#like I’m sorry I wasn’t intending to live past 22 and didn’t care about the potential lung cancer I would get at 50

[boysnberriespie]

The unending struggle to explain to people that shaming smokers was never gonna solve anything and tobacco companies target marginalized communities and we will never be free as long as you blame other people for their suffering and addiction is addiction is addiction and I’m tired…

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 22 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

helloooooo besties and happy Saturday! 

Read previous chapters of this fic here! 

contains: canon-typical descriptions of violence and death

wordcount: 1.9k 

You're passing the diamond on your chain between your fingers anxiously a few days later as you and Spencer pour over a map on the jet. You’re headed to Colorado after a family annihilator had struck twice in the same small Denver suburb. The whole town was on alert, and you needed to solve this one fast before the whole state devolved into hysteria. Hotch decided on the jet to send you, Reid and JJ to the precinct-- you and Reid will keep working on the geographic profile, and JJ will coordinate local law enforcement. He, Morgan and Emily are headed to the neighborhood to see if any of the locals had noticed anything off. 

“There has to be a connection to this specific suburb. Why come ten miles outside of Denver when the city, or even a closer suburb, would be a more target-rich environment?” You floated an idea past Spencer, who nodded in agreement. 

“You think he sought out these families in particular?” He asked, turning his attention to the pictures on the whiteboard. 

“Not necessarily. Garcia’s still looking for a connection between the families, but so far she hasn’t found one. I think these two families were practice for something worse, or for a family that matters more to him.” You conclude, hoping more than ever that you had profiled wrong. 

“If that’s the case, our presence here might trigger the unsub to escalate,” he points out with a grimace. 

“Or, hopefully, it will send him into hiding.” 

“We’ll never find him if he does that.” 

“We’re gonna have to.” You sigh, pulling your attention back towards the map. You pour over it, certain that if you look just a little closer, the answer will jump out at you, but it doesn’t. 

Geographic profiles are always helpful, and you and Spencer were great at them, but they rarely solved cases on their own. The reality of the situation is that without any info on the unsub or the connection between the victims, you were essentially trying to create something out of nothing. You push your chair out from the table, deciding to give your mind and your eyes a break, when your phone starts to ring. It’s Garcia.

“Oh, you’re just my favorite person.” You said into the phone by way of greeting, hoping that she’s going to present you with the missing piece that will make all of these seemingly unrelated pieces of information make sense together.

“Careful, peach! There’s someone else on the line who might object to that,” Garcia warns you. 

“What do you have for us, Penelope?” Aaron asks.

“So, the Sutton and Mack families have more in common than we thought-- not so much socioeconomically, but their kids were both enrolled at the local high school, although different ages, and the moms were on the PTA together.” 

“Were they friends? The kids, or the moms for that matter?” You ask immediately. 

“It doesn’t really look like it, but I’m going to keep digging,” she tells you. 

“And no connection between the fathers?” Hotch asks.

“Nope, Mr. Sutton was an attorney and Mr. Mack was a cab driver. Doesn’t seem like they ever would have met.” She tells you both. 

“Garcia, do me a favor and make sure Mr. Sutton wasn’t in Mr. Mack’s cab within the last month or so. Let us know when you have more.”

“Oh, sir, before you both go, there’s one more thing.” She blurts out before Aaron can hang up the phone.  “It’s about Josh.” 

You take a sharp breath in, and Spencer’s in tune to you immediately, his head jerking up from the maps, looking you over to make sure you’re okay. 

“What is it?” Hotch asks, sounding every bit as tense as you feel. 

“Josh was arrested this morning. Busted for possession during a traffic stop,” She tells you and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“That’s… that’s great news.” You say.

“I thought you’d both like to know.” Garcia tells you.

“Anything else?” Hotch asks, and you're perplexed by his lack of response to such a good update. 

“No, that’s all for now. I’ll call you back as soon as I have more on the case.” She says, and the line clicks.

“What was that about?” Spencer asks, bringing you back to reality, and you share the info from Garcia about the victims. You can tell that he knows that there’s more, but he doesn’t press and you don’t offer. 

“If both the kids and the moms knew each other, we could be looking at a bullied kid or a woman scorned.” You theorize. 

“A woman wouldn’t kill the kids, at least not a mother. And if the woman wasn’t from the PTA, why target these moms in particular?” Spencer argues, and you agree. 

“Could be a man, too. Maybe he’s jealous that he doesn’t have the picture-perfect family he’s destroying.”

‘That’s more likely. Although with nothing connecting two husbands, we’ll have a hard time profiling a man if that’s the case.”

“Okay, so for now we focus on the kids until we find something that pulls us another way. You want to take the Macks and I’ll work on the Suttons?” 

“Will do.”    

You work in silence for a couple more hours until Hotch, Morgan and Emily return. 

“Anything helpful?” JJ asks, coming into the room behind them. 

“The moms were friendly, but not necessarily friends. The kids mostly hung out in separate social circles, it seems.” Morgan informs you all. 

“Any obvious power imbalances between the kids groups, or bullying?” You asked. 

“None that any of the kids we interviewed brought up.” Emily tells you. 

“None of the moms mentioned it either-- and they’d be more likely to bring it up than the kids would.” Aaron tells you. 

“So we’ve got a whole lot of nothing.” JJ concludes, and you sigh. 

You all continue to work for a few more hours-- putting together profiles of each of the members of the families that ultimately bring you no closer to finding the unsub. 

“We’ll be back here first thing tomorrow morning-- there’s nothing else we can do tonight.” Hotch concludes as he pins the last index card to the cork board. “Let’s head to the hotel and get some rest.” 

Despite the exhaustion that has soaked its way deep into your bones, you and the rest of the team pull yourselves out of your chairs and towards the SUVs. You nearly sink into the leather, and if he wasn’t such a stark professional, you might have asked him to carry you up to your hotel room.  He did, however, offer you a very gentlemanly hand to help you out of the car, and wrap his arm around your waist as the two of you trudged your way into the elevator and down the hall towards your room. You collapse onto the mattress as soon as you make it through the door, and Aaron chuckles at you, taking a moment to brush his teeth and change. When he settles on top of the covers next to you, you speak up, although hadn’t really intended to do so.

“Aaron, can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask me anything, my love,” Aaron mumbles like it’s the easiest thing in the world as he leans over to set the hotel alarm clock that sits on the bedside table. 

“When Garcia told us that Josh was arrested… you didn’t seem happy.” You said, decidedly not a question. He answers you anyway, shifting towards you to look you in the eye before he speaks up. 

“I’m sorry honey. I’m relieved, of course I am. I was just focused on the case this morning. Maybe I haven’t fully processed it yet,” he confesses. “But of course I’m happy for you. I would have been happier to arrest him myself, but this is just as well.” He tells you with a rueful smirk. 

He’s lying, and you can see it in his face. Maybe lying is a strong word, but there is definitely more to it than he’s telling you. “You’re sure? There’s nothing else that’s bothering you?” You pushed, but he shook his head, looking down at his lap.

“I’m sure, doll. I really am happy. We’ll take Jack out when we get home to celebrate.” He tells you, leaning over to kiss your temple. 

“Maybe a bike ride and some ice cream? I haven’t been out on the bike with him since he got his training wheels off.” You suggested. 

“Sounds perfect,” he tells you, reaching to kiss you again and moving to wrap his arms around you, which you dodged. 

“Get the bed nice and toasty for me while I change,” you smirked, rolling off the mattress and heading towards your suitcase for some pajamas.

You were back at the police station before the sun rose the next morning, pouring over the transcripts of what had come in from the tip line the night before in the hopes that you might find something useful. Your desk looked the same way it used to when you were studying for exams in the academy-- papers and highlighters scattered everywhere, color coordinated page flags littering all of your documents. 

“Cupcake, if I didn’t know any better, I might think you were the serial killer,” Morgan comments with a smirk, setting a hot cup of coffee in a relatively-unoccupied patch of desk. 

“Very funny, Derek.” you rolled your eyes. “I’m only letting you live because you brought me coffee. And because I’m too tired to kick you,” you told him.

“Do you want any help?” He offers, and you smile, but shake your head at him. 

“No, thanks. I’ve got a pretty strict organizational system going on over here, if you hadn’t noticed,” you chuckle. “But you can come to the medical examiner’s office with me in an hour or so?” 

“It’s a date, mama.” He confirms, rapping his knuckles against your desk before going back to his own workspace. You flip through a few more pages, leaving scribbled notes and wayward highlighter in the margins, before you notice something and call Garcia. 

“Good morning, peach! What can I do you for?” Garcia asks in her usual cheery tone, clearly far ahead of you in terms of cups of coffee consumed. 

“Morning,” you say to her. “Listen, something came in through the tip line last night, and it’s probably nothing, but I just have this feeling…” 

“Lay it on me,” she tells you encouragingly. 

“So, Mark Vexper is a long-term sub at the high school where all of the kids went. He didn’t go to work the day after both of the murders. He had a scheduled personal day the first day, and he called in sick the second. Like I said, probably just a coincidence--” 

“No stone left unturned, kitten! I’m on it. Buzz you when I have more.” She says, hanging up unceremoniously.

“Good catch,” Hotch says from behind you, and you startle. 

“It’s probably just a coincidence,” you brush the compliment off. 

“Maybe, but we won’t know until we look into it,” he tells you. “You feeling okay?” He asks. 

“I just really want to catch this guy and get home to our boy.” You tell him, and his heart warms. Looking around surreptitiously, he drops a quick kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Me, too, angel. We’ll get him.” He tells you. 

An unexplainable chill runs up your spine, and you have a strange feeling that Aaron’s not talking about this unsub.

tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads

[x-childish-x]

Hello!! I was wondering if you can do a kurt x reader with promts 4, 20, 22, 24, 25, 34, 35, 36, 38, 48, 49, 52. sorry for so many promtes but if you can do it than tysm and if you can't than that's fine lol

Looking Back

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x fem!reader

Fandom: X-Men

Warnings: angst-ish, sadness, cheating boyfriend, cussing, degradation from ex-boyfriend, mutant reader, happy ending, cuddling

Word Count: 1,114

A/N: Hello lovely! First off, thank you for this request, I hope you enjoy it and feedback is always appreciated! Don't apologize at all for requesting a lot of prompts, I love the challenge and a lot of these prompts were one's I've been dying to get in a request! This was fun to write and I truly hope that you enjoy it!

Summary: You look back on your relationship with your ex and how lucky you are to have Kurt now.

(gif not mine!)

Looking back, you suppose it was never going to work. 

You had always felt you were too intense for Tyler, never realizing that you were just with the wrong man. You'd come home early from the mansion, your intention to surprise him, only to find him in your bed with another woman that most definitely wasn't you.

You hadn't meant to explode, but you had, all the electricity in your apartment going off like a switch, your body absorbing it like a sponge. The girl screamed, taking in the sight of your arms that currently had small sparks of electricity running up and down them. She bolted past you and out of your apartment, crying about something you couldn't care less about.

"Princess-"

"I'm not your princess," You snarled out, cutting Tyler off.

He smirked, the damn boy smirked, before speaking up, "You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise." 

Oh, you were raging now, the electricity flying off you in bigger sparks, "Excuse me!? This red.. it's anger, not from being flattered, you colossal dumbass! You have the never to flirt when you were just fucking another woman!"

He shrugged, sliding on sweats and getting out of the bed, "God, you've always been so touchy, you're weak-"

"You're one to speak," You snarled, directing a current of electricity through the floor to zap him, solidifying your point. 

"You bitch!" He snarled, rubbing his arms now, "It's not like I was the first one to cheat anyway!"

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

His eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, "Kurt."

"Oh my god!" You yelled, throwing your arms up in frustration, "He's just a friend!"

"We used to be 'just friends' too!"

"You're that insecure? You know I love-- loved you, you jackass!"

He rolled his eyes, "Well, I never really loved you. Been cheating for months anyways."

Tyler smiled in triumph as your face dropped, tears welling in your eyes. Looking back, you realize that idiot wasn't worth a second of your time. You realize you should've gotten with Kurt sooner, never used Tyler as a distraction from your crush on your best friend. Your best friend, who thankfully, seemed to know exactly when you needed him.

"Forget it, you're a fucking asshole."

You spun around, intending to march into your living room when Tyler grabbed your arm. You went to shock him, maybe even completely electrify him, when a soft 'bamf' filled the room. Your head snapped to Kurt. His eyes were frantic, assessing the situation before his glare landed on your new ex-boyfriend.

"If you don’t let her go right now, I swear I will break every bone in your body."

Your smiled widened at Kurt's words as you sent a jolt of electricity to the area of your arm Tyler had been holding. He yelped in shock, jerking away from you and glaring as you bolted to Kurt. He watched as Kurt engulfed you in his arms, his tail wrapping securely around you as he glared at Tyler.

"Are you really choosing him over me?" Tyler scoffed in disgust as you looked up.

"I'd choose Kurt over you anytime," You snapped, glaring at the disgusting man.

You turned with Kurt, walking towards the door. You could come to get your things later. And you did the next day, returning with Kurt and Peter, who helped you gather your things incredibly quick. Looking back, you thought of all the times you should've done that so much sooner.

"You're gonna walk out on me, you whore? I'm the best you could ever get."

"You were the one who walked out, not me," You scoffed, turning back around, "And, the best I could ever get... is right here." 

You'd never forget the defeated look Tyler gave you as you pat Kurt's chest, who was absolutely glowing at the broken look on the man's face. It truly was one of the best moments you'd had without needing to say an incredibly witty remark. It was short, quick, and immensely true. Kurt was the best, the most amazing boyfriend you'd ever had. You only wished you hadn't been so afraid to tell him you liked him.

You jolted at Kurt's side, a small bit of electricity shocking him as your eyes opened. He smiled softly, his arm rubbing you gently as you slowly looked up at him. You hated your nightmares because they were often the same, people you loved getting hurt or the moment Tyler hurt you the most. You knew it was stupid with Kurt by your side, but for some reason, your brain still held on to those awful last moments.

"Another nightmare?" 

You nodded at his voice, scooching closer into his side, "I don't know why it bothers me so much."

"Because he hurt you."

You nodded softly at Kurt's words, fighting hard to stay awake as the lull of sleep crept upon you, "I'm just such a burden to you, Kurt. You have to let me go."

"Don't say that!" Kurt hissed, "Y/n, darling... when I asked you to be my girlfriend, I was well aware of the relationship you'd been put through. I knew your pain and your struggles, didn't I?"

You nodded softly.

"There are a thousand different ways to tell someone you love them, and I intend to try every single one. Not only because that's what you deserve, but it's what I want to do. I'm not leaving. Ever."

A smile had pulled onto your face at this point, a soft, lazy smile as Kurt repeatedly rubbed your back. He noticed your small smile, his heart swelling with love and affection at your adorable, sleepy face being squashed into his chest. A quiet giggle left your lips before you spoke up.

"What about when you die?"

"Can't I just be romantic for once?" Kurt huffed with a smile, watching the way your nose scrunched, "But... even when I die, I'll still haunt you. I'll leave roses with you each day, I'll make plates break when you don't eat, I'll make you buy one of those scary boards so we can still talk. I love you (y/n), and not even death could prevent me from showing my love for you."

As he finished his miniature rant, Kurt looked down at you. He smiled widely at the sight of you fully asleep, a small smile on your lips. Kurt loved, more than anyone ever had, and more than you ever thought possible. Looking back on everything you'd been through made Kurt decide that you would never, ever go another day in your life, believing that you weren't completely and utterly loved.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 14 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Separated and terrified, Spencer and Reader rely on their unique skills to survive. The team, minus Penelope and Derek, don’t know who the strange girl in the bank is, but they find out very interesting things about her history.

A/N: I don’t know how banks work. Idk how heists work. I know nothing. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader 
 Category: ANGST. Just. All of it. All of the angst. Every bit. 
 Content Warning: Gun violence, discussions of death and dying Word Count: 10k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Hello, my name is (y/n)(y/l/n) and I’m calling from the Bank of America on K St. Northwest to report shots fired. The shots sounded like burst-fire from multiple semiautomatics.”

When adrenaline kicks in, there are a lot of things that don’t feel real. Time seems to warp into some ominous presence weighing down on you, but your body has never felt lighter.

“Ma’am, where are you?” Her voice sounded so far away. My own just felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“I’m inside the bathroom. Listen, I might not have a lot of time. There’s a federal agent inside the bank. His name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Call...”

My mouth blanked on the names of the two men Spencer talked about the most. I’d met them both, why couldn’t I remember?

Several more shots rang through the building as an answer. It was enough to shake loose the names, which flowed from me before I could even comprehend where they came from.

“Call SSA Aaron Hotchner and… Derek Morgan.”

“Can you remain on the line?” She sounded insistent — which is against their protocol by the way. My eyes were glued to the bathroom door’s hinges.

“Only until the door opens.”

The sentence conveyed my thoughts without actually forming the words. Once that door opens, I’m probably going to die. It wasn’t a completely irrational fear.

“Okay. I need you to remain calm. Did you see any of the gunmen?”

Jesus, it was like everything I’d just told her had gone completely over her head. “No, I’m in the bathroom.”

“Does the agent have his service weapon?”

“No.”

If she didn’t ask me a question I could say yes to soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

I tried not to think about Spencer outside, but I couldn’t help it. All of my thoughts were on him, even before the commotion.

Was he even still alive?

“Help is on the way, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

“Please hurry.”

My entire body shook from the hormones, my instincts telling me to do anything besides sit crouched on a toilet in a bathroom stall. I don’t even know why I bothered hiding. They would definitely kick them in, or just shoot straight through the doors.

“We’ve contacted Agent Hotchner and he’s also on his way.”

Finally, some good fucking news. I released my breath as quietly as I could, closing my eyes for just a moment to compensate for the fact I hadn’t blinked in several minutes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the phone like it could actually do something for me past this point. But it couldn’t. No amount of breathing exercises would help me through this one.

Suddenly, there was movement outside the door. A crowd of people were shuffling past the door, and I heard the distinct sound of a toddler wailing.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t hang up—“

I couldn’t wait, though. With trembling hands, I erased the evidence that I’d ever called them in the first place. And then I resumed my position as a sitting duck; quietly and as ready as I ever could be.

I listened for his voice, but I never heard it.

—————————————————

Three seconds.

Did you know that a semiautomatic weapon can fire up to three rounds per second, depending on how fast the user can pull the trigger?

After the first shot is fired, no one moves. Puzzled and alert, people are paralyzed. Your first reaction is to look for the source of the sound. It’d been a second before I turned to see the three armed people and two dead security guards behind me.

It takes the average person one and a half seconds to cognitively process that they're in a potentially life-threatening situation. It takes another .7 seconds for a physical response to kick in.

Three seconds.That was long enough for a maximum of nine shots per person to be fired- twenty-seven shots in total; it was long enough for the air to be filled with the sudden outburst of helpless screams the patrons of the bank, and it was long enough for me to realize that I didn’t have my gun and that my girlfriend wasn’t by my side.

“Everybody get down on the ground!”

Amid the chaos, I felt that all too familiar twisting sensation in my gut that begged time to reverse just enough for this to be a dream. Enough time to reverse the decisions that led us here.

But time was a cruel mistress, and she did not plan to bend to the whims of mankind, no matter how desperate.

Another deafening burst of sound rang through the air, shots fired into the ceiling now as myself and the others fell to the ground.

My gaze was fixed on the bathroom entrance. I couldn’t breathe. Please, I begged, stay hidden.

“Listen up! If everyone does what we say, you can all go back to your boring fucking lives.”

Injuries occur in less than two percent of bank robberies. Deaths occur in less than one. Saturdays are the second to least likely day for a robbery to take place. In the past 5 years, less than 10 people have been killed in bank robberies, and most of them were the perpetrators. Statistics usually calmed me down and helped me focus.

But these people didn’t care about statistics. They were defying the odds I had just recited to myself. They had already killed two people. Our luck was already stacked against us.

“Take everything out of your pockets and put it in front of you.”

As soon as the order was given, I was running through an inventory of everything in my pockets. It didn’t take me long to realize that with a cursory inspection of the items, they would figure out who I was.

But what were the odds that they would actually scrutinize them? I figured they were fairly low; you don’t rob a bank to get cheap jewelry and petty cash, even in a bank. What were the odds they would notice if I left something in my pocket — especially if my wallet was in front of me. If it wasn’t large enough to be a weapon, and I put out my objects of value, why wouldn’t I put out the rest of the contents?

So I decided to take the risk, removing my wallet while retaining my separate identification.

Luckily, the attention seemed pretty far removed from me. If I wasn’t too busy being extremely grateful, I might have been offended that they didn’t consider me a threat in the building.

“Alright ladies, all of you get up and follow my lovely friend here. You’re going on a little trip. Fellas, you stay right where you are.”

The sound of my heart pounding drowned out the instructions that weren’t intended for me. It was fine, I hadn’t planned on moving, anyway. As long as I could see the door to the bathroom, I was perfectly fine right where I was.

But I still felt for the terrified women that were shakily rising to their feet. To my right, I saw a woman struggling to hold a small infant. My heart was fracturing at the struggle, wishing I could help her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk doing anything that might draw attention to myself.

I felt like a traitor. I felt useless. I was quite literally trained to handle this exact situation, but now that I was here, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t thinking about strategy or how to maximize efficiency; all I was thinking about was her.

“Jake!” A woman’s voice screamed from the other side of the room. When I turned, I heard the sound of a rifle cracking against bone before the man hit the ground.

“Jake, huh?” The man above him laughed, using the business end of the rifle to turn the disoriented man on his side. “Well, Jake, how would you feel about your girlfriend watching you die?”

“Please don’t hurt him!” The woman sobbed, scrambling up off the floor that she’d resisted leaving. I wondered if (y/n) would have refused to leave me, too.

The man prodded the woman with the gun, urging her to follow the rest while simultaneously providing easy enough instructions. The man apparently named Jake made a few noises of desperate protest as he watched her leave.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m sorry,” Jake pleaded, “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt her. I’ll be quiet.”

Smart man. I understood his hesitancy, though. His girlfriend kept her neck craned back until she was no longer in sight, gazing back at him for as long as she physically could. I closed my eyes just for a moment, to try and combat their current strain.

Unfortunately, just like it always seems to happen, that’s when they spoke the words I had been dreading.

“Hey, you check the bathrooms yet?”

“Nah, I got it.”

I closed my eyes tighter now, scared that if I opened them, I’d give myself away. There was no possible way that I could hide the terror I currently felt. To be fair, I think it was only natural to be scared — but not like this.

There was a loud crashing noise of doors slamming, and the voice I knew better than I knew my own reached my ears, making sounds I’d never heard from her before.

Don’t fight them. I pleaded again, Please, don’t fight them.

“Let go of me!” She screamed as the door to the bathroom swung open. Unable to keep my eyes shut any longer, I opened them to see her clawing at the ground as she was dragged out by her ankle. “I can walk by myself! Let go of me!”

I wasn’t sure if she didn’t see me in the commotion, or if she’d just made the decision to act like she hadn’t. Either way, I was grateful. Still, my worries were justified as one of the three unsubs walked over to me.

“Why are you looking at her like that? You know her?”

Craning my head up, I shook my head no. It must not have been very convincing; the rage in my heart at them for thrusting her into this situation evident in my eyes.

“You wanna play hero, kid?”

“Sorry. No.” I muttered, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to regulate my heart rate or my voice, “She’s… very loud. I get headaches.”

“Yeah well, deal with it.”

That might have been the end of it, if I’d played my hand better. But it turned out that the risk I had previously elected to take was woefully miscalculated. I didn’t meet their eyes anymore, knowing that doing so might threaten whatever frail illusion of masculinity they possessed.

It still didn’t stop them from holding the gun to my head.

“Empty your pockets.”

“Okay. I can do that, but I have to put my hand in my pocket.” I explained, moving my shaking hand to my back pocket, “It’s not a weapon.”

For once, I was grateful that I was the resident wimp when it came to stressful situations. Sure, I could handle myself, but I definitely didn’t look like I wanted to be there. Had I been any more of a visible threat, I was certain they would have figured out my identity long before this point. They might even have killed me right away.

“Hurry up.”

Swallowing hard, I pulled the identification from my pocket, flipping it open and holding it up for him to see, my gaze aimed fully forward. He snatched the badge away, a cheeky chuckle and a smile in his words.

“FBI, huh? Well, aren’t we lucky. You just became our most valuable player.”

—————————————————

Morgan arrived on the scene relatively unhurried and mostly just curious. The information Garcia had sent over text message was vague, likely due to the crime being a local one. Nothing about this seemed to be the BAU’s usual fare.

It took him almost no time to find Hotch, dressed in casual clothing, surrounded by the massive response team swarming around the bank. But Hotch hadn’t spotted him yet, fully involved with SWAT.

“What’s going on?”

Finally turning to notice his arrival, Hotch gave his normal matter-of-fact report in his simple, succinct manner. “Three people stormed the bank approximately 20 minutes ago and killed two security guards. There are 19 confirmed hostages inside the bank.”

But there was one significant detail that seemed to be missing, and Morgan started to scan the crowd for familiar faces as he spoke. “Hotch, this doesn’t sound like anything we’ve been working on. Why are we responding?”

“The caller alerted us that Reid is inside.”

The words were so unexpected that Morgan actually did a double take, his eyebrows furrowed and bowed as he replayed them in his head. “Wait, how did the caller know that?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said with an equally perplexed look, gripping tighter to the communicator in his hand, “but she referred to us and him by name.”

‘She?’ Morgan thought, his heart stopping for a second as he excused himself from Hotch’s side, pulling out his phone and frantically calling Garcia, who had already made her way to the BAU.

