to grieve for him.”

A wave of frustrated anger swept through Melody. The same feeling that had her swinging mindlessly at Harry’s mitts. It wasn’t fair.

“It’s not wrong, Harry,” she said firmly. She pulled back enough to look at him, but his eyes remained closed. “He was her son but he wasn’t your brother. You experienced a different person from the one that she knew. You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling, okay? But what you don’t need to feel is guilty.”

His eyes opened again. He watched the men in the boxing ring, one backing the other into a corner, a rapid duck as a fist swung, just missing its mark. He could feel Melody’s gaze.

“You never say anything back,” she muttered. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. He turned to look at her. “Yeah, I do.”

Her deep frown softened, her brow relaxing. “Good,” she said.

“‘M not—” Harry’s gaze swept over the room once more. Melody watched his jaw shift. “I don’ wanna be here.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, drawing in a loud breath and climbing to her feet. “Let’s go.”

Harry pulled himself up to stand beside her, and together they collected their equipment, stuffing their gym bags, and trailed through the city back to Melody’s apartment.

[raph-and-spike]

Taking a Swim - Leo x fem!reader

request? yes/no 

I want a Story WITH LEO  It could be also nsfw. 😅🤤🤭 i'm a long friend of April and she make a Meeting between the turtles and me.Leo fall in love with me and dont know how he should tell me that.  We meet us in 4th July at first. Then its the 14.august and the turtles, April, casey and i go Swimming in a little sea... I hope you know the scenes,that i mean..  Have a good day 🤗😘 Nice wishes from germany

a/n: @tkappi I hope you don’t mind that I slightly altered it... I wanted the swimming scene to be a little more intimate ;) I’m sorry this request took so long!! Hope you like it <33 

warnings: NSFW...aka smut. Read at your own risk. For the sake of this being smut, both the reader and Leo will be 18 years old in this imagine. 

Finally, you thought to yourself with a smile of relief as you gripped the straps of your backpack on your walk home. It was summer–which meant you were free from school, free to do whatever you please for the next two and a half months. You couldn’t wait to spend everyday with your best friend, April O’Neil. The two of you had been best friends for as long as you could remember; you knew the redhead like the back of your hand. 

Though, summer didn’t end up going according to plan. Instead, you spent it calling April every morning and afternoon, asking to hang out. At first, she’d claimed that she was spending time with her aunt or hanging out with Casey. You believed her for a while, but once her excuses turned into not answering her phone, you began to get angry. It had already been the beginning of July, and the two of you had yet to hang out once! You’d had it.

Stomping on the pavement to her apartment, your mind raced with millions of different phrases you’d say to her. ‘Why haven’t you been answering my calls?’ was one. ‘Do you not like me anymore?’ was another. As you reached her apartment door, your heart raced through your chest as you brought your knuckles to the hard, painted wood. As it begun to swing open, you froze in your spot. 

“Raph, you could have just used the fire escape–”

You froze as a green figure stood in front of you, wearing an orange mask with matching nunchucks at its sides. You couldn’t move nor could you speak. You felt paralyzed.

“Uh, guys?!” It spoke. 

You looked behind it, two identical creatures standing next to April and Casey. You watched April’s eyes meet yours, her blue orbs widening in fear at your frozen figure. She wasn’t sure what to do or how to alleviate this situation. Panicking, she finally decided to pull you into her bedroom and tell you what she’d been hiding.

“We need to talk,” she stated calmly, grabbing your hand and pulling you into her apartment, leading you into her bedroom.

Once she shut her bedroom door behind you, she took a seat on her bed. You couldn’t find the ability to sit, so you stood in front of her with your arms at your sides.

“I met them at the beginning of last year. My Dad and I...” she struggled for words, “we were taken by these alien robots, called the ‘Kraang’.”

You cocked an eyebrow, obviously thinking that she was making this up.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, Y/n, but you have to listen,” she begged.

With a sigh, you sat down on the bed next to her and did as you were told. She told you everything. From when they saved her, to when her father was freed and then mutated, how she'd been trained by her turtle friends’ father–a tall rat, apparently–to be a kunoichi, to their adventures saving the city from not only mutants, but their enemy named Shredder, as well. You had no choice but to believe the redhead. After all, you’d known the girl your entire life. 

“So, that’s why you’ve been dodging my calls?” you asked, rerunning the story she’d just told you over again in your head.

She nodded sadly. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, Y/n. I’m so sorry,” she admitted guiltily. 

You put a hand on her shoulder with a small smile. “It’s okay, April...just promise me that you won’t push me away like that again? I mean, we’ve been through everything together, you can’t get rid of me now with a few mutant turtles,” you said with a laugh. 

She chuckled before pulling you into a hug.

“Actually, the turtles, Casey, and I were going to spend the rest of the summer at the farmhouse, and now since you know about them...” she trailed off before a knocking on the door interrupted her.

“Can you two, like, hurry up or somethin’? Mikey’s eatin’ all the road snacks!” a voice yelled from outside the door.

She rolled her eyes. “Coming, Raph!”

She looked at you, raising her eyebrows. 

“You wanna spend your summer with a couple of mutants at a farmhouse upstate?”

After introducing you to the turtles, and quickly bringing you to your own apartment so that you could fill a suitcase with clothes and other belongings, all seven of you sat in Mr. O’Neil’s Volkswagen bus as Casey drove to April’s farmhouse. With Mikey pestering you with questions–and a certain blue-masked turtle telling him to leave you alone–the ride went by pretty fast. 

The house was beautiful. It was incredibly secluded and quiet, which you preferred much more to the loud, packed city of New York. 

Mikey offered to cook everyday, often switching with you whenever he was busy sparring with the others, or occupied with comic books. You didn’t mind it, cooking eased your mind. You’d offer to do the dishes afterwards as well. It wasn’t until Mikey had picked up a new compelling comic series, when you’d been picking up cooking and dish-washing duty almost daily. Leo noticed this and offered to help one night. You immediately accepted his offer with a blush.

You ordered him to dry the dishes and put them away after you washed them. It was a steady, easy system between the two of you. He’d ask you questions about your interests and hobbies, and you’d ask him about his. You noticed that he didn’t seem much interested in talking about himself–he seemed rather interested in your answers instead. Talking with Leo was easy. With him, you knew he wouldn’t judge you or make you feel uncomfortable. 

He easily became closer to you than the others, always making excuses to spend time with you, and even asking you to teach him how to cook. You taught him how to make homemade pizzas, much to Mikey’s dinner request, along with some easy pasta dishes. 

One night, as you slept on the twin bed in April’s old childhood bedroom, you felt a tapping on your shoulder. You sat up, peering into the deep blue eyes that still seemed so magnetic in the darkness. 

“I want to show you something,” he whispered. 

Butterflies swarming in your stomach, you grinned.

Quietly tip-toeing down the creeky, aged wooden stairs and out the door, he gently grabbed your hand and began leading you through the grass. Once the two of you headed toward the edge of the forest, you frowned.

“Why are you taking me into the woods?” you asked, suspicion in your voice.

He stopped, a dreamy smile on his lips. “It’s going to be good, I promise.”

You chewed your lip hesitantly, causing his invisible eyebrows to knit together. 

“If I gave you one of my katanas, would you feel safer?” he asked, skillfully pulling the blade out from its sheath on his shell. 

You gladly took it, gripping the wrapped hilt as he lead you deeper into the forest. The broken twigs, rocks, and rough roots weren’t gentle on the bare soles of your feet, but your excitement and nervousness distracted you from it.

At last, a large clearing with a wide pond stared back at you, entirely lit by the large moon in the sky. Your jaw nearly dropped at the beautiful sight in front of you, tossing his katana onto the ground whilst you stared in awe. 

“I found it yesterday,” the blue-masked turtle explained briefly.

You hadn’t noticed that he was staring at you, wondering how the girl of his dreams would react to his discovery.

“Leo, it’s,” you struggled for words, “’incredible’ feels like too small of a word to describe it,” you admitted. 

He chuckled. “I know what you mean, that’s how I felt when I first saw it too... It’s–”

“Perfect,” you finished.

He gazed at you as if you were a star–no, that’s too small. He gazed at you as if you were an entire universe; he felt like a small, floating asteroid compared to you, an entire universe. How were you so perfect? How was creation able to give you such beautiful features, a personality sculpted just for him? Dissecting your mind all this time while the two of you spent so much time together made him realize just how much he’d fallen for you and how much he adored you. 

You watched him as he stared at you intently, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Leo?” you asked hesitantly.

“Can I, uhm, may I...kiss you?” he stuttered, attempting to raise his shoulders back confidently as he waited for your response.

You felt your cheeks turn crimson. With a slow nod, you moved to fill the space between the two of you, watching as he stared at you in awe. Within seconds, he pressed his lips against yours. Surprised, you nearly pulled away before melting against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and closing your eyes. He didn’t attempt to move his lips, after all, he had no experience with kissing whatsoever. You took the initiative to begin moving your lips slowly, knowing not to introduce your tongue just yet. Your lips moved gently against each other’s, and you’d never felt closer to Leo. 

Pulling away to catch your breath, you turned your head toward the pond, and back at Leo. Getting your drift, he grinned, shrugging his other katana off before jumping into the pond. You looked down at your pajamas. Deciding not to get them wet, you slowly pulled your pajama top off, revealing your bra to Leonardo. He watched from the water, cheeks pinker than you’d ever seen them before, as you began to pull down your pajama bottoms. You stood in the cool, summer night air, nearly naked, before jumping into the water with him. With a shriek at the cold temperature of the pond, you attempted to swim toward him before he moved away.

“I have sort of an...issue; we should probably keep our distance,” he admitted, his cheeks still blushing profusely. 

You cocked a brow in confusion. “What?”

He made a downward motion with his head, before it hit you. Your own cheeks flushed once more.

“Well,” you began, slowing making your way toward him, despite his warning, “we can...fix that, if you want.”

You watched as his blue orbs widened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped.

“A-are you sure?” he asked, looking bewildered, shocked that someone as beautiful as you would ever want to do something like that with him. 

You nodded, closing the space between the two of you and forcing his lips against your own. This kiss was incredibly different than the first; it was needy, it was desperate, as if you couldn’t breathe without him in between your legs.

You didn’t waste time introducing your tongue, feeling him do the same as your lips danced sloppily against each other’s, begging for a release of tension. He leant down, grabbing your legs to wrap them around his waist. You easily leant into him, the water helping hold you up, as you felt his hardened length brush against your clothed core. You moaned against his lips, grinding your heat against it. Growling, he brought his hands to your bum, ripping the fabric of your panties off. You gasped, feeling his hands squeeze your bare ass and push you further against him.

With ease, due to how wet you were, he was able to slide his length into you. You groaned, feeling him fill you up.

“Is this okay? A-am I doing this right?” he asked, his voice breathy and raspy.

“Yes, Leo, move,” you begged, resting your forehead against his. 

He thrusted hard, causing you to nearly scream. He continued to thrust, every stroke going deeper and deeper until he developed a steady rhythm. His thrusts quickened as your walls began to clench, grasping onto his plastron as you felt your climax nearing.

“Leo, please,” you groaned, shoving your head into the crook of his neck, trying to muffle your moans into his skin.

He thrusted even faster, squeezing your ass against him as your hips met his movements. Your eyes squeezed shut as your climax hit you, body spasming against him as you felt his own hips still, his cock spurting inside of you. Your body fell weak against him as you felt him gently pull out. He moved his hands to your back, stroking the soft skin whilst he held you against his chest.

The two of you rested there, basking in the moonlight, warm skin pressed against each other. It was then, that Leo knew he was in love. 

[shiteatinggrin]

Hi, so this is my contribution to my first jilytober, I wrote some canon fic, it is kinda sad so I guess you could call this angst? I don’t know, I’m not that good at categorizing fic. Anyways, here is a love letter to James Potter from Lily Evans because he just died under her eyes. Wrote this fast, so I can’t vouch for the quality of this. This is almost 3k of Lily being a sap, so enjoy! Find it here on Ao3.

Bastard with a shit eating grin

Do you remember our first kiss? I can still feel the cold air of winter seeping through the walls of Greenhouse Number Three and you and I laughing together. It was not an unusual thing anymore, but some people could have been surprised, because we had had some big feuds over the years, the Dormitories Dashing and Destroying Disagreement, the Inflating Inner Ear Incident, the Flying Fiona Fight and the Severus Snape Saga consisting of the big highlights. However frustrating it was, we always had fun together, didn’t we?

Now we were falling in love dutifully without realising we had always been meant for each other in some way. I was all colors: glorious red hair, pink cheeks, pale green eyes and horrendously yellow socks. You were all teeth: shining smiles, arrogant smirking, belly-laughing in a silent room or grinding them in concentration for the task you were committing to (hyper-focusing on) at the moment.

‘Oi, Evans, can I copy your homework?’ You would say that practically every day.

‘How about a please, Potter? Might do you some good.’ You watched me smear some soil on my neck when I scratched it and said nothing. I discovered it in Transfiguration two hours later. Crazy how we can only remember the smallest details years later and the big things just go right over our heads. I could only ever remember the small details with you, because whatever we said to each other was never important, only the talking to you part was.

‘Oh Lily, dearest flower to my heart that I worship beyond any rainbow, might I please please please see your diligently done homework so that I can rewrite it because, being the idiot that I am, I was off gallivanting with Sirius yesterday instead of being a good student.’ You added pouts and made doe eyes for good measure as if I wouldn’t already have grabbed the moon from the sky’s grubby hands every night if you had asked it.

I would stifle a smile and put some piece of parchment in your extended hand without even looking, sometimes it was the homework if I was feeling generous, if I were more in a creative mood I might give you a stupid doodle or some kind of letter that would say something like: ‘Dear Prongs, you are an asshat. Looking forward to our rounds tonight so I can kick your ass in Gobstones. Now listen to Sprout, will you? Lily’ with a stupid heart over the i that basically meant PS: I love you. Finally, I’d say something like:

‘I would have laughed, but your head might inflate so much you’d have neck pain for a week.’

You let yourself smile then and continued to jest me, hoping to wrench a smile out of the beast (you always did it literally two minutes later, it is funny how easy it is to win when you give yourself such small tasks).

But that day, amazingly, we broke out of our routine.

At night we would always hang out together in the common room with our friends and slowly the people would fizzle out, having gone up to their dormitories and I would stay on the couch with the urge to kiss you with some dumb excuse not to leave on the tip of my tongue. I painted my nails or read some book or talked to you extensively about something I’d learned recently and you would listen with concentrated eyes and a much too easy smile.

Then you would start talking and when you started some story it would never finish, even now you can’t even recall something as simple as Harry’s first smile without going on for five full minutes without stopping. In these nights I would try to look like I wasn’t paying too much attention to you, like I was detached from everything pertaining to your person, but being young and in love doesn’t exactly give you the best skills in subtlety and so you would ask me if I was paying attention and I would blush and you would make some quip about redheads and their skins and everything would go back to normal.

And out of the blue, when I was talking about getting some sugar quills next time we were in Hogsmeade and how difficult the Ancient Runes paper was, you kissed me. Your hands flew to my hair and mine to cup your face and you pressed your body hard against mine. I’d never seen you so hungry for anything before, it seemed like you had been starving for a thousand years before our lips found each other. I had kissed three boys before you, and none of them could compare to the feeling of ecstasy of your mouth against mine. No one will ever compare to James Potter, right? That’s what you used to say in fourth year when you made a particular lucky goal in Quidditch or when you caught the Snitch in mid-air even though you were a Chaser and we were in Potions classf. Is it weird that I miss that?

I don’t think there ever was a time when I didn’t love you, all electric hair and much too quick brain and hundred stupid nicknames that didn’t mean anything unless you explained them in excruciating detail and you would smile too much and talk too loud and walk too fast and I wouldn’t feel so out of place with you because I did the exact same things. Petunia was always prim and proper and I always tried to be like her and please everyone but you taught me how to be myself and how to blossom into my personality without even knowing it. With you I’ve never been too much, I was always just enough.

Everything always came so easy to you, and I’ve always hated you for it. Now I think that I can’t appreciate enough how you could always share that with everyone around you, that incredible luck that could get you out of the worst of predicaments. I guess it all caught up to us today, but I don’t mind now. I’ll love you forever, come what may.

My heart is full of wanted posters of you: dead or alive.

I can’t remember the first time I’ve really noticed you, because you were always in the periphery, doing stupid things and getting in trouble and beaming for no reason at all and the memory of your presence was impossible to shake, but I still remember the first time we really became friends. We were fifteen by the lake and my best friend betrayed me under the glistening sun, the following day I had the worst grade in Transfiguration I’d ever gotten. You found me crying by a window on the fifth floor and apologized a hundred times (which I couldn’t have cared less at the moment), but you still went and talked to McGonagall and she agreed to let me retake the test in the afternoon and offered me a biscuit.

In seventh year, a girl told me that she was so jealous of the fact that I was the only one that could make James Potter change and mature. As if your life revolved around me. I thought of your sick father and the fact that Sirius had appeared on your front door one day and never left your house and with a twinge in my heart thought of the war coming and I couldn’t believe my ears. With all this going on, and she still thought you’d only change for a girl?

I’m not proud of this, but I might have shouted at her and maybe, perhaps I was the one that sent a silencing charm her way, but who could really tell? Not her, because her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

I wonder if I ever told you that. Probably, because you know everything interesting there is to know about me. You even know the most boring facts about me, because they amuse you just the same. You know I like peonies the best in spite of my name and that my first kiss was with Snape when I was eight, you know that I wiped my mouth right after and didn’t know yet what love was. You know that my favourite band is Hate Potion and that my guilty pleasure is Celestina Warbeck. You know that I wanted to name our son Harry because of a muggle TV show I used to watch with Petunia when I was seven on Saturday mornings and that when I fight my favorite charm is Expelliarmus. You were at my side when I killed my first (and last) Death Eater and that I cried for a week afterward. You comforted me for five hours when Marlene and her entire family were massacred in their own home, the same one where I had spent a good chunk of my summers to avoid Petunia. You know that I only ever paint my toenails blue and that my favorite flavour of ice cream is mint chocolate chip. You know all about my relationship with my sister and how she used to be my best friend and that we used to dance in bathing suits around the sprinkler and fake being witches to make potions out of mud and flowers and how she never forgave when this dream became true for me but not for her. You know all about my failed relationships, with Tuney, Sev and my ex-boyfriend who left me because he didn’t want to be associated with a muggleborn. You know I’m absolute shite at drawing and that I can’t dance to save my life and you laugh at me when I’m drunk and try to follow Peter’s choreography to some dumb song I don’t know. Last year, you helped paint flowers all over my bookcase because I wanted it to be unique and just mine.

When Harry was born, you refused to sleep for two days because he was so cute when he slept against your chest, but you finally fell asleep while cutting onions for dinner and I had to intervene.

One of my favourite things about you is that I have never seen anyone so full of life. You smile like nothing has ever gone wrong in your entire life and you are more loyal than any Hufflepuff I’ve ever seen, you would die for any of us in a heartbeat and we would do the same for you anytime. My love for you is so big I wonder how it even fits in our little house in Godric’s Hollow. You painted our walls burnt orange because you said it reminded you of my hair and I wonder if it is weird to fall in love with you even more over some colour choices. You complete me because as much as you are a complete idiot, you still recommend the best books and are smart enough to plan the best pranks, but too smug to make anyone else take the blame. You had always been my favourite person in the whole universe until Harry arrived, but he is so much like you that it is like meeting you at a much earlier age. He has the same laugh as you, you know?

I cannot believe how brave you are, because traditional courage requires you to go into battle and protect everyone you love like a lioness does her cubs, but you have found the energy to keep going even trapped in this house with an infant without being able to help your friends outside. You go everyday against your most basic instincts and you manage to have so much fun with us, but I see the tired bags under your eyes and the fact that you lose your train of thoughts sometimes and I know that you’re thinking about the war and the security of the boys, I know they are your family and it would kill you if one of them ever fell into battle, yet you never complain, yet you never lose hope. I love you so much my feeble heart can’t contain it all. My love for you is as inevitable as the blue of the sky, as the oxygen in our lungs, as the passage of time, I love you so much that when I see you it is like coming home, your wild hair and round glasses and mischievous eyes and soft voice and much too long limbs and wide chest and calloused hands and smile like an answer to all my problems.

No one has ever made me feel as secure as you and now I know I have to be strong for you, because you are the one that’s fallen, like a marionnette whose strings were cut. The coffee stain on the right arm of your shirt is the last thing I will see of you, or maybe it is a bit of your wild inky hair. I will never be able to look at the night sky the same.

I can hear him in the stairs, and all I can think about is you and Harry this morning, my two favourite people in the world, sat on the carpet and puffs of colour coming out of your wand, your laugh coming out of his mouth, one single tooth poking out, little chubby legs shaking from laughter, the wand you stupidly left on the carpet (the wand you didn’t care wasn’t in your hands because you didn’t care if you died, you just wanted us to live). Your last gift to me was the most precious of all: you gave me the time to say goodbye to Harry.

‘Mama loves you. Dada loves you, Harry.’ That is the only thing I find to say, because it is true and my heart is breaking, I can hear it thundering, collapsing like a dying star, you are dead, I will die, Harry has to live. I cannot withstand the thought.

I have never loved anyone better than the two of you. Apparently I never will, but at least I have known real love, the one that comes from daily life, that never dies because it is kept alive by stupid little things that make us who we are. Crazy how we only remember the little things and the big ones just go right over our heads.

I will remember the smallest things about you, like the little scar in your left eyebrow, the weird placement of your thumb on your wand, the feel of your skin against mine and the way it tanned in the summer while mine just became redder and redder, the sound of your laugh when Sirius said something funny and the way you always pushed your glasses up your nose with your middle finger, the way you sit in any chair like it’s a throne, the way you answered questions in class without raising your hand, the way you held a book open when you were reading it, your last day where you wanted to make pasta and I wanted steak, the way you would mess with your hair not because you thought it would make you look like you just stepped off your broom, but because you were nervous or restless. On your good days it would stand flatter on your head and I had to pass my hand through it because otherwise it just didn’t feel like you. You laughed too much when Sirius decided to read Crime and Punishment to Harry as a bedtime story and your son wouldn’t go to sleep. You would tell him stories of your childhood disguised as muggle magical adventures and I became a knight, Sirius a prince and Snape a dragon. You would call my cat Fiona the ginger cat, as if Fiona wasn’t enough and she needed an extra title. I guess she was royalty after all. You always tried to make me believe that she loved you more than me, even though I’d had her since I was eleven and you once made her fly across the common room just to annoy me.

Do you remember this morning? The last time you ever kissed me? You made me eggs and tea for breakfast and sang some Beatle song for me in the most off-key voice. You stole the bacon from my plate, laughing from across the dinner table. I was so happy because you were in a good mood today, you didn’t seem to feel so trapped and it was Halloween and you were trying to convince me to dress Harry up as a muggle magician, which I thought was the worst joke you’d ever made. You kissed me on the mouth and we settled on a pumpkin costume. Your lips tasted of stolen bacon and orange juice (you’ve never been much of a morning tea person).

I have never loved anyone better, and apparently I never will.

The house is so silent now that you are gone. All I can hear are my own ragged breaths. Harry seems to think this is some kind of game. He is all that we have left now. All that will ever be left of us. To love is to create, right? We have created the most beautiful person in the world, it should be the only thing that counts.

I love you. I could try to make this poetic, the love thing, but I think the most poetic way it can be is on its own. I don’t know any words more powerful than I love you. I love you and you are dead. I love you and I will die soon. I love our son and he will live. Life is as simple as that. I love you and soon we’ll be together again. Miss you already.

[perseusannabeth]

Don’t Look (Okay Maybe Just a Little Peek) - Part 2

So here’s part 2 of Don’t Look (Okay Maybe Just a Little Peak), which was highly requested (I was so shocked lmao). Shout out to @bookstantrash for the idea! I hope you enjoy it.

If anyone has anymore requests, then please send them to my ask box! I’m currently running very low on prompts. It seems I am on a roll this week, since I’m off work.

Read part 1 here

Read on AO3

Masterlist for all fics

Word Count: 1806

Cassian was staring at the ceiling. He had the fan blowing on him, the windows were open, and he was in his boxers, but he still couldn't sleep. All he could think of was the events from yesterday afternoon. He closed his eyes and cursed the gods for taunting him. There was no other way to explain it. Cassian had been head over heels in love with Nesta for what felt like forever but was more likely to be a few months after meeting her nearly 3 years ago. He had been the one that had suggested living with her, thinking he could handle it, but it had been pure torture.  

Nesta had always been so put together, full of fire and looked as though she would rip his balls off if he dared to even breathe wrong, and he had loved it. Seeing her first thing in the morning, wearing oversized shirts that were extremely faded, and her hair a mess, her eyes barely open had been too much for Cassian to bear when he had first seen her. Now, almost a year of them living together, it still took his breath away, he had just gotten better at hiding his reaction to her, or so he hoped. Either way, she didn’t snap at him for funnily staring at her anymore.   

He had thought that would be the best version of Nesta he could ever see. That was the soft side of Nesta, which only a privileged few could say they had seen, and Cassian could add his name to that very shortlist. The horny side of him had decided that the best version of Nesta was the version he had seen yesterday. The horny part of his brain seemed to take over a lot when it came to Nesta which was unfortunate. This was even worse than when she walked around with no bra on under her shirts and he could see the faint outline of her nipples poking through. 

Cauldron, he felt like such a pervert. He felt incredibly guilty for walking in on Nesta in the shower. He was an idiot. He should've been paying attention when he had gotten home, but he hadn't because he had just assumed Nesta wasn't home yet. He had planned on just having a quick piss and then asking Nesta if she needed picking up since she hadn't texted him. He hadn't even noticed the shower running, although after he had left the bathroom, it was the loudest sound he'd ever heard.   

He had just barged into the bathroom, and gods above, he was so fucked. He had only caught a glimpse of what he had known was under her clothes all along, the thoughts he had tried not to linger on all this time. The pert breasts, rosy coloured nipples, the round ass that he just wanted to take a bite out of, her soft-looking skin, the little patch of hair between her legs that he just wanted to sink into, with his mouth, fingers or dick, he wasn’t particularly fussy, he just wanted to taste her.  

Cassian let out a small groan of frustration as he closed his eyes, images of Nesta flashing in his mind no matter how much he tried to wish them away. Just brilliant, now he was warm and horny. He was never going to sleep now. At least tomorrow was Saturday and he didn't have to go to work. He knew that if he turned up to work with shadows under his eyes and irritated, his brothers would easily figure out what the cause of his sleeplessness was. He had managed to pass Friday off as the unbearable summer heat keeping him up at night, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to make them fall for that one twice in a row. They had seemed suspicious when he had given his excuse but had let it go when Mor had changed the subject. He had never been more grateful for Mor in his life. He knew that she would probably grill him afterwards though, the price of her help was always gossip.   

His brothers thought it was hilarious that he was so gone for Nesta. They had never seen Cassian pining for someone. The pining was made even more interesting by Nesta's cold outward demeanour, and the way she rebuffed his attempts at flirting with her. Cassian knew there was more to it than Nesta being some ice queen. He knew that her shitty ex must have done a number on her. He saw the way that even Feyre was so soft and careful with Nesta when it came to certain topics. She hadn't been at first, but she must've found something out. Found out what that dickhead Tomas had done.  

Cassian couldn't stop thinking about the way Nesta had looked when he had cornered her in the kitchen. Not just how beautiful she looked in her pyjamas, her wet hair shoved up haphazardly, the slight blush on her cheeks from the embarrassment of being seen by Cassian in such a vulnerable state. No, Nesta was shocked. Shocked that Cassian would ever have feelings for Nesta, that he would ever think of her in that way. 

Maybe she had written off all of his flirting attempts as him joking around, he had never wanted to try seriously because of the fear of rejection. He didn’t want to make things awkward, to ruin what they already had. If things went south, he knew Nesta would cut off their friend circle, and he couldn’t live with that. But the fact that Nesta had never noticed the other men and women who flirted with her when they were out, the lingering stares. That surprised Cassian. He had just assumed she knew what she looked like, the effect she had on people.

He hoped that Nesta’s comment before she left to go to her room the other day meant that perhaps, she was slowly starting to change her mind about herself. That she would see herself the way she was, not the way that dickhead Tomas had made her see herself. She deserved better than that. 

Cassian eventually snapped out of his Nesta musings. He hadn’t seen her since they had spoken in the kitchen, since Cassian had opened his big fat mouth. He hoped he hadn’t scared her off. He hoped that she was just busy with work, and that’s why he hadn’t seen her all day. That had happened to them before. But if she was avoiding him, Cassian wasn’t sure his heart could handle that. 

Feeling even more restless now, Cassian decided to get up and get himself some water to drink. Maybe he’d take a sleeping pill and pass the fuck out because he wasn’t sure he could deal with 2 days in a row of not sleeping properly. 

He got up, pulling on some joggers just in case Nesta happened to be up at this time. He doubted it, Nesta slept at old people times, but still, he wouldn’t want to parade around in just his boxers and make her uncomfortable. 

He opened his door, only to come face to face with the woman who had ruined his sleep for 2 nights in a row now. She looked surprised, but then quickly neutralised her expression, and stepped away slightly after noticing just how close they were. 

“Nes, are, erm, is everything okay?”

Nesta was in her pyjamas, her hair slightly messy like she had been tossing and turning before she decided to get up. Her eyes were bright and alert, so she hadn’t just woken up. Perhaps Cassian wasn’t the only one unable to sleep.

“I… fine. I just, I was wondering, I mean-” Nesta rubbed her face, her frustration visible across her face. She took a deep breath, as though to ground her, and then tried again. “I just wanted to apologise for making things awkward with everything that happened.” Nesta’s face flushed slightly as she spoke. 

“Oh. You don’t need to apologise, it’s not your fault. I should’ve been paying attention. I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable, and for any of the dumb things I said afterwards.”

Nesta was silent and still. She didn’t move beyond the rise and fall of her chest. She just stared at Cassian in a way that was almost unnerving. Like she was analysing him for any little weakness. 

“You surprised me.”

Cassian’s eyebrows raised slightly at her admission. “What I said in the kitchen?” Nesta nodded slowly, her eyes now studying his, as though she was trying to look for some hidden meaning in them. “It’s true. I was afraid it would somehow ruin things, so I never said anything, but I used to practice how to ask you out in the mirror. Before you moved in before I found out you were with-” He cut himself off, not wanting to mention Tomas’ name in case it somehow upset her. 

“If things had been different, would you have?” 

“I’m not sure, I’m not sure I would have been brave enough. I’d like to think so. But either way, it doesn’t matter. What matters is now. Nesta Archeron, please, put me out of my misery and go out with a date with me?”

He couldn’t hide the hope on his face as he stared down at Nesta. 

“Okay.”

Cassian felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll give it a shot.”

Cassian couldn’t help the big smile spread across his face. “I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t regret it. Thank you.”

Nesta smiled slowly, and Cassian felt like he had been punched in the chest. She was stunning, breathtaking, and she had agreed to go on a date with him. He was the luckiest bastard in the world. 

“Actually, I should thank you. You made me realise something.”

“What?” He asked breathlessly. 

“That I need to re-evaluate the way I see myself.” With that, she smiled, and leaned in, standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek before walking back to her bedroom. 

Cassian was in a daze. He could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks. He felt like a 12-year-old, blushing because he had been kissed by a pretty girl. But Nesta Archeron wasn’t just a pretty girl, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was a wildfire, but he was more than willing to get burnt by her. As Cassian got back into bed, completely forgetting why he had gotten out of bed in the first place, and unable to wipe the dopey smile on his face, his cheek still tingling from where Nesta had kissed him, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps things were looking up for Cassian and Nesta. 

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[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 9

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.  

Word Count: 6371

Author’s Note: This chapter gets pretty dark so be careful and check the tags, if you need to! Also, if you want to skip the darker subject matter, just skip he middle section. There are breaks between the sections and there’s enough context afterwards for you to be able to get the idea without having to read it. Enjoy the long chapter ;)

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, Trauma Responses, Nightmares, Imprisonment, Panic Attack, Self-deprecation, Accidental Self-Harm, Swearing, Control/Abuse, Violence, Weapon/Knife, Stabbing (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Tingling chills crept up Logan’s neck as Virgil slowly leaned away from him with a blank look on his face. Logan felt a sinking feeling in his chest as he waited for Virgil to respond. He nervously tapped his fingers on his leg as he considered the possibility that Virgil didn't believe him.

“I know it's-"

Virgil raised his hand, indicating for Logan to stop talking. He stood up from the sofa, moving to the fireplace. Gripping the mantel with one hand, he covered his eyes with his other hand, gently putting pressure on his temples.

Logan felt an eternity pass as Virgil stood unmoving at the fireplace. Logan’s throat and chest burned from tension as he waited for Virgil to speak. Every cell in his body ached to justify his accusation but Logan held his tongue, biting back the urge to push Virgil. If Virgil didn’t believe him, he hardly wanted to make the consequences worse for himself.

Finally, Virgil turned around to look at him with a serious expression. Logan's eyes flicked to the door, yearning to be anywhere else than on the receiving end of Virgil’s intense stare. He swallowed, tearing his gaze away from the door, knowing full well that Virgil was faster and stronger than him. He was trapped. Logan closed his eyes, bracing himself for Virgil's response.

“You’re absolutely sure?”

Logan's breath caught in his throat as he looked up at Virgil. He cautiously searched Virgil’s face but his face was calm. Logan couldn’t sense any malicious intent in Virgil’s inquiry. Still, Logan hesitated before he spoke again. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”

Virgil looked out to the window on the far end of Logan's suite. “We have to tell Roman.”

“Wait—" Logan protested.

“L, I understand your reasons for not wanting to tell him but his life is at risk if he doesn't know. You have to understand that already.” Virgil’s voice was firm but not unkind. Logan’s anxiety eased a small amount, knowing Virgil seemed to believe him.

“Of course, I understand.” Logan exhaled, defeated. “But Virgil, it's my word against Remus'. I don't know Roman as well as you, so forgive me if I'm wrong, but Roman’s reactions to my treatment have been quite emotional.”

Virgil was quiet, lost in thought as he listened to Logan.

Logan took a breath. He spoke with more confidence as his unease starting to settle. “I don't wish to be misinterpreted. I appreciate that Roman cares enough to be upset on my behalf, but I can only assume telling him that his brother was responsible for my suffering would illicit an even more extreme emotional response.”

Virgil crossed his arms, leaning against the wall behind him. “That's not an unfair assumption of how princey would react.”

“Roman’s already under scrutiny for how he's handled my situation. By some miracle, Roman saw through Remus’ façade and believes my innocence, but many people still believe I'm guilty. They believe that I am part of some greater conspiracy to manipulate Roman, and that Roman's naïve for believing otherwise.” Logan paused. “If Roman reacts rashly, it will only serve to confirm people’s suspicions that I'm somehow influencing him. I don't want to know what could happen if people start to lose faith in Roman, and I don't want to give Remus the opportunity to take advantage of Roman’s good nature, Vee.”

“You’re right. We need to be tactful about how we share this information with him or he could go totally off script.” Logan watched as Virgil started to pace back and forth across the room. “Roman hates his brother already. Even I can't even predict how he'll react, but we can't hide this from him. He needs to know, in case Remus decides to try again.”

“I know.” Logan murmured, watching Virgil from the couch. He could hear the hiss of the gas lamp and he watched Virgil silently pace the room.

Slowing, Virgil moved over to the window, interlacing his fingers and resting his fingers against his lips in a hushing gesture. Deep in thought, he silently gazed out the window, moonlight filtering down on his face. “I know a way to confine princey until we can talk him down.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “How do you intend to manage that?”

“I have to call in a favor.”

“That is unhelpfully vague.”

“You’re just going to have to trust me on this one, L.” Virgil exhaled.

"I guess that's the least I owe you. You are trusting me on this whole matter.” Logan leaned back, resigned. He exhaled and his eyes drifted up to meet Virgil’s. “Thank you for believing me, Vee. I am aware that this is a lot to accept from someone you only recently met.”

Virgil shrugged. “Honestly, it's not as much of a stretch of the imagination as you might think. Roman's no stranger to Remus’ cruelty, and it's no secret to me. It's only hard to believe he'd actually be bold enough to actually try to kill his own brother.”

Logan sighed, exhausted. “I didn’t even realize he was the Roman’s brother.”

“You didn't know?” Virgil turned to lean his shoulder against the wall, giving Logan a confused look.

Logan shook his head tiredly. His eyes were distant as he stared down at the ground. “Not until yesterday.”