“Hey there handsome.” It was a mild nickname for the famed Penelope Garcia, but Derek knew that she was probably already in a tough spot. After all, it’s not every day that one of their own is in these situations. At least, not unexpectedly.

“Hey Garcia, do you have eyes on the people in the bank?”

He could hear the feverish click-clacking of keys on the other end, followed closely by her equally frantic voice. “I’m working on it but so far I can only see the main lobby. They separated the women and the men for some reason. Why would they do that?”

“Just focus,” he calmly reminded, “Can you see the women?”

“No. All the women and children were moved to the back.”

Rubbing his face to try and relieve the tension that had quickly made its home over his jaw, Morgan glanced over at the entrance to the bank. It was strange to think that so much had happened so quickly.

Garcia had mentioned twice now that the women had been moved to the back, and he was trying to figure out why they would do that beyond the usual control mechanisms.

“I’m trying to see in the back now, but apparently banks take their video surveillance far more seriously than everything else. Last I checked, a camera never stole money or fired a gun!”

“Focus, babygirl.” It was an instruction for himself just as much as it was for her.

“Sorry, I’m nervous, and you know how I get when I’m nervous!” She squeaked, “I don’t like seeing you guys on my screens. I’d much rather see you in person, safe and sound and preferably smiling.”

Trying not to lose his patience, Morgan just sighed. It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault, except that of the bastards who just had to go and ruin a perfectly nice weekend.

“Can you at least tell me who the caller was? Did they call from inside?”

“They were inside and, one second, let me check, it was... oh.” Her voice cut off abruptly, dropping into a high pitched, desperate whisper. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s... the girl from the movies,” Garcia’s voice got faster and more panicked, “Derek, it’s (y/n). It’s Reid’s girlfriend. Reid’s girlfriend is inside the bank.”

Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the information. Because now that he knew Reid wasn’t alone, he felt the need to tell Hotch.

A profiler with a loved one involved was in dangerous territory. It wasn’t just Reid, but Morgan had personally seen just how unhinged Reid could get when it came to (y/n).

“Can you see her?” He asked, his voice lower than it was before.

“Oh, god, yes! I can!” It was not the kind of excited exclamation Morgan had hoped to hear, but at least he had confirmation she was alive. “She was in the bathroom but… They’re dragging her away…”

Morgan had tried not to pry too far in his best friend’s life before, and he took a moment to consider whether his next request was honestly necessary, or if he was just trying to find a reason to snoop.

But he wasn’t. There was something off about that girl. It wasn’t that she was bad or wrong, but she was far too comfortable in situations that didn’t call for it. The way she carried herself told him that she had held her own hand too often.

“Garcia, I know I’ve already done this to you once but... I need you to tell me everything you can find on her.”

—————————————————

My entire body ached; the sensation of an unfamiliar hand clenched tightly around my ankle burned long after I was released. It was definitely sprained, at the very least. I didn’t dare try to touch it, though. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble, and the bristling discomfort kept me where I was.

Which, for now was on my knees in the backroom of a bank lobby. Beside us was a large, heavily reinforced steel door with way too many different contraptions. I decided then that this whole arms race between burglars and corporate America had gotten a little fucking ridiculous.

But however annoyed I was by that, I was far more irritated by the hushed bickering between the man and woman holding rifles on the other side of the room. I could only hear every couple of words, but I got the gist of what they were arguing about.

Apparently, they’d never heard of an alarm system that’s connected to locks, which seemed extremely stupid for people who had gotten this far. In hindsight, that should have been my first clue that something was off about this entire situation.

Still, I couldn’t deal with them making the same fucking arguments over and over, so eventually I blurted out what I’m certain any millennial in the room would know. “The keycard won’t work if they’ve sounded the alarm.”

The statement earned me a gun to my face, and after a brief second of confusion, I flinched away from the cold metal of the barrel.

“What was that, sweetheart?” She was clearly looking to gauge my reaction rather than actually ask me to repeat the information. That was fine. I wasn’t exactly a talented actress, and I didn’t see the point in pretending to be meek.

If she was going to kill me, she was going to do it. Although I was certain Spencer would disagree, I chose to believe that our fate is dictated long before it happens. I was not a profiler; if I survived, it would be because I had been taught to survive through brute force and spite rather than calm negotiation.

“The keycard system is linked to the alarms,” I said, slower now, “Someone hit the alarm, so the cards aren’t going to work. You’ll need to use the old school keys.”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a much lower register as she crouched down to my height. “How would you know? You work here?”

“No, my dad worked security.” It wasn’t a lie as much as it was an understatement, but she didn’t need to know that. I guess that’s one of those good things growing up with the dad I did; I got very comfortable speaking in vague generalities. Spencer hated it.

“Well, your daddy isn’t here to help you now.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. But that didn’t mean I was alone, I reminded myself. Despite being dragged and my vision turned literally upside down, I had caught a glimpse of him in the lobby. He was alive. That thought alone was keeping me sane right now.

“The different keys you need for an override are probably kept on separate people so one person can’t do it alone. Probably the different managers.” I muttered, nodding to the side where one of the employees flinched at my words. Anything to get away from the fucking gun in my face.

“Is she right?” The woman sneered to the manager, turning her full attention to someone else. I felt a little guilty, since the poor manager seemed a lot less put together than I was. But hey, they needed her, too.

“Yes, I already gave you my keys,” she squeaked, holding her trembling hands up, “Th-There’s another set behind the desk I think.”

“Would you look at that...” It was the first time the man in the room addressed me since he had pulled me out of the stall, and I had to admit I wasn’t exactly a fan of his. But at the same time, I knew that he was going to be remarkably more receptive to me than the woman. She seemed to be the one who was actually in charge.  

“Little miss problem was actually helpful,” he cheered, raising his weapon to point to the ceiling as he approached me. I chewed nervously on my cheeks, trying to meet his eyes but finding them uncomfortably bare.

“You should turn off the camera too, I’m just saying.” This time I didn’t nod, using one cautious finger to point to the small device that was currently staring right at me. I understood that it was probably helpful to Spencer’s team to be able to see, but I wasn’t really keen on my death being videotaped... as well as anything else I might end up doing.

‘Never leave a trace.’ That’s what I’d always heard.

‘Keep’em guessing. Even if you think it’s gonna kill you, because you don’t want to live with that over your head.’

“Fine. Do that and go get the keys.” He sounded intrigued, and I felt his searing gaze against my face.

“I think you should do it.”

The tension from before, when the two were arguing, had quickly resurfaced. She clearly didn’t trust him to be alone in the room, which solidified my belief that she was calling the shots, and he was just being dragged along for the ride.

In another life, I might have respected her ability to order stupid men around.

“Why the fuck is that?” He snapped, earning a bored roll of her eyes. The next thing out of her mouth was expected, but unfortunately the last thing I wanted to hear.

“I want to talk to her alone.”

Great. And naturally, her idea of ‘talking’ to me included weaponry. Using the end of the gun to tilt my head up to her, she gave a suspicious smile.

“Why are you helping us?”

“I want to go home.” It was my immediate and instinctual answer. It was the truth. I was helping them because I wanted to get the fuck out of here.

But you know, people expect everyone to have a squeaky-clean moral compass, so I decided to give a few more reasons.

“And I don’t give a shit about a massive corporate bank. I was just here to go to the bathroom– I don’t even have an account here.”

Maybe that was too many reasons, because just as her hesitance waned, it was back in full force. Shoving the barrel against my throat, she sneered, “I don’t believe you. You’re too comfortable with a gun in your face. You a cop, too?”

Cop?

I tilted my head to the side, baring more of my throat to her as I drawled, “Who’s a cop?”

For once, I was glad that Spencer had made such a point of reassuring me that he was not ‘a cop,’ because otherwise I’m certain the terror would have been obvious in my eyes. But for now, I could trust the numb apathy that was washing over me.

Please don’t be talking about Spencer. Please don’t know that. Good things never happened to law enforcement in situations like this. Hell, the two security guards had been dead in seconds.

“I think you know.” She was smiling, and I realized that this fucking psychopath was sharper than she wanted me to think.

“I don’t.” The words were said through clenched teeth, and I prayed that she would see them as insistent anger over the fear that lie beneath them, “And why would you kill me if I was helping you?”

She smiled, drawing the weapon up and down my throat until it landed lower at my chest. The movements were slow and light, a playful glint in her eyes when they met mine again.

“For fun.”

I didn’t move a muscle, my body remaining tense under her ministrations as I forced myself to hold my gaze steady. If she wanted fear, she wouldn’t get it from me.

“Then do it.”

The look she gave me told me she had seriously considered it, probably a little annoyed with my presence. But there was something else there, too, that same soft recognition that in another reality we might have been friends. I’m sure she saw herself in me a little bit; or at least somebody useful.

This confirmed my suspicion that I’d never really be able to read a psychopath. I didn’t understand how Spencer could do it every day. It’d only been a few minutes alone with her and I could feel myself losing the happy memories of the day.

Luckily, the man returned at the same time I saw a plan developing in her mind.

“Hey, come help me,” he called to her. Her response was surprisingly swift, the metal that was tracing over my collar bones disappearing without another word. He was holding a small bag of money, which seemed to seriously irritate the woman.

“Did you get that money from behind the counter?” I asked it before she had a chance. I wanted him to trust me. Or at least look at me more. It wasn’t that I wanted his attention as much as I knew I could distract him fairly easily.

He looked over at me, a dumbfounded look on his face. Men are so fucking stupid, I thought. The pissed off expression on his partner’s face told me that she agreed.

“It’s going to explode if you mess with it or it leaves the area. Probably with tear gas. If you’re escaping in a car, you’re not gonna want it.”

“Yeah, we know about dye packs, bitch.” She snapped, grabbing the bag of money and tossing it to the side of the door they intended to use.

I stared at the locks they hadn’t even bothered trying to touch. The same locks they apparently didn’t look up or know anything about when they came. Suddenly it hit me why this all felt so very off.

It was strange enough that no one was wearing a mask, and as far as I’d heard, no one was really trying to get out of this situation. I was certain that by this point there was a large crowd of armored men outside.

“Just trying to help,” I muttered as I started to scan the room, looking for telltale signs of tampering. The anxious whispering of the man distracted me just long enough to get more information.  

“Won’t that set off some shit? Chain reaction shit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the woman responded with a swift elbow to his gut as she started to walk away, “you are an absolute moron.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, I heard the faint curses that fell from his lips. As he picked up the bag just to toss it away again, I noticed the presence of odd packages in the corner of the room. He really did not want exploding dye packs near those boxes, which seemed remarkably out of place.

“Why does she think she’s in charge?” I asked, finally ripping my eyes away from the objects that now seemed glaringly obvious. “You two guys outnumber her.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

Relaxing my body as much as I could, I shifted back and forth on my knees, rubbing the tired muscles of my thighs. “I may have been told that once or twice.”

He actually chuckled; his eyes drawn to my legs like the absolute moron he so obviously was. She definitely had gotten that one right. The other women in the room were watching me, but I tried not to pay them any mind.

I didn’t know when or why they decided to let me do whatever I wanted, but I appreciated their apparent comfort in letting me try to kill myself. He made his way over to the boxes, each a specific size and shape. He carried them so carefully.

“I figure there’s no point in being scared if I’m going to die anyway.” I finally said. Shocked gasps and whispers filled the room, but I didn’t divert my attention to them– No matter how much I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up.

They would distract me from the way his mouth curled into a smile when he closed the gap between us, his hand sliding down my head and over my shoulder to follow the braid Spencer had meticulously woven an hour before.

“How about you just shut up and sit pretty for me, sweetheart.” I tried not to let the disgust show as his hand slid behind my neck, holding my head so that I had to look up at him. “You seem like you’d be real good at that.”

Ha! If only Spencer could hear him say that. But I could play the good girl for just long enough.

“Do you need help?” I asked with a tiny shrug, “I might be little but I’m pretty strong.” Strong enough to break your fucking hand if you don’t get it off of me.

“Nah.” He ordered, his hand on my neck getting tighter. “But I don’t doubt that you could be useful. You look real good on your knees.”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might be visible through my ribs. I just needed an excuse to move. If he could give me an excuse to move, I could do so many things.

“Please let me help,” I begged, raising my hand to his forearm against my shoulder. His eyes began to shift, moving just enough to tell me that he wanted to look to the hallway. He could hear her footsteps, too. She was coming back, and I only had a few seconds left.

Once both of my hands were on his arm, I got the feeling he knew something even worse was coming for him.

“I’d love a chance to get to show you how helpful I really am.”  

—————————————————

Hotch had spent the past five minutes on the phone with the male unsub in the lobby, and the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. For whatever reason, they just seemed to deflect any opportunity provided to them.

They didn’t seem to give a shit about anything beyond pushing the buttons of each person they interacted with. Which, they did quite successfully.

“Didn’t realize one pig would bring the whole flock of you here,” he laughed, clearly motioning to Spencer on the video, “How bad do you want him back?”

“What do you want?” He responded without hesitation or a surprise. It was such an expected question to ask that he’d barely even thought about his words before they came out.

“Easy. A chopper, and for you to fuck off.”

That was the equally stereotypical response, meaning it was entirely unhelpful to them. From what they could deduce, they were equally confused as to why this heist seemed to follow all the rules, but match none of the motivations. It was like it was a show, a game, rather than an actual attempt to maximize profits.

“We can do the helicopter, but we can’t give you a pilot.”

“That’s fine,” he responded with a shrug, “Don’t need one.”

It was the first piece of useful information he’d gotten so far on the call. Because if they didn’t need a pilot, it meant one of two things: either one of them possessed the skill themselves, or they weren’t ever intending to use the helicopter.

Briefly pulling the phone away, Hotch turned to Morgan. “Tell Garcia to check our list with people with pilot’s licenses or any other connection that might provide them the skills to fly a helicopter.”

He returned to the call, continuing the usual script for these situations, trying not to act like he’d learned anything new.

“Can you release the women and children?”

“Nah,” the guy said with a chuckle, “I’ll wait.”

Hotch listened to the sound of the receiver for a moment, staring at the entrance to the bank like it would provide him the answers he still needed. He had his suspicions of what might be happening, but with no eyes in the back anymore and the trigger-happy group that had formed around him, he wouldn’t have the resources to convince them not to go in guns blazing.

“We’re ready to move in.” Which is exactly what they had requested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stated before finally moving to look at the man next to him, “Something isn’t right here.”

“Yeah, a lot isn’t right here. There’s 19 innocent people in there.”

It didn’t really matter how many times he went through this situation; the results always seemed to be the same. No one listened, even when it wasn’t one of their men inside.

“Storming the building isn’t going to help them. There are three armed perpetrators inside, and they’re each in a different area. It would be impossible for us to take out all three at once. Especially now that we can’t see in the back. There could be explosives in there for all we know.”

The man was unpersuaded.

“If we can’t save them all, minimizing casualties is the name of the game.”

“Wait a few more minutes. I’m waiting to hear back from our analyst. If they have the capability of flying a plane, its highly likely they also have the knowledge and skills to create weapons that we aren’t currently prepared to handle.”

Although still unconvinced, the man grudgingly gave in to the request. Hotch closed his eyes, trying to be grateful for the extremely small victory; they’d gained a few more minutes. But the relief was short lived, with Morgan putting his phone aside for a second to mutter the same thing Hotch was thinking.

“Hotch, these people are way too confident. It’s like they know there’s a way out.”

As soon as he said the words, the two just looked at each other.

“Garcia, can you also check for any other way out of the bank?” He asked, walking back over to the table laid out under the nearby tent. This would have been a great time for Reid to be here, he thought as he stared at the ridiculously complicated schematics.

He understood they didn’t want people to be able to figure them out (so they couldn’t rob the bank), but this was just ridiculous. It looked ancient.  

“Sure thing, but… Morgan, I think there’s something else you should see.” The nerves dancing in her voice told him that they were about to switch subjects. “You know how the guy disabled the camera feed in the back room. I was reviewing the footage we do have and it looks like… (y/n) told him to.”

“Why would she do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he glanced over to the ornate bank doors. Part of him wanted to joke that things would’ve been a lot simpler if he didn’t have to worry about Reid’s weird girlfriend, but it didn’t feel as funny when they were both in danger.

Maybe later, he thought hopefully, when they were all together again.

“I… don’t know why. But I did what you asked, and I went through her record and found a ton of sealed files on her and also her dad…”

Morgan’s attention was definitely piqued at that point, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the stunned silence, Penelope spoke again.

“Should… Should I unseal them?”

It was the same question he was debating in his head, and he honestly didn’t know. Although a long shot, he hoped that she could provide at least the bare minimum of context before they made that kind of decision.

“What kind of files are we talking about?”

“I can’t be sure until I unseal them b-but, I mean, they’re sealed for a reason and I’m talking scary sealed. Like, it might take me a minute sealed. Giving me the heebie-jeebies sealed.” She grew more frantic as she continued. Morgan knew they were running out of time.

“I get it.”

“Is Reid okay?” She switched gears, recognizing that Morgan’s hesitance meant it was probably a bad idea. She wasn’t going to push it unless he did. They didn’t even know if she could help even if they unsealed the files. Especially without a visual.

“They know he’s with us,” Morgan sadly admitted, “I don’t know what’s going on. Did you find another way out of the bank?”

“Right.” The conversation was going to give everyone involved whiplash at this point. “Yes! There is an access way through tunnels underneath the bank but it would take a massive distraction for all three of them to be able to get out of there without us meeting them on the other side. I’m talking earth shatterin–.”

She didn’t finish the sentence, her tongue halting the second her mind caught up with her voice. Morgan was equally concerned, recognizing the kind of distraction that this might require and the perfect way to escape with maximum damage.

But that wasn’t what got his attention. There was no fiery explosion or shouted epiphany, because at that same time there were the muffled sounds of gunshots coming from inside.

“Oh my god, what was that?!” Garcia yelled, accompanied by frantic clicking as she filtered through each individual camera to try and locate the source of the noise.

“Garcia, do you have eyes on the main room?”

“Yes! But it wasn’t in the main room, Derek, it was in the back!”

It was a difficult and necessary job, to consider what those sounds might mean for the young girl they’d met only a few weeks earlier. Morgan’s thoughts went even further, not only worried about her safety, but his best friend’s sanity. Lord knows Reid didn’t need another thing weighing on his conscience. Especially not about her; it just might destroy him.

“What does the unsub in the main area look like? Does he look confused? Surprised?” The words were coming, but he didn’t know where from. His body was on autopilot, desperately seeking any validation that they could still save everyone.

“I-I don’t know! He looks grainy! The image is like an inch wide!” She was clearly growing frustrated, which was a feeling they all shared at this point. “This camera is from before I was even born!”

“Try, Penelope,” Morgan pleaded, “Give me something.”

But the other men weren’t willing to wait.

“That’s it. We’re moving in.”

Morgan turned to them, his hand clutching tighter to the phone just in time for her to speak.

“He’s calling for them but they’re not coming out. He looks… Oh no. He’s yelling at Reid now. And... And it looks like someone is coming down the hallway? But he’s not looking–”

It was impossible to focus on everything that was happening, heavy boots and massive commotion as people began to take their positions. But if someone was coming down the hallway, and the unsub didn’t know, that could only mean a few things. Either he was about to be proven disposable, or someone else had fired those shots.

Either way, one thing was clear.

“Wait! We can’t go in there yet!”

—————————————————

There was a point in time where I might have questioned whether I would ever get used to a gun in my face. There was also a point where I actually had gotten used to it. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment, this terrifying realization while staring down the barrel of an assault rifle that I didn’t want to die yet.

I used to think that my life was somewhat disposable. Sure, I was helpful and useful for my job, but ultimately, I considered myself replaceable. The next person to come might not have the same credentials, but they probably wouldn’t also have half the flaws I do.

But now I wasn’t thinking of work. I wasn’t thinking about how replaceable I was, because it wasn’t my life that mattered.

I didn’t want to die yet, because I wanted to see her again.

So I just stared at the weapon, trying to remember that it was still a great possibility that I could. I tried not to think about what was in front of me, choosing to use most of my brainpower to picture what it would feel like when I had her in my arms again.

The vision inside my head ended swiftly, with the sound of rapidly fired weaponry coming from down the hall. Through the commotion of screaming, I surmised that at least two guns had been fired.

Silence followed. It was a stifling, exhausting, painful silence.

What broke it was even worse, with the gun in my face smacking into the side of my head as the man holding it lost his grip at the sound.

“What the fuck was that?!”

He looked at me like he expected me to have the answers, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know. I-I don’t—“ Not only did I not understand why two guns would fire, I didn’t know who had shot them or for what reason. There was one thing I did know. “It sounded like your weapons.”

“Hey, what’s going on back there?!” He shouted, twisting his body just enough to see around the corner.

There was no reply.

“Did your people get in here somehow?” The panic was obvious, and I didn’t know how to calm him down without arousing suspicion. He was continuing to devolve, stepping closer to me as he stuck with his original thought, “How the fuck could they have done that, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

It was a question I’d been asking myself. The longer the silence continued in the back, the more rapidly my anxiety rose. There are only a few reasons why we wouldn’t hear more screaming.

Either someone had managed to get remarkable control over the situation, or all of the hostages were dead. Including (y/n). I forced myself to consider the far less likely, but still possible third option: She was dying, and I could still help her.

“I know that there is still a way for you to get out of this.” I barely recognized my own voice as I rambled, “Is it possible your partners… Is it possible they were planning on leaving together?”

“What?” He sounded disgusted and exhausted, but simultaneously insecure. It didn’t take much effort to realize that he was the weakest of the crew. I’d already had my suspicions that whatever the next step in this journey was, he wasn’t going to be making it with them regardless.

“It was their decision to leave you out here, right? In the place with the most windows and the first access to the door? They put you with all the people most likely to fight back. And now it sounds like…”

I paused, my lips unable to make the next words without a deep breath. “It sounds like they killed the people in the back as a diversion to send in SWAT. Does that sound like something they would do?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was enough confirmation for me. It was definitely something they would do, and he knew it. He probably suspected it himself. Thankfully, it gave me enough courage to push back for the first time in this encounter. “Then go back there and see if they’re still there.”

“And just let you be hero and save all these guys? No chance.”

I wanted to laugh; if only he knew the real reason I wanted him to go back there. As terrible as it was, I didn’t care at all about the rest of these men right now. As far as I knew, they were relatively safe. In fact, they were in a better position if what I’d deduced was true. This man, while violent, wasn’t the kind to murder everyone in sight, even when cornered. He’d more likely be shot by SWAT.

“I’ll come with you.” It was a plea, a desperate attempt to get more information that I both wanted and feared. He watched me carefully, trying to read the terror on my face to determine where exactly it was coming from. He knew the hostages were useless to him if he had me, so I wasn’t particularly scared for my life.

At least, not just yet.

“Fine. Get up.”

I willed my legs to stop shaking; to just carry me far enough that I could see her face. I just needed to know that she was okay.

But then I felt a fine mist over my skin— it almost felt like the noise happened after, but I knew logically that couldn’t be true.

A gun fires before the bullets hit their target.

Time seemed to move slower as his body fell to the ground in front of me. My eyes followed him to the floor, but only until I saw the person holding the gun through my peripherals.

“...(y/n)?”

And there she was, clutching tightly onto a rifle, her body barely upright as she staggered forward. There was something remarkably off-putting about the sight of her holding on for dear life to something so morbid. A jarring contrast I would not soon be able to forget, if I ever could.

There was something even more unsettling about the ease with which she carried the weapon, and the fact that she had managed to fire something that powerful without a single stray bullet.

“They’re dead!” She boomed across the room, dropping the weapon onto the floor before she yelled again, “Everyone get out! Hurry!”

No one moved. All of the men, myself included, stared at the tiny girl who’d just saved all of our lives.

“Get out now! There’s a bomb in the back!”

Those were the magic words to stir a panicked crowd into action, people stampeding to the single double door at the entrance, but my eyes were fixed on her. She staggered forward, her arm around her waist and her eyes beginning to roll back.

Perhaps I was just clueless, my one-track mind too slow to navigate the scene in front of me, but it took me that long to see it. My brain rioted against the visuals it took in, the dark crimson dripping down her body. It looked like it would swallow her whole.

I tried to will my body to move, to run to her and do something, anything to help her. But I couldn’t, frozen in place as her small steps got weaker. It wasn’t until I saw her begin to sway that I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Wait!” I screamed to anyone who would listen, my eyes frantically trying to meet someone in the crowd, “Someone get a medic!”

The woman with a child was the last one to pass. She stopped among the commotion, looking down at the carnage in my lap before bolting towards the door.

I had to trust that she would care enough to do something, because from that point on my attention wouldn’t be leaving (y/n). Her eyes were glassy, staring off into the distance and wandering aimlessly despite my face being in view.

“Hey, hey little girl.” My voice crackled as I held her cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

She was finally able to meet my gaze, her eyes filling with love with a small, delirious smile gracing her lips.

“Hey old man.”

The grin didn’t last long, the sounds of her choking and coughing replacing it as blood filled her mouth. I tried to turn her enough that she could spit it out, but it was obvious she was struggling to get any air at all.

“We’re gonna get you some help, okay?” I said with a false confidence, the twisted curve of my lips not even barely resembling a smile.

“It hurts,” she sobbed, her hands slipping in the blood on her stomach.

“I know.”

There wasn’t anything I could do; all I could do was sit there and stare, trying to decide where my hands should be. She was applying pressure to her wound on the front, but I could see the wreckage that was once her back. My hands wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sleepy.”