Virgil didn't respond, quietly staring at Logan sitting on the couch. “L?”

Logan looked up at him.

“I know you don't want to hear this but you should probably get some rest. It's late.”

Logan sighed. “I know. I don't think I can sleep though.”

“That's the adrenaline talking. You’re exhausted. When was the last time you really slept?”

“I slept this afternoon."

“No, you didn't.”

Logan looked up at him in confusion.

“Your door was cracked open when I left this afternoon. I don't know how long you were listening to Roman and I but you weren’t sleeping.”

Logan’s face flushed. “I'm sorry. I-"

“It's fine, L. Relax. I'm not mad.” Virgil interrupted him. “It was nothing I wouldn’t have said to your face. Don't make a habit of it but, this time, I'll give you a pass. I can't blame you for wanting be certain that we weren’t deceiving you.”

Logan sighed, looking up at Virgil apologetically. “I’m glad I didn't upset you, but regardless, I apologize. I'm asking you to trust me, and yet, I clearly wasn't able to do the same.”

“Seriously, L. It's fine. I would have done the same thing.” Virgil leaned back against the wall. “My point was that you didn’t sleep.”

“I slept some.”

Virgil raised his eyebrow skeptically. “More than a couple hours?”

Logan hesitated, glancing up at Virgil, but decided to be honest. “Probably not.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed in on him. “When's the last time you slept more than a few hours, L?”

“I don't know.” Logan admitted sadly.

“Go to bed. Table the issue until tomorrow, okay?”

Logan nodded, smiling at Virgil as he reluctantly moved to his room. He paused outside his bedroom door, fidgeting for a moment before glancing back at Virgil. “Uh, thanks for looking out for me, Vee.”

“Someone's got to do it. It may as well be me.” Virgil smirked over at Logan for a moment before his face softened into a smile. “Seriously though, I'm glad to do it. Don't worry.”

Logan smiled over his shoulder before slipping into his room. Once inside, he wandered to the bed and slid under the heavy blankets. Exhaustion settled over him as he pulled the blankets up, letting the dense blanket weigh him down. Sleep claimed him moments later.

-

Logan wiped the dust from his eyes as he pushed himself off the ground. His heart sank at the sound of metal restraints moving with him. Groaning, he laid his back against the cold, stone wall behind him, glancing anxiously around the cell.  Moonlight filtered into his cell through the window high above him, casting an eerie light in the space around him. Logan inhaled sharply, clenching his eyes shut and trying to quell the panic welling in his chest. He buried his head in his arms, trying to keep his breath steady.

It's only a nightmare. All you have to do wake up.

A few minutes passed and he wrapped his arms around his chest, digging his fingernails into his skin.

Why am I so useless? I can't even do something as simple as wake myself up.

A loud breath escaped him as he stifled a sob, burying his head in his arms. Waves of panic wracked his body as he willed himself to wake.

It's too real. Something’s wrong.

The cell only seemed to solidify around him as he dug his nails deeper into his arms.

No. Please no…I can’t—

He was jolted back to awareness as a distant noise from down the hall startled him. Logan’s muscles tensed as he heard movement coming towards him down the hall. He jumped up, scrambling across the floor to the far side of the cell, lifting his chains to avoid making noise. Curling up behind the cot, he tried to shrink himself out of sight into the shadows. He took a deep breath.

It's just a nightmare.

The voices continued down the hall and despite his best attempts, he couldn't make out who was speaking. He leaned forward, straining to hear, but he refused to move closer to the cell door.

Frustrated, he gave up and curled up tight against the wall as darkness crept in around him. Logan started to shake with anticipation of what that night would bring.

Stop panicking. It's just a nightmare.

He begged himself to believe it but he could feel his resolve weakening. This didn't feel like his other nightmares. This felt too real.

Something’s wrong. I need to wake up. Stop being so stupid.  Just wake up, you useless—

Logan stopped in his tracks as he spotted movement in the corner of his eye. An unusual, amber light began dance against the wall outside the metal bars of the cell door. Logan could hear indistinct voices coming down the hall towards him. Logan bit back a panicked whimper as he cowered back into the shadows.

No. Please, no…Just wake up, you idiot—

Logan's breathing became rapid and shallow. The flickering, amber light grew brighter, illuminating the entire room in a soft glow.

Logan forced himself to breathe normally, counting in his head like Virgil had showed him. When he finally regained his composure, he peeked his head out above the cot, trying to determine of the source of the bright light. Another wave of panic racked his body as he imagined that the tower may have caught fire but he dismissed the idea. He reasoned to himself that the room would be filled with smoke, if that were the case.

Logan stood slowly, hesitating as he crept to the door. Memories flooded his mind as he crept silently across the room, but before he could even reach the door, his chains jerked him back. He looked down at the taut chain restraining him to the wall. His panic gave way to frustration and he pulled manically at the shackles until they cut deep into his wrists, not caring if the loud noise brought him unwanted attention anymore.  Tears welled in his eyes as he stifled another sob, falling to his knees.

What the hell is happening?

A yell was ripped from his body a hand grabbed him painfully from behind, spinning him around. Logan stumbled back, trembling as Remus’ face popped out of the shadows. A threatening smile stretched across his face as he lunged at Logan.

Instinctively, Logan jerked back but his restraints stopped him midstep, causing him to stumble and hit the ground hard.

Nonononononono…It's just a night—

“Oh no, pretty boy. It's not a nightmare.” Remus interrupted his thought, chuckling coldly as he approached Logan. “Not yet.”

Logan tried to scramble to his feet but Remus jabbed his foot into Logan’s shoulder, forcing him to cringe in pain as he was pushed back down to the ground. Remus stepped on the chain connecting Logan's hands, pinning them to the ground above his head. He squirmed, feeling vulnerable but Remus held him effortlessly.  

"You’ll stay down, if you know what's good for you. You've caused enough problems already my little pest.” A chill swept through his body at the threat in Remus' whisper. Logan forced his body go limp, relenting to Remus' control.

“Good boy.” Remus' sick smile made Logan's stomach turn. He moved his foot off Logan’s chains, knowing he wouldn’t have to tell Logan twice. The amber light around them began to flicker chaotically as Logan curled up in a ball on the ground, shaking.

“So, pretty boy. I truly made a big oopsie. Didn't I?”

Remus' upbeat tone made Logan's stomach turn. He closed his eyes, willing himself to be anywhere else.

“I underestimated my idiot brother's tendency to take in strays. I really should have known he couldn't resist someone as pathetic as you.” Remus crouched next to Logan, smiling as he flinched away. “Still, I thought you knew better. A few days with Roman is all it took to ruin all the progress we made. Suddenly, it’s like you think you get to fight back.”

Logan remained limp on the floor, not daring even to breathe.

Remus smirked at him, rising back to his feet. He tipped Logan onto his back with his foot, smiling cruelly down at Logan as he loomed over him. Before Logan could react, Remus stepped on Logan’s chest, his boot digging into the bottom of Logan’s ribcage, resting all of his weight onto his sternum. Logan yelped, struggling to breathe.

“Answer me, pretty boy.”

“What?” Logan squeaked.

Remus’ ankle dug in deeper and Logan whimpered. “Do you feel like you can fight back?”

“No,” Logan wheezed.

“No, what, my little pest? I trained you better than that.” Remus stared down at Logan, the light flickering chaotically in his eyes. A demented smiled crept across his face.

“No, sir.” Logan spat out.

“Oh…no, no, no… that won't do anymore.” Remus giggled manically slid his boot up to Logan's throat. “You know who I am now, pretty boy. You'll refer to me as  ‘your highness’.”

“No, your highness.” Logan wheezed, gasping for breath.

Remus held his foot down, smiling at Logan’s compliance. It seemed like an eternity passed before Remus stepped off his throat, allowing him to breath. Logan curled up on his side, gasping for air. Orange and red lights danced around the edge of his vision like flames in a fire.

Logan felt Remus push him down onto his stomach and kneel in front of him. He groaned as Remus grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his head up to look at him.

“Alright, my pest. Let's get down to the juicy stuff.” Logan cringed at the serious look on Remus' face. “I need to know if you've told my brother anything about our late night meetings.”

“No,” Logan muttered. “He knows nothing.”

“Try again.” Remus commanded, tightening his grip on Logan's hair. He choked back a whimper.

“No, your highness. He knows nothing.” Logan repeated, bitterly glaring up at Remus.

“Good boy.” He leaned down close to Logan's face. “Now, did you tell anyone else?”

Anxiety spiked in Logan’s chest but he shoved it down, trying not to let it show. He spoke as calmly as he could manage. “No. You’re highness. I told no one else.”

"Tsk, tsk, pretty boy.” Remus released his grip on Logan’s hair, shaking his finger at him.

Logan flinched at the scowl on Remus' face.

“I thought I taught you not to lie. Funny, a few days is all it took to ruin you.” Remus pushed Logan onto his side and stood up. Logan tracked Remus' movement in his periphery. He barely managed to brace himself before Remus turned around, plunging his foot into Logan’s stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs.

“Listen here, pretty boy. You know you don't belong in this world. Your not strong enough to play with the big boys.” He leaned over Logan as he glared up at Remus. He crouched down, grabbing Logan’s face and holding him still even as he tried to wince away. “My brother can't keep you safe forever.”

Logan was quiet, refusing to meet Remus’ gaze.

Remus laughed, pushing Logan’s face away. “All the same, I'm feeling generous today. I'm going to do a good thing for you. Would you like that?”

“Yes, your highness. I would like that.” Logan’s words were empty as he sank back down to the ground but he gave the answer he knew Remus wanted.

“Good boy. Now, listen closely.” Remus kneeled down on one knee behind Logan’s head. He gripped Logan’s shoulder, pulling it to the ground so Logan lay flat on his back again.

“If you keep our meetings a secret from my brother, I'll leave you alone. As much as I enjoy our time together,” Logan’s skin crawled as Remus ran his hand up his jaw. “I'm willing to give it up for some peace of mind. You can live your new life. Do whatever you want with my idiot brother. I'll leave you alone. All you have to do is keep my secret. How does that sound, pretty boy?”

“I would like that, your highness.” Logan spat out an automatic response, but his mind raced at the implications of Remus' suggestion.

Rems frowned. His voice turned to a menacing growl. “I hear a bit of hesitation in your voice, my little pest. So, let's talk about what happens if you’re not as cooperative as I know you will be.”

Remus reached to his waistband and drew a long, sharp dagger from its sheath. The lights danced on the silver blade and red light reflected in Remus' eyes as he flashed a deranged smile down at Logan. Remus dashed towards him and Logan tried to scramble away, but he wasn’t fast enough. Remus slammed on top of him, pinning his shoulders down with his knees. Logan tried to squirm away, but Remus held him down, leaning over him. Logan held his breath as he felt Remus press the blade against his throat. “If my dear brother catches wind of our relationship, I will take you from him in the dead of night. I will hide you away where he will never find you and I will make you will regret existing. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your highness. I understand.” Logan wheezed, feeling the cold metal on his throat.

“Good, pretty boy.”

The flickering light at the periphery of Logan's vision brightened. Logan squirmed as he realized the edges of the room had caught fire. Without warning, the whole room erupted in flame as Logan struggled under Remus' weight but he was trapped, unable to shake him off. He looked up at Remus. His pupils glowed red and he smiled maniacally down at Logan. Logan panicked, fighting to get away.

“Just one more reminder of what’s at stake,” Remus giggled wildly, plunging his dagger into Logan's shoulder.

Logan cried out. His vision blurred, flames flickering on the edge of his periphery

“Goodbye for now, pretty boy.  Keep our deal and you won't have to come back here. Choose to fight me, and you’ll be back here soon.” Remus twisted the blade in Logan's shoulder. Logan screamed, his vision fading to black.

-

Logan woke screaming, drenched in sweat. He flung himself forward, suddenly free of Remus's weight. Thunder crashed above him, shaking the room. He flinched, covering his head, as Virgil burst through the door of his room. Scanning the room, Virgil realized what was happening.

“It's okay, Logan. You’re awake. You’re safe.” Virgil jumped up onto the bed, pulling Logan into a tight embrace, trying to stop him from hurting himself in his panic.

Logan slowly started to recognize his surroundings, his panic dissipating. Seeing Virgil didn't startle him as much this time. Instead, feeling his arms wrapped around him brought a sense of relief. The adrenaline was fading from his body and he collapsed from exhaustion into Virgil’s warmth. Virgil sat holding him until his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Jeez, L.” Virgil rubbed his shoulder. “That was a lot more intense than last night.”

“It-it wasn't a d-dream.” Logan managed to stutter.

“Of course it was, L. It wasn’t real. It's okay now. You’re safe.”

“No.” He replied, his voice steadying. He pulled back from Virgil, leaning his head back against the headboard.  “I've had nightmares since I was a kid, Vee. That wasn't a nightmare. That was… something worse.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil looked at him skeptically.

Logan folded his arms in his lap, silently trying to find the words to explain his experience. A flash of lightning illuminated the room and thunder roared in the distance as he processed what happened. He’d only just turned to Virgil to speak again when his shoulder started to burn, pain shooting across his chest. Logan groaned, clenching his teeth as he doubled over in pain.

“What's going on, L?” Virgil asked, panicked. Logan curled up in pain for several more seconds, leaning into Virgil shoulder. Unsure of what else to do, Virgil wrapped his arms around Logan gently.

“Logan. What's going?” Virgil whispered, panicked. He put his hand on Logan’s shoulder and he cried out in pain at the contact. Lightning lit up the room as Logan looked up at Virgil and a look of shock flashed across Virgil’s face. “Logan?! What—”

Logan exhaled as the pain faded to a dull ache. He collapsed into Virgil’s shoulder, closing his eyes as Virgil wrapped his arms tighter around him.

“I-I'm okay. The pain is easing.” Logan breathed. He sank further into the bed, exhausted.

“B-but—what—” Virgil stuttered manically glancing down at Logan. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “Great, now I'm seeing shit.”

Virgil frowned when Logan didn't even move. He leaned down to get a look at Logan’s face. “L? What just happened? Are you okay?”

Logan shook his head tiredly. Virgil watched in horror as he pulled down the neck of his shirt, exposing his shoulder. A large, dark bruise had formed just to the side of his collarbone. The skin around the bruise was irritated, red and warm to the touch.

“What the hell?!” Virgil gently reached over, placing his hand on Logan’s wound. Logan winced but leaned closer to Virgil.

“That solidifies my conclusion that it wasn't a dream.” Logan whispered, his eyelids drooping.

“I need you to stay awake, L.” Virgil guided Logan’s face up to look at him. “What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

Logan looked up at him tiredly. “It started like a dream. I was back in the dungeon, but everything was wrong. Nothing felt right.” Virgil could feel Logan quaking in his arms. “Remus appeared behind me. He knocked me to the ground and…” Logan shuddered and trailed off.

“This still sounds like a dream, L.” Virgil whispered softly. His heart pained for his friend.

“No, it was different.” A pained breath escaped him. “Remus spoke to me. The way he talked… it's like he knew we were in a dream.”

“He talked to you?” Virgil’s expression shifted but Logan was too exhausted to keep looking up at him.

Logan nodded. “The bruise. He…he stabbed my shoulder, and he twisted—"

Virgil wrapped his arms tight around him, pulling Logan’s head to his chest. “Shit, Logan. It's okay. You’re safe now. I've got you.”

Logan exhaled, exhausted. “We have a problem, Vee. Remus made it clear that if I tell Roman that he's responsible for what happened to me, he’ll take me from you guys. He’ll—” Logan curled closer to Virgil, tears in his eyes.

“I won't let him take you, L.” Virgil replied, fury in his voice.

Logan smiled at him for a moment, before his face dropped, defeated. “Virgil, he’s in my dreams. If he can keep me from sleeping, that alone could kill me.”

Virgil sat silently for a moment, running a hand through Logan's hair. He sighed, reaching into his shirt and pulling out a small, brass amulet on a long chain. He pulled it off and slipped it around Logan’s neck. Logan looked down at it, confused. The stone in the center was translucent with wisps of black. “Take it for now. It'll block some of the bad energy.”

Logan raised his eyebrow tiredly, as he examined the amulet. “What is it?”

“It's a dispelling charm. It scrambles your energy and makes you more difficult to find and blocks any negative energy headed your way.”

“That doesn’t make sense.  Stones are inanimate objects. They don't create or dispel energy.” Logan mumbled into Virgil’s shirt.

Virgil rolled his eyes, smiling playfully. “You were just assaulted in your sleep and you're going to debate me on this?”

Logan smiled.

Virgil relaxed, smiling down at Logan. “Listen, I think I know someone who can help. Are you okay enough to take a walk?”

Logan yawned, barely nodding. “I think I can manage.”

Virgil looked at him skeptically, watching Logan struggle to keep his eyes open. “Good enough. Get up. Grab your jacket. I'll be right back.”

“Wait, Virge—Don’t leave me—" Logan protested, anxiously grabbing at Virgil’s sleeve.

Virgil’s heart broke at the sad tone of Logan's voice. He rubbed Logan’s shoulder. “Hey, it's okay, L. I'm not going far. I'm just going to call the guards in the hall to escort us. Come on. Get up.” He nudged Logan towards the edge of the bed until Logan reluctantly stood up.

Virgil waited until Logan walked over to his closet before he left the room, glancing nervously back at Logan as he slipped through the door.

Logan pulled his coat out of his closet, but he turned to the bed too quickly. He staggered and nearly fell. Steadying himself, he moved over and leaned on the side of the bed until his legs felt stable again. He groaned. His chest ached from the bruises as he lifted up his coat, barely managing to pull his jacket on as Virgil returned.

“Are you ready?”

“I think so.” He said, pushing up of the bed . Suddenly dizzy, he stumbled, nearly falling into the wall.

“Easy, easy. Don't rush. L. Put your arm around my shoulder.” Virgil rushed over to help him. He wrapped a hand around Logan’s waist, careful to avoid his injured shoulder. Patiently, he waited as Logan adjusted until he felt comfortable.

“I'm good. Thanks, Vee.”

“Okay, carefully now. Let’s go.” Virgil led him through his chambers to the main door.

Stepping out, Virgil held Logan up while he locked the door behind them. Logan looked up nervously at the two armed guards standing on either side of the door, towering over them.

Feeling vulnerable, Logan leaned into Virgil. An uneasy breath escaped him.

Virgil turned to him. His eyes flicked between Logan and the guards before settling back on Logan. “You’re okay, L. I've got you. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Okay." Logan replied weakly.