“I know.” I was trembling, tears dripping from my face and mixing with the bloody mess; they still couldn’t dilute it, somehow make it vanish. “I know you’re tired. But you’ve gotta stay awake, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

At first, I wanted to say the innocence in her voice was surprising, but it wasn’t. She was innocent. She was just a young girl, trying to live a happy, normal life before she met me.

“You’re doing great.” I tried to convince myself this wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t work. She had said it herself — she wouldn’t have ever come to a bank on her own. The statistics of the rarity of this situation kept playing on a loop in the back of my head, but it was just a low hum beneath the sound of her pained whimpers.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something.” The newfound insistence in her voice twisted in my gut, and my hands held tighter to her arm.

“No, don’t,” I begged, already anticipating what was going to happen. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I have to tell you right now.” And then her voice was calm, a smile on her face as her blood-soaked hand left her stomach, trying to raise to touch me. It didn’t make it.

“No, you can tell me later.”

The words were so slurred and pathetic, I’m surprised she understood them. But she did, taking a deep, whistling breath. It was clear it hurt her to speak, and I wanted to tell her to be quiet, but the masochist in me needed to hear the words all the same.

“Spencer, please. Just listen to me.”

This sounded too much like a goodbye.

“I love you.”

Our bodies rocked as I realized I hadn’t taken a breath of my own in too long, the pain in my oxygen deprived lungs not nearly enough to distract me from the genuine softness of her voice.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, “Do you know that?”

I don’t know how she wasn’t crying, her eyes barely open but too tired to blink. That rosy complexion had faded, her skin blanching the longer she lay in my arms.

“Yes, I know.”

“I love you with my whole heart.”

My mind was flashing images from only a couple hours prior, her warm laugh as she laid on my lap, the way her hair slipped between my fingers while I wove it together.

‘You think you’ll still be around?’

‘If you’ll have me.’

The memories were blurring together, creating a symphony of promises that were about to be shattered in front of my eyes.

‘Forever,’ she’d said. ‘Forever.’

‘A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies. Just a normal, domestic life with Dr. and Mrs. Reid.’

Rejecting the thought, I shook my head, “You’re going to be fine.”

“I understand what you meant when…” Her voice was too quiet, too distant, to be this warm. “When you said it was nice to be able to say it.”  

The heavy footfalls and sound of a transport bed wheeling across the floor alerted me that I would have to let her go soon. Whether this would be the last time I ever held her, I couldn’t be sure.

“They’re gonna come take you now, but I’ll be right behind them. I promise.” I barely got the words out before their hands were all over her, those tired eyes shooting wide open as unfamiliar hands replaced mine.

“Wait, Spencer!” She cried out, her body too limp to make a meaningful attempt to stop them, “Don’t leave me!”

Her screams and sobs were ringing louder than the gunshots had, my body slowly making its way upright as I watched them place her on the bed.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise.” I tried not to let the panic bleed through, raising the volume as she started to be taken away from me, “Stay awake as long as you can.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her attempts to scream. If she was calling my name, it wasn’t recognizable. I’m not sure which hurt worse— the sound of her tired lips butchering my name, or the silence that followed.

She wasn’t able to scream anymore.

When I emerged from the bank, the sun burned my eyes just as much as the sight of my team shocked to see me covered in blood. But I couldn’t focus on them at all, immediately bolting after the paramedics without another thought.

The extra time it took them to carefully load her allowed me to jump into the back of the vehicle before the doors shut. There were no words to describe this situation, nor make it any better.

So I just stared in horrified fascination, trying to gauge her odds as they rapidly changed in front of me. Of 107,141 firearm injuries last year, 31% died. How many of the 69% had assault rifle wounds? I couldn’t remember any other statistics. My brain had turned itself off, focusing only on the frantic beeping and scrambled voices.

“Where is he?” Her tiny voice cut through both the internal and external noise.

“I’m right here.” I nearly shouted from my precarious position standing in the back of the rattling ambulance. I wanted to move closer, but I was too scared. There were so many hands on her, and I didn’t want to get in the way.

“I’m scared.” She said, mirroring my exact thoughts.

“I’m right here.” I repeated, closing my eyes to hide from the carnage long enough to put words together that might make her feel any ounce of comfort, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Taking an experimental step forward once the paramedics seemed settled in their places, I came to stand behind her. My hands were tinted red and trembled as they reached out to touch her cheeks.

She took a sharp inhale at the sensation, just barely holding her head up straight. I couldn’t tell if she was leaning into my touch or just couldn’t control her neck any longer. Her skin felt like ice, and although she was still beautiful, the blue tint creeping over her face struck fear in my heart.

“How much longer until we get to the hospital? Her body temperature is dropping.”

If she heard me, she didn’t respond. I stared at the paramedic who was obviously more concerned with other things at the moment. They were kind enough to give me a response, even if it wasn’t a satisfying one.

“Just a few more minutes. We can’t do anything until we stop the bleeding, sir.”

“Spencer…” Each time she spoke was simultaneously terrifying and comforting. It was confirmation she was alive, but also troublesome, because I knew that she should be reserving her efforts for staying alive.

“Hang in there, little girl. We’re almost there.”

She opened her eyes, staring up at me with clouded vision. I could see the pain so clearly it might as well have been me on the table.

“Please help me,” she sobbed, “help me.”

“I-I can’t.” They were the two hardest words I’d ever had to say. Frustration mounted in me, but none of it was directed at her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Myself, on the other hand, I hated myself in that moment.

She was begging for me to help her, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stand here and watch as she bled out in the back of an ambulance, a stranger’s hands practically inside of her stomach.

“I don’t want to die.”

The way her voice cracked took whatever was left of my sanity with it, and I felt my fingertips slip in the blood as I pressed against her face.

“You won’t,” I tried to assure her, “You’re going to be fine. Just stay awake.”

“I can’t.” The usual spunk in her voice had faded, leaving behind the sound of a twenty year old girl with no fight left in her. “I’m so sorry, Spencer…”

‘Sorry?’ I thought below the horror, ‘for what?’

When her eyes shut, they couldn’t even make it all the way. It was an expression I’d seen before on the field. I wasn’t meant to see it on her.

“No. No, no, wake up.” I urged, patting her cheeks softly before closing my hands around them more tightly, “Wake up, little girl, please.”

I was talking to no one, because I don’t think she could hear me anymore. Absolutely nothing in her body changed, even as the paramedics became more rushed.

“I’ve located the bleed!” The woman beside me yelled as the ambulance began to rapidly slow down. “I’m sorry sir, but we need you to move.”

“Whatever you need. Please, just help her.” I’d said the words, but my actions didn’t follow. She stared down at my hands that were still tethered to (y/n)’s face, trying to provide the warmth that she desperately needed.

Somehow, I was able to wrench them away, only then realizing the bloody handprints I’d left behind. Her face still wasn’t moving.

“Please, I—“

Before I could say another word, they were already out of the ambulance. I followed as closely as I could behind them, trying to focus enough to ensure that every word said could be played again in my mind. Because the second she crossed the threshold into the surgery suite, I wouldn’t be able to hear them anymore.

I would have to wait. I would have to wait for her to be better, or wait for a declaration. And in that vast silence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop from torturing myself with every single word uttered in this building before the doors closed.

The doors were ahead of us now, and I wished time could slow down enough that I could give her one more kiss and tell her to be strong one more time before she went into the Schrodinger’s Box that was the emergency room operating table.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, and when the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I’d never said it back. She’d said it three times, but in my adamant denial I’d failed to return it.

It was so much like us, I’d almost laughed. She’d made such a point of worrying about me leaving her, neither of us had ever stopped to think about how I’d live without her.

How would I live without her? The only person I trusted to have an answer was wheeled into the room, the door shutting abruptly in front of me.

In the reflection of the metal door I saw myself, drenched in the dark liquid. I tried to clean my face with my hand only to realize that they, too, were dirty with her blood.

The world had fallen silent, and I let myself be crushed by the overwhelming loneliness of an existence without her.

‘Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.’

It was too late.

—————————————————

| Part 15 |

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 22)

Notes: Apologies for any major errors. I'm going to edit this again in the morning, but I wanted to keep to my promise and give you something today!

And also, I'm sorry... this is an eventful chapter...

EDIT: Now hopefully free of typos and grammatical errors...

Chapter Twenty Two Nesta

Despite the fact that it was only an hour past dawn, the camp was already bustling the next morning as Nesta made her way through the back end of the mountain pass. Cassian was scheduled to visit Swallow’s Ridge at midday, so Nesta had risen early and eaten breakfast alone before walking to meet him in their usual training spot.

It was a bleak, grey sort of day, the sky kissed with the promise of snow and the air so cold Nesta’s breath clouded thick in front of her as she approached the sparring rings. 

The training grounds were not the same as those carved into the rock towards the front of the mountain pass. Instead, an area had been felled of pine trees that was just large enough to construct three large training areas, which were partitioned off by wooden fencing. Unlike the punishing crystalline rock, the ground was soft and open to the elements, a mixture of stone and compact earth that had frozen solid in the cold weather.

Nesta counted twenty girls in the ring as she drew closer — the most Cassian had ever had, he’d informed her over dinner a few nights prior — and whilst some of them looked like they hated every second of it, Nesta noticed Durkhanai and some of the other orphans frowning in concentration as Cassian took them through the guard swings.

At the entrance of the ring, with his arms crossed firmly across his hard and unyielding chest, was Lord Devlon. He was wearing a stern expression, but apart from the odd clipped order he allowed Cassian to lead the session rather than stepping in himself. This did not seem to bother Cassian, who appeared wholly focussed as he walked up and down the training ground, correcting handgrips and stances with a voice that was still General but kinder than when Nesta had heard him barked instructions at the males.

Unlike when Nesta trained, no males had stopped to watch the girls in the ring. Instead, they appeared to avoid the training ground altogether, as if they were purposefully keeping their distance. Nesta was sure there was some pathetic reason for it, but she cast the sneering males to the back of her mind as she deliberately drew to a halt beside the pine fencing a metre from Devlon.

The positioning was purposeful; Nesta was not going to be intimidated by a half-wit bat with a stick up his ass. If Devlon wanted to believe she was a witch, she’d damn well let him.

So drawing up tall, Nesta surveyed Cassian walking up and down the line of girls as they practiced guard swings with wooden swords, and ignored Devlon with blatant disinterest.

The girls attention wavered as they clocked her arrival, and even Cassian stopped correcting a young female’s grip, his wings and nostrils flaring slightly as he scented her on the breeze.

Cassian’s head started to turn but Nesta didn’t have time to meet his gaze, as Devlon cast his dark, cold eyes to rest upon her. 

“Here for training are you,” he grunted. He eyed her hands warily as if he expected mist to be seeping from them.

Nesta twitched her fingers in the hope that he might squirm — just for her satisfaction — and a small, cruel smile twisting her lips upwards. “Yes.”

A begrudging nod. Not a snarl or a sneer. Only, “Mind where you blast that fire.”

Nesta opened her mouth to reply, but then Cassian was in front of her on the other side of the fence. His hair was even more tangled than usual. “I’m nearly finished,” he told Nesta, even though his eyes remained fiercely trained on Devlon. His expression was hard and a muscle in his jaw was already twitching. “Start warming up. Ten laps around the ring.”

Shrugging, Nesta started to jog around the training ground as the girls began to put away their wooden training swords. Durkhanai’s eyes widened as she spotted Nesta, a shy smile flitting across her face.

Nesta saw the orphan most days. Together they helped bathe, dress and feed the younglings to relieve the widows who needed to get down the mountain for work. Durkhanai was quiet but lovely, and after a week of working silently side by side, she started to speak to Nesta, telling her of the death of her mother during the brutal winter last year and her journey to the widows camp, the only place that would take her in. In turn, Nesta had shared a part of herself: her starvation as a human and the death of her own mother.

She did not speak about how she had been Made or about her father’s death. That was something Nesta was still not ready to discuss, let alone face herself.

Sometimes, late at night, Nesta would wake with her face wet with tears, having dreamt of those ships sailing into the midst of battle. How her father had stood at the helm of Nesta, as he looked towards the coastline and his daughters. In that moment, he looked forever young; his hair golden brown rather than grey, his face alight with purpose, his posture tall. The father he had been before their mother died, when Nesta had been his favourite and Feyre had not been forced to the woods so they did not starve.

Feyre. The sister who Nesta might potentially see today, if she willed it.

Originally, Nesta had not even contemplated meeting her sister. Had imagined Feyre standing at the top of the mountain in the freezing cold as she waited for a sister who would not come. But slowly, as three weeks passed, Nesta found herself torn between unbridled fury and curiosity.

Even now, Nesta did not know how to feel. Did not know whether she would face her sister or not. Did not know if she could.

So when she and Cassian trained, Nesta went hard. She ignored the few girls that had stayed behind to watch and Devlon’s beady eyes from his spot at the gates. Instead, Nesta slipped into the rhythm of hand-to-hand combat with an ease that had not come before, her fists and body a blur against the grey landscape.

When she finished her fifth round, a bead of sweat trickled down Cassian’s brow. “Good,” he praised between breaths, and Nesta knew it was deserved. “I felt that kick to the side, sweetheart.”

“Good,” she mirrored, and Cassian barked a laugh. “Maybe you’ll stop going easy on me.”

“I didn’t,” Cassian promised.

A dismissive snort. “You could have pinned me after that upper cut.”

Hazel eyes glowed bright. “I don’t fancy being blasted with silver fire this early in the morning,” Cassian said, even though they both knew why he hadn't pinned her. He stalked to the weapons rack and threw her a longsword, which she effortlessly caught by the handle. “Guards and then combat. Let’s see if you can strike me twice today.”

After their training session, Cassian loitered around the bungalow for longer than he should have. He had bathed first, so Nesta raised an eyebrow at him in surprise as she came out of the bathroom to find him in the living room.

“I thought you were going to Swallow’s Ridge,” Nesta said, her chin lifted as if daring for him to comment that she was wearing nothing but a towel.

The Nesta riddled with alcohol and completely numb would have had no qualms about baring her skin for all the world to see, if only to discover whether it would make her bitter heart feel. But with the potential meeting of her sister on the horizon, Nesta felt splintered and raw.

After failing to illicit comments from Cassian the day of Mor’s visit, Nesta also no longer felt as body confident as she had been. Her failure to draw his attention had only confirmed what she had not wanted to admit: that whilst she had put on weight, the knots in her spine were still too prominent and her thighs were far thinner than they should be, bowing at the tops rather than meeting in the middle. And whilst it wasn’t as if Cassian hadn’t seen more of Nesta’s skin before, today she wasn’t in a place where she could relish in it. If she had known he were still around the house, she would have changed into fresh clothes in the bathroom rather than her room.

Cassian’s nostrils flared and his eyes gleamed for such a short moment that Nesta wondered if it had merely been the fire dancing in his irises. “I might stay and oversee the foot soldiers instead.”

Raising an eyebrow, Nesta tightened the towel around her body. “Why,” she asked shortly. Too shortly. They both knew what today could be, depending on Nesta’s decision. It had been an omen hanging over them that morning as they trained. Cassian had not dared bring it up, and Nesta, who was still too conflicted over her sister’s impending visit, had only set her mouth in thin determination and wielded the longsword after he had thrown it at her, as if it were an extension of herself.

To Cassian’s delight, she had struck him twice. When they had ended, Cassian had vowed that he would start training her with the bow the following day at Spearhead.

Loosing a shrug, Cassian replied, “The rite is in three months. The Windhaven soldiers need as much training as they can get.”

A casual response, but Nesta was not fooled.

She reset her posture, her eyes narrowing in a way that usually had other’s running. “Do it tomorrow.”

Cassian cocked his head and those hazel eyes tunnelled into her with such intensity that Nesta wanted to look away. She didn’t let herself give in to the temptation, staring him down with the sort of unveiled threat that promised she’d make his life hell if he dared defy her.

Eventually, Cassian just shrugged, his broad wings shifting with the movement. He ruffled them, spreading them quickly before tucking them back in. It was a signature move of his when he was uncomfortable. “I’ll be back at dusk. I’ll see you for dinner?”

A careful question designed to ensure that Nesta didn’t intend to retreat into herself should she meet with Feyre. Cassian was worried, Nesta realised, fiercely so, the sensation escaping the walls he had constructed after Kamanam and lining her stomach with the scent of pine and musk and untamed air.

It had been a while since Nesta had been left feeling fully numb. It was a feat that hadn’t escaped her. Clearly, it hadn’t escaped Cassian either, and he wanted the reassurance that meeting with her sister wasn’t going to make her suffer, even though they both knew it didn’t work that way.

For once though, Nesta did hope that the numbness wouldn’t take a hold of her. The sensation felt odd — hope — but it was there, a flicker in the dark. And the thought of coming back to the bungalow later to eat in the kitchen with Cassian… the image was warm and inviting. Nesta could see the orange glow of faelight around the kitchen window, could imagine her feet crunching on snow and ice as she trekked her way back, could taste the spices on her tongue as she bit into the food he would prepare for her…

So Nesta said, “That depends on what you’re making.”

Cassian barked a laugh. “What would you like, sweetheart?”

Nesta shrugged, as if she were wholly uncaring, even as it felt as if someone had clenched a fist in her chest. “Dosas,” she said, tossing the word over her shoulder as she turned on her heel to head into the bedroom.

A low chuckle made her stomach twist and flip, but she did not look back at him, even though she knew his eyes had darkened and flared simultaneously.

Despite the distance, Nesta felt Cassian’s laugh rumble through her, like a flame licking down to her core. “Dosas it is.”

***  

Once she had dressed, Nesta left her bedroom with the intention of making her way to the widows camp. To her fury, she found that Cassian had still not left. He was waiting by the door, her headband in his outstretched hand. Her coat remained hanging from its hook, as if he had anticipated that she would emerge in clean leathers rather than an Illyrian dress.

When he informed her that he planned to walk her to the bottom of the mountain, Nesta snatched the headband from his hands and stormed out of the door with a furious hiss that had him grinning.

Yet... Nesta allowed him to follow her. Knew his cocky grin was just for show. Knew that he wouldn’t voice what they both knew: that somehow his presence had a calming effect on her, smoothing over the gravitas of what could or couldn’t happen in a few hours time.

Cassian opened his mouth a number of times during the walk, but eventually he chose to remain silent. Only when they arrived at the base of the mountain did he surprise her, conversing quickly with the guards in sharp Illyrian before stepping onto the treacherous path with her, rather than shooting into the skies.

Nesta’s scathing look did nothing to stop him in his tracks, and it was only when they made the first brutal turn that he spoke. “You don’t have to see your sister today if you don’t want to.”

Nesta scowled, angry at Cassian for bringing up Feyre when she had intended to cast her to the back of her mind whilst she still could. Her entire body stiffened but she did not turn to him, knowing somehow, that he wanted eye contact from her — hazel on blue.

She kept on walking; one foot in front of the other, her fur-lined boots crunching loose rock beneath her feet. “I am fully aware of what I can and cannot do.”

Her delivery was pointed enough to wound, but Cassian did not flinch. He stopped, reaching for her, his fingers closing around her wrist. “I meant what I said to you the other day, Nesta. You shouldn’t see your sister if you don’t think it’s best for you right now.”

Silence followed as heat licked through Nesta’s veins, her power slithering like a serpent through a dark tunnel.

When Cassian spoke next, his voice was low — a confession, “I fucked up before. I was so angry at you for ignoring me that I didn’t try to see things from your perspective. So I’m going to tell you again what I think you need to hear: only do this for you. Don’t do this for Feyre. If it feels right to meet your sister, meet her. If your gut tells you it is wrong, follow that feeling.”

Nesta nearly snorted in dismissal, but she quashed the sound before it could escape, remembering the look on Cassian’s face that night of Solstice, when she had treated him as if he weren’t worthy enough to even reject.

Instead, she said frostily, “I don’t need your support.”

Something flickered behind Cassian’s eyes. “I know,” he admitted, “but I want you to know that you have it, if you do want it.” His grip tightened around her wrist, his touch warm and too packed with meaning. “Sometimes we need distance to figure out what we need, Nesta.”

His gaze was too intense, so Nesta threw his words back at him as she scrabbled to keep her expression neutral. “And what do you need.”

A shake of the head had Cassian’s wind-snarled hair moving. “I don’t need anything from you," he confessed. "Recently there’s a spark of life in you that wasn’t there before. I don’t want to see it go out.”

Nesta’s windpipe tightened and she sucked in a breath as she purposefully slid her eyes away from him to the frost-kissed landscape; to the snow-capped pine trees, the canvas tents and the shadowed blurs of leather and steel.

“I’m not the same girl who was forced into the Cauldron,” Nesta said.

It was true. Nesta was not who she had been. The Cauldron and the war had remoulded her body and self until she was recognisably different: harder around the edges, broken in the middle. A jumble of revenge and anger and grief and hatred. Emotions that she tried in vein to trap in ice to stop herself from self-combusting.

As if he could tell what she was thinking, Cassian’s fingers moved from her wrist to squeeze her fingers.

“No,” Cassian agreed softly, “but I like who you have become, all the same.” With his other hand, he reached up to brush his thumb lightly over the arch of her cheekbone.

The initiated contact surprised Nesta so much that she did not have the time to order herself to flinch.

“I’ll see you later,” Cassian said, after he had stared into her eyes for a little too long. “If you need me, get one of the guards to send a messenger to Swallow’s Ridge. I’ll come back.”

They both knew Nesta would not ask for him, but she nodded to indicate that she had heard before he shot into the sky. Nesta watched him until he faded into the clouds, his dark wings merging with grey…

A flash of ruby flared like lightning, and then he was gone.

The weather was moody — Nesta’s favourite — and the rolling white and smoke clouds made her emotions spark in a way that she found comforting as she continued up the path. Despite her initial hesitancy, Nesta had learnt that for the most part, it was better to feel than to feel nothing at all. And now… all she could feel was where Cassian’s calloused thumb had brushed over her skin. She wondered if the bastard had done it on purpose to distract her — to make her feel when now was a time when she’d usually retreat into herself.

It irritated her beyond belief that it worked, but it irked her more that she wanted him to do it again.

Females dipped their heads at Nesta in greeting as she submerged herself into the bustling widows camp. Nesta nodded back at them, and when she found the least battered tent at the East side of the camp, Nesta rapped her knuckled on the canvas to alert Mas to her arrival before she ducked quickly inside. The housekeeper’s face lit up at the sight of her. Mas had been winding a thick scarf around Roksana’s neck, but she stopped the task to take Nesta’s face in her hands and plant two quick kisses on each cheek before she hurried off to help the other females in the makeshift kitchens.

“Tiya, sunt tibi beni?” Nesta asked Roksana when they were alone, smoothing a hand over the girl’s tangled hair before she continued to wind the scarf around the youngling.

Roksana did not reply, she only wrapped her arms around Nesta’s legs in a hug that warmed Nesta’s blood.

It was a recent development that Nesta had taken to greeting Roksana in Illyrian, hoping to coax out some words in her in her native tongue. It hadn’t worked yet, but the way in which Roksana’s eyes had lit up the first time Nesta had tried to sound out the language, had left Nesta determined to persist, even if she continued to come up empty.

The chores in the widows camp were never-ending. Tuesdays were many of the females day off and so the camp was far busier than usual. Nesta helped to feed and clothe the orphans with Durkhanai at the Eastern side of the camp, before urging the younglings to warm their wings and frozen limbs by the campfire.

Some of the older widows, including Mas, had come to settle by the fire as well, in order to keep an eye on the younglings whilst they weaved beautiful fabric together with needle and thread. Braving the fire, Nesta settled with Roksana against her side and recounted a few stories, until the spitting became too much and the sun was high in the sky.

Then, without thinking, Nesta stood. She ran a hand over Roksana’s hair and bid Mas goodbye, before heading to the path that traversed up the mountain to the summit at the Western point of the camp. She ignored the way in which Mas had watched her go, her expression concerned to the point of troubled. There was no way in which Mas could know what Nesta was about to do — Nesta had not told anyone about her potential meeting with her sister — but Mas had come to learn her moods just as Cassian had.

If Nesta was more forthcoming about herself, she might have asked Mas’s advice, but instead Nesta continued to move on instinct — on the pull that was drawing her legs to climb up, up, up until the path flattened out.

She saw Feyre as soon as she reached the peak. It was not hard to spot her. She was standing at the precipice, staring down at the widows camp below. Despite the long braid that had woven her sister’s golden brown hair into three strands, the fierce wind carried it behind her, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the slight upwards slant to her eyes. Her long, elegant figure was swept up in the finest fur-lined leathers, as if she too had unwittingly dressed to expect a battle. Or, Nesta thought grimly, the clothing that her mate had insisted she wear, knowing that her sister was not only braving the Illyrian weather but her thorny, quarrelsome sister.

Nesta had just noted the sword strapped to her spine, when Feyre turned and noticed her.

There was a pregnant pause as eyes near identical to her own took in Nesta’s figure: her frost-kissed skin rather than sunken cheeks; the loose braid rather than the tight crown; the figure-hugging leathers rather than the drab, over-sized dresses. A far cry to when Feyre had seen her last, Nesta could admit that much.

“You came,” Feyre said eventually.

Nesta angled her chin, ready to spar.

“I come here every morning,” she replied coldly. “I’d assume that’s why you were advised to suggest here as a meeting point.”

There was no added insult for Cassian. No bat, no bastard, no scathing him. Even so, Nesta couldn’t bring herself to say his name. It felt too intimate — too much of a giveaway that she no longer hated him with such raging intensity she wanted to shatter things.