“Come on. We got a long way to go.” Virgil said softly, before nodding at the guards. They took positions in front of and behind them and followed as they proceeded slowly down the corridor. Thunder echoed around them and lightning illuminated the dimly lit halls.  Logan snuck a glance out one of the windows as they walked. The window glowed with a soft light and could see the moon peeking through the storm clouds outside. Logan’s heart dropped at the sight of the moon still hanging high in the sky.

“I must not have been out for long.” Logan thought out loud.

“Two hours, maybe. You definitely didn’t sleep long enough.”

Logan moaned and his speech started to slur. “I don’t know how long I can keep goin’, if I don’t sleep soon.”

“You’re going to sleep tonight, L. We're getting you help. Now, hush. Save your energy. We'll talk when we get there.” Virgil sighed, unnerved by how fast Logan was fading.

“Where’re we going?”

“You'll find out when we get there, okay?”

“’Kay, Vee. I trus’ you.” His words slurred with exhaustion.

“Save your strength, L. We're almost there.”

They approached a set of double doors Logan recognized. “Are we—"

Virgil hushed him. “Later, L."

The guard in front of them opened the door for him. Virgil led him into the courtyard. Virgil turned briefly to the guards. “You’re dismissed. Return to your posts.”

Exchanging confused glances, the guards nodded at Virgil. Logan sighed with relief as they turned to leave. They closed the doors to the castle, leaving Virgil and Logan alone outside the castle. Virgil pulled up his hood before helping Logan adjust his own. Logan looked down to the wet ground, his vision swimming as he tried to watch as the raindrops struck the puddles below them. Virgil led Logan through the rain, around the edge of the courtyard, keeping to the shadows.  They moved slowly, making every effort to stay out of sight. Logan’s eyes drifted up, focusing, as he recognized the path they were following.

“Are we goin' to see Patton?” Logan asked, confused.

“You know Patton?”

"Met him earlier.  Pat's nice. He doesn't hate me.”

“What?” Virgil cocked his head in confusion.

“He doesn't hate me, like mos' people. ‘Cause they think I tried t'kill Roman.”  Logan said, slurring and stumbling over as he nearly lost consciousness.

Virgil lunged forward to catch him, accidentally grabbing Logan’s wound.

Logan whimpered softly.

Virgil eased his grip apologetically. “I'm sorry, L. We’re almost there.”

“Why'd we leave the guards, Vee? I don't understand why we did that.” Logan asked. His eyes drooped, unfocused.

“Because I want as few people as possible to know where you are, L. For your sake and Patton’s.”

“Oh, ‘dat makes sense. You’re smart.” Logan mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Okay, stop talking, L. You need to save your energy.”

“Oh…” Logan made a disappointed noise. “I'm bein’ annoyin’.”

“What?” Virgil looked down at him. “No, you’re not being annoying. I just don’t want you to pass out.”

“It’s okay.” Logan slurred. “Sometimes, I get excited an' I talk too much. People don't wanna listen to me ‘cause it's annoying.”

Virgil couldn’t help holding Logan tighter as he helped him up the stairs. “I like hearing you talk, Logan. It’s not annoying. I just don't want you to accidentally hurt yourself.”

Logan quietly leaned into Virgil’s shoulder.

“You good?”

Logan nodded.

“Okay.” Virgil turned and pounded on the door, holding Logan up as he waited. “Patton, open up!”

A few moments later, the door slowly opened and a sleepy Patton looked out at them, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Virgil? What's going on?”

“Patton, I need your help.” Virgil pleaded.

Patton looked down, eyes widening as he noticed at Logan fading in and out of consciousness. Suddenly awake, he rushed to Logan’s other side to help Virgil carry him inside.

“Careful, Pat. His shoulder's injured.” Virgil warned, as Patton approached Logan's other side.

Patton's face filled with concern, but he nodded at Virgil as he gently slipped under Logan's arm. He wrapped an arm around Logan’s waist as they helped him through the door.

The small house was quiet. Virgil glanced over at the small fire crackling in the fireplace, illuminating the room in a warm glow. It would have felt cozy, if it hadn't been for the half-conscious friend he had hanging at his side. Logan murmured incoherently as they carried him across the room.

“Okay." Patton gripped him gently. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you in the bed, ‘kay?”

“Uh… huh.” Logan muttered. His eyes fluttering closed.

Virgil lightly jostled him. “Stay awake for a little longer, L.”

“‘Kay, Vee. I'll try.” Logan muttered, barely audible.

Patton and Virgil carefully helped Logan onto the bed, laying him down gently. Virgil sat on the bed next to him, making sure Logan stayed awake.

“What happened, Virgil?” Patton hissed at him, distressed.

"I'll explain soon. I promise." Virgil held his hands up in surrender. “But first, is your house warded?”

Patton stopped in his tracks, taken aback. “Well, yeah. Just basic stuff but it's protected.”

“Now's the time to drop whatever you've got, Pat. Make your house a fortress.”

“What? Why?” He looked at Virgil, confused. “What am I even warding against?”

“Astral projection. Psychic attack. Whatever it takes to keep them out of Logan's head.”

“Them who, Virge?” Patton splurted, exasperated.

Virgil smiled sympathetically at him. “Pat, I promise I’ll explain once we’re safe.”

Patton groaned in frustration but he turned to his desk, digging through the drawers. “Fine. Grab the dried sage off the mantel. Burn it in here. That'll give me a buffer to set things up.”

Virgil nodded and quickly set to work unwrapping one of the packages of dried herbs. He pulled out a small handful of sage, breaking it into pieces and dropping them into the small cast iron bowl that Patton had indicated. He lit the herb, gently blowing on it until it smoldered and smoke billowed out.

Once the sage was lit, he turned to watch Patton work, occasionally sneaking glances at Logan to make sure he was still awake. Virgil watched silently as Patton kneeled next to the bed and pulled out a large, metal box from under his bed. He didn't miss the sad look that fell over Patton's face as Logan mumbled into the sheets of the bed as Patton moved around him. Virgil smiled sadly as Patton reluctantly tore his gaze from Logan to flip open the box. Recovering his focus, Patton dug through the box of charms, pulling some out of the box and shoving it back under the bed.  He started to wander the edge of the room, hanging charms as he went and muttering incantations under his breath.

Patton barely had the last incantation out of his mouth as he turned to Virgil with a deathly glare on his face. “Explain. Now.”

Virgil shrunk back. He knew Patton wasn't angry at him. He was only upset at Logan’s current condition, but Patton had a way of reducing him to feeling like a petulant child. “Almost, Pat. I have another favor to ask.”

Virgil flinched as Patton continued to glare at him.

“Is there a way to get Logan to sleep without dreaming?”

“What?” Patton’s anger faded to a confused look.

“You heard me right, Pat. I want to keep him from dreaming tonight. I promise this is the last thing I'll ask of you before I explain what's going on.” Virgil glanced over at Logan, struggling to stay awake on the bed. It worried him that Logan hadn't even looked up at them as they talked about him. “Please, let's get him to sleep and I'll tell you everything.”

Patton stared at Virgil, frustrated, but his expression softened as he looked over at Logan. Patton sighed. “Fine. Yes, I can do that. Grab the valerian root off the shelf behind you and bring it here. Patton pulled out a small mortar and pestle out from his desk drawer. Virgil watched over his shoulder as Patton ground up the valerian root and mixed with a variety of other herbs and oils. Virgil thought he saw lavender and maybe rose petals but the rest of the herbs were a mystery to him. A sweet floral scent drifted up from the table as he watched Patton continue working diligently until the mixture formed a fine paste.

“That smells good." Virgil commented offhandedly.

“Yeah, it doesn't taste great though, so hopefully he can keep it down.” Patton moved to sit on the bed next to Logan. “Alright, Lo, you're going to have to sit up.”

Logan nodded. Virgil moved over to the bed, helping him up to a sitting position. He leaned into Virgil’s chest to stay upright.

Patton held his fingers on Logan’s neck, checking his pulse. Seemingly satisfied, he held a hand to his briefly to Logan’s forehead, looking him right in the eyes, which were partially glazed over.

“Lo, focus on me. ‘Kay, kiddo?”

Logan nodded tiredly, turning his head in Patton’s direction.

“Good, kiddo. I'm going to put a spoonful of this in your mouth and you’re going to hold it under your tongue.” He waited for Logan to nod before continuing. “It's going to taste really bad but you have to keep it in your mouth. It's going to help you sleep. Once it's under your tongue, count to sixty and then swallow it, okay?”

Logan nodded. Patton took a spoonful of the mixture and held it out to him. Logan obediently put it in his mouth. Immediately, he looked like he might gag.

“Don't spit it out.” Patton warned.

Logan nodded back, reluctantly.

“Good job, Lo. Keep it under your tongue and count to sixty.” He smiled encouragingly.

Logan’s face scrunched as he counted. The minute seemed to last an eternity but eventually Patton nodded to indicate he can swallow. Patton was waiting with a glass of water when he was finished and Logan downed the glass in one go, aching to get the taste out of his mouth.

“You did good, kiddo. Now, we're going to lay you down. It should kick in soon. Okay?”

Logan nodded tiredly as Virgil gently laid him back on the pillow. Patton pulled the blanket up around him and tucked him in tightly. His eyes dropped shut and a few minutes later, they could hear a gentle breathing as Logan finally slept.

“He's okay. Right, Pat?” Virgil asked, distracted. “He wasn't this disoriented when he woke up earlier. I know he hasn't been sleeping but—”

“You’re stalling, kiddo.” Patton interrupted impatiently, but he decided to set Virgil’s anxiety at ease anyway. “He's okay. His breathing and his pulse are strong and steady and he doesn't have a fever. I think he's just exhausted, Virgil.”

Virgil frowned, watching the rise and fall of Logan’s chest.

Patton turned to him, crossing his arms. “Time to explain, Virgil.”

“Okay, Pat. Come over here. I'll tell you what I know.”

You Belong With Me Taglist: @cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname@ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @imbadatnames8d @optimistic-violinist @somehow-i-got-an-account @croftersphoenix @dwbh888

[paganvamp]

Saving Grace: Chapter 9

Maja runs into Rebekah... and learns something more about her curse.

Masterlist

1001 AD: Blood Ties

Luckily for Maja, Elijah decided they needed more than one afternoon to figure out what was happening between them. He had found her a room in their stately home that was tucked in a back corner in the servant’s wing, as far from his siblings as he could get her. Not that Maja thought a long walk or a locked door would stop the vampires if they decided they wanted her for a late night snack, but she admired the effort. The first day, she didn’t leave the room at all - Elijah visited her when he could slip away from Klaus or Rebekah, the only two likely to notice his absence, and they theorized until he felt the need to leave again. The second day, Maja decided it was ridiculous to hide in a room while in a house full of vampires — one way or another, they would notice her presence.

And she was right — the first time she left her room, she was discovered. Again, perhaps in another sign of divine luck, the vampire she happened to stumble upon was Rebekah.

“Maja?” Rebekah blinked at her for a moment, as though she might be a mirage. With no clue how she was meant to explain her being in Arles, let alone in their house, Maja simply smiled awkwardly.

“He-hello. How… are you?” She hadn’t had a true conversation with the other girl since her transition.

“In Arles, with no one but my brothers for company.” She sounded so forlorn that Maja blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Well, now there’s me.” Being Rebekah’s companion was not exactly what Maja had in mind when she spent months on a ship crossing the ocean, but the words were out and she could not take them back. Rebekah brightened considerably, and Maja found herself wishing she could set aside the thing Bekah had become and rekindle their old friendship.

“Now there is you.” The girl repeated. “When did you arrive?” That wasn’t the question she truly wanted to ask, but she was attempting politeness, which Maja supposed was kind.

“I reached Arles five days ago. I… spoke with Elijah the evening before last, and he gave me a room.”

“So that’s where he’s been sneaking off to.” The younger girl murmured the words to herself, as if proving a theory. To Maja, she asked, “Why did you come?” How to answer that?

“I… had to flee the village. With most of the people dead, the wolves did not feel the need to keep to their own spaces.” She was lying through her teeth and hoping Rebekah would not realize. “We thought we might start over again in a new land, and set sail for Arles. Within a few days, I had heard talk of your family and thought, perhaps, you or your brother might lend some assistance.”

“Is your whole family here?” Rebekah had always held a special fondness for Maja’s eldest brother, Tyvold.

“Only Nils and I could make the trip.” She purposely didn’t explain why the others couldn’t come. “And my parents…” Rebekah suddenly looked uncomfortable. Maja didn’t know which of the newly turned immortals had taken her mother’s life, but she had a feeling Rebekah knew quite well. “Elijah provided a room for Nils at a local inn.”

“But not you?” She really was smarter than most gave her credit for.

“Neither of them trusted I would be safe in the village.” That was true. Nils had been nervous since they’d arrived — a pretty young girl new to town and seemingly with nothing to tie her down practically screamed victim. The three nights before they’d located Elijah had been spent wherever they could find shelter. All things considered, her room in a house of vampires was quite comfortable.

“Yes, that sounds like Elijah.” Rebekah was still curious about Maja’s sudden appearance in her hallway, but she seemed content for the moment. “Well, then. You can’t very well sit in a dull old room all day, waiting for my brother to ‘sneak’ away and visit you. Though I suppose you’ve come to that conclusion as well, because you’re out in the hallway.” Rebekah grabbed Maja’s arm, looping it through her own the way they used to do when they walked around their village. “Let me show you around.”

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

To say Elijah was displeased would be an understatement, but there was little to be done about it now. After both he and Rebekah had discovered Kol would not be joining them for dinner that night — the one with actual food that Grace suspected they were having for her sake — they made her presence known to both Finn and Niklaus in time for her to join them for the meal.

Aside from the natural shock of finding her in their home, Finn was impassive as always, though he did express his disapproval, which was also not new. Klaus was surprised, as well, though also slightly amused for some reason. He was, of course, quite cross with his siblings for keeping such a thing from him and left Maja with an ominous warning to watch herself, especially around Kol. He delighted in informing her of how much her dear friend had changed after his transition — not because it upset her, of course, but because he knew it would likely irritate Kol. Dinner was a quick affair. Afterwards, Rebekah made it known that Maja would in fact become her companion, and that she would finish giving her the tour of the house tomorrow. Maja slept restlessly, worried that one of them might become too curious and discover the true reason she had come. She and Elijah were the keepers of a secret that could cost her life if discovered, and if anyone were to find them out, it would be the rest of the so-called Mikaelsons.

Before she knew it, Rebekah was at her door in lieu of a compelled servant, and the sun was shining in brightly through the window. She was given one of Rebekah’s dresses to wear — which meant it was too long and slightly ill-fitting — and whisked out the door. Rebekah began speaking as they headed toward a hall they had not seen yesterday.

“These rooms are technically ‘off-limits’, according to Nik, which of course means we’ve all been through them a hundred times.” She explained, pointing to the first door to their right. “Nik keeps that one as a study, full of books and scrolls and all manner of dull, boring things.” But as she began to point out another room, Maja felt her hem catch on her foot, and before she knew what was happening she was pitching forward. On instinct, she threw her arms out, scrambling for any sort of hold, and Rebekah - likely on instinct as well — held out her arms to catch her as she fell. As their limbs made contact in a supremely ungraceful manner, however, Maja felt her fingernail scrape down the length of the other girl’s forearm before righting herself.

They both watched as a very thin scratch mark appeared in the wake of her untrimmed nails, the skin breaking just enough so the smallest bit of a blood bubbled up. It healed almost instantly, of course, but they both continued to stare, as if neither one could actually believe that Maja had managed to draw blood on one of the world’s apex predators with a fingernail. A wave of dizziness rolled over her, not quite strong enough to mean she was going to have a vision. She shook it off and looked away from the other girl’s now blemish-free skin.

“I’m so sorry, Rebekah. My hem caught.” She felt slightly awkward, as if something in the air had changed. Or perhaps the energy surrounding them was suddenly different. Rebekah studied her for a moment before apparently shaking off the moment as well.

“No matter. We shall get it trimmed. Now, Nik has discovered a talent for art…” as she led them to another room, Maja had the strangest feeling of déjà vu… as if something like this had happened to her before.

[mankaithings]

Sumeragi Tenma x Reader

“Sumeragi Tenma I am coming in!” You announced outside the door and slammed the door open, revealing your friend rubbing his forehead while Yuki, on his side of the room, was holding back his laughter upon watching the scene of Tenma hitting hit head on the wall in surprise 

“Can’t you walk in more quietly?” Tenma grumbled while you rolled your eyes at him 

“Come on hurry up! We don’t have all day!” You told him and walked out the room, “I’ll be in the kitchen, eating Omi-san’s food so get ready!” 

“Really, that girl.” Tenma sighed while Yuki just rolled his eyes as he watched Tenma hold back a smile, everybody knew that the actor was immensely into his so called ‘friend’ yet Tenma would never admit that, always denying his feelings for you as much as he could 

“Zumi-san~” You greeted Izumi and flopped down on the stool in the kitchen, 

“What are you doing here?” She placed down her mug of coffee and looked at you with curiosity

“Me and Tenten are hanging out,” You smiled as Omi placed a plate of chocolate chip pancake infront of you, “You’re the best Omi-san!” You flashed the older man a bright smile which he returned 

“So a date?” You choked on the piece of pancake upon hearing Izumi’s question. You and Tenma on a date, very funny! You two are just friends, nothing more, nothing less. Well maybe you did feel something for…

“Nice joke Zumi-san!” You laughed and drank from the juice Omi handed you earlier along with the pancake, “You sure you aren’t part of the Summer troupe?”

But Izumi just smirked and drank her coffee

‘Shit she got it,’ You cursed mentally and immediately showed Izumi a pleading look

“Oh great curry queen Tachibana Izumi,” You started of as dramatically as you can, “Please keep it a secret,” You pleaded her, desperate to make sure Tenma doesn’t know anything about your feelings for him

You looked up to Izumi who looked flattered being called a curry queen, she took your hand in her own as she looked you in the eye, “I will make sure to keep it a secret, (First name).” 

Sakyo who was listening in the sidelines just sighed at yours and the director’s antics, getting up from his chair to make another mug of coffee while Omi chuckled at the scene

“Alright, that’s enough. You’re foods going to get cold, (First name).” Omi reminded you just as Tenma walked into the kitchen

“Good morning,” He yawned and sat on the stool beside you, 

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

“Hey Tenma, hurry will you?” You groaned at him who was covering himself with glasses, “You do know that your disguise doesn’t really hide your identity, right?” you nudged his shoulder while he rolled his eyes 

“It hides me perfectly, in fact.” He said proudly while the two of you walked inside the mall

“It’s either it actually works or people just feels bad at your feeble attempt and acts with it,” 

“Oi what did you say?!” He demanded while you just ignored him and grabbed his hand, 

“Don’t let go, I don’t want you lost.” 

“I don’t need you to take care of me!” But his actions contrasted his words, he didn’t let go of your hand, partially because he knew you were right and he just didn’t want to admit how awful his direction skills are but for most part, he likes the way your hands fit in his, not to mention it was extremely warm and soft 

You tried to calm your burning cheeks down, although you were sure Tenma wouldn’t notice how flustered you got, you still wanted to make sure nothing was too obvious, who knows when he starts to become more observant?

“Oh hey look, ice cream!” You pointed at the store with a wide smile on your face

Tenma felt his lips twitch up upon seeing your smile, who knew something this simple could make him happier? Also, he’d never admit it out loud but he finds your smile adorable and at the same time irresistible but before you could even see him smile, he let out a cough and dropped his smile

“Ice cream? Fine, help yourself.” 

After getting yourselves ice cream, you happily ate yours. Forgetting about Tenma and only noticing him when he slipped his hands on your free hand 

“Shu-shut up, not like I want to do this, I just need to make sure I’m always beside you.” He reasoned, unable to meet your eyes but you just hummed and swung your hands back and forth. Tenma hardly initiated any skinship so you were happy to make the best of what he gives 

“Where shall thee go next?” You asked him after finishing your respective ice creams, 

“How about this clothes store?” He pointed while you looked at him blankly, causing the latter to heave a sigh

“Thee shall go to thy clothes store,” He muttered while you hummed and pulled him,

 “Then come thy prince!” You announced while Tenma sighed, 

“Oh I think this will look great on you.” You showed him a shirt but he just shook his head, 

“It doesn’t look that good,”

“Maybe it’s just on you~”

“Why you-!”

“Excuse me,” A female voice cut through your argument with Tenma, “If you two are interested, we have some clothes for couples over there.” She pointed to the far right and sure enough it was filled with couples looking for matching shirts 

“We-we aren’t-!”

“Thank you,” You smiled at the saleswoman and pulled Tenma to the couple shirts

“We aren’t a couple!” Tenma whisper yelled at you, his cheeks on fire with just the thought of wearing it… specially when it was matching with you

“But they’re cute!” You argued 

“But they’re for couples!”

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

“I can’t believe we bought couple shirts,” Tenma said, his voice full of disbelief, “Even more, I can’t believe that woman actually thought we were a couple and even called us cute when she saw us with the shirts,” 

“Hey Tenma,” You cut off his rambling and placed your drink down, you were at the food court eating lunch 

“How would you feel if I say I like you?”

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

Tenma kept rolling over in his bed that night, the question still lingering in his mind, were you just joking when you said that? You did laugh it off afterwards and even teased him for the face he made but what if you didn’t? What if like him, you were just afraid

“Hack, will you keep silent?” Tenma heard Yuki ask from his bed, “How can anybody trash around their bed as noisy as you?”

But Tenma paid it no mind, his mind still filled with thoughts from the previous night

You screamed on your pillow, you have never felt more like an idiot as you did in the moment. What were you thinking asking that out of the blue? Was it because of the couple shirt? Probably the couple shirt or maybe because you couldn’t help yourself anymore 

You grabbed your phone from beside you and looked at your wallpaper, it you and Tenma smiling beside each other, it was taken just after he blew his candles for his birthday at the dorm

“Guess I won’t be seeing him for some time then,” You mumbled to yourself, 

The next morning, or rather afternoon, you woke up with the sound of your ringtone 

“Holy crap, this song is really annoying,” You grumbled, grabbing your phone and pressing answer without even looking at the screen, “Who is this?” You didn’t bother to hide the raspiness of your voice

“It’s me,” You heard Tenma cough through the other line, trying to ease the awkwardness he was feeling 

You immediately stood upright, suddenly becoming more alert and awake upon hearing Tenma’s vice ring through your ear, “Te-tenma I thought you had rehearsals,” 

“Director let me end early,” Tenma replied, he wasn’t lying he was just… hiding the reason for it which was him spacing off and saying the wrong lines, in the end Izumi decided that perhaps Tenma is tired and needs some rest 

“But other than that,” Tenma wasted no time in changing the subject, “Are you free? Can we meet up?” 

-------

You entered the Mankai dorms and greeted Sakyo and Azuma who was playing mahjong while Hisoka peacefully slept on Azuma’s shoulder

“Ah (First name), do you have any business with us today?” Homare asked you, stopping from writing his poems, “If you don’t why don’t you lis-”

“I’m here to see Tenma,” You cutted off Homare who at first looked devastated to hear the news but suddenly had a glint in his eyes, “You are meeting up with our head strong actor? I say good luck to you my dear.” He smiled and went back to writing 

You smiled weakly and nodded, you didn’t bother comprehending what he meant by his words and actions and proceeded to walk towards Tenma’s room 

Even though Tenma wanted to talk with you somewhere else, it’s not like the two of you could. Yesterday the two of you were lucky that no one caught him but now, he was going to discuss a serious topic and he’d rather play safe than have the possibility of paparazzi hearing about your conversation 

Tenma was broken from his thoughts when he heard a knock, “Tenma it’s me,” You said through the other side of the door 

“Yeah come in.” You opened the door to see Tenma standing in the middle of the room awkwardly, his eyes not leaving your figure as you closed the door and walked towards him, leaving a considerable amount of space between the two of you

“So is everything al-”

“Can we talk about yesterday?” He cut you off making your mouth run dry. You were expecting this but somehow the words you practiced were suddenly caught in your throat as Tenma ranted on

“Honestly saying something like that, even if you say it was a joke you still said it so seriously! Because of that I can’t sleep, honestly-” Tenma continued on while you took a deep breath in hopes that it will calm you down 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

“I like you,” You said at the same time as Tenma who was left shellshocked, his mouth hanging open through your confession

“This isn’t the time to joke around,” He warned you but you just sighed

“I know I always mess up with you,” You started, gulping down your nerves that was telling you to stop, “But this time I am serious and I am telling you that I like you, not as a friend but as a man.” You bit your lip in nervousness as you looked at Tenma whose jaw was still slacked 

“I-I mean,” He stammered out a start, his face gradually turning red, “O-of course you would! Who wouldn’t,” He averted his eyes to the wall 

“B-but if you want, we...we could go out.” Still not meeting your eyes, you blinked and finally let out a smile

“Oh my god, this is so nerve wracking,” You breathed out, “But I’ve been waiting for this for so long, I hope you know that I won’t be turning your offer down,” You smiled at Tenma who looked at you, his face visibly brightening up

A knock interrupted the two of you, with Yuki’s voice calling from outside.

[nebulousneuroticism]

Yesterday was quite a day.  I slept poorly, in anticipation of the day, and ended up being awoken early by the sound of fire alarms.  It was fire inspection day, and I hauled myself out of bed and let them in when they knocked.  The fire alarms continued to blare occasionally, so there was no way I was getting back to sleep.

Around noon, I went to get my covid vaccine.  I drove about twenty minutes away to a pharmacy in a grocery store.  I filled out a form and then sat in a chair until they called my name.  They gave me the shot right there, in a chair in the grocery store.  It was a normal shot, not bad at all; and I felt very relieved and proud of myself afterward, as I often do when I accomplish simple tasks.

I went home and did some work.  I ran an interview, and then graded it.  I went out to get some food.  I noticed I was feeling tired, but it wasn’t clear whether that was caused by the vaccine or by my poor sleep.

Around nine o’ clock, I started playing some Apex Legends with my best friend, and that’s when the side effects really started kicking in.  I felt cold and started shivering, even though I had piled myself with blankets and it was warm in my apartment.  I felt pain, too, like my clothes were chafing all over my body.  But I pushed through and played until almost eleven.

Then, I crawled into bed and had a miserable, feverish night.  I took my temperature at one point--it was 101.9.  That’s a pretty high fever.  I messaged work that I would probably miss my morning meeting, and then fell asleep sometime after midnight.

I felt much better when I woke up, not long after my usual time.  The fever was gone, replaced by a general body/head ache.  I chugged some water and dozed the day away.  When I got up again the afternoon, I actually felt pretty good.

So, I felt good enough to attend Dungeons and Dragons.  I gathered my things and fought traffic to get across town.  The game was fine, but I wasn’t really on my social game.  I felt very shy.  I left right when we finished, and fought traffic (which was somehow still really bad) back the other way.

Yeah.  A very eventful couple of days.  I did not expect the vaccine to hit me as hard as it did.  The fact that I had such a strong reaction to it only further feeds my suspicion that I actually had covid last summer when I was really sick, despite the negative test I got then.  But I’m glad I got the shot, and double-glad I got the single-dose one so I won’t have to go through it again.

I feel okay tonight.  Looking forward to a nice, solid sleep, and hopefully a quiet day at work tomorrow.  I really need to catch up on things... this week has been pretty bad, productivity-wise. 

[imagine-loki]

Predator to Prey, Chapter 6

TITLE: Predator to Prey CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 6 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki lives in exile on Midgard in a forest, he can’t leave the boundary. But every night when the sun goes down he turns into his Jotun form until the sun rises again. He meets a wolf one day and befriends her, gains her trust. But the wolf is no ordinary wolf… RATING: M

Since being allowed to pet her properly for the first time, it opened up something new for both Loki and Akelia.

She started seeking out his affection often. Finding she enjoyed it, that it felt nice.

When Loki sat on his chair to read, he used his Seidr to turn the pages because Akelia, more often than not, would have her head on his lap for him to stroke her head or scratch her ears. Which he discovered she loved and it would make her back leg start to kick if he hit the right spot, or she would make funny groaning noises. Just like a dog.

He also discovered that she loved her belly being rubbed. She started rolling onto her back for him to do it.

In the mornings she also started jumping up onto his bed for some fussing. He was surprised at himself that he didn’t actually mind that, he enjoyed her companionship more than he would ever admit.

One afternoon Loki was sitting by the fire, waiting for food to cook. He looked over to Akelia who was lying down next to him and he frowned, she was chewing on a large stick. Again. He’d already told her off multiple times before for chewing them, saying she would get them stuck or splinters in her mouth, but she just grumbled at him in response.

Loki rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother telling her off. Because he knew she would just ignore him anyway. He was certain she had selective hearing.

He’d just closed his eyes to rest when suddenly Akelia let out a loud yelp. His eyes flew open and he looked down to see her pawing at her mouth while she whined in obvious pain.

‘Akelia, I told you not to chew damn sticks!’ He chastised and slid off his chair to kneel on the ground next to her.

She looked up at him and grumbled a little, then whined again as her mouth hurt.

‘What have you done? Splinter?’ He reached out towards her muzzle.

She tried moving her head away from him, but he was too swift and managed to grab her. He had to prise her jaw apart to take a look inside, she was snarling at him while he did so, but he ignored her and managed to spot a splinter on her tongue.

‘You daft bugger. You’re going to need to work with me here to get it out, I promise it will hurt less once it’s out.’ Loki said firmly as he conjured tweezers in his hand, causing Akelia’s eyes to widen.

She whined and tried to move away, but Loki grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, making her growl at him.

‘Stop it. Lie down.’ He growled back at her.

She grumbled but lay down as he said. When he moved towards her mouth again, she moved her head away from him.

‘Akelia.’ He said firmly.

She let out a sigh and reluctantly opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out a bit. It was painful and she knew that Loki wouldn’t hurt her, he would help her. She just had to trust him.

Loki was as gentle as possible as he took hold of her tongue and used the tweezers to remove the splinter. She yelped again when he managed to grab it and pull it out, but then she felt instant relief and flopped down onto her side with a big sigh.

‘Now will you stop chewing sticks?’ Loki asked, stroking her side.

She just humphed and looked away from him, making him chuckle.

But Loki then had an idea. He disappeared into his wooden shed at the side of the cottage, where he kept some of the animals he’d hunted. Akelia’s ears twitched as she heard some sawing sounds and then she looked up, intrigued, when he emerged.

He was carrying a bit of an antler from a deer he’d caught yesterday. He tossed it down on front of Akelia and she sniffed it.

‘You can chew that, it won’t splinter and will be good for your teeth.’ He smiled, sitting down.

She started to gnaw on it, then realised he was right, it was perfect for chewing. Glancing over at Loki, she let out a small bark of appreciation then went to town on the antler. It kept her occupied until Loki had their food prepared.

‘Do you like to swim?’ Loki asked after they finished eating.

Akelia tilted her head at him, then flicked it up confirming yes.

‘We should go to the lake later, since it’s such a warm day for a change.’ Loki suggested. ‘Besides, you could do with a wash, you’re getting smelly.’ He teased.

Akelia narrowed her eyes at him and growled a little. He chuckled and patted her head as he got up from his seat, she stuck her back leg out and tripped him over as he walked by.

He glared back at her, and was sure if she was a human she would be smirking. Judging by the look on her face.

She was so expressionful for a wolf. It made him wonder what her origins were.

In the afternoon sun the two took a trip to the lake that was near the edge of the forest, luckily still within the boundary of the trees. Akelia was straight in, glad to cool off since it had turned so hot of late.

Loki was slow to join her, so she swam to the side and pawed at the water, splashing him. He laughed and used his Seidr to have his clothes disappear, then he jumped in near her causing the water to cover her.

When he emerged up from the water, he swam over to her and dunked her head down. She then stayed under the water and tried nipping at his ankles to get her own back, but he was a strong swimmer so was able to get up a good amount of speed.

After swimming around for a while, Loki climbed out of the lake and lay down on the grass with his arms out at his side. He felt warmed when Akelia got out too and lay down next to him, her head and paws resting on his left arm.

They had a snooze on the grass, then made their way back home afterwards. On the way back, Akelia caught a pheasant and another rabbit to add to their food stash.

Akelia was snoozing on the sofa in the evening when her ears started twitching. She could hear one of the sacrifices coming down into the clearing. She grumbled low, alerting Loki, who had sensed her too.

‘Easy, Akelia. Don’t scare her off just yet. Let me have my fun first.’ Loki chuckled and made his way to the door, changing into his Jotun form on the way since it wasn’t quite dusk yet.

Akelia watched intently as Loki went outside to get the girl. She didn’t hear any protests from her, just a gasp of shock at seeing Loki. It was a different story when he guided the girl inside and she spotted the large wolf lying on the sofa.

‘Come on, she won’t harm you. You should be more worried about what I am going to do to you.’ Loki growled, making her whimper as he put a firm hand to her lower back and guided her through to the bedroom.

Akelia usually stayed out in the living room while Loki was having his fun with the girls. But tonight, she decided to go and have a look.

Loki was fucking the girl roughly on the bed, missionary position with the girl’s hands tied above her head. He looked over when he heard Akelia’s footsteps coming into the bedroom. The wolf went to her bed and lay down, but Loki noticed that her blue eyes were locked onto him, watching…

The girl noticed the wolf in the room and started freaking out, that just made Loki even more excited having her squirming under him. He took his pleasure from her, all the while Akelia was watching, then he chucked the girl out once he was done.

Akelia growled and snapped towards her ankles when she ran by out of the room as quickly as possible.

Loki chuckled as he lay down, sweaty and satisfied. He looked down towards Akelia. ‘Did you enjoy the show?’

The wolf just stared back at him.

‘Maybe we need to find you a fellow wolf to have fun with.’ He said, chuckling at her reaction when she humphed and lay her head down.

Loki rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

-

Her warm body felt good as she bounced up and down on his cock, he groaned and gripped her hips tightly. Her jet-black hair cascaded down her back, beautiful blue eyes locked onto his while she moved gracefully on top of him.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her features were perfect, like a Goddess.

When he came, he moaned and closed his eyes, his head falling back to the pillow. He panted hard, then felt the woman slip off him and out of his grasp.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ He opened his eyes with a smirk, but froze. Expecting to see the woman there, he was shocked to see Akelia sat on the bottom of his bed, staring at him.

Loki sat up suddenly with a gasp, surprised and confused at his dream. But what startled him even more was Akelia was actually sat on the bottom of his bed, watching him.

‘What the…’

Akelia grumbled softly and pawed at his foot that was under the blanket. He looked to the clock on his bedside table and saw it was morning, he’d slept in.

‘You’re wanting breakfast, right?’ He pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat up more.

Akelia gave a small bark and jumped off the bed, wagging her tail.

‘Ok, ok. I’m up, I’m up.’ He groaned and slid out of bed.

As he started to wake up more while he sorted breakfast for them both, he couldn’t stop thinking about his dream. Had it just been a coincidence of his subconscious knowing Akelia was there, watching him and waiting for breakfast? Surely it was…

He shook his head and tried to push it out of his mind.

But later that day, while he watched Akelia chewing her antler, he decided to try and do some research about her. Because from day one, he had a feeling there was something different about her, something that was niggling at him.

And he was going to get to the bottom of it.

[oh-obrien]

Inscrutable {5}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

Word Count: 6,186 6,485

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I am back!!! Sorry for the delay I just had a really rough go for a couple weeks. Now, an angsty chapter that may wrap up well before shit starts to go down. Message me or send me an ask to be tagged!!

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

“Beacon Hills is honestly pretty chill right now, man.” Scott shrugged and ran a hand through his messy hair, looking over at Malia for her to confirm his statement. However, Stiles also knew his dad had told Scott to keep everything that had been going on in Beacon Hills on the down low from Stiles, not wanting him more distracted from school than he would be normally. Malia’s hesitant nod only aided in confirming Stiles’ suspicions. “Seriously!” Scott added when he saw Stiles’ gaze narrow. “Me and Derek got it, we’re like, a power couple?” His voice went up a little bit at the end, making it sound like a question. “Yeah, I think that’s the right term!” He just shrugged afterwards, not really caring if his terminology had been correct or not.

Malia rolled her eyes at Scott, “seriously, Stiles,” she started. “We have everything under control here, you and Lydia should just be concerned about college right now.” Stiles took a deep breath and shook his head, about to tell the pair he could see through their lies when his phone started ringing. 

He quickly jerked his head over to where his phone sat on his bed and squinted, making sure he read the caller ID right. “Who’s that, bro?” Scott asked after seeing his best friend’s confused look.