That was not to say that Cassian did not make her want to break things now… He did, but it was rarely from anger. Rather, it was in the way that he would look at her — in the way that no one else dared — as if she were wholly unbreakable and he had no qualms about closing the distance and pinning her between a wall and the muscled cords of his body.

The tension was rising between them — it had been for a while — and it hung thick and heavy in the air, so much so that at times Nesta found it hard to breathe.

And the worst thing was that Nesta felt herself giving in; melting into the temptation and scent of him, even when she knew that every sensation he pulled from her was a veiled disguise. An illusion. Not of choice but of a decision already made, whereby they were both playing out what was destined for them.

Yet, despite that knowledge, Nesta couldn’t deny that the thought of Cassian speaking of her to the Inner Circle opened the fetid wound that had been falsely healing inside of her. It seeped ruby through the cracks in her wall of ice, like blood tainting the purest snow.

In Nesta’s mouth, she tasted copper.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Feyre repeated, her voice disbelieving as she shook her head.

“I can leave as quickly as I came,” Nesta threatened, her face stony and impenetrable.

To her surprise, Feyre didn’t retaliate or sigh. She only looked down at the view in the fearless way anyone with wings could on a deadly precipice.

“That rock looks like a tombstone,” Feyre observed.

Nesta did not move from her position at the top of the path. Instead, she remained rooted to the spot in case she decided to make a quick exit. Nesta suspected that moment might come sooner than later. Already she felt rubbed raw, her hackles raised, her body primed to fight, yet she kept her face impassive as she followed her sister’s gaze.

Far above them, three warriors flew across the sky. Their bodies were black dots against the grey backdrop, and Nesta watched silver glint off one of them as a gap between the clouds exposed the sun’s rays. Nesta wished she was with them rather than here. Maybe Cassian was right, she was not ready for this. She was not ready to face the ghosts that haunted her… the ghosts that Feyre unwittingly brought with her.

“It’s the widows camp,” Nesta told Feyre coldly, trying to swallow down the urge to run.

Feyre cut a sideways glance at her. “You were there this morning?”

Nesta rose her chin. “Are you asking me that because you’ve been spying on me or because your faithful informant has been telling you how I spend my day?”

Feyre blew out a breath that Nesta dissected as a method of steadying the rising temper they both shared. “I arrived early. Cassian doesn’t like to speak of you to me.”

Surprise flared inside of Nesta so sharp that for a second she couldn’t breathe. She had always thought Cassian loyal to Feyre first and foremost. Had always thought he would choose his High Lady over her lowly, cruel sister, despite the things he had said that had insinuated otherwise.

But Nesta kept her expression blank as she asked, “And I suppose that makes you angry?”

The way Feyre shook her head was tormented. “No, he — it has made me realise some truths — of how I have failed you, Nesta.”

The concession was not packaged how Nesta had been expecting it, so she did not speak. Feyre had turned to look at her. Her irises were the exact same as Nesta’s own, yet not half as steely. Out of the three of them, she and Feyre were the most similar; both in looks and personality.

Nobody was as lovely as Elain, she and Feyre had learnt that long ago.

Just once, Feyre rang her hands before they fell uselessly at her sides. It betrayed her as nervous.

“I don’t know if I ever told you the full story of what happened to me Under the Mountain,” Feyre started. She tore her gaze from Nesta’s to stare out at the sky. “Afterwards, I… things were very difficult. I had nightmares every night of those I had killed and I couldn’t keep any food down. I barely slept and I felt heavy all of the time, as if I were wading through mud. I hated being confined so much so that when Tamlin locked me in the house the Night Court saved me because I threw the entirety of it into darkness. Even once I was in Velaris, there was no light, only dark, and I could barely feel… Sometimes I went days of feeling nothing and I had this... power inside of me that I didn’t know how to use.”

Feyre turned back to look at Nesta. Her expression was grave, as if she were tunnelling too far into herself, into a part of her that she did not like to bring back to the surface.

Nesta had seen the look many times before, in the reflection of Cassian and Mas’s eyes, as they stared concernedly at her.

“I’m not telling you this with the intention of making you feel sorry for me,” Feyre said quietly. She had stepped closer to Nesta without realising. Nesta had been too preoccupied with that haunted look. “The reason I’m telling you this is because despite everything I went through and the people who helped me, I didn’t truly stop to realise that you were going through something similar after the war. I should have seen what was happening with you, Nesta, and tried to truly understand what you needed, but I didn’t. I could try to better myself by saying that everything was so busy during and after the war that I was too distracted, but really that’s just an excuse for my behaviour. I thought Illyria would give you a change of scenery away from…everything.”

Nesta’s snort was harsh. “You thought to throw me into a war camp so I could escape the memory of what happened in the war?”

Feyre’s wince was visible and Nesta watched her sister pinch the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t—” Feyre started, but then she trailed off with a shake of her head, as if she wished to start again. “Nesta, I’m sorry for sending you here. I was so worried that you would destroy yourself and so I did something drastic—”

“I am not yours to control,” Nesta snarled. “You summoned me like I was dirt on the bottom of your shoe. You banished me in front of half of your precious Inner Circle with no regard to how I was suffering. You humiliated me not as my sister but as High Lady and that is unforgivable.”

Fire raged inside of Nesta at the memory, so bright that she knew mist was seeping threateningly from her fingers. Feyre cast an alarmed look to her hands as Nesta stepped closer, as if she were expecting her sister to blast her off the mountain.

“You say you don’t like small spaces,” Nesta continued with quiet fervour. “Have you considered what it is like for me? To be banished somewhere where I cannot fly away? Have you considered that I too was trapped when I was kidnapped and thrown into a Cauldron to be remade against my will? And when I told you I could not bare to sit in the tub — when I gave you a piece of myself — you did not truly listen. Instead you trapped me into another life that has been chosen for me.”

Another step forwards, so close that Nesta could feel the warmth coming from her sister’s skin. “I am sorry for what you endured Under the Mountain. I am sorry for making your life miserable when we were younger, but I am not sorry for how I chose to deal with my trauma.”

Feyre’s skin turned so pale her freckles looked like they had been painted on with the tip of a paintbrush. “Nesta—”

But Nesta was not finished. Now she had started, she couldn’t stop. The words poured forth as easily as fire wanted to flow from her fingertips. “Have you considered that I have never had control over any aspect of my life — that I have always been told what to do and how to behave?”

That fateful finger was out now, stabbing the air between them. Feyre took a step backwards as if Nesta had prodded her in the chest. Silver sparked in the air between them, a promise of what would undoubtedly come.

“I fought in the war,” Nesta continued with quiet fury. “I killed the King and changed the course of history. I tried to show you that I was sorry for how I had treated you through my actions. I tried to earn forgiveness, to try and make up for what I had done wrong. Yet you and your mate did not see my actions as worthy. And when I told you I did not want to be controlled by you, you banished me somewhere with somebody I could not stand to be around, as if I wasn’t your sister but a troublesome subject.”

Taking that final step, Nesta closed the distance between she and Feyre. Feyre did not back away again. Instead, Nesta watched a tear roll down Feyre’s cheek with a chilled sort of fury, and with quiet fervour, said, “Well, I have news for you, sister. I am untameable and I do not answer to anybody but myself.”

Horror coursed through Nesta’s insides, the sensation interwoven with the scent of lilac and pear. Feyre’s hands came to cover her face and a sob coursed through the mountain landscape, so sharp it was as if it were her sister’s last breath. “I didn’t want you to die. I thought you were going to drink yourself to death, Nesta. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Seeing her sister cry hurt, but being understood hurt more. So Nesta ploughed on; the words escaping as if they had been scrabbling to get out for a long, long time, “You once asked me why I pushed everyone away but Elain — why I pushed you away. Well, here’s your answer High Lady: you never needed me. I lost you long ago, as soon as mother told you that I was unsuitable to look out for my younger sisters and that you were the only one up for the task.”

Nesta hadn’t thought it possible for Feyre to turn paler, but she had. Her skin looked as if it had been leeched of life. As Nesta said the words, she knew they were unfair. Her younger self had projected anger onto Feyre rather than taint the dying mother who Nesta had always tried so hard to please.

A silence stretched out between them that was so taut and angry, Nesta had to resist the urge to throw her hands to the sky until it was burning mercury. Instead, she kept her power inside, wanting to feel the ferocious thrum of it in her blood, at the pulse in her neck which was hammering as if it were trying to escape.

“Is that why—” Feyre started, but a sound had Nesta throwing up a finger to stop her, because she had heard something on the wind which had made her blood freeze.

For a moment… nothing. Then on the wind came familiar, high pitched laughter that sent chills down Nesta’s spine. It was a sound that she had hoped to never hear again, yet it was unmistakable — clear as day.

“No,” Nesta breathed, whirling round to stare down the mountain path. Through the misty clouds, Nesta could make out nothing but the dark shape of the tombstone, but she knew that sound. She would never forget that sound, not as long as she lived.

“What is it?” Feyre demanded.

“Be quiet,” Nesta snapped.

Laughter came again. It skittered up the craggy rock, followed by snarling and snapping teeth.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Nesta moaned, running to ledge that Feyre had been standing at previously, which gave an unhindered view of the widows camp. And through the foggy clouds, Nesta saw them. Sloping four-legged figures on the western perimeter of the widows camp, slinking through the shadows. Too many of them. Nesta had no idea how they had gotten there, why they would have ventured somewhere so populated…

“What is it?” Feyre demanded again, running to Nesta’s side so she too could look over the mountain. “Oh Gods,” Feyre breathed. “The females. The children. Nesta, what are they—”

But Nesta was not listening. She was running before she had time to think, her feet digging into the stone as she tore her way to the mountain path that zagged its way down to the widows camp.

“Move,” she barked over her shoulder. The command was biting but Feyre did not hesitate, tearing after her sister as if it were second nature.

Nesta had only reached the first bend with Feyre hot on her heels when the first scream pierced through the clouds. Power leapt within Nesta, and then her mind went loose as it went taut… as Nesta reached within herself, into her veins where that magic hummed hello… ready. And Nesta did not push it away. Instead, she brushed against it in greeting, just as she had done when she had worn Cassian’s siphon, in the moment before she bended it to her will. And then her fingers were curling around the pommel of a longsword made entirely of breathing, silver flame.

She clutched on to it, the weapon so much an extension of herself that she did not have to worry about it falling from her grasp. The rest of the descent passed in a blur of moving rock, as she and Feyre skidded on loose stone and slushy ice, and the screams… they kept coming. Again and again. Panic and terror so palpable they pierced through Nesta’s emotional shields, each agonised sound stabbing through her, her power leaping to meet it, pushing beneath her skin, desperate to get out…

Together, she and Feyre plunged into the fray. Crowds of female were stampeding towards them, desperate to get to safety, to reach the only path that led down to the safety of the main camp.

And amongst them… kerits. So many of them chittering and snarling, their long, pointed teeth snapping and tearing as they leapt at the defenceless females with the intent of feasting on their flesh. Nesta slashed at them with her sword, fire sizzling through fur and flesh, her body moving independently of her brain as it fell into a killing dance.

Feyre had not drawn her sword from her back, instead she wielded ice from her palms, and spears of it wove their way through the air like arrowheads, plunging themselves into moving bodies of spotted fur. Nesta just had time to see the body of a kerit slump to the floor, its body impaled by ice, to reveal a female cowering against the canvas of her tent. The female’s face was ashen and disbelieving as she stared at the sloping bodies that had fallen before her at the will of Feyre’s magic. At the trail of limbs and guts scattered around her, belonging to the female who they had not been in time to save… But then another kerit was leaping at Nesta, and Nesta did not have time to think, only react as she plunged her sword into it’s belly. It fell by her feet with a sharp cry, black blood spilling on the rocky ground. Nesta did not pause to consider the bloodshed or how her feet slipped in it as she continued to run, she only raised her free hand to the sky again, desperately blazing silver into the clouds, hoping that it would be enough to alert the camp below of the attack.

Already Nesta knew that there were too many kerits for she and Feyre to fight off themselves… Already there had been casualties. And still, the orphans were huddled at the Eastern-point of the camp with nobody to protect them…

It was that thought that had Nesta pressing on. Kerits leapt at she and Feyre before they realised that they had chosen the wrong pray, and Nesta sliced and jabbed with her fire-breathing steel, relishing in the beasts dying screams and savouring the sobs of the widows, which brought solace in the knowledge that they were alive and momentarily safe.

All went eerily quiet as Nesta and Feyre reached the towering tomb of rock and the makeshift canteen surrounding it. The stampede of females had petered out, and Nesta hoped it was because most of them had managed to escape down the mountain pass, rather than because they had fallen victims to the kerits. Her gut twisted at the thought… as she thought of Mas, Roksana and the other orphans who had been tucked away against the mountain wall at the Eastern side of the camp… a dead end.

If the kerits had managed to corner them… it would be a massacre.

Another lurch of her stomach as Nesta surveyed the benches and tables that had been strewn across the stone floor. Beside one of the upturned benches lay the twisted body of the elderly cook with crooked teeth — the female who insisted on feeding Nesta each morning, even when Nesta told her that she had already eaten breakfast. The cook’s tan skin was covered in claw and tooth marks, her body bloody and brutalised in such a horrific way that Nesta knew there was not a glimmer of life left in the female.

It must have been a horrible way to die.

Biting back a sob, Nesta closed her fingers around her sister’s arm, needing Feyre to understand that in this moment, she did not care if she died; she only cared that she could protect the defenceless females before she fell.

“The orphans,” Nesta urged to Feyre, pointing towards the Eastern side of the camp and the screams that were being tossed away on the wind. “They’re at the East side of the camp. There’s no way out.”

Nesta did not dare say the name Roksana or Mas. Could not voice what she was terrified of… That something could have already happened to the Illyrian’s she had come to care for so deeply.

Nesta tried to push away the thought of how Roksana had clung to her that morning… of how her small fingers had grabbed onto her legs in a clumsy hug. Nesta tried not to think about how Mas had kissed her in greeting; her weathered palm patting lightly against Nesta’s cheek in that motherly way of hers that always made her feel unconditionally accepted and loved.

The boom of wings sounded across the mountain pass, and then different coloured lights started to flash as siphons were willed into action, warriors finally landing in the camp to fight off the beasts. Nesta spotted Ragar and his friends, Devlon, guards on patrol, but then Feyre’s hands came to rest on her arms, pulling her attention away.

Nesta stared at her sister — at the white face streaked with blood which was set in grim determination, even as they heard the rising screams.

“Let’s go,” Feyre said, those two words sparking more respect in Nesta than any of their tense exchange at the top of the mountain.

And then they were running again, both of them throwing magic from their palms, taking out a gang of kerits who had leapt between the tents. Nesta swung her longsword of silver fire with her left-hand just as a kerit jumped in front of Feyre, attacking from seemed like nowhere.

Black blood streaked hot across Nesta’s face as her sword sizzled through muscle and sinew, but she ignored the wailing screams of the dying beast, turning only to make sure her sister was alive and unharmed.

Feyre’s eyes were wide, her heartbeat as frantic as a hummingbird in Nesta’s ears. “Thanks,” Feyre breathed, panting desperately for breath. Then she pointed to the direction they had been heading — to the Eastern-most point where Nesta had left Roksana and Mas that morning. “There are lots of warriors up ahead.”

Together they dodged the crowds and beams of coloured light. To Nesta’s relief, the huddled figures on the floor seemed to mainly consist of spotted fur, the Illyrian males clearly having arrived in time to prevent a massacre. But still Nesta ran, not realising how her lungs were heaving for breath or the burn in her thighs as she weaved through lifeless bodies and crying females, heading towards the smoke that wafted up from the dying camp fire — the place she had left Roksana and Mas what felt like mere minutes ago.

It was not how she had left it.

In front of her, metres before the campfire, lay Durkhanai’s bloody body. Her eyes were open and unseeing, her pupils green and mesmerising even in death… her spirit already well departed from the world. And a foot away from her…

“No.”

The sound that tore from Nesta was agony. It ripped from her chest — from deep, deep inside that locked cage as it cracked.

Nesta’s boots slipped through guts and gore, but she did not care. In her periphery, Nesta saw limbs and the unseeing eyes of the females who had flung themselves in the paths of the beasts, as if they had willingly lay themselves on the pyre to put the lives of the orphans before themselves.

Nesta did not feel the blinding pain that should have splintered through her as she fell to her knees on the grey rock. Because in front of her was Mas. She was lying on the floor and her wings — her scarred and battered wings — were in tatters. Her stomach was oozing with blood, deep claw marks raked through raw flesh.

And beside her was Roksana, her face and clothes covered in bright scarlet blood. Her small, precious hands buried deep in Mas’s gut, holding in the punctured intestines that were trailing out of her body; as if they had been dragged out by long, pointed teeth…

The little girl stared up at Nesta, her dark eyes blown wide in shock. Around them, the anguished cries and screams of agony went quiet, Nesta’s ears drowning out all noise but the croak that came from the youngling’s mouth. “Help,” she said, those little hands sliding on intestines and blood as it leaked through her fingers. “Help.”

“No,” Nesta repeated again, the word cracking out of her as she surveyed the damage that was too severe for an Illyrian to remedy. “No, no, no.”

Her hands slipped in hot blood as she pressed her own palms over Mas’s gaping wounds. The housekeeper’s breath rattled, the sound terrible and wringing with what Nesta knew was unimaginable pain. Mas’s face was grey — as if already it had been drained of life; as if the end had been written and there was no avoiding it.

Fingers grasped at Nesta’s but the Illyrian’s eyes did not open, even as her eyelids flickered — the movement asking too much of her body. They slipped against Nesta’s as they moved through her own ruby blood.

“You will not die,” Nesta told Mas fiercely, her eyesight blinded by tears. A silver tear rolled down Nesta’s cheek and fell onto their clasped hands… into the open, gaping wound. “You will not. Do you hear me?”

Only silence answered as Mas’s body went slack. Her chest rattling one last time before it stopped moving all together.

When the housekeeper’s fingers fell away from Nesta’s own, everything went still.

“Nesta.”

A hand was on her shoulder — Feyre — but Nesta did not feel or care for it. Someone had pulled Roksana away into the safety of their arms — away from the dead body with its departing soul. Deep inside of Nesta, the scent of roasted chestnuts and wood shavings began to fade, as if it had been caught in the wind and was about to be tossed away.

“No.”

That same word again, but this time it came with weight behind it. Defiance. Anger. Heartbreak. All her own, and yet piling on top of that, layer by layer, was every painful emotion and memory of loss that had been imprinted on the stone over the years, from the widows that had come before and had suffered unimaginably.

Something turned inside of Nesta, her magic flipping as if someone had turned a key in a lock to reveal not silver but white… A pure, snow white light that seeped from her fingertips, singing with gentle promise rather than destruction.

“No,” Nesta said.

That word again, but this time deadly calm.

Still.

Who do you want to be, Nesta?

Cassian’s words from the day before sounded in her head. At the time she had not known the answer, but now, her path had never been clearer.

Raising her steady blood-stained hands to hover over Mas’s wounds, Nesta let that icy wall protecting her emotions fall away inside of her. It crashed down around her like a dam whose gates had been opened, her emotions running like rampant and wild rapids, rushing into her blood and down strands of interwoven rope. Her power vibrated with a controlled energy and then that white light glowed, shining from her palms.

It was so bright that Nesta had to close her eyes to protect herself from the sheer brilliance of her power as it poured forth.

She did not need to look at Mas’s body to bear witness to her healing. Did not need to watch the housekeeper’s wounds knit themselves back together, as if someone were turning back time in slow motion.

She just knew.

And in that moment, Nesta also knew exactly who she was supposed to be, even as her body started to hurt.

Two weaving components, bound together as surely as a rope plaited with two complementing strands.

Protector.

Healer.

That was who Nesta was.

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[marlborodean]

spn quotes: season one

i’m collecting a bunch of quotes from the show! favorite lines, good points of characterization, etc. all organized by episode and character, and with timestamps!

w/ncest shippers get lost

season two.

1. PILOT

Dean—

[Sam: So we kill everything we can find.] Save a lot of people doing it, too. (08:51)

I can’t do this alone. [Sam: Yes, you can.] Yeah. Well, I don’t want to. (09:30)

[Officer: So. Fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards. You got anything that’s real?] My boobs. (28:50)

Sam—

When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45. [Dean: What was he supposed to do?] I was 9 years old. He was supposed to say, “Don’t be afraid of the dark.” (08:30)

You think Mom would’ve wanted this for us? (08:58)

We were raised like warriors. (09:06)

[Dean: Are you just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?] No, not normal. Safe. [And that’s why you ran away.] I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone. (09:09)

[Dean: You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? You think you’re just gonna become some lawyer, marry your girl?] Maybe. Why not? [Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you’ve done?] No, and she’s not ever going to know. [Well, that’s healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you’re gonna have to face up to who you really are.] And who is that? [One of us.] No. I’m not like you. This is not going to be my life. (22:45)

If it weren’t for pictures, I wouldn’t even know what Mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom’s gone, and she isn’t coming back. (23:17)

2. W*ND*G* ( x )

Dean—

Her brother’s missing, Sam. She’s not just gonna sit this out. (14:55)

[Hailey: And you’re hiking out in biker boots and jeans?] Well, sweetheart, I don’t do shorts. (15:54)

I’m supposed to be the belligerent one, remember? (25:13)

The way I see it, Dad’s given us a job to do, and I intend to do it. (26:31)

All that anger, you can’t keep it burning over the long haul. It’s gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man. [Sam: How do you do it? How does Dad do it?] Well, for one, them. I mean, I figure our family’s so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. It makes things a little bit more bearable. And I’ll tell you what else helps. Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can. (27:05)

Sam—

[Dean: No, you’re not fine. You’re like a powder keg, man. It’s not like you.] (25:06)

3. DEAD IN THE WATER

Dean—

You don’t think I want to find Dad as much as you do? [Sam: Yeah, I know you do, it’s just—] I’m the one that’s been with him every single day for the past two years while you’ve been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we’re gonna kill everything bad between here and there, okay? (04:09)

Well, maybe you don’t think anyone will listen to you, or... or believe you. I want you to know that I will. (11:58)

You’re scared. It’s okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn’t feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that everyday. And I do my best to be brave. (20:14)

What if we missed something? What if more people get hurt? [Sam: But why would you think that?] Because Lucas was really scared. [That’s what this is about?] I just don’t want to leave town until I know the kid’s okay. (29:48)

Sam—

People don’t just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them. (03:51)

4. PHANTOM TRAVELER

Dean—

It’s your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp. (05:18)

Sam—

[Dean: It’s your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp.] (05:18)

[Jerry: Well, he was real proud of you, I could tell. You know, he talked about you all the time.] He did? (07:09)

Hey, hey, it’s just a little turbulence. [Sam, this place is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I’m friggin’ 4.] You need to calm down. [Well, I’m sorry, I can’t!] Yes, you can. [Dude. Stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap. It’s not helping.] Listen, if you’re panicked, you’re wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down right now. (30:26)

5. BLOODY MARY

Dean—

Do I look like Paris Hilton? (18:08)

Her boyfriend killing himself, that’s not really Charlie’s fault. (29:54)

Now listen to me. It wasn’t your fault. It you want to blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or, hell, why don’t you take a swing at me? I’m the one that dragged you away from her. [Sam: I don’t blame you.] Well, you shouldn’t blame yourself, because there’s nothing you could’ve done. (31:24)

Sam—

[Dean: Hell, why don’t you take a swing at me? I’m the one that dragged you away from her.] I don’t blame you. (31:37)

Charlie. Your boyfriend’s death, you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn’t have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen. (40:37)

6. SKIN

Dean—

He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home with Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends, you could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. [Sam: What are you talking about?] You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. (24:21)

Sam—

[Rebecca: It must be lonely.] Oh, no. No, it’s not so bad. Anyway, what can I do? It’s my family. (39:02)

Misc—

Shifter: Evolution is about mutation, right? So maybe this thing was born human, but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (27:14)

7. HOOK MAN

Dean—

I told you, you don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius. (14:59)

[Sam: Hey, be quiet.] Me be quiet? You be quiet! (19:48)

Sam—

[Dean: You’ve been holding out on me. This college thing is awesome!] This wasn’t really my experience. [Let me guess—library, studying, straight A’s. What a geek.] (21:30)

8. BUGS

Dean—

Growing up in a place like this would freak me out. [Sam: Why?] The manicured lawns, how-was-your-day-honey? I’d blow my brains out. [There’s nothing wrong with normal.] I’d take our family over normal any day. (08:21)

[Sam: You’ll be able to get out of that house and away from your dad.] What kind of advice is that? Kid should stick with his family. (20:26)

Hey, so with that kid back there, how could you tell him to just ditch his family like that? [Sam: Just, uh, I know what the kid’s going through.] How about telling him to respect his old man? How’s that for advice? (23:20)

Matt, under no circumstances are you to tell the truth. He’ll just think you’re nuts. Tell him you have a sharp pain in your right side and you gotta go to the hospital, okay? [Matt: Yeah, okay.] Make him listen? What are you thinking? (32:44)

Sam—

Remind you of somebody? Dad? [Dean: Dad never treated us like that.] Well, Dad never treated you like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case. ...You don’t remember. [Dean: Well, maybe he had to raise his voice but sometimes you were out of line.] Right. Right, like when I said I’d rather play soccer than learn bowhunting. (11:46)

[Matt: Larry doesn’t listen to me.] Why not? [Mostly? He’s too disappointed in his freak son.] I hear ya. [Dean: You do?] Matt, how old are you? [Matt: Sixteen.] Well, don’t sweat it, ‘cause in two years something great’s gonna happen. [What?] College. You’ll be able to get out of that house and away from your dad. (20:04)