“Uhh, Finley,” he said, picking up his phone and answering the call. “Hey, everything okay?” Stiles asked, his tone filled with genuine concern. Stiles knew that Finley had been going to see her dad earlier that morning, and he also knew from what she had said the night before that their relationship was slightly strained at the moment to say the least. 

“No. Stiles, I- I need to talk to you.” Her voice cracked towards the end and Stiles’ eyes widened as he looked up to see Scott and Malia watching and listening in confusion. Thank God they couldn’t use their were-hearing to listen in on the phone call, if they could Scott would have even more questions than he already would.

Stiles took in a sharp breath, “okay,” he tried to sound as soothing as possible, now would not be the best time for his anxiety to take over. Well take over noticeably, he already felt himself starting to panic slightly. “Right now, you’re safe though?” He tried to run through questions he knew his dad would as if he received a similar phone call. Stiles heard a small ‘mmhum’ from Finley and let out a sigh of relief. “Do you need me to come get you from somewhere, I can’t drive since I don’t have a car here, but I can come get you.”

“No,” she sniffled. Why would she be crying? “I just think I need to talk to you; can you meet me at my dorm in like an hour and a half?” An hour and a half seemed awfully long when she clearly sounded upset. However, if that’s how long she needed he would agree.

Stiles looked at the clock on his desk and noticed it had already passed noon. The pair had slept in until nearly ten, but he didn’t realize it had already hit noon. By the time he got to her dorm it would be nearly two in the afternoon. “I can do that,” he said, “do you need me to bring anything,”

“No, thank you,” she said quietly. “I’ll see you soon?”

Stiles couldn’t help but smile a little bit, despite how upset she sounded. He watched Scott raise his eyebrow and smirk and Stiles rolled his eyes at his best friend before responding.  “I’ll see you soon,” he went to pull the phone away from his face before adding, “call sooner if you need anything.” After hearing an ‘okay’ he said goodbye before hanging up. 

Stiles saw Scott and Malia still watching him. “So?” Scott dragged out the word. 

“She asked if I could swing by her dorm in an hour and a half,” Stiles looked down at his phone, confused. “She sounded like she was- crying?” He watched Malia’s face morph into confusion while Scott pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, clearly thinking. Which could be dangerous. At least there wasn’t any smoke coming out of his ears this time. Stiles swore it used to happen in school on occasion.

Stiles sank back into his bed even more than he had been before letting out a long sigh, pulling at the ends of his messy hair. “Uhh,” Scott started, “did anything like happen last night that could trigger a reaction like that?” He asked, clearly trying to help Stiles think over possibilities as to why Finley would be crying and want to see him.

“N- no,” Stiles stuttered out trying to think, “she seemed - well she got upset talking about like couples and how she’s never had a boyfriend or even a fling,” he spoke. “I don’t - I really don’t think talking about this would help my anxiety at all right now so, if we can just not focus on that I’d be happy,” Stiles started fidgeting with his fingers. 

“Yeah, totally man,” Scott smiled. “So, Chris and my Mom last weekend-”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Finley walked into her room and dropped her backpack on her floor, not caring about the new files her father had given her at the office earlier that morning. If they wrinkled in her bag, then so be it. She hadn’t even bothered to ask what they had in them after they had been handed to her. She shoved them into her bag before going off on a ramble about Stiles and how she hated how right everything felt with him. That had been before she got dragged to lunch with her uncle and wound up leaving the restaurant like some type of lunatic though. 

Pulling off her wet long sleeve shirt she dropped it in the middle of the floor with a loud, wet plop and sat down on her desk chair to pull off her jeans that stuck to her legs. She knew that her suitemates would still be out to lunch with a few of the guys on the men’s lacrosse team, so she didn’t care about pushing the bathroom door open in only her bra and underwear, both also soaked through.  

She pulled her bra and underwear off before looking herself over in the mirror. She still felt chilled to the bone from her walk back to campus in the rain, especially since it had been an unusually cold day. She looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in weeks. She let out a long breath of air and poked at the bags under her eyes. She had gotten the best sleep she had in months the night before, but she couldn’t help but feel absolutely exhausted. Talking about her family tended to do that to her though. It would forever be a topic that mentally drained her, no matter who she talked to about it with.

Finley made sure to lock the bathroom door that led into her suitemates’ room, just in case, before starting the shower, turning the handle to as hot as she knew she could tolerate without burning her skin. It would heal over almost immediately, but blistering her skin never tended to feel great. Stepping into the shower and letting the water run over her body, Finley felt her shoulders drop and her clenched jaw loosen, heaps of tension running out of her body and down the drain with the water. 

Resting her back against the tile wall of the shower, Finley closed her eyes and tried not to cry, tried to continue to let the water wash away her problems, even if it only lasted a few minutes. She wished that the water could wash away the memories she had of the past year and a half of her life, she wished she could replace them with something new, something better. However, she had accepted the past year months earlier, understanding that she couldn’t change things that had already happened. She also learned that dwelling on the memories would just make the recovery longer, harder; that wasn’t something she wanted to do to herself.

Finally opening her eyes again, Finley went through her shower routine slowly, trying to let water relax her tense body even more. After finishing rinsing any trace of suds out of her hair and off her body, Finley turned the water off before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a fluffy towel around herself, thanking her past self for doing laundry yesterday afternoon. She picked up her soaked bra and underwear before wandering back into her room. Closing her blinds, and setting her soaked undergarments in her hamper, Finley then dropped her towel from around her body and used it to dry off her hair, shivering while the cold air wrapped around her again. 

“Hoodie, hoodie, hoodie,” she mumbled to herself while sifting through the things she had hung up in her closet. Finally pulling out one of her old lacrosse hoodies from high school, she threw it on her bed while grabbing clean underwear and a sports bra out of her drawers. After pulling her undergarments and a clean pair of shorts on she plugged in her diffuser and fairy lights before throwing her backpack with the files her dad had given her on her bed. She shrugged on her hoodie and climbed into her bed, taking a moment to compose herself fully. 

Finley pulled one of her throw blankets over her lap before dragging her backpack closer and pulled her phone out of its front pocket and noticed calls from her father and uncle. After sending them both a text assuring them that she had gotten back to her dorm fine, she unzipped the largest pocket of her bag, dragging a heft stack of files out and setting them next to herself. She dropped her backpack on her floor with a quiet thud and pushed her glasses further up her nose, reaching over to her desk to grab her bag of highlighters and different colored pens. She needed to talk to Stiles, but until he got to her room, the files would have to serve as an adequate distraction. 

She grabbed the first folder and noticed that a few staples had made indents that showed through the cover, turning it to the side she read the label on the tab. ‘J. Whittemore’, had been scrawled across the tab in a red sharpie, the handwriting definitely her father’s. She pulled it open and looked at the profile stapled to the inside, chewing on the inside of her cheek while she did so. She noticed something circled in red and her eyes were instantly drawn to it, the rest of the individual’s profile quickly being forgotten. The words ‘Attended Beacon Hills High School’ were those circled in red, the neat Times New Roman font almost mocking her while she read them over and over again.

Pulling the next file over to herself Finley Again read the identification tab, ‘L. Dunbar’. She again opened the folder and saw the same three words circled. Setting her highlighter down she laid all the files out on top of each other, the identification tabs lining up neatly. 

L. Martin. 

I. Lahey. 

K. Yukimura. 

M. Tate. 

M. Hewit.

C. Bryant. 

E. Steiner. 

T. Raeken. 

D. Hale. She paused on that file, her teeth pulling a layer of skin off her bottom lip while she chewed on it. Hale wasn’t exactly a common last name, and Finley would have called herself stupid if she wasn’t the least bit suspicious of what exactly lived inside the files. Deciding to look back at the file after she confirmed her suspicions, Finley read the next identification tab.

S. McCall. Most definitely Scott McCall, she knew that without even opening the file.

M. Stilinski. Stiles hadn’t mentioned his father’s first name in any of their meetings, and she had remembered him stating it had just been him and his dad since he had been ten. So, it had to be a file on his father, but why would her dad need one?

Pulling the file out for ‘D. Hale’, before she even opened it, she knew it would be Derek Hale’s. Finley’s Pack had quite the alliance with the Hale’s, both in New York and California before the fire happened, she knew Derek himself quite well as they weren’t all that far apart in age. After the fire in Beacon Hills though, the Mannulv Pack had lost touch with the Hale family who remained in California, although their alliance with the New York Hale’s remained strong. 

Finley finally flipped the file open, and the identification photo stared back at her, it definitely was a picture of Derek, a much older Derek than she remembered, but still Derek. He no longer had the baby face that Finley remembered from when they had been younger, his features sharper and stubble covering his face. He had most definitely turned into the ‘handsome young man’, that Finley’s mother said he would years ago. She flipped through his entire file, noticing that much of it would be rather unnoteworthy, just normal facts about his life, his family, the fire. Nothing stuck out to Finley other than a warrant for ‘mass murder’ that had been dismissed.

With the Hale’s having once been the most powerful family in the were-community, and with the Mannulv family also having the same status, Finley had brushed shoulders with all of the Hale children when she had been younger. Cian had once looked up to Derek and always tried to talk to the older boy at weddings and other events that caused the two Packs to mingle, however, after the fire, Derek hadn’t been seen at any inter-pack events.

She opted to push Derek’s file aside and pull forward the one labeled ‘S. McCall’, Scott McCall’s file. Scott’s file was clearly the thickest in the pile, and Finley knew most of it would be information she didn’t need or want. She noted that the only thing that stood out had been the bolded line on his identification page stating that he had the current position of Alpha of the McCall pack, having presented as a True Alpha a few years earlier. Finley smirked and stacked Scott’s file on top of Derek’s. Two True Alpha’s meeting would be quite a rarity, but with Finley’s ability to control her territorial instincts and Scott’s rather limited knowledge on werewolf traditions, the pair would have no problem getting along. The other files that Finley’s father had given her had noted at the top of each first page that the individual was a member of the McCall Pack, but they presented to be a rather unusual mix of supernatural creatures.

After stacking all the remaining files together and setting them aside; Finley found her fingers wrapping around the final file, the file labeled ‘M. Stilinski’. She pulled her bottom lip before opening the folder, a picture of Stiles stapled to the cover and the bolded words, ‘Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski’, staring back at her. She quickly snapped the file closed before she picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She pressed on her brother’s contact and hit the call button, her anxiety growing with every second that passed. She hadn’t gotten herself so worked up over something so quickly since her grandmother had told her she needed to move out of the main pack house for the ‘good of the family’. 

She started to gnaw on her bottom lip even harder while she waited for an answer and groaned out loud when she got his voicemail greeting. “Fucking football,” she locked her phone and threw it on her bed. “Why did he have to be good at football!”

She needed something else to distract her, she needed something else to think about. Adding Stile’s file to the top of the pile she pushed herself off her bed and picked up her backpack. With shaky hands she shoved all of the files into the bag before walking over to her closet. Finley found herself pushing her clothes out of the way so she could get to the back corner. She pressed the bag as far into the corner as it could go, as if it would make the files disappear, and pushed everything back in front of it. She still had to tell Stiles everything, she owed him it. She just had to accept that he already knew more than she thought he did. 

Finally, thinking of a distraction, Finley shuffled across her carpet and found herself in front of her wall of pictures. The same one that Stiles had been looking at the day before, admiring even. The thought of someone admiring the pictures of her and her family from the past year made her queasy, if only they all knew what had been going on. She swallowed thickly before looking at some of the pictures. Prom, nationals for her travel lacrosse team, all of her brother’s official college visits, she had plenty of good memories hung up on her wall. She would never deny that the wall had been filled with majority good memories. However, she also tried to hang up things that would make it seem as if she had a normal family life. It all felt fake, like she had put a huge lie up on display for anyone who entered her room to see. 

She had so many pictures of her family hung up, so many pictures she had to force herself to smile in, had to force herself to appear happy and healthy for. Pictures of her family in the pack house for birthday’s. Movie nights she had with her cousins before she moved into the guest cabin. She saw a picture of her entire family at the lake on their property for her and Cian’s birthday the previous year. After tearing her eyes away from the wall, Finley actually had to keep herself from getting nauseous at the memory. The twins’ last birthday at home had been a couple of months after they found out Finley had presented as a True Alpha and her grandmother hadn’t wanted to invite her to the party at all that day. She had only planned on throwing a party for Cian and had wanted to let Maxwell handle Finley, the animosity between Finley and her grandmother still too strong. The wounds were still too fresh.

Finley pulled her bottom lip between her teeth again and shuffled over to her desk, opening the top drawer she saw the pack of pushpins she had purchased to hang the photos up sitting right on top. Taking the plastic container between her hands she set it on the heating unit in front of her window, flipping the safety latch and opening it. Without thinking her hands started moving on her wall, pulling colored pushpins out of the corners of various pictures, letting the photos fall to the floor and putting the pushpins back in the right section of the container according to their colors. 

Finley had just pulled the last pushpin out of a picture from her sweet sixteen when she heard a knock on the door. She quickly turned on her heel, ignoring the tears she felt quickly gathering in the corners of her eyes, and set her foot flat on to the ground. “Motherfucker!” She felt a push-pin stick into the ball of her foot. Pulling it out she threw it in the garbage can before pausing near her door.

Stiles’ heartbeat sounded fast, too fast to write off as elevated just from him walking over to her dorm from his. He smelled like pure anxiety and nerves, she noticed it seeping under the door causing her face to scrunch up in disgust; anxiety had always been Finley’s least favorite of the emotions to be able to pick up on. It smelled tangy and sour, sometimes people’s anxiety would be so strong she swore she could taste it; like rotten lemons mixed with curdled milk. Putting her hand on the cool metal handle of her door she closed her eyes and felt the lock pop as it opened. There would be no going back now. “Hey, sorry to like,” she looked down at her feet while she opened the door, “do this,” why did she want to cry?

“No!” Stiles cleared his throat, waving his hands in front of himself. “I mean,” he sighed, “don’t be sorry, okay? I wasn’t sure if you were okay when you called and I just wanted to make sure you were,” he stepped into Finley’s dorm when she backed away from the door to let him in. He immediately noticed pictures scattered carelessly across her floor, some face up and some face down. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to where they were scatted in the room, and he noticed her wall of photos seemed to be mostly empty compared to yesterday. Did her make her uncomfortable looking at them? Oh god, he hoped not. She didn’t seem to mind then, but what if that had just been her being polite? Stiles took in a deep breath and turned back to Finley who still stood with her door open. 

Sighing, Finley closed her door and Stiles watched her pick up a soaked gray hoodie from on her empty desk and she hung it on the hook on the back of her door, a few drops of water falling off the sleeve cuffs. A pair of wet sneakers had been kicked into the corner of her room and a towel hung off the post of her bed. “I just- I got into it with my dad and uncle earlier,” she mumbled, bending down to pick up some of the photos on her carpet. Stiles tried to gauge her mood but couldn’t quite put his thumb on her emotions. Angry. Upset. Hurt. He wasn’t quite sure.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stiles kneeled to pick up some of the photos Finley hadn’t yet collected, it seemed like a better solution than standing in her room awkwardly waiting for her to speak. He heard her let out a shaky sigh as she stood up, putting the photos in her hand on her bed. Stiles followed her actions and put the photos he had on top of her pile. Finley climbed into her bed and patted the mattress next to her.

Stiles toed off his shoes and left them on the edge of her carpet, momentarily wiggling his sock covered toes into the soft material of her carpet. He shuffled across the carpet and pushed himself up on to Finley’s bed, a dull ache from his first week of lacrosse still pulling at his muscles. He made sure that he left a comfortable distance between them, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, although she had seemed perfectly comfortable with him the night before. “I don’t exactly want to,” he watched her pull her bottom lip between her teeth, “but I feel like we need to. Sooner rather than later,” she added the last part after a small pause. 

“Finley, if you’re not com-”

“I’m never going to be comfortable talking about who, or I guess what I am. I’m never going to be comfortable talking about my family,” she saw Stiles open his mouth but cut him off, “but sometimes you have to step outside your comfort zone to set things right in life, Stiles.” She crossed her legs and turned to face him, her lip pulled between her bottom lip and a tight crease formed in her forehead while she started flipping through the photos that sat between them.

Stiles watched her shaky fingers flip through the photos, pausing on some for a few seconds before flipping to the next.

Eventually she settled on one, it pictured a large group of people, and she turned it face down between them. “So,” she looked up at him through the lenses of her glasses, her eyes red from crying and small bags starting to form under them. “I don’t really want to scare you away or anything, but uhh my family is kind of umm,” she trailed off, “unique.”

“Unless your family is running some super-secret and super fucked up cult I don’t think you can scare me away,” he laughed to try and lighten the mood. “You don’t know a lot about Beacon Hills,” he added to the end.

He watched Finley’s eyes widen before she let out a long sigh, “actually,” she said the word so quietly Stiles almost didn’t hear it. Did her family really run a super-secret, fucked up cult? “Y’know how my dad works for the CIA?” Stiles nodded slowly, wondering where Finley could possibly be taking the conversation. “Well, as you’ll find out one day. A lot of ‘conspiracy theories’ are true, and a lot of the time, the CIA is working on these things that people will tout as not possible, but you knew that already.”

“Okay,” Stiles dragged the word out, unsure where the conversation would head next. Hopefully it didn’t hang a left down Psycho Lane. “Like aliens being real or the concept that the world is really run by a singular governmental unit?” He offered two of the theories he knew were tossed around the internet quite often. Once he noticed a small smile pulled at the corner of Finley’s lips, he knew he had slightly diffused the tension in the room for a moment.

“Well,” she swallowed. “I can tell you I know who Scott McCall is, and I know Derek Hale uhh personally-” she trailed off for a few seconds. “And I know all about Scott’s Pack, your Pack” she flipped over the photo, Stiles’ heart beating even faster. “And I know that this is my Pack,” Stiles scanned the picture over, “well some of my Pack, that’s my immediate family.” There were probably about twenty people gathered around a lake, all squished very close together and smiling brightly. All except for Finley. She had a wide smile in the picture, but it wasn’t genuine. She didn’t have the usual dimples she would get when she actually smiled, and it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Finley pulled a few more pictures out of the pile and laid them out “I know that my dad and his four brothers are weres, that my grandma gave my grandpa the bite right before they got married.” She pointed to a picture of six individuals in front of the same lake, parents and four young boys all squished close together in it. They all looked strikingly similar, even for siblings.