[Dean: Hey, so with that kid back there, how could you tell him to just ditch his family like that?] Just, uh, I know what the kid’s going through. [How about telling him to respect his old man? How’s that for advice?] Dean, come on. This isn’t about his old man. You think I didn’t respect Dad, that’s what this is about. [Just forget it, alright? Sorry I brought it up.] I respected him. But no matter what I did, it was never good enough. [So what are you saying, that Dad was disappointed in you?] Was? Is! Always has been. [Why would you think that?] Because I didn’t wanna bowhunt or hustle pool, because I wanted to go to school and live my life, which to our whacked-out family, made me the freak. (23:20)

Dean, you know what most dads are when their kids score a full-ride? Proud. Most dads don’t toss their kids out of the house. [Dean: I remember that fight. In fact, I seem to recall a few choice phrases coming out of your mouth.] You know, truth is, when we finally do find Dad, I don’t know if he’s even gonna wanna see me. (24:05)

9. HOME

Dean—

And then you tell me that I’ve got to go back home, especially when... [Sam: When what?] When I swore to myself that I would never go back there. (07:56)

I remember the fire, the heat. Then I carried you out the front door. [Sam: You did?] Yeah, well, you never knew that? [No.] (12:38)

I don’t know what to do. So, whatever you’re doing. if you could get here... please. I need your help, Dad. (14:45)

Sam—

[Dean: I remember the fire, the heat. Then I carried you out the front door.] You did? [Yeah, well, you never knew that?] No. (12:38)

Misc—

Missouri: All those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds, and sometimes wounds get infected. (27:15)

10. ASYLUM

Dean—

[Sam: This is a job. Dad wants us to work a job.] Yeah, well, maybe we’ll meet up with him. Maybe he’s there. [Maybe he’s not. I mean, he could be sending us there by ourselves to hunt this thing.] Who cares? If he wants us there, it’s good enough for me. [This doesn’t strike you as weird? The texting, the coordinates?] Sam. Dad’s telling us to go somewhere. We’re going. (07:05)

[Sam: We deserve some answers. I mean, this is our family we’re talking about.] I understand that, Sam, but he’s given us an order. [So what, we gotta always follow Dad’s order?] Of course we do. (12:17)

[Sam: I mean, why are we even here? ‘Cause you’re following Dad’s orders like a good little soldier? ‘Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?] (36:52)

Sam—

[Dean: We’ve got to burn Ellicott’s bones, and all this will be over, and you’ll be back to normal.] I am normal. I’m just telling you the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? ‘Cause you’re following Dad’s orders like a good little soldier? ‘Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval? [This isn’t you talking.] That’s the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I’m not pathetic like you. [So what are you gonna do? You gonna kill me?] You know, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. (36:43)

11. SCARECROW

Dean— 

[Sam: I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it’s like you don’t even question him.] Yeah, it’s called being a good son. You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. You don’t care what anyone thinks. (08:08)

[Sam: You know, if you’re hinting you need my help, just ask.] I’m not hinting anything. Actually, uh... I want you to know... I mean, don’t think... [Yeah. I’m sorry, too.] Sam.... You were right. You got to do your own thing. You got to live your own life. [You serious?] You’ve always known what you want, and you go after it. You stand up to Dad. I mean, you always have. Hell, I wish I.... Anyway. I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy. [I don’t even know what to say.] Say you’ll take care of yourself. (25:04)

Sam—

[Dean: Dad doesn’t want our help.] I don’t care. [He’s given us an order.] I don’t care. We don’t always have to do what he says. [Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives. It’s important.] Alright, I understand. Believe me, I understand. But I’m talking one week here, man, to get answers. To get revenge. [Alright, look, I know how you feel.] Do you? How old were you when Mom died, 4? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel? (07:25)

[Meg: I had to get away from my family.] Why? [I love my parents. And they wanted what’s best for me. They just didn’t care if I wanted it. I was supposed to be smart, but not smart enough to scare away a husband. Well, it’s just.... Because my family said so, I’m supposed to sit there and do what I was told. So I just went on my own way instead. ...I’m sorry. The things you say to people you hardly know.] No, no, it’s okay. I know how you feel. Remember that brother I mentioned before that I was road-tripping with? It’s kind of the same deal. [And that’s why you’re not riding with him anymore? ...Here’s to us. The food might be bad, and the beds might be hard, but at least we’re living our own lives and nobody else’s.] (21:11)

[Med: You’re running back to your brother? The guy you ran away from? Why, because he won’t pick up his phone? Sam, come with me to California.] I can’t. I’m sorry. [Why not?] He’s my family. (31:13)

12. FAITH

Dean—

Looks like you’re gonna leave town without me. [Sam: What are you talking about? I’m not gonna leave you here.] You better take care of that car. I swear I’ll haunt your ass. [I don’t think that’s funny.] Oh, come on, it’s a little funny. (04:44)

[Sam: Maybe it’s time to have a little faith, Dean.] You know what I got faith in? Reality—knowing what’s really going on. [How can you be a skeptic, with the things we see every day?] Exactly, we see them. We know they’re real. [But if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there too?] ‘Cause I’ve seen what evil does to good people. (08:10)

[Roy: I looked into your heart and you just...stood out from all the rest.] What did you see in my heart? [A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn’t finished.] (15:27)

You never should’ve brought me here. [Sam: Dean, I was just trying to save your life.] Sam, some guy is dead now because of me. (19:30)

The guy is playing God, deciding who lives and dies. That’s a monster in my book. (22:42)

[Layla: I wish you luck. I really do.] Same to you. You deserve it a lot more than me. (30:38)

[Sam: To cross a line like that, that preacher’s wife—black magic, murder. Evil.] Desperate. Her husband was dying. She would’ve done anything to save him. (31:35)

God save us from half the people who think they’re doing God’s work. (32:04)

[Sam: What’s happening to her is horrible. But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself, Dean—you can’t play God.] (32:58)

Must be rough, to believe in something so much and have it disappoint you like that. (40:57)

You know, I’m not much of the praying type, but I’m gonna pray for you. [Layla: Well. There’s a miracle right there.] (42:00)

Sam—

[Dean: I’m gonna die. And you can’t stop it.] Watch me. (05:23)

[Dean: You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?] I’m not gonna let you die, period. (07:04)

How can you be a skeptic, with the things we see everyday? [Dean: Exactly, we see them. We know they’re real.] If you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there too? (08:18)

[The guy is playing God, deciding who lives and dies. That’s a monster in my book.] No, we’re not gonna kill a human being, Dean. We do that, we’re no better than he is. (22:42)

Misc—

Layla: I guess if you’re gonna have faith, you can’t just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don’t. (41:19)

13. ROUTE 666

Dean—

[Sam: Look man, everybody’s got to open up to someone sometime.] Yeah, I don’t. It was stupid to get that close. (13:06)

[Cassie: Whenever we get—what’s the word?—close? Anywhere in the neighborhood of emotional vulnerability, you back off or make some joke or find any way to shut the door on me.] (15:19)

Sam—

You told her. You told her the secret. Our big family rule number one—we do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half, I do nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a couple of times, and you tell her everything? (04:18)

Oh, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms. [Dean: So I guess I saved you from a boring existence.] Occasionally I miss boring. [So, this killer truck—] I miss conversations that didn’t start with “this killer truck.” (29:31)

Ever make you wonder if it’s worth it? Putting everything on hold, doing what we do? (39:10)

14. NIGHTMARE

Dean—

[Sam: Well, with what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people—I’m sorry, man. I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane.] Yeah, but it doesn’t justify murdering your entire family. [Dean—] He’s no different than anything else we’ve hunted. Alright? We gotta end him. [We’re not gonna kill Max.] Then what? Hand him over to the cops and say, “Lock him up, officer. He kills people with the power of his mind.” [Forget it. No way, man.] Sam— [Dean, he’s a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you’ll follow my lead on this one.] Alright, fine. But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else. (25:01)

[Sam: We’re lucky we had Dad.] I never thought I’d hear you say that. [Well, it could have gone a whole ‘nother way after Mom. A little more tequila, a little less demon hunting, then we would have had Max’s childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him.] All things considered. (38:27)

As long as I’m around, nothing bad’s gonna happen to you. (41:27)

Sam—

Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people. [Dean: What’s that?] Both our families are cursed. [Our family’s not cursed. We’ve just... had our dark spots.] Our dark spots are pretty dark. (19:13)

I was connecting to Max. The thing I don’t get it why, man. I guess because we’re so alike? [Dean: What are you talking about? Dude’s nothing like you.] Well, we both have psychic abilities. We’re both— [Both what? Sam, Max is a monster. He’s already killed two people, now he’s gunning for a third.] Well, with what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people—I’m sorry, man. I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane. (24:43)

If I just said something else, gotten through to him somehow. [Dean: Don’t do that.] Do what? [Torture yourself. It wouldn’t have mattered what you said. Max was too far gone.] When I think about how he looked at me, man, right before.... I should have done something. [Come on, man, you risked your life. I mean, yeah, maybe if we’d have gotten there 20 years earlier.] Well, I’ll tell you one thing. We’re lucky we had Dad. [I never thought I’d hear you say that.] Well, it could have gone a whole ‘nother way after Mom. A little more tequila, a little less demon hunting, then we would have had Max’s childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him. (38:03)

15. THE BENDERS

Dean—

Look... he’s family. And I kind of—I kind of look out for the kid. You gotta let me go with you. [Kathleen: I’m sorry, I can’t do that.] Well, tell me something. Your country has its fair share of missing persons. Any of ‘em come back? Sam’s my responsibility, and he’s coming back. I’m bringing him back. (08:56)

When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire. And ever since then, I’ve felt responsible for him. You know, like it’s my job to keep him safe. I’m just afraid if we don’t find him fast.... Please. He’s my family. (15:04)

Demons, I get. People are crazy. (28:08)

If you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you, I swear. I’ll kill you all. I will kill you all! (35:54)

16. SHADOW

Dean— 

[Sam: What are you gonna do when it’s all over?] It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be something to hunt. [But there’s got to be something that you want for yourself.] Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam. [Dude. What’s your problem?] Why do you think I drag you everywhere, huh? Why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place? [’Cause Dad was in trouble. ‘Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom.] Yes, that, but it’s more than that, man. You and me and Dad. I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again. [Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before.] They could be. (24:04)

Sam— 

What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I’d sleep for a month. Go back to school, just be a person again. (23:42)

Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before. [Dean: They could be.] I don’t want them to be. I’m not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way. (25:02)

Misc—

[Sam: Go to hell.] Meg: Baby, I’m already there. (30:22)

17. HELL HOUSE

Dean—

People believe in Santa Clause. How come I’m not getting hooked up every Christmas? [Sam: ‘Cause you’re a bad person.] (27:01)

Sam—

Man, we’re not kids anymore, Dean. We’re not gonna start that crap up again. [Dean: Start what up?] That prank stuff. It’s stupid, and it always escalates. (04:24)

Kind of makes you wonder—of all the things we hunted, how many existed just ‘cause people believed in them? (37:17)

18. SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

Dean—

[Sam: What makes you so sure?] Well, because I’m the oldest, which means I’m always right. [No it doesn’t.] It totally does. (03:38)

Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault, okay? [Michael: It’s my job to look after him.] (20:53)

I know how you feel, I’m a big brother, too. But you got to go easy on your mom right now, okay? (21:24)

Dad did not send me here to walk away. [Sam: Send you here? He didn’t send you here, he sent us here.] This isn’t about you, Sam, alright? I’m the one that screwed up. It’s my fault. There’s no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me. (25:35)

Dad never spoke about it again. I didn’t ask. But he, uh... he looked at me different, you know, which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn’t listen, and I almost got you killed. [Sam: You were just a kid.] Don’t—don’t. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it. (29:26)

Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to. It’s okay, I won’t be mad. (33:57)

[Sam: Sometimes I wish that...] What? [I wish I could have that kind of innocence.] If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could, too. (40:05)

Sam—

Dean, I’m sorry. [Dean: For what?] You know. I’ve really given you a lot of crap for always following Dad’s orders, but I know why you do it. (34:39)

Sometimes I wish that... [Dean: What?] I wish I could have that kind of innocence. [If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could, too.] (40:05)

19. PROVENANCE

Dean— 

I’m sure that this is about Jessica, right? Now, I don’t know what it’s like to lose somebody like that, but... I would think that she would want you to be happy. God forbid have fun once in a while. (20:47)

Sam—

I had a girlfriend. And she died. And my mom died, too. I don’t know, it’s like... it’s like I’m cursed or something. Like death just follows me around. Look, I’m not scared of much, but if I let myself have feelings for anybody— [Sarah: You’re scared they get hurt, too.] (30:39)

Misc—

Sarah: I know, losing somebody you love—it’s terrible. You shut yourself off. Believe me, I know. But when you shut out pain, you shut out everything else, too. (31:27)

20. DEAD MAN’S BLOOD

Dean—

He does what he does for a reason. [Sam: What reason?] Our job. There’s no time to argue. There’s no margin for error, alright? It’s just the way the old man runs things. [Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, alright? Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you’re cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?] If that’s what it takes. (14:51)

Sam—

I’m happy he’s okay, alright? I’m happy that we’re all working together. [Dean: Good.] It’s just the way he treats us like children. [Oh, God.] He barks orders at us, Dean. He expects us to follow him without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal. [He does what he does for a reason.] What reason? [Our job. There’s no time to argue. There’s no margin for error, alright? It’s just the way the old man runs things.] Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, alright? Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you’re cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show? (14:51)

[John: You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam. You walked away!] You’re the one who said “Don’t come back,” Dad. You’re the one who closed that door, not me! You were just pissed off that you couldn’t control me anymore! (19:27)

[John: Sammy, it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn’t accept the fact that you and me, we’re just different.] We’re not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess, we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone. (29:20)

Misc—

John: This is never the life that I wanted for you. [Sam: Then why’d you get so mad when I left?] You got to understand something. After your mother passed, all I saw was evil, everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you prepared, ready. So somewhere along the line, I stopped being your father. I became your drill sergeant. So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was that you were gonna be alone, vulnerable. (28:21)

21. SALVATION

Dean—

For the last time, what happened to them is not your fault. [Sam: Yeah, you’re right, it’s not my fault, but it’s my problem!] No, it’s not your problem, it’s our problem! (05:42)

You’re just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it? [Sam: Yeah. Yeah, you’re damn right I am.] Yeah, well, that’s not gonna happen—not as long as I’m around. [What the hell are you talking about, Dean? We’ve been searching for this demon our whole lives. It’s the only thing we’ve ever cared abut.] Sam, I want to waste it, I do, okay? But it’s not worth dying over. [What?] I mean it. If hunting this demon means you getting yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing. [That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom,] You said yourself once that no matter what we do, they’re gone. And they’re never coming back. [Don’t you say that! Don’t you—not after all this, don’t you say that.] Sam, look. The three of us, that’s all we have. And it’s all I have. Sometimes I feel like I’m barely holding it together, man. Without you or Dad.... (37:51)

Sam—

So Mom’s death, Jessica—it’s all because of me? [Dean: We don’t know that, Sam.] Oh really? ‘Cause I’d say we’re pretty damn sure, Dean! [For the last time, what happened to them is not your fault.] Yeah, you’re right, it’s not my fault, but it’s my problem! (05:34)

Misc—

John: I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home. I want Mary alive. I just want this to be over. (21:10)

22. DEVIL’S TRAP

Dean—

You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there. [Sam: You didn’t have a choice, Dean.] I know. That’s not what bothers me. [Then what does?] Killing that guy, killing Meg... I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t even flinch. For you or Dad, the things I’m willing to do or kill, it’s just... it scares me sometimes. [Azazel!John: It shouldn’t. You did good.] You’re not mad? [For what?] Using a bullet. [Mad? I’m proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you, you watch out for this family. You always have.] (29:41)

Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? ‘Cause I really can’t stand the monologuing. [Azazel: Funny, but that’s all part of your M.O., isn’t it? Mask all that nasty pain, mask the truth.] Oh yeah? What’s that? [You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is, they don’t need you. Not like you need them. Sam—he’s clearly John’s favorite. Even when they fight, it’s more concern than he’s ever shown you.] (36:52)

Sam—

[Dean: Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that? You both can’t wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I’m gonna be the one to bury you. You’re selfish, you know that? You don’t care about anything but revenge.] (19:24)

Misc—

Azazel: He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood. [Dean: Let him go, or I swear to God—] What? What are you and God gonna do? (35:09)

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [22]

Masterlist

~^*^~

“Drac!”

The gasp of his name filled the hallway, right after the sound of his hand slapping your ass. He chuckled, your pout only managing to be adorable to him.

“I couldn’t help it. My god, I never want to see you wear anything except leggings again.” He breathed.

“Typical male.” You rolled your eyes, hitching the strap of your gym bag higher up your shoulder.

You stalked towards the elevator, ignoring the hot gaze the vampire was currently giving you. Maybe inviting him to the gym was a very bad idea. Especially in the outfit he had decided to sport to “fit in”. A muted grey/green t-shirt, a little baggy, a little low cut on the neckline, exposing just a tease of his collarbones. The black joggers were an anomaly to his usual wardrobe choices.

“Instead of going to the gym, I propose we stay here and improvise.” You finally turned your head to send him a venomous look.

“You literally took months of reluctance to even fucking finger me and now you won’t even let me go to the gym because my leggings rile you up?” You feigned an angry tone, “stay here if that’s how you’re going to be.” You pressed the button, waiting for the elevator.

“I already told you, I can’t do what I want to you. Did our little session the other day ease any of your tension?”

You rolled your eyes, face flushing as you thought back to a few days ago. The doors opened and you strolled in, the tall vampire hot on your heels. You turned to face the doors, only to almost knock into his chest. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist and pulled you up to your tippy toes. You glared up at him as the door snapped shut.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His voice was a little gravelly, the sound of it making your heart skip a beat.

“I rolled my eyes. That’s an answer in my books.”

“Clearly I’m going to have to do something more... strenuous next time.” His lips came down on to your jawline, pressing tender kisses to your skin. You hummed.

Then, his fingers slipped a little lower, eventually making their way to your ass. He squeezed, making sure to get as much into his hands as he could.

“Stop!” You laughed, twisting away from him. His grip tightened.

“Why?” He whispered against your skin, “we are the only occupiers of the elevator, right now. Would it be so terrible?”

“Yes, seriously I’m about to go back upstairs and change.”

“Don’t,” he growled, squeezing harshly, causing your to gasp, your hands moved to snake around his neck, “even think about it.”

“I have no idea what’s made you so possessive all of a sudden, but you pack it in now, mister.” You playfully commanded.

Dracula’s lips continued on your neck, and he clearly had no intention of stopping even after the elevator had reached the bottom of the building and the doors opened.

~^*^~

The gym was an... experience. Upon leaving, you vowed to never let Dracula tag along again. No less than four times did he get into altercations with other men who had been ogling you (three out of the four being during your squat session), and he was adamant on just watching you which was off putting. When you had invited him along, you had hoped that he would actually partake in exercise.

Apparently you were too distracting.

Said the man who had sat on the bench press, practically drooling whilst you did your warming up lunges and stretches.

Yeah, he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near the gym again if that was where you intended to go.

When you returned back to the apartment, you noticed a missed call on your phone. Your mother. Whilst you had been in contact with her, it was time for her annual summer party, in which all of her friends, and their friends, and her colleagues and their friends crowded your home for hours on end. It was so exhausting to have to socialise with so many people that you didn’t know or care about.

As you called her back, you regretted it almost instantly.

“[First]! Finally, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you!”

“Yeah, sorry, I was at the gym.”

“Look, you know that my party is next week, right? You’re going to come, aren’t you?”

“Erm, I don’t actually know...”

“Oh come on, [First], I haven’t seen you in so long! You have to come!”

“Well, I mean, I’ve not been in London long and-“

“Yes, apparently you’ve shacked up with some man!”

“Mother!” You shrieked. Clearly Dracula had heard, since he turned around to send you the most devilish grin. You batted him away, “that’s not true!”

“Well, Martha rang me up and told me she saw you out shopping with some man your father’s age! And then Daphne FaceTimed me and told me she’d seen you in a car on two occasions with the same man!”

“Oh my god!” You groaned, “stop listening to gossip about your own daughter from the fishwives!” You scolded.

“I’ll keep going if you don’t agree to come.” You could hear her playful smile.

“Alright! Fine, I’ll come.”

“And bring your mystery man - apparently he’s quite a looker-“ you hung up, not wanting to think about your own mother drooling over your boyfriend.

“Who was that lovely woman?” Dracula was very clearly trying to wind you up.

“Oh shut it.” You snapped, “you’re just smug because they think you’re attractive.”

“Well, I am.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh!” You groaned, stomping away to get dressed.

The week dragged. Your mother was constantly ringing to harass you over the party. ‘Black tie but casual, [First]!’ ‘Don’t forget that Brenda’s son Mark is coming, I believe you’d suit each other quite nicely!’ ‘Have you decided what you’re going to wear?’ ‘Your entrance fee can be a platter of those nice little sandwiches you make!’

It was dizzying and to add insult to injury, your mother’s constant inquires on your “mystery man” was blowing up his ego quicker than you could say ‘bloodsucker’. Oh, if you had a stake you’d strike it right through his heart if it meant one moment of peace. You eventually told him about your mother’s plan to hook you up with this Mark (which had been ongoing since you were 16 and he was 18) which switched his mood a whole 180° extremely quickly. Now you had an impatient mother and a grumpy vampire.

Was god punishing you for your fornications with the man currently lying next to you, facing towards the wall instead of you?

Technically you hadn’t even had sex, so technically there was nothing to punish.

Or was it just because he was a vampire?

You scoffed in amusement at your thoughts.

“Thinking about Mark are you?” Dracula grumbled.

“Oh yes.” You jeered, “tall, handsome Mark and how I think I may have to take up my mother’s offer and see him to dinner. I wonder how far he’d go on the first date... it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex-“

Within a matter of seconds, you were pinned under the vampire, his dark pools swimming with all sorts of angst. His lips curled down into a scowl. You felt like you deserved a punch to the face. How you managed to dig yourself an even deeper hole was beyond you.

Well, Dracula found use for the belt that had been on the bedside table and you had learnt your second lesson on purposefully making him jealous. You were sure you were growing addicted to his fingers.

~^*^~

You swallowed, looking over yourself one last time in the mirror before you stepped out of the room. The black satin cami dress was formal, right? It came down to your knees, with a little bit of a peplum hem at the bottom. It was a little revealing, mostly on your chest, but you had accessoried to keep the attention on the gorgeous Whitby Jet wrapped around your neck concealing your bite. Yes, you looked fine.

Nerves would always eat you up before you attended these stupid parties.

Stepping out into the main room, you held your breath. Holy fuck. Dracula was leaning against the table, clearly bored of waiting for you. His hair was tousled back, a few strands falling forwards towards his forehead. A black shirt sat undone on the upper half of his chest, and over the top a black suit jacket rolled up past the elbows. You oggled his forearms and the image of the way they flexed as he pumped his fingers into you flashed through your head. Your eyes moved down to his legs, form fitting suit pants showcasing his thighs and you almost drooled. Running a hand through your hair, you coughed, grabbing his attention.

The moment his eyes fell on you, your heart quite literally stopped. His eyes... oh dear god. It was the way you’d begged god to make someone look at you. Just once. So much love, a sparkle of utter awe of you, glistening the truth of his affection. His lips quirked up into a smile. His eyes racked over your body, loving the way your dress fit you perfectly, hinting at your body but leaving the majority of it to the imagination. It was long enough to not be dignity-diminishing, but short enough to give attention to your legs.

“If I hadn’t made a promise to give you the best life, I would take you right here on this table,” he patted the marble, “and drink every ounce of nectar within your veins.”

“Keep talking like that and I will make you do it.” You smirked.

“I promised you I’d help you live,” he prowled towards you, unable to wait another moment to pull you into him, “and I believe you see our union differently to how I do.” He fornwed just a little and you pulled yourself into him, drowning him in your perfume and warmth.

“It’s just sex.” You retorted, looking up at him.

“Not with you it wouldn’t be.” He whispered, “and whatever coward made you think that it’s “just sex” would be advised to never come a step near to me.”

“Why, would you teach him your ideas on union?” You chuckled, your slightly dirty joke apparently going over his head.

“I’d fucking kill him for taking your body so intimately and convincing you that it meant nothing.”

You chuckled, pressing a sweet kiss to his neck. He hummed, feeling the soft fabric of your dress beneath his fingertips. He was so thankful that you had chosen him. Lucky was the understatement of the century.

~^*^~

Your mother continued to look out of the window every minute or so, anticipating your arrival. After most adamantly demanding that you bring the gentleman you had been living with, she was at a peaked curiosity. Was he truly so much older than you? And was he as handsome as her friends made out?

He turned out to be definitely rich, pulling up in a sparkling Jaguar. She almost squealed in anticipation - much like a teenager - and the tray of appetisers she had been holding flew up into the air.

Your father grumbled at the commotion and apologised to the men he had been speaking to. He explained that your mother was on edge, awaiting to see what her daughter was about to drag into the house.

The aura that swept the house when you and Dracula entered seemed to affect every guest present, and all eyes were suddenly on you.

“[First]!” She greeted lovingly, pretending she hadn’t been waiting for the last 45 minutes by th window.

“Hi mother,” you greeted, letting her pull you into a brief hug. Her eyes wandered past you and to the tall gentleman standing just at the step of the door, smiling sheepishly, “it’s alright, love. You can come in.”

Your wicked eyes sent him a mischevuous look. He frowned, knowing that you were internally laughing at him still not entering without an invitation. Would your parents mind so much if he spanked you in front of them?

“And, my, who is this... gentleman?” She breathed, clearly impressed by his face, but unimpressed at his presence with you.

“This is-“

“Count Dracula.” He cut your off, “it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. [Last].” He smiled at her, taking her hand and briefly kissing her knuckles, “[First] has told me so much about what an amazing woman you are.” She couldn’t help but laugh airily at the compliment.

“Well, I’ve done my best for my daughter. Come on through, both of you. [First], your father is just by the kitchen.”

She rushed past you, pushing past people as quickly as she could to make her way back to the kitchen. That gossip! Your eyes filtered through the people until you found your father talking to a few people. Intertwining your fingers with Dracula’s, you began to pull him into the living room when you were stopped by a man you didn’t recognise.

“What an honour it is, Count Dracula! My name is Richard Johnson, I own Johnson and Moore, a law company under your own. I was wondering when I’d finally meet the famous Dracula.” You turned to look at Dracula, who was smiling a little shyly.

“Yes, it is a pleasure to meet you as well, however as you can see I’m with-“

“No, it’s okay!” You quickly interjected, “I better go say hello to my dad before he feels rejected. I’ll let you two businessmen talk.” You winked at the vampire before scampering off towards your father.

“What a beautiful little thing she is!” Richard eyed you as you left, “you’ve got to tell me how you got such a young one.” He laughed.

“Well, I could tell you,” Dracula began with a fake smile, “but I’d have to kill you afterwards.”

Neither of them realised that you had heard and you grinned at Dracula’s words.

Your arms snaked around your father’s waist as you rested your head on his shoulder. He continued his sentence to the two men he was engaged in conversation with. When he had finished, he took a sip from his drink and then manuvered his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Here she is, my little detective!” He laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “you wouldn’t believe this kid used to poop in our garden drain, would you?”

“Do you have to say that to everyone you introduce me to?” You rolled your eyes, but you were grinning.

“Baby, I’m going to bring it up at your wedding and tell all of my grandbabies.” The two men standing opposite from you laughed at his words.

“I’ve read some of your journals, [First], you’ve grown into a very intelligent and respectable young woman.” You pulled yourself from your father as he spoke to you, smiling shyly.

“Thank you, I’ve worked hard to be where I am today.”

“Yes, didn’t you spent quite some time in Yorkshire?” The other man began, “your father was telling us you were part of some coverup story within the Jonathan Harker Foundation.”

“Well, that’s simply not true. And even if it were, I couldn’t tell you, Pauly.” You grinned, clearly teasing him.

“Awe, come on, [First]! Don’t you remember when I used to dress up as Santa and bring you all those wonderful presents?”

“Well, I suppose I could tell you,” you began, “but I’d have to kill you afterwards.”

Your eyes moved across the other side of the room and locked with your favourite pair in the entire world. He was smirking right back at you. ‘Touche’ he mouthed at you. His eyes sparkled as they continuously washed over you. Wait... was he really eye fucking you in a room full of people?! Your father’s conversation ended quickly after that and he was quick to pull you into the corner to have a private word with you.

“You, young lady, are driving your mother up the wall with the gentleman you’ve been seeing, you know that don’t you?” He was unable to hold back his amusement.

“Of course I know that.” You laughed.

“Then go and talk to her!” He laughed. Clearly he was already growing drunk.

“Alrighty. Don’t drink too much, okay?” You patted his arm, side stepping to get ready to make your way to the kitchen.

“I can’t promise you anything, buttonnose.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek and sent you on your way to the kitchen.

Before you even made your way in, you could hear all of the wives whispering and giggling. Did they seriously not realise that they were not still school girls? You rolled your eyes and made your way in.

Your mother jumped at your intrusion and you were soon bombarded in compliments on how pretty you’d gotten, how tall you’d grown, congratulations on your work, and question upon question about Dracula and intimate details of your plans. Mostly marriage and children.

Two hours later and you found yourself by your mother’s side. Dracula had blended in well, making conversation with almost everyone that approached him. You had barely seen him, but your mother had been talking quite a bit to him. Standing washing your hands after eating a few greasy little bites, she came to your aide.

You were dreading whatever she had to say and prayed that this would be a short and sweet conversation. She was obsessed with you getting into a relationship and you had finally found someone that made you happy and she wasn’t satisfied.

“[First],” she began warily, “Dracula seems... nice...”

“He is.” You answered stoically.

“When did you meet him?”

“When I was working in Whitby last year.” You grasped a tea towel, beginning to dry your hands.

“Is he a detective like you?”

“First of all, I am not a detective - I’m a Supervisory Special Agent specialising in criminology. Secondly, he is not a detective and you would know from all of your eavesdropping that he is a businessman.”

“Don’t accuse your own mother of eavesdropping!” She scolded.

“Weren’t you?” You challenged.

“I just... I just think you’ve made a mistake, [First]. He’s your father’s age for crying out loud!” She hissed, clearly not wanting the other wives to hear such an embarrassing conversation.

Silly woman. He’s ten times your father’s age.

You scoffed at her words.

“What, so because he’s a little older than me I can’t be with him?”

“No, I’m not saying that I’m just-... is he your sugar daddy?!” She suddenly gasped.

“No mother!” You exclaimed.

“I had to ask, sorry.”

“What, did Brenda tell you that? Or maybe Daphne? When will you all grow up and stop gossiping over your own children?!” She went quiet.

“...Will you at least consider Mark...?”

You groaned, having to throw the tea towel down and leave the room. Your face was flushed with anger and when you looked back up, your jaw hit the ground.

“Jack?”

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026

[bisexualsforprompto]

Of Roommates and Red Heroes Chapter 1

AO3

One (You are here)     Next

One- Of pilots and new beginnings

Jason Todd ran, ran away from the legacy he could never fill. The one he was still expected to fill. Didn’t they know? Didn’t they know he had changed?

God, was had he even changed? It’s not like he could ever make up for what he did. But he couldn’t wear the colors of the Robin ever again either. He crossed a line, he was past the point of no return.

And Bruce couldn’t let him forget it.

As far as Jason was concerned, he didn’t deserve a redemption.

He didn’t deserve a happily ever after.

Dick (in more ways than one): [is online]

Lil bro Jason: [is online]

Dick (in more ways than one): Come back.

Lil bro Jason: No.

Dick (in more ways than one): Please, Bruce didn’t mean it.

Lil bro Jason: Honestly I give zero f*cks if he meant it.

Dick (in more ways than one): So that's it. You’re just solo now and we’ll never see you again?

Lil bro Jason: You are welcome to visit when you’d like, along with Steph, Tim, Barbara, etc etc. I don’t want to see him again.

Dick (in more ways than one): He’s your dad!

Lil bro Jason: Godammit Dick! He’s not! Open your goddamn eyes! He’s not our dad, he’s a man who just uses us for his dirty work!

Dick (in more ways than one): I can’t stop you from doing this, but just talk to Bruce at least, if you don’t you’ll regret it, trust me I know.

Lil bro Jason: [is offline]

•~•Sunday Nov.17, 8am EST•~•

Knock, knock, knock.

“Mr. Todd.” 

Knock, knock, knock.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Jason said as he peeled a case file off his face, he’d fallen asleep the night prior reading it. Jason walked over to the nook where he kept all his ‘borrowed’ GCPD case filed which just happened to go missing from their archives every so often. For some reason, Jason liked to review case files. A lot. Maybe it was living with a detective for so long, but he felt at home in his own little world of files.

Jason brought a hand to his head, trying to shield his pounding headache. He remembered going out to the bar, but not much else. He brushed his hand down his face to feel stubble, another thing he’d have to deal with later. He fixed his hair a little bit before getting off his brown leather couch. He checked out what he was wearing, only pants. He sighed and picked up a plain black t shirt off the ground. Sliding it on, Jason walked over to the door and opened it.

Of all the things he was expecting today, he wasn’t expecting his landlord in full suit and tie showing up at his door. Unfortunately, it was his reality. A tall slim and bony man in a tacky olive green suit and oversized brown plastic glasses was holding a clipboard and pen in his hands. 

“Mr. Jason Todd?”

Jason sighed, “That’s me.” The man looked him up and down. Jason was about to yell at him for judging but decided against it. 

“You’ve been behind on your last payment for this flat. You have one week or you will be evicted.” The man said properly, leaving directly after despite Jason’s protests. Sighing, Jason shut the door.

He hadn’t found work in a long time. He’d been fired from his last job for drinking, and he couldn’t change his ways after being Red Hood and working with Batman. He went by the same mantle but working with Bruce did a number on him as always, only this time it was a positive change. He couldn’t work and make dirty money off drug cartels anymore, Red Hood was a lone vigilante but Jason Todd could only find himself doing honest work. Honest work that was very difficult to find in this day and age.

The only thing Jason could think that would save him would be getting a roommate. Jason sighed once more, all Gothamites were bat-shit crazy (pun not intended) and there was no way in hell he was taking Bruce’s blood money. Jason started drafting an ad and put it on Craigslist. The best he’d be able to do, hopefully before the date he’d be able to meet all of the candidates to make sure they weren’t insane. 

‘Searching for a roommate in a flat in Gotham Sun Apartments. $500 per month expected. Contact xxx-xxx-xxx for more information. (Images attached below)’

Jason rubbed his pounding temple, all he could do was wait.

•~Friday Nov. 22, 10am EST~•~•

“Voyage.” Marinette called before stepping into a black portal. She whimpered as she landed in a dark alley. “Tikki, Kaaliki, divide.” She whispered. “Spots off.” She was released from her heroine persona. Marinette was bloody, bruised and confused. She didn’t know where Kaaliki had taken her but she hoped it was far away from Paris. Marinette walked warily out of the alley to see a beautiful city full of life around her. Many people walked past and she could hear snippets of conversation, only something was off about them…they were in English! Marinette realized, could Kaaliki’s Portal have taken her to America or England? Thank god for Madame Bustier’s lessons or Marinette wouldn’t be able to speak a lick of English, she was practically fluent after all of her lessons. Marinette took out her pigtails and slid the bands onto her arm, she checked her purse, Tikki and Kaaliki were in there as well as $2000. Master Fu had given it to her before her...departure. 

Marinette continued down the street hoping to find some sign of where she was. Pedestrians gave her strange looks, most likely because of all her evident injuries. Marinette passed by street signs, all to generic to tell her anything. She accidentally bumped into a small girl wearing a sweatshirt that read “Gotham University”. 

Marinette knew it was a stretch, it could just be a random sweatshirt but still she was determined to try. 

‘Gotham University’ she typed into Google. Bingo. ‘Gotham University is a college in Gotham, New Jersey, America.’ So could she be in America? Marinette surveyed her surroundings, the most prominent building read Wayne Enterprises. ‘Worth a shot’ she mused. ‘Wayne Enterprises, Gotham’. Millions of hits, now she knew she must be in Gotham. Marinette continued to walk the streets to solve her next problem, where could she stay the night? 

Marinette sighed turning corners, looking for any signs around. She felt a rumbling in her stomach, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate. Marinette couldn't see any food places around. She wandered around looking wildly for a café, bakery, restaurant, anything. She didn’t even realize she was on a collision course until she bumped into a muscular boy, about 4 years older than herself with black hair with a white streak in it and blue eyes.

•~Friday, 9:40am EST~•~•

Jason groaned as he got up. He wasn’t drunk like most nights before. He immediately went to check his computer, still no hits on Craigslist. Jason sighed, he didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t get anyone to rent with him by Sunday. He refused to move back into Bruce’s mansion again. Jason picked up his apartment keys and went to look for some food, he couldn’t find a solution to a problem without food or caffeine (Tim had rubbed off on him more than he wanted). 

Jason opened his door and walked down the hall, he opted for the stairs as he didn’t feel like interacting with anyone at the moment. Jason brushed past the Gothamites on the street feeling extremely aggravated. He got lost in his own world of annoyance and didn’t even realize when he ran into a small blue-haired girl.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Marinette said turning pink. She backed away feeling extremely embarrassed, “I just wasn’t looking where I was going and-“ Jason recognized that she wasn’t from Gotham. She just didn’t have that shrewd personality that came with the territory of being a Gothamite. For some reason it made him feel warmer, and his anger felt more soothed.

“It’s ok little lady, really. What brings you to Gotham?” Marinette stared up into the caring blue eyes of the boy she ran into. “I uh, well, um nothing in particular. But would you mind showing me somewhere to eat?” She asked, not wanting to revisit why she had to leave Paris. He seemed caring enough, hopefully he’d take her somewhere to eat. The man nodded, “Of course. I was headed to a café myself little lady. Hey, what’s your name?” Jason could respect that the girl didn’t want to talk about why she was here, after all, Jason didn’t like talking about his own past. 

“Marinette.” Marinette blushed. “Alrighty then Marinette, I’m Jason. I’ll take you somewhere.” Jason wanted to scold her for putting so much trust in a stranger blindly as she followed him, after all this was Gotham but he just silently thanked that it was him who got to her instead of some creep. Jason led her to the Garden Café right next to where his flat was.

It might’ve been one of the only places in Gotham that wasn’t completely littered with garbage. It had beautiful flowers and an outdoor patio where patrons could eat. Jason lead Marinette to an empty black table and pulled out a metal chair for her. “Merci!” Marinette smiled, “Thank you, I mean.” Jason made the connection, “So are you from France?” Marinette nodded, “Yes, Paris actually.” Jason nodded, “What's it like there?” Marinette sighed, “Well aside from the terrorist, it’s beautiful and a great place to live.” Jason didn’t even had a drink yet but if he did, he would’ve spit it out right on the spot. “Did you just say terrorist?”

“Um yes, I assumed it was common knowledge. I mean I know Ladybug reached out to the Justice League many times…” Jason gritted his teeth, the damn Justice League. His father’s call no doubt.

“So whos Ladybug?” Marinette pondered what to tell the man across from her, on the one hand, he was the only kind one to her, but she didn’t want to accidentally give away her identity. “She along with Chat Noir, are magical heroes who wield jewels that give them power. Hawkmoth, the terrorist, wants them, because with them he can make a wish and have absolute power.” Jason's eyes widened, sure her story seemed like a poorly written children’s TV show but from the little time he’d known Marinette he’d figured a lot out about her, and he trusted that she wasn’t a liar. And wasn’t a very good one at that. Living with the world’s greatest detective, as much as Jason hated to admit it, did have some perks, Jason could read people without knowing them for long. 

“I guess it’s not ideal to escape a terrorist and end up in the crime capital of the world though,” Jason said, he couldn’t imagine why anyone would rather be in Gotham than anywhere else. Marinette hadn’t known it was the crime capital of the world, she wondered why Kaaliki’s voyage sent her there. Maybe she was meant to resume being a hero in Gotham?

“Y-yeah.” Was all Marinette could stammer out. Talking to Jason made her realize so many things she had to do, she hadn’t had much time to think about what it could be like living in another country. She didn’t even have a place to stay yet!

“I know this might be a touchy subject, but...how’d you get those bruises Buttercup?” Marinette touched her hand to her face and ran her fingers down one of the scars. “H-Hawkmoth.” At least it wasn’t a complete lie. She saw Jason clench his fists. 

Jason was seething, he couldn’t believe the league would ignore this! One look at this girl would prove that they should’ve listened. If Jason was still aligned with Bruce he would’ve had some choice words with him, instead he decided that he’d notify Dick and possibly the Outlaws the next time he saw them. Jason couldn’t help but feel awful for the girl, he knew what it was like to feel like you couldn’t escape the clutches of a madman. He’d lost a bit of soul to Joker. He wanted to run his fingers down all of her scars and just make everything better, she didn’t deserve that kind of torment. If anything, he did.

“Say Buttercup, where are you staying?” Jason asked before the waiter came to take their orders. Marinette answered the waiter with a simple sandwich and Jason ordered the same. “Um well...I don’t really know yet,” she responded to his previous question. 

Unacceptable, she was staying with him now. “How about you come back with me Buttercup. I know we just met, but I don’t want you sleeping on the streets. Gotham is dangerous.” Marinette blushed, just now noticing the nickname he gave her. “I couldn’t do that to you!” She protested.

“It’s not a problem, Buttercup, really.” Marinette sighed, she felt grateful for Jason. Maybe she was being too trusting, but she had no other options. “As long as you let me pay you something.” Jason thought about it, he didn’t want to put this poor girl out but then he realized,

“I think there's a way we can help each other.”

[inawickedlittletown]

I’m With You (20/22)

Summary:

Having a crush was nothing to be ashamed of…lying to the family and friends of said crush about being the guy’s boyfriend, that was a whole other problem. When Buck saves the life of Andrew Diaz and accidentally makes a nurse think that he’s Andrew’s boyfriend, Buck soon finds himself lying to Andrew’s firefighter friends/coworkers as well as Andrew’s family including Andrew’s very suspicious and attractive brother, Eddie.

Based on the 1995 movie While You Were Sleeping.

Words: 3,756

Read on Ao3

Masterpost

Previous Chapter

–

“What does that mean?” Eddie asked, looking directly at Andrew who finally pushed off of the wall and stepped into the room. 

“It means that even I noticed there was something going on with you and Buck. Maddie realized it after just meeting you. And it’s okay because I’m as straight as I’ve always been. Although, kissing him wasn’t bad. I could have swung it and kept that going for a while. Meant to, had things gone differently at that party.” 

Andrew smirked and he watched Eddie closely. His brother scowled and Andrew knew him well enough to know that it bothered him to hear about him kissing Buck. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Eddie said. “Doesn’t mean much of anything now.” 

Andrew scoffed. “Of course,” he said. “You’re gonna just forget all about it, right? You’ll shove it aside like you’ve always done with every bit of real feeling. He doesn’t deserve that, Eddie.”

“We didn’t deserve to be lied to,” Eddie said, his tone was low but there was an obvious hurt there. “So it doesn’t matter. He’s nothing to us. To me.” 

Andrew rolled his eyes. His brother was nothing if not someone that stuck to his convictions even when it meant that he was hurting himself along the way. 

“If he’s nothing, then why are you upset?” Andrew asked, more calmly than he felt. 

Eddie didn’t answer. He shrugged his shoulders instead. “I could tell there was something off about him from the start. Should have pushed harder on that front, but I didn’t. I’m sorry. And now, it really doesn’t matter. He’s gone and we can move on with our lives. Get back to how things used to be.” 

Andrew admittedly had never intended to tell Eddie this way. Him showing up to see Eddie had always been about Buck and about Eddie’s anger, but maybe it was also about having Eddie understand that things weren’t going to go back to the same it had been. 

“It won’t,” he said. “In part because you’re seething in anger. And you’re being stupid about it. But also...also because I’m leaving.”

Eddie’s head shot up so fast to look at him, that Andrew worried he might have pulled something on his neck. 

“What does that mean?” Eddie snarled. “You’re leaving?” 

“Not now. Soon. But that isn’t the point, what happened with Buck, Eddie?”

“Nothing,” Eddie said. “Nothing at all.” And Eddie finally looked away from him. 

“So is it that nothing happened? That Maddie was wrong and you’re not sleeping with him? That you wanted to. That you care for him. Eddie, you let him leave. You didn’t even try to speak to him.” 

“And he let me think that I was betraying you!” Eddie snapped and he stood up from his bed and walked away towards his window. “Any thought...any attraction that I had for him was wrapped up in thinking about your feelings and how you loved him. In all that guilt. He let that happen. He let that happen even after I…”

“After you what?” Andrew asked. 

Eddie dropped his head into his hands and he mumbled something that Andrew didn’t hear. He didn’t repeat himself. Instead, Eddie walked past Andrew. Andrew followed a few paces after him. 

“What did you do?”

“Nothing that matters now,” Eddie said with a sigh. “If he...if he felt anything for me he would have told me the truth.”

“Eddie…”

“No. Drop it,” Eddie said. “He lied to you. How do you think that was okay for him to do? Why aren’t you angry? Fuck, Andrew, none of what he did was okay. You can’t think it was.”

They were in the kitchen and Eddie had started to do his dishes. He was frenetic in his movements, not quite doing the task at hand but refusing to stop and refusing to continue. It was a great representation of how torn he felt inside. It hurt to see his brother that way and yet, Andrew could also recognize that there would be no pushing Eddie into seeing sense and letting go of the anger. 

“I knew pretty soon after I woke up,” Andrew told him. “And I was mad at first until…” Andrew trailed off and he didn’t know if Eddie was aware that Chim had known all along. 

“Until what?” 

“Until I realized that there’s a reason he did it.” 

Eddie set down the bowl he was holding and he turned and leaned on the counter. “Are you somehow flattered that he has a crush on you?” 

There was a flash of jealousy in his eyes and in the way that he crossed his arms, leaving suds on the sleeves of his shirt. 

“No. Although...I mean, shouldn’t I be flattered?” His lips quirked up into a bit of a smirk. 

Eddie groaned. 

“You told me, yourself, Eddie. His loneliness. How he had no one. Everyone welcomed him right in, how could anyone expect him to just leave? To want to?” 

He could tell that there wasn’t much that anyone could say that would make Eddie’s anger and his hurt dissipate and allow him to see past it and see that out of everything that had happened something good could come out. 

“Fine,” Eddie said eventually. “Doesn’t change what happens next. I don’t want to talk about him. And you’re leaving.”

“And I’m leaving,” Andrew said. 

Eddie didn’t press or ask anything and Andrew didn’t know how to explain it. This was a thing that had been happening before the accident and that the accident couldn’t change. Andrew had been making preparations for it and other than Josh, no one else knew. 

“What does Legolas have to do with it?” Eddie asked eventually. “You said he wasn’t for you?”

“Well, that’s a funny story,” Andrew said. 

Eddie motioned for him to go on so Andrew moved to sit down. 

“One of the days that you weren’t on shift we went on a call to a fire at a seeing eye dog training facility. Chim was making all kinds of jokes about a dog pulling the fire alarm. It was a quick in and out. No one was hurt and the fire was minor. But I was impressed by the dogs there. We all were. We had some time to wait and I got to talking to one of the trainers.”

“Okay,” Eddie said. 

“So, he was talking about this dog that he’d raised from a puppy and how the dog didn’t seem to be doing well in the program. He didn’t pass a few of the crucial tests. I think he was asking if the firehouse wanted a dog. But it occurred to me that while Bobby might agree to that, that you love dogs. And that Christopher would love a dog. And I figured it would soften the blow of me leaving. I figured if this dog was trained as well as he had been that he’d be good for Christopher. I know it was the only thing that stopped you from getting a dog on your own.” 

Eddie didn’t seem to know what to say. A speechless Eddie was one of his favorite versions of Eddie. 

“I told him I was interested and a few days later I got a call and he told me that the dog was mine. Legolas didn’t pass further tests to go into the next step of training and Mark figured that the dog would be better off with a real place to call home. And Mark gave me a bunch of stuff when I picked him up toys and food and whatever else. So I brought the dog home with me and I took off all the stuff blocking that doggie door. Later that afternoon the accident happened.”

Eddie laughed then and it seemed to come as a surprise to him. “So you were replacing yourself with a dog?” 

Andrew shrugged his shoulders and then looking straight at Eddie. “Before I met Buck and realized that he would make a better replacement. Yes.” 

—

Buck shouldn’t have been surprised when Josh showed up at Coffee Time a few days later. 

“You know, I don’t like being avoided,” Josh said in lieu of ordering. “When’s your break? I’ll wait for you.”

“He can take his break now,” Ali said and she nudged him away from the cash register. “Go.” Her pointed look shifted back into a smile as she turned to look at Josh. “Want anything to drink?”

“I suppose I could take an iced tea. Green tea, if you have it.” 

Buck watched them. He’d managed to tell Ali everything that happened at Andrew’s welcome home party. Buck had even told her about the kiss. The way that her eyes had widened when he told her made him have no regrets on letting her in on that particular part of the day. When Buck told her about how Maddie was back and she was the reason the truth came out, that had garnered another reaction out of her that he hadn’t expected. A mix of anger and annoyance and protectiveness. 

“So, she stops by to blow up your life?” Ali had asked. 

“She’s staying,” Buck had responded even when he himself was wondering if she would truly stick around. 

“You don’t even know that for sure, Buck,” she’d said. 

“Go talk to him,” Ali said motioning to Josh and pushing Josh’s iced tea and Buck’s own usual coffee order into his hands. 

One of the things that Ali had tried to get him to agree to was that he should try and talk to Eddie and maybe even all of the others. Buck hadn’t told her about how Chim still texted him and how Josh had called him a few times. There was even an unopened text from Hen that Buck was too anxious about opening. If he didn’t open it, then he wouldn’t know what it said and Buck was far more okay with that, than finding out if Hen really did hate him for everything he did. 

Josh had picked a table off to the side and away from the other occupied tables. 

“Hi,” Josh said with an easy smile. “How are you, Buck?”

“I’m okay,” Buck said. “You?” 

Josh pursed his lips. “You know, I hoped I was your friend. But you’ve been ignoring me and I don’t like it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Buck said. “I — I didn’t know what to say or how this might work or just any of it. And my sister...she’s around and she…” Buck trailed off looking at Josh. “Wait, your job. That’s something she could...By any chance, is there a way you could help my sister get a job working dispatch? It’d be perfect for her and she might stick around. I...I need her to stick around.” 

Josh took hold of his hand. “I think I can help you out with that. That’s what friends are for, Buck. Now, how are you really doing?” 

“I’m fine. I have to be. I guess, I’m trying to figure out what comes next because the one thing that all of this made me realize is that I can’t keep doing what I’m doing and living like I’m waiting for something to happen.”