“Who’s who?” Stiles found himself asking, leaning closer to Finley so he could see the picture better. He heard Finley take in a deep breath before she pulled another picture out of the pile. It pictured her in a short red cupcake dress that seemed to be covered in crystals, four men gathered around her and a wide smile on all of their faces. 

“Obviously,” she pointed to the man to her left, “that’s my dad. That’s my uncle Cayden,” she pointed to the man on her right, “next to my dad is Jordan and then next to Cayden is Todd.” She let out a quiet sigh before tucking the picture back into the pile. Stiles just nodded slowly, processing all the information.

A comfortable silence fell between the two while Finley flipped through pictures again, picking out another before she started talking. “I can tell you that most of my cousins are also weres and so are their kids,” she handed him a picture of her and Cian laying on the floor under a pile of younger kids. He saw adults laughing in the background and assumed those were the younger kids’ parents. There were so many kids in the photo, he had counted a baker’s dozen, that he wasn’t quite sure how anyone could handle them, but then again werewolf packs tended to share the child rearing duties. Stiles had done extensive research when Scott had first been turned, so he knew much more than he would usually admit. 

“And the pups are absolutely adorable when they chase you around full shift, like little puppies just learning to walk,” she flashed Stiles a picture of two wolf pups, her younger cousins, and even when they puppy pile you on the floor they’re kind of cute.” He saw a fond smile grace her face, obviously attached to the younger kids in her family. “I took care of them pretty often, I mean when my grandma still trusted me,” her smile faded. 

She grabbed a picture of her and Cian together, laying out in the middle of a large field, the almost full moon bright in the sky above them. “I can also tell you that Cian and I also happen to be weres ourselves, even though my mom never took the bite from my grandma, our Alpha.”

Finley looked up to Stiles when she finished speaking, her hands shaking much less and her anxiety decreasing with each breath she took. She noticed that Stiles’ heart still beat unusually fast, but he didn’t smell like anxiety anymore. His scent had returned to the one she had found comfort in the day before, he smelled warm and welcoming, she wanted to roll in that scent and never forget it. “So,” Stiles trialed off, picking up the photo of her family and looking it over. “You’re like all born wolves?” He asked.

Finley laughed lightly when he didn’t freak out, knowing she definitely wanted to keep him around now. “For the most part,” she let out a long sigh, “a couple of my aunts took the bite from my grandma and others didn’t.” She started flipping through pictures again. “But that’s my pack. That’s more of what a typical pack would look like, if you compare it to Scott’s obviously.” She watched Stiles set down the photo and he turned to face her. “And I totally understand if you want to like, not talk other than for the project just that had been eating away at me for a few weeks. Especially with Scott coming to visit soon, I didn’t want you to find out then because once we met it would be a dead giveaway. I just needed to tell you, it felt wrong not to, especially when you already know about our little world.”

Finley watched Stiles sink further back into her mattress while he shook his head, “I’ll stay,” he offered a smile, “as long as you get me that magic heating pad again?” Finley laughed and nodded, pushing herself off the bed and grabbing the heating pad from where she had left it on her floor that morning. She plugged it into her extension cord and handed it to Stiles before climbing back into her bed.

“Y’know, if you want me to like, take away the pain I’m able to do that right?” She offered. She saw Stiles’ eyes widen and he adjusted the heating pad on his back. His heartbeat had slowed down some, but it wasn’t quite at a normal resting rate yet, she assumed his discomfort contributed slightly. Finley assumed that his heart beating slightly father though would probably be normal, considering he had just found out he never really would be escaping the supernatural that he lived with in Beacon Hills. 

He closed his eyes and knotted his fingers together on his stomach, a sated smile on his face. “So, all of you are able to do that?” Finely crawled closer and let out a quiet hum in acknowledgement. 

“Some are better at it than others though,” she set her left hand over his that were clasped together, she felt her wolf dying to get even closer to Stiles in the back of her mind but pushed it away. “I learned really fast,” she watched Stiles’ pain climb up her arm and watched it fade under the rolled-up sleeve of her hoodie. “Took my brother a lot longer to learn that it took me.” Once she saw Stiles relax fully into her mattress and noticed his heart rate seemed normal again, she moved her hand off his despite her wolf trying to push her to be even closer to him still. 

Stiles opened one of his eyes to look at her, watching her crawl off her bed with her photos in hand. A comfortable silence fell between the pair and Stiles watched Finley slide a drawer on her one desk open. He noticed that Finley would look at each photo before she would place it inside the drawer, pausing longer on some than others. “So,” he opened both his eyes now and watched her closely, “why’d you take them all down?” He watched her pause for a second, bending the corner of the photo currently on top. 

“Complicated family dynamics,” she dumped the rest of the photos into the drawer without looking at any and closed it. “I uhh-” Finley sighed. “I don’t get along too well with some people in my family,” she shrugged and crawled into her bed again, lifting the blanket so she could slide her legs under it. 

Stiles sat up and lifted his side of her comforter, sliding underneath himself before settling the heating pad on his lower back again. He wasn’t in pain anymore, but the heat brought him a strange sense of comfort. “Like cousins or?” 

“Damn, digging deep already,” Finley let out a quiet laugh that Stiles barely heard while she grabbed an extra pillow to lean against. “Well, you know how pack dynamics work somewhat, I’m sure,” she looked over to Stiles and he just nodded. 

“Alphas and Betas and all that,” he added, hoping to ease Finley’s nerves slightly. “Scott’s an Alpha, Liam’s his Beta.”

“Scott’s a True Alpha,” Finley quickly corrected him. “Pretty rare if you want the facts about it,” she pulled at the loose strings of her comforter that covered her lap. Stiles could tell she wanted to tell him something but couldn’t find the words to say whatever it was, but he wouldn’t push her into territory she would be uncomfortable in. “Most packs don’t work that way, a true Alpha turning a Beta and so on, most are pretty structured. Throw in a True Alpha and forget it,” she snapped her fingers, “pack order and unity gone.”

Stiles sat up and decided to lean against the wall next to Finley, their legs close enough to touch if either decided to move even a fraction of an inch. Stiles felt oddly drawn to Finley, the night before had been the best he slept since moving into American. With Finley so close to him again he felt strangely safe, comfortable, and relaxed. “So, most packs work like the Hale’s did?” He asked, watching Finley’s reactions. He noticed her stiffen slightly before nodding.

“My Pack is a lot older than the Hale Pack, but similar enough,” she replied. “My grandma, my dad’s mom, is the Alpha right now, her dad before her was the Alpha but he didn’t have any sons, so his daughter took over when he was ready to transfer his power.” She shifted closer to Stiles and felt her leg bump into his, she waited for him to move away, but he didn’t. She let the warmth from his body calm her wolf slightly and let out a long sigh. “So, by tradition my grandma’s oldest son would take the pack after she passed,” Finley trailed off.

Stiles turned his head so he could see her better, “but?” he asked curiously, knowing there would be a but based on Finley’s body language and tone. 

“But that position isn’t up for grabs really anymore,” she quickly pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. “When a pack that already has an Alpha also has a True Alpha in it, that True Alpha will take the Alpha’s position when they pass or decide to pass on their powers,” Stiles watched her close her eyes and take a deep breath in, a few tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. 

Without really thinking, Stiles wrapped his arm around Finley’s shoulders, pulling her into his side. Her head fell on to his shoulder and he hear her stifle a laugh, “we don’t have to keep talking about this y’know?” 

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” she reached up to grab his hand that hunger over her shoulder. Stiles watched as she started to absentmindedly play with his fingers before she started speaking again, “so when I presented as a True Alpha before I turned seventeen,” she trailed off for a moment.  “It kind of caused some complications in the family, but everyone got over it but my grandma.” 

Stiles just nodded along, still watching Finley play with his fingers while she thought, the silence between the two a comfortable one. “Really?” he asked after the silence had been stretched out longer, “she knows who’s next in line, she can help you learn,” he added.

Finley let out a mix between a snort and a laugh and turned so she could see him better. “Wow, someone else here thinks logically,” she rested her head on his shoulder, resuming playing with his fingers. “I’ve tried to explain that to her y’know? She didn’t get it though.” 

“It’s the most logical explanation!” Stiles stated matter-of-factly, “how could she not understand that?” He shook his head. “I thought that Alpha’s were supposed to be smart, but Scott is obviously another exception to that rule.”

Finley just laughed quietly as Stiles talked, “I really need to keep you around now,” she mumbled.

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” Stiles placed a kiss to the top of Finley’s head, the action feeling natural. “It may not have been what I expected, but I’ve adjusted before and I can adjust again,” he rested his chin on the top of Finley’s head, a comfortable slice falling around them again.

Finley felt herself let out a happy rumble, deep from within her chest, something that hadn’t happened in over a year. She knew Stiles would be staying now and it had settled her wolf, something no one had been able to do since the day she presented as a True Alpha. They would most definitely need to have the ‘mates talk’ sooner rather than later, but for now Finley finally felt content and happy. She deserved to bask in the feeling for a little while, she really deserved it.Tagging those who have expressed interest: @stixnstripesworld​ @kellysashcroft​

[ggukcangetit]

Dreamcatchers Chap 2

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Synopsis: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

Rating: NC-17

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Acknowledgement: shoutout to @stutterfly​ for designing this beautiful banner which i am completely in love with and stare at for no particular reason throughout the day

A/N: second chapter! i was planning to post a chapter each friday but got slightly delayed this week. reminding everyone that this story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios​ prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing!

17th December

Yuri walked into the station at 7 am the next day and found that it was surprisingly empty. She had brought a few small things to keep at her desk - a picture of her parents, a couple of pens, a small sticky notepad, and a mason jar filled with snacks. She smiled to herself as she recalled how her old colleagues always used to teased her about the mason jar.

“Good morning, DI Choi! Hope you’re settling in properly.” Seulgi came over with two cups of coffee and placed one in front of her.

“Oh, thank you! I forgot to get coffee on my way here,” Yuri replied with a smile. “And please, let’s not be so formal. Call me Yuri.”

“Alright then, Yuri, please call me Seulgi!”

Yuri was grateful to see a friendly face at the station. She hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, and had been dreading having to see Jeon in the morning. 

“You’re here really early,” continued Seulgi. “I’m sure Chief Inspector Goh will be very impressed.”

“Ah no, it’s nothing like that.” Yuri brushed it off with a laugh. “We’re bringing in a witness today. I just wanted to orient myself with the station before we questioned him.”

“Oh? A witness?”

“Hmm.” Yuri swirled the contents of the cup in her hand, looking at it absentmindedly. “We couldn’t bring him in last night, unfortunately.”

“I see. Oh, before I forget,” said Seulgi, checking something on her phone. “The autopsy should be ready by this afternoon. That should hopefully help you a bit.”

“Perfect! I think we can start creating a proper timeline once we have the results.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, Yuri,” said Seulgi. “I have to get back to the lab.”

Yuri sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest of the station’s revolving chair. She recalled the interview with Mr. Kang the previous day; he hadn’t exactly been uncooperative, but something about his manner was odd. The absence of grief might not be indicative of guilt, but it definitely hinted at something lying underneath his polished words.

“DI Jeon? DI Choi?” Jisoo came over with an uncomfortable expression on her face. “We’ve brought in Mr. Park. He’s waiting in interview room #3.”

Yuri wondered why Jisoo looked so disturbed. Then again, she had only met the junior officer for the first time the previous day; she really didn’t know anything about her or her usual disposition.

“Don’t accept things from people for the sake of being polite.” Jeon brushed past her, the frown firmly embedded on her face. 

“What?” Yuri quickly put her phone into her pocket and followed him.

“The coffee,” he said, as if self-explanatory.

“What about it?”

“You don’t like it. You aren’t going to drink it. But you’re still holding onto it because Seulgi gave it to you. Just dump it in the trash. We don’t have time for  unnecessary courtesy, DI Choi. It’s a hindrance.”

Although his tone was hard and tinged with irritation, Yuri realised that Jeon was right. She had taken one sip of the coffee in front of Seulgi, but the truth was that she hated plain black coffee. Indeed, the last 15 minutes had been spent swirling the contents of the cup but never taking a sip. Yet, Jeon had noticed and somehow come to the right conclusion. Was she really so easy to read? A tiny bubble of annoyance began growing inside Yuri - what gave Jeon the right to comment on her choice of beverage, or anything for that matter!

Interview room #3 was the largest one in the station. Yuri walked in to find a young man leaning back in the uncomfortable metal chair, looking like he was the one in charge. His silvery blond hair was parted in the middle matching the cold hue of his grey eyes and the pallor of his porcelain white skin. Everything about him looked frosty except, Yuri realised, the reddish pink of his rather plump lips. 

Jeon sat down across from him, flipping open a thin file. “Thank you for coming in, Mr. Park. W-”

“Now now,” interrupted Park Jimin, his voice more soft and high-pitched than Yuri had expected. “We’ve known each other far too long for formalities, Jeongguk. You’ve been to almost every one of my New Year’s Eve parties, remember?” 

Jeon clenched his teeth, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “As I was saying-”

“But I don’t believe we’ve met.” Jimin turned towards Yuri, the right side of his lips twitching upwards slightly. “I’m Park Jimin.”

Suddenly, Yuri felt uneasy. There was something about the way Park Jimin was looking at her that made her stomach feel queasy. 

“DI Choi,” she said, gulping down the bile that threatened to rise inside her. “Can you tell us what you were doing on the night of December 15th, Mr. Park?”

“I can,” he said, leaning back once again. “But whether I will, is another question.”

The thing about Park Jimin was that he was being incredibly transparent about his desire to hinder the investigation in any way. On top of that, his gaze kept flitting towards Yuri - a fact that Jeon seemed completely oblivious to - and lingering for the briefest of moments. 

“I’m asking you again, Mr. Park,” said Yuri, placing her arms on the table. “What were you doing on the night of December 15th?”

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business. Unless,” he paused, his lips lifting into a smirk. “You’re interested in joining me afterwards for a drink.”

“This is a murder investigation, Mr. Park! Stop propositioning the investigating detective and answer the question!” Jeon slammed his fist down on the table, a vein throbbing along the side of his neck. 

 “A murder investigation, huh?” The silver haired man finally made eye contact with Jeon, his eyes no longer flippant and suggestive. “Finally getting down to the facts, aren’t we?”

The air had grown considerably more tense, and Yuri sensed that there was definitely something about Park Jimin that she hadn’t read in his files.

“Who?”

“What?” Jeon clenched the fist that remained stiff on the table.

“Who’s murder are you investigating, Jeongguk?”

The balance of power in the room had tipped in favor of Park Jimin when Jeon reluctantly opened his file and took out a picture. Sliding it towards the other man, he leaned back into his chair and waited for the latter to finish looking at it.

“Kang Eunwoo was found dead in his home yesterday. His father says you visited him the previous night and were possibly the last person to see him alive.”

“No.” Park Jimin pushed the picture back towards them. His body language had stiffened considerably.

“No?”

“I didn’t visit him. I haven’t seen Eunwoo since the Grand Fundraiser Gala held at the end of November.”

“Then you won’t mind telling us where you were that night,” Jeon asked, folding his arms across his chest. 

“I’m afraid not.”

“You’re not going to tell us where you were on the night of 15th December?”

“That is correct.”

“I insist you provide a statement of your movements, Mr. Park,” said Yuri, frowning slightly. “Things could get very tricky for you otherwise.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

xxx

“How long can we detain him?” Suho asked Jeon, glancing worriedly at the door to interview room #3.

“24 hours max,” said Jeon, checking his phone. “Unless we come across something more concrete connecting him to the case. Just because he’s being an asshole, doesn’t necessarily mean he’s guilty.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not,” added Suho, with a shrug. 

“Have you checked his bank records? Credit card usage?” asked Yuri. “We could try and construct a timeline with that - find out his whereabouts, where he went, what he did.”

“On it!” replied Suho with a grin.

Jeon, on the other hand, didn’t look too thrilled. He sat at his desk, flipping through some files that were clearly not part of the current case - judging by how many of the pages were dog-eared and worn from repeated examination. 

“Why isn’t Jimin providing an alibi?” Yuri asked, recalling the trainwreck of an interview they had just completed. Jeon didn’t answer; the rustling of pages the only indication of his presence.

“If the Kangs and Parks are such bitter rivals, it probably gives him a strong motive. If he didn’t have anything to do with Eunwoo’s death, why is he refusing to tell us where he was?”

Silence.

“Unless, of course, he did have something to do with the death.” Yuri got up from her chair and peered over the partition between her and Jeon’s desks. “Something about him shifted after he saw the picture of Eunwoo.”

Yuri frowned, as Jeon continued to ignore her. Walking over to his desk, she tapped him on the shoulder a few times before he reluctantly turned towards her.

“What’s your problem, Jeon?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’ve been an absolute dick since I joined yesterday. I’d chalk it up to a personality defect, if it weren’t for the things that Ahreum told me. So I’m asking you again,” she said through gritted teeth. “What exactly is your problem?”

Jeon shut the file and slammed it on his desk. Standing up straight, he was almost a head taller than Yuri. His strong brows emphasizing the ire in his dark eyes. 

“I don’t need a newbie coming in and telling me what to do, and messing up the system.”

“I am not a newbie...” Yuri barely managed to contain her anger. “I haven’t told you what to do! And I damn well haven’t messed with your fucking system!” 

“You really have no idea about my fucking system, Choi.” Jeon glared at her. 

At any other point, the unfortunate choice of word order would have made Yuri cringe. But she was too angry to consider any sleazy innuendos Jeon was trying to throw into their argument.

“I don’t care what Ahreum said about you. You’re a humongous asshole and if this was any other situation, I would’ve walked the fuck out of here! But as it stands, I will be working here. And I will be working on this case. If you continue making things difficult for me-” she picked up the file Jeon had been reading in favor of answering her questions- “I’m gonna drop this off at Goh’s desk. Then you can say goodbye to whatever the fuck it is that you’re so obsessed with!”

“Don’t you dare.” He was standing very close to her now, his jaw hardening aggressively. “If you so much as touch that file again-”

Jeon was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Seulgi stood a few feet away, looking slightly alarmed at the scene unfolding in front of her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, uncertainly. 

“What do you want?” snapped Jeon, snatching the file away from Yuri.