It had taken him a few days to come to that conclusion. Maybe because a part of him had been hoping that it was Andrew or Eddie that texted him or called him the next time that he looked at his phone. When it didn’t happen, Buck realized that he was waiting for someone else to decide what happened next for him and he couldn’t do that. 

“And what does that mean?” Josh asked. 

“I don’t know yet,” Buck said. “Maddie thinks I should go back to school. It’s an option. There’s others.”

It didn’t stray far from his mind, that conversation that he had with Andrew about how Andrew had first thought that Buck was a firefighter. He just didn’t know if he could do it. If he could face becoming something that might be fulfilling and that he might love when it might bring him face to face with everyone from the 118. With Eddie. 

—

“You haven’t talked to Buck yet,” Chim said. 

Eddie dropped into the chair next to Chim at the table. “No,” he said. 

Andrew sitting across from him rolled his eyes. “You should. Or...you should let me talk to him.” 

Eddie was actually surprised that Andrew hadn’t already called Buck up or tried to reach out in some other way like showing up at Coffee Time. He was respecting Eddie’s wishes even if he used any free moment to try and push Eddie into calling or texting Buck. 

“He’s not answering you,” Andrew said, directing it at Chimney. 

“Nope.”

“Josh went to see him last week,” Andrew said. 

That was news to Eddie. A part of him wanted to ask for every detail of how that had gone. He was desperate to know how Buck was doing and how things were going with his sister around. He wanted to know everything. That of course warred with the other part of him that wanted to forget Buck entirely. Anger rose up in him constantly. Eddie didn’t know what would come out if he did talk to Buck again. 

Any more talk of Buck was put to the side when a call rang out. Eddie was grateful even if the curiosity to hear anything about Buck was killing him. 

“You can keep pretending you don’t care, but we all know you do,” Andrew said. “Stop being so stubborn.” 

Of course, as it turned out, Eddie didn’t have to wait long to see Buck. The call was to Coffee Time. Well, to just outside Coffee Time where a man was on the sidewalk surrounded by people and Buck, complete with apron, was knelt at his side talking to him and apparently keeping him calm. The man’s neck looked red and already bruising and he seemed to be trying to talk but nothing was coming out. 

“No. No, stop that. Just calm down. Paramedics will be here soon. You’ll be just fine, Justin.” 

It was eerie how this scene must have been just like what happened with Andrew. It was no wonder that Bobby had held Andrew back. Eddie wished he’d stayed with them.  

Another man hovered close by the wounded, looking worried. Eddie froze next to him at the sight of Buck. He was glad that Hen and Chimney were there to take care of the actual emergency and the reason that they were there. 

Hen was the one to touch Buck’s shoulder and he got out of the way but not without first giving the man’s hand a squeeze. Then, his eyes found Eddie and he turned away at once and then quickly moved past the crowd. Eddie hesitated for a few seconds before he followed Buck, passing by Ali who offered what might have been an encouraging smile. Eddie couldn’t quite tell. 

Coffee Time was empty. It seemed that everyone had rushed out to see what was happening outside. Eddie didn’t look back at the crowd as he walked in. Buck was halfway to the counter, but he glanced back when he heard the door. 

The weird thing about seeing Buck was that Eddie had maybe expected to see everything that had happened reflected in Buck. He had expected to see Buck burdened by it. But, Buck was unchanged. He was the same Buck that Eddie had seen that night at the party and that Eddie clearly hadn’t seen fully. 

“Is that what you do, then,” Eddie said. “You run away. I guess...well, I guess that explains why you’re so alone if you don’t try to stick around.” 

Buck’s back was still mostly to him, but he turned to face Eddie completely and his brows furrowed and his mouth slackened like he was ready to say something. An explanation or an excuse or maybe even some sort of defence for what he’d done but no words came out. 

“I mean, clearly none of it mattered to you. You insinuated yourself into our lives and then you just left. And you lied to us and just strung us along. And there you stand like none of that happened. What, were you going to tell that man out there you were his fiance or something?”

“No,” Buck said. “Of course not.”

Eddie let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, moved on to other schemes? Other lies.” 

“It was an accident and a misunderstanding,” Buck said. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. You were there, I explained. I can’t—”

Eddie took a step forward. He hated it. Buck was emotive, his face displayed his emotions far too well and it shouldn’t have been a surprise that hurt flitted over his eyes and that his mouth was drawn into a tight line. Eddie had kissed that mouth. He’d done it and felt the weight of so much guilt fall upon him over it when it had all been so unnecessary, when it could have been different. 

“You lied to us. To me,” Eddie said. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck said. “I’m sorry, Eddie.” 

Eddie wanted to scream. He wanted to cross the last few feet between them and shake Buck so that he could understand that the breach in trust had ruined everything. It had changed everything. 

“You let me...you let me think that — I kissed you!” 

Buck inhaled a breath. 

“I kissed you,” Eddie repeated. “I kissed you and the entire time...the entire time I was hating myself because you were my brother’s boyfriend. You were with Andrew and happily so as far as I could tell. But I kissed you and you kissed me back. And you didn’t tell me! You let me think I was betraying Andrew.” 

“Eddie, I—”

Eddie shook his head. He didn’t want to hear anything that Buck might want to say, not when it wouldn’t change anything. Not what happened. Not the feeling of being betrayed and lied to and worse the not knowing how Buck might feel about him. 

“And none of it...none of it was real, was it? You were playing some part. I guess I was right all along.” Eddie turned away from Buck. It felt horrible being right. 

“It was real,” Buck whispered.

Eddie didn’t think it mattered. He shook his head more to clear his head than anything else. When his eyes found Buck again, he took in how glossy his eyes looked and the way that he seemed pulled taut, like he could be torn apart at any moment. And slowly, he realized that he couldn’t be the one to keep Buck together. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Eddie said and he turned and left Buck there. As he got to the door, it opened. It was Ali and she eyed hi but didn’t say anything. 

Eddie glanced back once and all he saw was Buck’s back and Ali’s hand on his shoulder. She did turn and shoot him a glare. Eddie didn’t linger. As he stepped outside, he realized that nothing about the whole thing had given him any closure or made him any lighter. 

The ambulance was gone and the crowd had dispersed. Hen was still waiting for him, though. Chimney must have gone with the victim. 

“What happened to him?” Eddie asked. 

Hen fixed him with a look. “Construction workers were carrying material and he ran straight into what they were carrying with his throat. He’ll be okay. And he has a date.” 

“A date?” Eddie asked. 

“Apparently, we came in right at the end of some sort of coffee shop pinning romcom. Are you gonna tell me what happened with Buck?”

Hen led him back to the truck. Andrew was leaning against the door with Bobby at his side. He was definitely going to hear it from him as well. 

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. You should stop texting him. He isn’t a part of our lives anymore. That’s all.” 

—-

“Buck, do you want to talk about it?” Ali asked. 

She was being gentle with him, not pushing. Buck could hear Eddie’s words. The way he’d looked at him when he said “I kissed you” as if it was something that Buck could have forgotten. He could feel it, the despair that Eddie was feeling and how much deeper the lie was and how it had made Eddie feel guilty and torn about Buck. Of course, all of that was gone. Buck had ruined it...whatever might have become of what Eddie felt. 

“Are you okay?” Ali asked. 

“I’m — I will be.” 

He was glad that he hadn’t answered Chim and Hen, then. He was glad that he hadn’t reached out to Andrew like Maddie wanted him to do. It was all really and truly over. 

“I guess it was always going to end like this,” Buck said. He’d said it time and time again any time that the prospect of coming clean had come up. When it did, he would lose them all. 

“Buck, come on, you can’t believe that. Haven’t they been trying to get ahold of you.” 

“It doesn’t matter. I just have to move on. It’s for the best.” 

 “Move on to what?” Ali asked. 

They made it behind the counter and Ali went to stand at the register as a few of the customers returned. Buck couldn’t help but think about the guy that had collapsed outside. Justin. He was one of the regulars and according to Ali, hopelessly in love with one of their other regulars. Buck had seen him fall outside and without saying anything to Ali he’d run out ignoring the order he was in the middle of making. 

Someone was already in the middle of talking to 9-1-1, so Buck checked on Justin. He was awake and breathing even if he couldn’t talk and Buck had been able to see that he was starting to panic. So, he started talking to him and keeping him focused on breathing and not moving. 

He was meant to help people. Buck couldn’t ignore that urge just because of the 118 or because of Eddie. LA was huge, anyway, and Buck would just make sure that he was assigned as far away from them as possible. He didn’t even have to work in LA. 

“I think...I think I know what I want to do,” Buck said. 

–

Next Chapter

Notes: I'll admit that I was definitely tempted to end this fic with this chapter. That scene in the coffee shop could have easily gone very differently but I think it was really necessary to have Buck and Eddie have a confrontation about everything and I think for Buck to understand that Eddie is very truly hurt by it. 

And we finally know the whole mystery of Legolas. He's a failed seeing eye-dog. There are many out there because the requirements are so strict and precise that even a dog that's been trained well can fail at becoming one. 

Can't believe it's just two more chapters. Let me know what you all thought of this one. 

Tagging: @tranquility-or-chaos @diazbuckleysworld @stilesgivesmefeels

[dragonstoravens]

Babylon Vol. 1: Accidents Happen, Never Too Late for a Disaster

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(These are the final two chapters of Babylon book 1! After this we’re going to take a break until after the new year, and pick up posting book 2 then. Keep an eye out for updates, enjoy any holidays you may celebrate and whatever time off you may get either way, and I hope you enjoy the culmination of One Entire Book Of Dumbasses.)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe​ @glitterandstarshine​ @rainbowcoloreddays​ @the-starlight-chills​ @erased-in-stone​

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts​

22. Accidents Happen

    A little laugh wasn’t usually too much to pay to buy some time to not have to talk. Azure smiled at the scrawny balding man to her left and leaned back into Trinity as far as she could without bumping him, trying as hard as she could to not make it obvious she did not actually find him funny really at all. Trinity was funny. Trinity made jokes and had wit galore. Trinity could single-handedly make her break character in less than three words. This man had none of that, and his voice sounded a little bit like a dying frog to boot. She flashed another smile and gave another carefully crafted titter before reaching her hand to touch the carafe of water on the table. Coincidentally, it was at the same moment Trinity did the same.

    Their hands brushed past each other, her small calloused hand meeting his larger, softer one for just a moment as they each sought the glass. Azure felt a jolt up her arm, followed by the now-familiar burn of blood rising to her cheeks. She’d held his hand before, fingers intertwined as they entered an event or clasped gingerly in a dance. There was something foreign about touching him casually and without planning or forethought. Something she just hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. Every move had been executed with all intentions known from the start, every touch had purpose and use. The cheek kisses were marking territory and the hand holding was to keep her from getting lost in the sea of people. Linking arms was for showing her off to mothers with too many children and a hand on the small of her back or her hip was to keep the lechers off her when she wasn’t busy keeping the harpies off him. 

    It didn’t help much that if she wasn’t careful to know when she was about to have physical contact and what kind and for how long, it made her nigh-useless. Perry had one time accidentally snuck up on her-- she’d been distracted with something-- and began playing with her hair. She’d become so jumpy the rest of that day she’d needed a sedative from Pthalo to sleep. She didn’t want to know what that would do to her if it was Trinity, the way she’d been lately. She likely wouldn’t sleep for a week. Her productivity in the workshop would grind to a halt.

    She glanced up at him, the strong jawline and the green eyes that beckoned her to never look away. She then immediately looked away, not wanting to broadcast her emotions on her face, and retracted her hand, nudging the carafe to his hand from the opposite side. She focused on everything but his hand, how smooth and soft she knew it was when it was laced with hers. The blush on her cheeks remained mild, nearly unnoticeable. Somewhere nearby someone told a joke, and she faked another laugh. Trinity poured her more water. She nodded in appreciation. She wanted to hold his hand. She’d probably get to later, on the way through the throngs of humanity to get to the car. 

    The thought soothed her, knowing that in the future she’d know exactly what would happen. The events always followed the same pattern, one that she could predict and plan for. She could fake this if she knew when it would happen, could swallow the leaping of her heart and the daydreaming. She might even be able to fake her way out of the feelings, train herself to never think about the implications of tucking her head neatly in the crook of his neck while they danced so she could whisper under the music, or the gentle smile he gave her to reassure her when she got nervous at the beginning of every dinner. She could ignore them and bury them until they died. She only saw Trinity once a month, maybe twice at absolute most if there was an update or maintenance he needed. Plenty of time in between to forget she’d ever had a feeling to begin with and return to that beloved state of platonic understanding. 

    She sipped her water, glancing at him again from the side, satisfied with her plan. As long as these things remained single nights at a time with space between, she could smother this feeling easily. Toss herself into work right afterwards every time. He hated these things still, and he’d never WANT to go to one overnight even if an opportunity did present itself. Yes, she thought, setting her glass down, I’m safe from that. Safe from seeing his face as he slept and witnessing him getting ready for bed. She could have shivered at the idea. That would throw a wrench in the whole thing.

    Good thing she was absolutely certain she would never have to worry about it.

23. Never Too Late For A Disaster

    “It’s an overnight trip. Four days, I think-- over a whole weekend.” 

    Azure could practically hear his gritted teeth and consternated expression through the phone. The phone call was strange enough on its own-- She and Trinity usually texted, or did a video chat. If they called, she was almost always the one to initiate it. She could hear his footsteps pacing back and forth as he continued. “And it’s important. I was asked to go to this one directly by my employer. He won’t be attending, but I have business to take care of.” That would explain the stress in his voice. “It shouldn’t be anything you have to worry about. Any danger we can handle. But… it’s also a couples only event, which is why I haven’t been before. I mean couples only in the sense of we’re going to be one of the few pairs there who aren’t engaged or married. Camilla and I have been together long enough to get invited, but…” 

    On the other end of the line, Trinity was struggling to find the right words. After all this time, he felt like he was right back at the beginning, asking his friend to go with him to one of these stupid things in the first place. It still felt a little like he was taking advantage of her kindness for some sort of overdone closeness that he was missing, using her friendship for something more. It itched at him, churning in his chest. “We’re going to have to sell it. More than usual.”

    At the mere mention of an overnight trip, Azure’s mouth went dry. She found herself grateful that he’d called but wishing desperately he’d texted so that she had time to make a joke or something. She wanted so badly to not want to go, to laugh at it and tease him for not having a better option than her this whole time, but instead she was, of all the terrible terrible feelings in the world, excited.

    And then he said they’d have to sell it, and she was worried again. About his reputation and her poor defenseless heart. She sighed, more exhausted than she intended to sound.

    “We have no option, huh?” Her voice was clipped, pitched higher than usual. He recognized it: she was nervous as all hell. “Four days? As in overnight three times?”

    “Yes.” He sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry. I can find a way around-- maybe I can still do it alone. Or I can find a way to handle my business besides on the cruise. He can’t argue if the work still gets done…”

    Her dumbass heart still hadn’t gotten with the program her brain was trying to send out, and she spoke before she could think. “I mean listen, what’s a weekend cruise in the name of keepin’ your boss off your back?” The answer was the fact that she was now absolutely screwed and needed a new “get over Trinity before he figured her out and never spoke to her again” plan because this was not going to help. God, and it was a cruise? The thought of all that water made her cringe, knowing full well she’d be spooked half to death the whole time. But there was no way she could let him go it alone. There was resignation in her voice, tinged with something else. Frustration, maybe? “It’ll be fine, I’ll sit in your lap once or twice and pretend to plant one on ya or somethin’ and it’ll be squared away right as rain. If it’s all gooey couples they’ll be too busy thinking about each other to pay too much attention to us.”

    “S-sure.” In his living room, Trinity finally managed to stop pacing, forcing himself to agree with her. He wasn’t about to objectify his friend just at the thought of spending a few nights together and cuddling a bit in public, he told himself sternly. He just hoped that somehow, maybe, there’d be two beds in whatever little suite they were given on the ship. Or at least a couch. “Well, if you’re sure… I’m sure your brother will be delighted to outfit us for that whole time. I’ll come to pick you up at the end of the week?”

    Azure nearly dropped her receiver. That was not enough time for her to convince herself that this would not be a big deal. Her tongue felt like it took up her entire mouth. It was already Tuesday. “He loves a deadline. I’ll tell him to keep it kind of casual, I’m sure he’ll still find a way to expose my whole ass instead of just most of it to the entire boat anyway though.” She managed to inject her joke with the appropriate cheerful tone, but the idea of her being nearly naked in that high-fashion way and Trinity perceiving her with his real, actual eyes at the same time made her feel a sickly sweet sort of nervous. She had told him how she felt about the high slits her brother always cut into her gowns. It was a staple at this point, the signature that said it had been made especially for her. Crim claimed it made her look taller. She claimed he was an asshole. They were both right.

    The bit about swimsuits caught Trinity off guard somehow, though it really should have been obvious. This was a cruise, and yes, that’s how swimsuits tended to work. And that’s what she was planning to sit on his lap with. No wonder she sounded nervous. She was leered at enough at these events, she must be worried about what people would do-- what even he might be thinking. He hated the idea of himself becoming part of the problem, making an already difficult situation even harder for his friend just because she was pretty. “Don’t worry. I’m the one who’s asking you to go, so I’m not going ask you to do anything that makes you any more uncomfortable. You can always borrow a shirt of mine if your brother’s designs are a little... too much.” Or too little.

    She could hear him trying to be helpful, trying to reassure her in that practical way he did where he offered a solution to the problem he thought he was perceiving right as soon as he saw it. It would have worked, if that charming little solution didn’t make the war tattoo in her chest speed up even further, the battle between her heart wanting and her head screaming only getting more chaotic. His shirt. On her body. Probably with the fucking smell still on it? No, no thank you, she wanted to live at least another month or two.

    “...Azzy?” She said nothing. Trinity cleared his throat. “Az? Are you still there?”

    She squeaked, unaware she’d zoned out trying to remember that citrusy smell that hung around him. “Sorry, sorry, I was just tryin’ to think about how hard I should knock Crim on his ass if he makes even half an attempt at somethin’ nude ‘n sheer again,” she lied, “Thanks for the offer. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

    “Oh, I see.” Trinity frowned-- he wasn’t completely convinced. Then again, it wasn’t really any of his business what she thought about when they didn’t have the comms in. Just because Azzy was a truly bad liar didn’t mean he had to call her on it every time, especially not when she was this nervous. She liked her privacy. No need to invade it further. “So… Thursday, then?”

    “Sure thing. I’ll see you Thursday. L-”, She caught herself, cheeks flaring. Love you, bye was not the appropriate sign off. “-ater, bye!” 

    They hung up near simultaneously, and planets apart, rested their heads in their hands with twin groans. Somehow, they could both see the writing on the wall-- things were about to get a lot more complicated.

[falling-stars-and-open-scars]

03/01/2021: About Me

Hey. So, I’ve kind of already done something like this before, but figured I’d update. This isn’t your traditional “get to know me”/ “about me” post so if you want to make one yourself, feel free to copy. While I do not intend on going into any graphic detail, I will put a Trigger Warning/Content Warning here.

 Who are you? Tell me about yourself

I go by Star

32 yr old, cis female, United States

Straight

Currently a veterinary assistant at a spay and neuter clinic

Currently going to school for Health Information Management so I can eventually become a medical biller/coder

In a relationship; boyfriend of 7 years [and yet it is complicated]

I have two orange male tabby cats that, while they can be little kitty brats, do give me a sense of joy in life.

 No, really…tell me about yourself

292 pounds at 5 foot 6 inches tall (this is the heaviest I have ever been in my entire life. It is not a good feeling)

Harmer of self since the age of 15, with periods of recovery/non-injury

Hating my body/self since I was extremely young [maybe 7 years old; I remember writing in my diary “I need to go on a diet” or “On Monday, I start my diet”; without any realization of what it means. But always felt like the ugly duckling and was always about 20 pounds heavier than the other girls in my class/age-range] 

Wasn’t really allowed to date while living with my parents [I lived with them until I was 24 so you can do the math there….didn’t have my first kiss until I was like 22, didn’t have an actual intimate relationship until I was 23/24] 

Never been officially diagnosed with anything; despite an episode of harm which landed me into the emergency room and then to a mental health facility (you’d think they’d diagnose me with some kind of *something* while I was there but…nah. It was basically, show up to group and be nice/quiet and if you want to leave you can since you voluntarily came here. I stayed for a day and a half, expecting to get help but didn’t really get it other than “you need to learn to communicate with people and people need to take the time to hear you speak”. And that day and a half cost me almost $5,000 and I don’t have insurance so ofc I’m not going to stay longer. I was lucky that they had a financial aid type thing and that I qualified; they basically wrote off the debt and all I was responsible for was the ER visit and paying the doctor to patch me up). Still, it would be nice to know EXACTLY what’s going on with me mentally [Am I bi-polar? Do I have an anxiety disorder? Am I on the spectrum? Do I have BPD?]

What’s your trauma?:

Emotionally neglected child who grew up into an angry and depressed teenager

Essentially forced to become a third parent/default babysitter to my siblings [one older sister, two younger Autistic brothers] at the age of 8, as my parents didn’t feel they could trust my sister to care for us, but trusted me.

Harmer of self since the age of 15.

Ideation of disordered eating between ages of 13-16 [again, I remember looking into Ana and Mia and writing in a diary that my goal was to “become Ana”]. 

Sought approval from father by being a “good kid” and never getting into trouble and trying to get nothing less than perfect straight As in all my classes from 10th grade [sophomore year in high school] onward. 

Sought attention from older men, since boys my age didn’t like me and were terrified of how intimidating my father was (like I would be 16-18 and chatting with guys 20-28 years old; one guy coerced me into phone s3x at the age of 16, he was 26 and a member of my church who has had a reputation for doing this to young girls but nothing was ever done about him). 

Currently an unhappy, socially awkward, adult who is trying very hard to make a 7 year relationship with an alcoholic work but am also talking with another man who lives over 1,000 miles away [it started off as very “mature”/”adult” talking and has now regressed back to “get to know you”/”being friends first”; he has stated that he is not interested in pursuing women or a relationship because of his own hurt and break ups but also is not opposed to the possibility of a relationship at some point – seems very indecisive about what he wants or is trying to appear guarded but it’s starting to weaken the more often we talk]

I’m basically chasing after external love and approval that I’ve never properly received while also not loving myself.

 Why are you here on Tumblr?

To vent, like most people here. To express my thoughts and feelings that no one else really cares to listen to. To get better. To get worse (it’s kind of weird, like….I want to write down my thoughts and feelings so that I don’t keep it bottled up and end up hurting myself again and yet….I seek out triggering things; maybe because deep down I think that maybe if I get really really bad someone will notice….someone will finally care about me…..) To maybe help someone so they don’t end up like me. To be a “big sister” or other type of support to those who need it.

 What do you want to say to the people reading this/following you?

You deserve better and I’m so incredibly sorry that the people in your life have let you down so much. You deserve to have the hurt in your heart and in your mind fully healed. You deserve a chance at life. You all are so young and you do have potential to live a good and interesting life. I know it’s hard to believe, I know it’s hard to see your self-worth or to even think you have any worth beyond what people can take from you; but you ARE worth it. If you want to recover and heal, I hope you’re able to do so and offer my support and wish you the absolute best. If you’re not ready to recover (I’m sure as f not), then I can at least sit with you as we slowly work on bettering ourselves. I know I’m just some old random bish on here, but I do worry about you guys – especially if you go offline for days/weeks/months or if your account is no longer active. I want you guys to be safe and happy. I want that for myself too. And we will have it….one day…..someday.

 And just so we’re absolutely crystal clear: I will NOT be your coach. I will NOT encourage you to get worse [and any and all negative content or “meanspo” is directed towards me and ONLY me]. If you’re looking at my blog and thinking that you can ask that of me, I’m very sorry but you are wrong. I like to live by a certain motto: “Do no unnecessary harm unto others, be it Man or Beast.” And if you can’t get on board with that, then maybe it’s best you move on past my blog here. Don’t get me wrong, I offer you much love and support and hope you take the chance to get better and live a good life; but I will not enable you. I will not degrade you nor encourage you to get worse. I will not look at your young life and think “Hm, ya know, I had to suffer with some unnecessary bullsh*t; time to spread it around! Let’s toughen these kids up! If I had to suffer, so do you!” Seriously, F that mindset. That’s not my deal, that’s not the vibes I’m trying to send out into the world.

 If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I hope that I can be an ally and source of support for you. If you’ve read this far and feel like maybe my blog isn’t for you/it’s triggering or upsetting or whatever, you’re absolutely allowed to unfollow. I want you to do what is best for you. I’m not about that “tumblr fame” or whatever bullsh*t.

 I’m just a broken person trying to make a broken world a little less broken.

 Thank you for reading.

[snowdice]

Someone You’ll Never Meet (Part 2 of the series Is There Anything Left of Patton?)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Patton (?) Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton(?)

Characters: 

Main: Virgil, Patton(?)

Mentioned: Logan

Summary:  “Would you eat me if I came into that cell right now?” Virgil asked. “I bet you’d eat me. I bet it’s just that Logan doesn’t taste good or something. That’s it isn’t it?” He hesitated as he grabbed the keys from the wall. “I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Past major character death(?), Look it’s a zombie AU so you can probably guess why there’s a question mark after everything involving Patton. Angst.

Sequel to “Something Left” which is now official part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton?