“I have the autopsy report.” Her expression still remained concerned, but she handed the file over to him nonetheless. ��COD is blunt force trauma to the back of the head. It’s most likely that he hit his head on the granite mantle above the fireplace. Death was instantaneous so he must have hit it with considerable force - not something I’d attribute to an accidental fall. Time of death estimated between midnight and 1 am.”

“He was hosting a party that night,” said Yuri. “There was definitely plenty of alcohol present. Was he very drunk?”

“I’d say there was enough to loosen his inhibitions considerably, but not enough to be completely pissed.”

“What about drugs?” 

Jeon scoffed at Yuri’s continued questions, his eyes never leaving the autopsy report.

“Do you have something to say, Jeon?” asked Yuri, irritably.

Seulgi intervened before the argument could escalate once again. “No, there weren’t any drugs in his system. At least not the regular ones. I’d have to check specifically if we’re looking for rarer, less traceable ones.”

“Can we get the people who were present at the party to come in give us a blood sample?” asked Yuri. “Maybe Eunwoo didn’t do any drugs, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t any drugs at the party.”

“I can run the tests. Most of the drugs I tested for remain in a person’s blood for at least 2-3 days.”

Jeon returned the file to Seulgi. “There’s no need for that.”

“What?” Yuri snapped her head in his direction. “Why not?”

“You won’t find drugs being used at the Kang mansion.” He picked up his backpack and started walking towards the exit.

“Where are you going, Jeon?!” yelled Yuri.

“Home.”

xxx

lemme know how you liked the chapter! 

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Fourteen

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

The next morning, Roman woke up with a long stretch and a sigh, checking the time. Nine thirty in the morning. He had slept in just long enough to reasonably skip breakfast with his mother and the Queen. Nice. He sat up in bed and rubbed his head with a soft groan. Didn’t mean he was looking forward to spending the whole morning without any contact with the one man who made this whole experience bearable, but if he were quiet in his room he could let people think he was just asleep for at least another hour.

He sifted through his books and art supplies, finding nothing of interest to him in any of them. He sighed. This was going to be exceptionally difficult if he were bored. He couldn’t stay in his room with nothing to do except maybe play with an app or two on his phone. He needed to move around, or at least have something that would fully capture his interest. And any apps remaining on his phone wouldn’t do that for him. He fiddled with his phone for a minute before texting Remus his predicament, asking for suggestions on things to do.

Remus, true to form, sent him a ridiculous suggestion in response. why not bug some of the guards around the castle? find the best places to make out with fh

oh, screw you too, re! Roman texted back. i might talk to some of the guards, tho. they could show me where to hide from mother

that’s the spirit! Remus said. go find out where to hide from mother AND make out with fh

Roman sent Remus a knife emoji and headed to shower, after realizing he had failed to do so yesterday. Dysphoria was a bitch, but at least Roman felt slightly cleaner afterwards.

He walked out of the bathroom, phone in his skirt pocket and hair pulled into a low braid, promptly running through the halls until he reached the main foyer, finding Virgil talking to some of the other guards. “Hey, Virgil!” Roman said, walking down the stairs. “I’m trying to hide from my mother, do you mind if I shadow you today?”

Virgil glanced over at Roman and rolled his eyes. “I don’t mind as long as you stay quiet, and if I tell you to get lost for your own safety you do so.”

“Cool,” Roman said. “Anywhere you were going in particular?”

“Not as of yet,” Virgil said. “Have you had breakfast?”

“No, I just woke up and showered,” Roman said.

“Well, then we should probably go to the kitchen and get you something to eat,” Virgil said. One of the guards he had been talking to snickered and Virgil turned to him with a glare. “Shut it. I’m making sure the prince is fed, nothing more.”

Roman sent Virgil a questioning glance as Virgil led him to the kitchen. Virgil sighed. “The guards are all convinced I’m in love with Patton,” he said with an eye-roll. “To which I respond that if they’re so sure, they should get me and him in a room alone. No one has the guts to do it.”

Roman laughed. “Oh, that’s cute!” he exclaimed. “Do you actually like him?”

“I’m not saying,” Virgil said. “Not to the man who can’t even see that his fiancé has a massive crush on him. You couldn’t be subtle even if you tried, and I am not letting you put any ideas in Patton’s head.”

“Damien doesn’t have a crush on me,” Roman scoffed. Virgil snorted. “He doesn’t! How could he? He’s...listen, he’s gorgeous, okay? He’s gorgeous, and funny, and genuine. And I’m just...me.”

“Roman, there is nothing ‘just’ about you,” Virgil said with a scoff. “So you can cut that out right now. And trust me, not just any guy will leave Damien speechless simply because he holds his head high. Damien likes you. He doesn’t have the guts to admit it, and he won’t say anything unless confronted, but he likes you.”

Roman laughed. Virgil lightly smacked Roman upside the head. “Hey!” Roman protested.

“I’m serious, Your Highness. Damien likes you,” Virgil said. “And you like him. Honestly, the two of you should just make out already. Not where I can see, because gross, but I’ll show you some spots where you can make out with him if you just say the word.”

“I do not need that information, Virgil, but thank you,” Roman said with a little laugh. “In all seriousness, though, I sincerely doubt that Damien could ever like me. Sure, I like him. I’ll admit it. But I doubt it’s anything more than a crush. And even if Damien seriously liked me...it wouldn’t be fair to try and date when I wasn’t sure if I even liked him as much as he supposedly likes me.”

They walked into the kitchen and Patton turned with a smile. “Who likes who?” he asked with a grin.

“The two idiots we have the pleasure of calling our future kings,” Virgil said, jerking a thumb at Roman.

Roman stuck his tongue out at Virgil while Patton just giggled. “Oh, I thought you were talking about news, my mistake!” he exclaimed. “Roman, I heard about last night through the grapevine, and I’m really sorry. Is there any food I can make to console you?”

“Not really anything to console me,” Roman said with a shrug. “But I could use a breakfast in general.”

“Say no more!” Patton exclaimed, holding up a finger and heading to the refrigerator. “Virgil, be a dear and make sure that his mother isn’t coming, will you? We can’t hide him away forever, but he needs to finish breakfast before he’s confronted, at least.”

Virgil’s cheeks tinged a dusty pink but he said, “Sure,” in a normal voice and walked out of the room.

“Oh, he’s crushing,” Roman muttered.

“Honey, we been knew,” Patton said with a wide grin. “But he’s not ready for anything yet, so I won’t push him.”

Roman laughed and walked over to where Patton was bringing out eggs, ham, cheese, and bread. “You okay with a sandwich for breakfast, Your Highness?” Patton asked.

“Sounds delicious,” Roman said with a smile.

Patton took what he needed to the stovetop and started to cook everything together, while he stuck the bread in the toaster. “So, Roman, are you genuinely going to consider whether or not you’re trans this morning? Is it true that you hadn’t considered it for long?”

“I don’t know about the first question, but I had considered for months whether or not I should come out, and months before that as to whether or not I’m genuinely trans. I don’t see myself changing my mind anytime soon.” Roman shrugged. “I mostly said that to placate my mother. I say a lot of things to placate her, so what’s another lie? I just hope Damien knows how I actually feel, because he looked devastated when I told him to stop last night.”

“When do you get to talk to him again?” Patton asked.

“This afternoon,” Roman said. “But I imagine it’ll be restricted to mostly wedding talk. Why?”

“Well, I did deliver breakfast to Damien’s room this morning,” Patton said, worrying his lip. “But his parents didn’t confine him there. He just...refused to leave.”

Roman’s heart leapt into his throat. His mind raced. Was that because of Roman? Had he hurt Damien that much by saying he might not be trans? Did Damien feel lied to? Roman didn’t know, but he wouldn’t find out until this afternoon. Suddenly, he didn’t have as much of an appetite.

“Hey, Roman, it’s going to be okay,” Patton said, putting his hands on Roman’s shoulders and snapping him back into the moment. “None of this is your fault, and I know Damien knows that too. He doesn’t blame you. The most we have to worry about is if he blames himself.”

“What happens if he does that?” Roman asked, worried.

��He’ll isolate himself and won’t want anything to do with whoever he perceived he hurt. But I know Logan will be dragging Damien out of his room whether he wants to be out or not because he has papers to work on,” Patton said. “And usually once he has something to work on he feels much better.”

“Okay,” Roman said, heart settling only a fraction. At least Damien wouldn’t do anything drastic. He sincerely hoped that Damien wouldn’t try to avoid him, though. Damien was the one who made this all bearable. The Queen and King were nice, yes, but the Queen had to act like she was on his mother’s side, and that was painful enough last night. He didn’t want to deal with that any longer than he had to. “Do you think that Damien and I will be allowed any time alone after last night?”

“Do you want my honest opinion?” Patton asked, turning back to the food, “Or are you looking for reassurance?”

“Are they not the same thing?” Roman asked.

“Not necessarily,” Patton said. “They’re not polar opposites, but I might give you a different answer than the one you want.”

“I’d rather have your honest opinion,” Roman sighed. “Better to be realistic.”

“I think that if you want time alone with Damien, you’re going to have to pander to your mother a lot more. You’re going to have to pull the thickest wool you have over her eyes without her realizing it’s there. That’s going to take some impressive acting. Everyone in this castle except her is on your side, and almost everyone knows that you’re still transgender no matter what you do to convince your mother otherwise. Those who don’t know are those who might give the game away. But rest assured, Roman, we all want you to be yourself, whoever that might be,” Patton said.

Roman offered Patton a small smile. Virgil walked back into the room. “His mother was coming this way but I convinced her to look for him in his room first,” Virgil said. “You might still have to eat fast, unfortunately, Roman.”

“It’s okay,” Roman said, as the toaster dinged and Patton got everything on a plate. “I’m used to eating fast or on the go.”

Patton guided Roman to a clean counter, and all three of them sat down, Roman taking a big bite of his breakfast. He hoped Damien was okay. He hoped Damien had eaten this morning. Was the Queen serious when she had said that he wasn’t eating or sleeping well? Was that because of the wedding, or something more sinister? Roman wanted nothing more than to run to Damien’s room immediately after he finished breakfast and make sure he would be fine.

“Calm down, Roman, you look like you saw a ghost,” Virgil said.

“Hm?” Virgil asked, glancing up from his sandwich.

“Deep breaths,” Virgil said. “It sounds stupid, but they actually work. Damien will be fine. I promise you that. If for no other reason than because he has to spar with me later today as part of his exercise routines, and I will give him something to focus on that isn’t you or himself.”

“And that something would be a sword to the throat, wouldn’t it?” Patton asked with an amused smirk.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Patton,” Virgil scoffed. “Swordplay was last week, and we don’t do repeats. We’re grappling this week. Classic hand-to-hand combat.”

Roman snickered. “Oh, that would be a sight to see.”

“You’re welcome to watch, if you want,” Virgil said. “We do it early afternoon, usually fifteen minutes after Damien has lunch. If you want to see Damien in nothing more than what he has to wear for exercise, then by all means, make up an excuse to come outside.”

“As if I’d need an actual excuse, when I can just say I’m dragging him back inside for wedding planning,” Roman pointed out. “But yeah, I’d love to watch his butt get kicked.”

Virgil smirked. “You know, he kinda likes that.”

“What? Getting his butt kicked?” Roman asked dubiously.

“Well, he is a masochist...” Virgil said in a false-innocent tone. “I should know. I’m the one who found out about his bruises the first time he tried it with a partner.”

Roman nearly choked on his breakfast. “So that’s what he meant by ‘a new kink,’ oh god.” Roman laughed. “Well, that will be interesting.”

“You two gonna play around on your wedding night?” Patton asked with a wink.

Roman was turning red and he tried his best to finish breakfast without dying of laughter or embarrassment. “I don’t know,” Roman said.

“I mean, it’s bound to happen one way or another, your hands are as good as tied,” Patton said, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Okay, guys, please, I appreciate the information, but I do need to finish breakfast,” Roman said. “And before anything like that happens, we would need to have some very long, lengthy talks. I’m not about to hurt him in ways he doesn’t want just because we forgot to go over something.”

“Spoken like a good partner,” Virgil said, raising an imaginary glass and tilting his head towards Roman. “Major props.”

Roman shook his head in slight exasperation and finished his breakfast as fast as he could. As he was swallowing the last bite of his sandwich, his mother burst into the kitchen. “Veronica! There you are!”

“Ah, Your Majesty, I was just about to get you,” Virgil said, turning towards her and giving her a placating smile. “Turns out that your daughter was just getting breakfast after sleeping in.”

Roman stood with a sigh and offered his mother a weak wave. “Is there something you need, Mother?”

“I needed to talk to you,” his mother said. Roman’s heart leapt into his throat as she said, “It’s about last night.”

“Yeah?” Roman asked, forcing his hands to not tremble.

“I would appreciate us being able to speak somewhere private,” his mother said.

“All right,” Roman said. “Thank you for breakfast, Patton, it was truly delicious.”

“I’m glad, Your Highness,” Patton said with a small smile. He mouthed Good luck when Roman’s mother glanced at her phone and Roman just nodded.

“Come with me, Veronica,” his mother instructed.

Roman resisted the urge to roll his eyes and followed his mother out of the kitchen, and she took him to the day room where the Queen was apparently waiting. “Did you find her, Diana?” she asked.

“In the kitchen, Rose,” his mother said.

“Have a seat, dear,” the Queen said to Roman.

Roman did as he was told, resisting the urge to fidget. “What’s going on?” Roman asked.

“We need to talk about what happened last night, dear,” the Queen said. “You’re not in trouble, we just want to talk about it.”

“Okay...?” Roman said, heart still pounding.

“I have been thinking,” the Queen said. “And while I do see your mother’s argument, Damien had a point as well. He shouldn’t have tried to prove that point the way he did, but it’s undeniable that he whole-heartedly believes that you are transgender.”

“I mean, what can I say?” Roman asked. “I didn’t tell him that. My mother is the one who brought it up in the first place.”

“We know,” the Queen said. “But you deserve to have your side of the story heard as well. And I wish to hear your side.”

Roman’s heart hammered in his chest. How was he to explain his side and make his mother happy?

“Diana, I need you to promise that you won’t interject during this,” the Queen said, and Roman was stunned. “If we are to hear both sides, we can’t have anyone shouting.”

His mother looked about as stunned as Roman felt. “You want to feed into her delusion?” she asked.

“Of course not,” the Queen said. “But I also want to determine if this is a delusion at all.”

His mother showed a split second of panic before she put on an unreadable mask and said, “I suppose.”

“So...Roman,” the Queen said. “Tell us your side of the story.”

“Well, it all started out so long ago,” Roman said. “When Remus and I were children, really. I believed from the start that we were actually identical. The fact that he and I had different parts didn’t affect my opinion at all. I thought from the start that if he was a boy, then I was a boy. I never really appreciated dresses much, and I loved getting dirty and roughhousing with the guards. Even if people called me a girl, I would still think that at the very least, I was a tomboy, if not a boy outright. As I grew older, it became clear to me that was not the case. And for a while, I did believe that what I had thought as a child was just me being a child and not understanding different sexes. I assumed that I thought that because Remus was my only consistent playmate, and I wanted to fit in with him.

“But time went on, and puberty occurred, and I was dissatisfied with every single change that happened. I tried to embrace it, because everyone told me to. But bras were cumbersome, and periods hurt, and everything that happened to me just...wasn’t what I wanted, even though at that point I didn’t know what, exactly, I wanted. I questioned why my voice didn’t get deeper, like Remus’, and why I had to have breasts while he didn’t. And I spent years in denial, trying to fit in, you know? I tried to be the ‘good girl’ that everyone wanted me to be.

“I came across the word ‘transgender’ one day and...the thought just wouldn’t leave me. My experiences weren’t exactly the same as the stories I read, but...they lined up enough that it kept me awake at night thinking about it. And I wanted to experiment with a different name, maybe cut my hair short to the way I liked it as a child, just to see if this was something I truly wanted. So I went to Remus and asked him to try the different pronouns and name, and he complied. All I wanted was to see if this made more sense than what being a woman felt like.”

“And did it?” the Queen asked.

“At first, I didn’t feel too much of a difference, but after some time...maybe a week or two...if felt odd to respond to anything that wasn’t Roman and he or him. It felt more natural than the pronouns that everyone had been using for me the rest of my life. And I took that as my sign. I was...and I am transgender. I just...can’t see it any other way.”

The Queen nodded, and his mother stared at him, perturbed. “You never said any of this back home,” she said.

“You wouldn’t allow me to. You just yelled that I wasn’t transgender and confined me to my room,” Roman said with a shrug. “You haven’t let me explain myself since this whole argument began.”

The Queen hummed. “And you still believe that you are transgender?”

“I mean, I will admit that I may not have searched for as long a time as my mother may have wanted me to, but the surety I felt...you can’t make that up, Your Majesty. That feeling of right was so pure and so strong, I can’t believe that I would make that up as some part of delusion.”

“The whole point of a delusion is that you believe it to be real, Veronica,” his mother said.

“Mother...how can you still not see?” Roman asked. “Everything that I do to try and express myself...it may not be what you want for me but it makes me happy. When I was growing up all you ever wanted me to be was happy. But now that I know what makes me happy, you’re denying me it. I know it’s hard for you, but I want to be myself. Whoever I may be.”

His mother looked more lost than ever before.

Roman sighed. “I’m happier as Roman than I could ever be as Veronica, Mother. I’m sincere about that.”

“You’re my little girl, Veronica. You can never be anything else!” his mother said.

Roman didn’t bother hiding his flinch. “Mother, you’re still not listening to me.”

“And you aren’t listening to me!” his mother snapped.

“Mother. I’ve listened to you for over nineteen years of my life. And nothing you said about my identity ever sat right with me. I just want to see who I am outside your view of me.” Roman forced himself to stay calm. Snapping at his mother would completely cement her in her opinions.

“Diana, I’m inclined to believe...Roman,” the Queen said.

His mother looked like the Queen may as well have slapped her. “No! No, she’s my daughter, and she can never be anything else!”

“Mother—”

She glared at him and he closed his mouth with a click. “You’re my little victory, Veronica, isn’t that enough?! Isn’t it enough that I love you, and your father loves you? Why isn’t that enough for you?!”

Roman felt his patience snap. “You really want me to be your daughter?! You want me to shut up and sit down and never speak my mind, never trust you with anything ever again? Do you want to wake up ten years from now and wonder why we never speak anymore?! Because that’s what’s going to happen if you’re not careful!”

“You’re my daughter! Not my son!” his mother snapped.

Roman balled his hands into fists, standing. “You’re right about one thing: I’m not your son.”

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