It had been two months since Virgil… well, met Patton was probably not the correct way to describe it, was it? He’d discovered Patton’s existence, maybe? Should he even call whatever was in that cage Patton? Was that fair to Patton? It… it wasn’t really Patton. Virgil had never met Patton. Virgil knew the man that Patton had been only through the little stories Logan had let slip in the past two months, spoken quietly into the silence of the living room as though he were speaking more to himself than to Virgil. Yet, those stories spoke of life and happiness. Who Patton had been in his life popped out of those somber retellings like flowers popped out of the barren ground at the beginning of spring. No, Virgil had never met Patton. He would never meet Patton. Yet, it still felt like he knew him, at least a little bit. And Patton…

Patton was not this.

Virgil watched the creature in the cell move and twitch in its bonds. If it was aware of his presence, Virgil could not tell. It only really reacted when someone moved or made noise, and Virgil had been siting silently staring at it for close to an hour. He’d taken to going down into the basement to see whatever Patton was now every so often. Sometimes, he joined Logan when he went down to check on it, but other times, he went without Logan’s knowledge. It had been disconcerting at first: the sounds it made, the way it never seemed to truly focus on anything, and just the knowledge of what had happened to Patton to make him into this. Yet, Virgil had steadily grown desensitized to it over the weeks. It was less creepy and disturbing and more sad now.

The first time he’d descended those steps without Logan’s knowledge, he honestly had not known if he intended to just kill it. It had been a close thing if he were being truly honest. He hadn’t though; he still didn’t know if it was the right thing. However, it was too late. Virgil had gotten attached.

He’d started to talk to it, at first just wondering aloud if he should kill it or not, but eventually he’d started to talk about other things like his day and his feelings. That was his mistake. Really, he should know by now how emotionally attached he could get to not person things. He’d cried over his house plant dying at the age of 22. What had he expected?

It almost felt like he was talking to a person sometimes when it moved its head toward the sound of his voice with blank eyes. Almost.

“Would you eat me if I came into that cell right now?” he asked. It turned its head at the new noise but continued to make the same groaning sounds behind the gag it always did. Virgil set his chin on his bent knees. “I bet you’d eat me. I bet it’s just that Logan doesn’t taste good or something. That’s it isn’t it?”

No response, of course. Not even a twitch of understanding on its face.

“Even if you wouldn’t eat me, where’s the line?” he wondered at it. “You eat raw meat, don’t you? Would you eat something alive if it wasn’t a person? What if you got hungry enough? Logan feeds you regularly, doesn’t he? What would you do if he stopped? Would you eat someone if you were really hungry?” Virgil stood from where he’d sat close to the door of the cage. He hesitated as he grabbed the keys from the wall.

“I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled. He picked up the small cage he’d set on the table earlier and grimaced. “I’m real sorry about this buddy,” he said, peering in at the rat in the cage. For safety, he’d brought some thick rubber kitchen gloves. He put them on before unlocking the cell. Patton reacted to the sound of him entering, getting more agitated and straining against its bonds. After locking the door behind himself, he set the cage on the ground and reached for the gag on the zombie’s mouth, quickly undoing it. It made a grunting noise and moved its face. Virgil jumped back. He watched it for a few tense moments. It still strained and strained against the bonds. Just like always. Virgil took a deep breath and picked up the cage.

The rat full on screamed when Virgil grabbed it by the tail and pulled it out. It dug its teeth into the gloves but couldn’t get through them. “Okay,” Virgil said swallowing. It’s just like feeding a pet snake, he told himself. “Let’s see.” He stepped back toward the zombie and hovered the rat over its mouth, just barely in reach. It did nothing, so Virgil moved his hand forward a bit more, careful to keep the rat at an angle where it would not be able to claw or bite Patton. The rat brushed its lips. There was a reaction then; the creature jerked its head away from the touch.

Virgil brought the rat away. “No?” he asked. “No rat? You don’t want to eat the rat?” The only response was a weird exhaling sound.

Virgil stared for a moment. He put the rat back in the cage. “Congratulations buddy,” he said. “You don’t get eaten today.” He turned back to the creature attached to the wall, “but will we all be so lucky?” He approached it slowly and stripped off one of the gloves. “This is so stupid.” He reached forward and pressed his own wrist to its mouth. “Huh,” he said after a moment when he didn’t feel teeth pierce his skin. Patton wiggled and turned away. “You really don’t eat people, huh?” he asked.

He sat down in front of it and watched it move for a while. “Is there anything left of Patton?” Virgil asked. “Because he sounded like a pretty cool guy from what little Logan’s said.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe you’re like one of those coma patients,” he suggested. “The ones who can still hear and feel but can’t do anything ‘cause their bodies won’t move. Except in this case, your body didn’t get the memo. Can you hear me? Patton?”

There was nothing. He did not react to his name like Virgil secretly sort of hoped. (It was a stupid hope; Logan had said his name to him many times before, and he had never reacted then.)

Virgil curled his arms around his knees. “I like your garden,” Virgil told him softly. “Honestly, Logan almost destroyed it because he’s not the best with plants, but I was able to see what you’d been doing with it and got it mostly back into shape. I found some of the old little signs you made in the shed. They’re cute. I mean, the drawings are horrible and the puns on them are the actual worst, but, like, in a charming way, you know? I wonder what Logan thought of your puns. He probably hated them, didn’t he? Or at least pretended to. He likes to pretend to be a serious nerd, doesn’t he? I’d imagine he’d love to hear one now though. He loves you.”

Virgil sat and talked to him for longer than he usually allowed himself. It was probably long enough that Logan would be awake and in the living room by the time he stopped.

When he decided it was time to leave him, Virgil reached forward again to touch his face near his mouth. The skin was colder than it should be. Patton again did not try to bite him. “Logan doesn’t like keeping you down here,” Virgil divulged as he stroked a thumb across his cheek to no reaction but some slight squirming, “but he doesn’t want to risk you hurting anyone. I… honestly think it’s less about him worrying about other people and more because he knows you’d hate it if you hurt someone even if it wasn’t really you,” he paused and drew his hand away, “but you aren’t going to hurt anyone, are you?”

Virgil nodded as though he’d responded in some way and stood up. “He’ll probably be pissed when I tell him I did this, but maybe, with the confirmation, he’ll let himself bring you upstairs sometimes. I think you might be more comfortable there.”

He turned to go back upstairs.

He left the gag off.

Want to read more? The next part of this series is...

Food You’ll Never Eat.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Ectotherm

I’ve known exactly what I was doing for this prompt for a while, though it went in a bit of a different direction. Here’s day 22 of @drawlight‘s advent calendar, and yet another knife to the heart. Shout out to my cousin the herpetologist who has put up with some really weird questions from me the past few months.

22 - Warmth (3,170 words)

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

In twenty-four hours he had been subjected to the inferno of a burning bookshop; the hell-born flames of the dread sigil Odegra enveloping his Bentley; the terrifying freezing-hot-burning-cold presence of Satan himself; and a column of Hellfire intended not for him but for Aziraphale, because the Archangels were determined to destroy the best thing that had ever walked the floor of Heaven.

Well, forget them.

And so, they sat at the Ritz raising their glasses to the world, ready to share a meal and start their life together.

Only Crowley suddenly realized he couldn’t eat. He’d thought he was hungry, but the food just sat in his stomach, heavy and cold. Even the wine seemed to sour, once it was past his tongue.

Just nerves, he thought, and did it really matter? He’d always preferred to watch Aziraphale eat, see the joy bubble across his features. It was enough to know that they could do this every day for eternity if they wished, and right now he certainly wished it.

He felt a little better when the coffee arrived, almost-painful heat radiating out from his stomach.

“My dear, that’s your fourth cup!” Aziraphale protested, as he downed another.

“It’s good! And I didn’t complain when you ordered a second piece of cake.”

“Well, I…I was rather thinking you might like some, too.”

With a rush of giddy emotions, Crowley realized he liked the sound of that very much. He picked up his fork and sliced off a bite of red cake with thick white icing. “What is it?”

“I thought I’d try something different, something a little modern. This is red velvet cake.”

Only Aziraphale would think that a flavor that had been popular for over sixty years was a little modern. Crowley smiled as he tasted it – rich and sweet and strangely light on his tongue. “You know, it’s not bad,” he said, reaching for another bite.

And a little heat rose to his face as he realized that Aziraphale was sitting there with hands folded, smile on his face – watching Crowley eat.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

They went for a walk after the Ritz, but he found he was very tired. He tried to shrug it off.

“I’ve had a busy week, and I missed my sleeping day,” he explained. “I don’t – I don’t need to sleep, you know, but I still get exhausted. I’ll be fine.”

“You should sleep, then,” Aziraphale said, tone slightly scolding. The angel seemed determined to make sure Crowley took care of himself, as if he hadn’t learned to do that long before the Garden. It turned out, being fussed over wasn’t so bad. “I can walk you back to your place. Or. Er. You can come to the bookshop. I don’t have much to offer, but there’s the sofa, and perhaps we can have a drink…”

“Bookshop sounds lovely.” He always had to fight back a smile when he remembered the many nights they’d sat in the back corner together, sharing wine, sharing stories, complaining about work, just being themselves. Actually, he didn’t have to fight back that smile at all anymore – he could wear it for anyone to see. For Aziraphale to see.

None of that today, though. Crowley was rather embarrassed to find that the moment he stretched out on the sofa, he started falling asleep, and there was nothing he could do to fight it off.

He was dead to the world before Aziraphale had even settled into his armchair, and didn’t wake up until the shop was filled with bright Monday sunlight. A fleecy tartan blanket covered him from shoulder to toe, but he still shivered, and his stomach felt strangely heavy. Too much cake, probably.

Crowley sat up stiffly, running a hand through his hair and blinking around the shop. His eyes landed on a customer, who jumped in surprise, then quickly walked out.

“Ah, you’re awake!” Aziraphale hurried over. “How are you feeling? Better, I trust?”

“A bit.” Crowley rubbed at his face. “Didn’t I have glasses?”

“You took them off before falling asleep.” Aziraphale pulled them out of his pocket. “I was worried you might roll over them in the night. You slept very heavily. Is that normal?”

He shrugged, pushing the dark lenses back onto his face. “Probably. Didn’t wake up, didn’t dream much, seems like a good sleep. Does it have to be so blasted cold, though?”

Aziraphale glanced at the old-fashioned thermostat. “I do keep it a little cool to discourage customers. You scared away three different people just by sleeping there, you know. Perhaps I should get you a permanent bed right in the middle of the floor.”

“Only if you promise to turn the heat up.” Crowley wandered closer to the window, feeling the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. That was better. “I’m…” It wasn’t a word he used often.  “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“About the customers? Don’t be, they were trying to touch my first edition Verne novels and I was running out of ways to be inconspicuously rude.”

“No about…falling asleep. I know you had…” Plans? Expectations? They’d never really talked about what Our Side would mean. “…you had hopes, for our first day, you know, free.”

“And every one of them is being fulfilled right now,” Aziraphale said, with such sincerity that Crowley started to smile. “Ah, I lied. Now all of them are being fulfilled.” He took Crowley’s hands in his. “Just standing here, talking to you, not worrying about who might see us, it’s more than I ever thought would be possible. I am perfectly content as we are.” He frowned suddenly. “Except that your hands are freezing.”

Crowley laughed as Aziraphale wrapped his hands around the demon’s, rubbing them, trying to warm them up. It certainly did make him feel better, and not just because his fingers had been a little numb from the way he’d slept.

“I was actually worried…” Aziraphale started again, still staring at their hands. “Oh, I assume you have your own, er, hopes. Since you’ve been thinking about this so much longer than I. We should probably discuss that, but, well, just to warn you, I haven’t thought much about…that is, I’m not sure that I want…ohhh…”

Crowley lifted one hand to tilt Aziraphale’s face up, to look into his eyes. The heat of it was almost unbearable. “I haven’t really thought about it either,” he confessed. “Never thought we’d make it this far. Everything from this point on is just a pleasant surprise.” With his other hand, he squeezed the angel’s fingers gently. “I don’t think I’d say no to more of this, though.”

Aziraphale blushed, the heat of it rushing to fill every space inside Crowley, and his eyes dropped briefly. “Your hand is still freezing,” he finally said, pulling away with a smile. He bustled across the shop to pick up his coat. “I know, let’s go for a walk. It’s a nice, warm day. We can feed the ducks in St. James’s Park…No. Let’s do something different. Something daring.” There was a wild gleam in his eyes as he turned back. “Let’s feed the ducks in Regent’s Park.”

It was indeed a gloriously warm day, and they spent over five hours exploring every path in London’s third-largest park while a small sign sat in the bookshop window reading Out to Lunch – Back in a Jiffy.

Every once in a while, Aziraphale’s hot hand found its way into Crowley’s cold one. Again and again, until it felt completely natural.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

It had been three weeks since the world had ended and begun again, everything ticking along nicely as Aziraphale liked to stay. Crowley caught himself thinking more like Aziraphale these days, which was both worrying and wonderful.

Except that any time Crowley was indoors, he felt lethargic, cold, a little cranky. Aziraphale had miracled up a thick scarf in grey tartan. It was hideous and embarrassing and he wore it all the time even though it didn’t really help. He knew what the tartan gifts meant.

He turned up the heat in his flat as high as it would go, until even his most tropical plants were struggling to meet his exacting expectations. He took more hot baths than he ever had in his life, including the years he’d spent living in Bath. He tried to sit up and engage his mind, especially at night, when his body screamed to just stretch out and rest. He got angry when he discovered he couldn’t concentrate on a game of chess, or even draughts, and said some things to Aziraphale he really shouldn’t have.

Later, when the angel tried to embrace him and make up…he said some even worse things.

He tried wearing more layers. He tried wearing fewer layers. Eating hot food. Lying under a tree. Lying in direct sunlight.

Finally, there was only one conclusion he could reach.

“I’m cold-blooded.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Aziraphale sniffed. His ego was still somewhat bruised from their last argument, but he was clearly making an effort.

They sat facing each other across the café table, opposite sides. Aziraphale had ordered a slice of warm pie with ice cream melting down the sides. A second fork sat, waiting for Crowley, and the angel kept giving it significant looks, but the demon wouldn’t unwrap his hands from the enormous cup of coffee he’d ordered, the largest they served.

Aziraphale sighed and folded his hands. “Crowley, dear. I know the…transition to our new life hasn’t been as smooth as we hoped, and we’ve both said things we regret, but I’ve never felt that you were –”

“No, Aziraphale.” He took a sip of coffee. It was something American-style, hot and bitter and lacking any particular flavor. He didn’t care. He just needed absurd quantities of near-boiling liquid. “I mean it literally. Somehow, after the Apocalypse, I became cold-blooded. I can’t get warm no matter what I do.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, as if waiting for the punchline of an unfunny joke. “That’s simply impossible. How many times have you told me off for making those assumptions, just because you used to be a snake? You have a mammal body, and it does…mammal things,” he waved his hands to indicate that he still wasn’t completely caught up on modern science classifications, “including being warm…”

He trailed off as Crowley reached across the table, taking his hand. Even after being wrapped around the hot ceramic mug, it still wouldn’t feel right. “What are you always saying these days?”

“That your hands are freezing.” Aziraphale shook his head. “It can’t be true. That’s not proof…”

Crowley gestured to the plate. “I can’t eat because my stomach is too cold to work. When I do eat, I have to lay down because any extra movement takes away energy I need for digestion.” He tugged at the scarf he always wore. “Extra layers don’t help, because they just insulate me from the warm air. Blankets don’t help because I’m not creating enough heat on my own. Even turning up the heat doesn’t help because this blessed body is made to shed heat, not retain it.” He stared into his mug of coffee. “I can’t move when I’m cold. I can’t move when I’m hot. Sunlight helps for a little while, but the days are getting shorter.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, worried what he was about to say would make the angel pull away. “I…I don’t even know if I like being touched anymore.”

He didn’t fight it when the hand vanished, taking its warmth with it. Crowley just slumped, closing his eyes in defeat.

The squeal of chair legs against hard floor made him glance up. Aziraphale had moved to sit beside him, pulling his chair as close as he could.

Carefully, Crowley leaned his head to the side, resting it on Aziraphale’s shoulder, letting their bodies press together. It was easier this way, a sort of passive contact, unrestrained, letting the heat flow between them.

“Are you…” He could hear the way the breath caught in Aziraphale’s throat. “You seem so certain. Is there any chance you’re wrong? Any other explanation?”

Crowley gently shook his head, letting it wobble back and forth on the angel’s shoulder. “This is how it felt when I was a snake. You don’t forget something like that.”

“At least now you know. Surely what you learned from being a snake can help you navigate…”

“I looked it up,” Crowley muttered. “A snake can handle a range of fifteen, twenty degrees easily. Human body…a little more than one degree. At 35 I’m freezing to death, at 38 I’m burning up from the inside. I don’t even know how I’ve lasted this long.” He pressed himself even closer into Aziraphale’s side. Half of him was still cold, even as his shoulder and his thigh screamed in the heat. It wouldn’t balance properly. “It’s going to kill me.”

He felt the tension all through Aziraphale’s body. “Crowley, no!”

“Fine, it’s going to get me discorporated, and I’ll wake up in Hell, and they’ll kill me.”

“There must be something we can do.”

“Maybe. It’s getting harder to concentrate every day.”

“Then I’ll look for a solution.” He offered his hand and Crowley grabbed it, grateful for the almost-too-hot touch. “I might as well, since I’m responsible.”

“What are you talking about, Angel?”

“Your body was fine, then I used it and…it must be something I did.”

“Don’t say that.” He pulled away enough to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “This isn’t your fault. I agreed to switch bodies, I knew there was some risk. And I don’t think you could have caused this. Somehow this is Heaven or Hell, still interfering with our lives.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, nodding. Crowley wasn’t sure if he really believed it or not. “Still. If this was done to you, there must be some way to undo it. And if there’s a way, I will find it.” He swallowed, turning to look at their linked hands. “But, in the meantime…It’s probably best if you turn back into a snake.”

“No,” Crowley all but shouted, anger mixing with fear. “No, Aziraphale I won’t. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“Isn’t it better than dying?”

He clenched his jaw, biting back his reply. He honestly wasn’t sure it was. An eternity as a serpent, no driving, no music, no wines, no gardening, no feeding ducks, no holding hands…

Crowley twined his fingers through Aziraphale’s, lifting up the hand clasp between them. “I fought…We fought…so long for this. I can’t just…I won’t give this up. I won’t, Angel.”

“You’re not giving anything up,” Aziraphale insisted. He brushed his lips across Crowley’s fingers and, oh, add something else to the list of things he wasn’t willing to lose. “I will still be here. My feelings for you won’t change at all.”

“They’ll probably change a little,” Crowley pointed out.

“I want to spend every day with you, talk with you, see you happy. And it doesn’t matter if you’re scaled or human or turn into a fish, that’s not going to change.”

“I won’t be happy.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But please. Give me the time I need to save you.”

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale, letting the angel do the same back, even though part of his mind screamed and squirmed to escape the heat of contact. He told himself this wouldn’t be the last time.

--

Crowley was warm.

He stretched out in his favorite basking spot by the window, feeling the winter sunlight play across his scales, heating him up. Every now and again, the door would open, a customer hoping to browse for a Christmas gift. The rumble of footsteps through his belly woke him, and he reared up his head, tongue flicking out to catch the scent of the blurry shape by the entryway.

Almost every time, the visitor took one look at the enormous red-bellied black snake and vanished soon after.

The hours ticked by, slow and sweet, like drops of honey. Crowley was aware that he should be filling them with fast-paced reckless activities of some form, but he couldn’t quite recall what…just a general sense of dissatisfaction.

Still, whatever he had lost, the best was still here.

When he’d drunk his fill of warmth, he twisted his way through the shop, sliding around stacks of books and potted plants (hissing at the ones that didn’t seem to be growing well enough). There, at the desk, sat the angel.

Aziraphale was rarely anywhere else these days. Bent over old grimoires, reading glasses balanced on his nose, pile of notes beside him. He hadn’t glanced up for any of the customers. Three cups full of cold tea sat beside him. He hadn’t even risen to get a new one in a while.

A pair of folded-up sunglasses sat in one corner of the desk. He never picked them up, but sometimes touched them as he worked.

Crowley twisted around his leg, climbing, finding his way along the chair and across the shoulders until he was draped across Aziraphale, watching him work.

“Hello, my dear. How was your day?”

Crowley hissed dismissively. One day was the same as another for a snake. “Progressss?”

“I’m close. I really think I’m close.” His voice was just a rumble, rising from his chest through Crowley’s belly, distorted, missing half the notes. He couldn’t pick up on the nuance, couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not. Just like he couldn’t see all of Aziraphale’s face at once, just the jaw, the little smile, the rest curving away in the distance.

“Dinner time,” Crowley reminded him. The angel needed lots of reminders.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. I really want to keep at this a bit longer.”

“Resssst.”

He held up his hands before him, letting Crowley slither from one to the next without trying to grasp. There was something about hands, something important. It was just on the edge of his memory, but snakes don’t have hands. It slipped away.

“No, I can’t rest yet. Not until…no.”

“Pleassssssse.”

“I can take a small break, but no dinner. I’m not hungry, anyway.”

When Crowley was coiled back around his shoulders, Aziraphale stood up, walking across to the little secluded corner of the shop. This was another important area, though Crowley couldn’t exactly remember why. He thought it involved a lot of sitting, drinking…water? Not water. He forgot what he used to drink.

The angel fiddled with his collection of round discs. “How about some Vivaldi, since it’s almost Christmas? You always liked his Seasons.” Crowley nodded.

He couldn’t really hear the music. Noises on the air meant nothing to a snake.

But once Aziraphale was stretched out on the sofa, Crowley made himself comfortable on his chest, and felt the deep thrum of the music as the angel sang along.

Warmth rose from Aziraphale, too, just like from the sun. It was a different kind of heat. Purer. Better.

Whatever else he had lost, Crowley still had that. And he was content.

[pocket-luv101]

Across Time || Chapter 23

Fandom: Servamp Ships: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru, Hyde, Licht

Summary: Mahiru falls into a well and is taken to a new, fantasy world. He comes across a half-blooded cat demon trapped in a tree. After he frees Kuro, he helps him collect the shards of the sacred jewel. (KuroMahi, InuYasha AU)

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3 || Ch.4 || Ch.5 || Ch.6 || Ch.7 || Ch.8 || Ch.9 || Ch.10 || Ch.11 || Ch.12 || Ch.13 || Ch.14 || Ch.15 || Ch.16 || Ch.17 || Ch.18 || Ch.19 || Ch.20 || Ch.21 || Ch.22 || (Ch.23) ||

“It was great to see you again, Uncle Toru. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to come back as often as I said I would. There were a lot more complication than I thought there would be. I have so much to tell you.” Mahiru sat with his uncle at the table with a cup of tea. He didn’t want to leave without speaking with him briefly. His uncle would likely be confused if he woke up to find his cupboard of instant ramen emptied. “Two people have joined us to help collect the jewel shards. They’re good people even if they’re unconventional.”

Mahiru told him about the demons they fought. He tried to keep the more dangerous battles vague so his uncle wouldn’t be overwhelmed and worry about him. “You said there was a version of me in the past. Are you able to speak with your mother too? She died when you were young. It must’ve been difficult for you to get closure since you weren’t able to say goodbye then. You must’ve had a lot of questions for her.”

“Mother has already passed away in that era. Even if she was alive, I wouldn’t be able to ask her the questions I had when I was a kid. Your appearances may be the same but you’re different people.” Mahiru tried to keep his disappointment from showing but he wore a tiny frown. When he saw the concern in his uncle’s eyes, he quickly added: “It’s doesn’t bother me. I’m an adult now.”

“You might think I’m being unreasonable. I know you’re strong and all grown up. I can’t help but worry about you running into fights with demons though.” He had adopted him after his mother’s death and raised him as if he was his own son. Toru took out a photo from his wallet and held it out to Mahiru. “I promised your mother I would take care of you.”

“You don’t have to worry, Uncle. I have Kuro with me and we’ve made a lot of friends on our journey. You’re there to help me in the edo period as well. I’d like to think I inherited my archery skills from you. One of these days, I need to show you how well I can shoot now.” Mahiru reassured him. He looked down at the photo of his mother holding a young toddler.

“It sounds like you’ve gotten a lot closer to Kuro.” Toru glanced to where Kuro was sitting on the couch and glaring at the roomba. His behaviour was like a cat and the sight caused Mahiru to chuckle softly. “I hope he’s more intimidating to other demons than he is with our roomba.”

“He saved me more times than I can count. Kuro is a pacifist but he’ll fight to defend the people he cares for. It’s a trait that I admire.” Mahiru took a sip of his tea. Kuro offered to wait in the living room so he could have time alone with his uncle. He was being considerate and his kindness made Mahiru smile. “We’ve started dating but we haven’t had a chance to go out on a proper date. Maybe after this is over.”

“What are you planning to do once you’ve completed your task?” He asked but Mahiru couldn’t answer him because he didn’t have an answer. Kuro had become important to him and Mahiru couldn’t simply go back to his old life without him. Then again, it would be complicated to go back and forth between their two eras. He hadn’t been able to give it much thought since he had to worry about other things.

“Well, it would be nice to take Kuro a movie theater. I want to see what kind of reaction he would have to it.” Mahiru looked down at the photo and thought over his uncle’s words. His eyes widened when he noticed a small detail in the picture. “This necklace! It’s the same as the one in Misono’s vision and the secret to defeating him. Uncle, do you know what this necklace is?”

His outburst caught Kuro’s attention and he walked into the kitchen. They were both a little confused when Toru fell silent. A furrow formed between his uncle’s brows when Mahiru pointed to the necklace. “That red pendent? But that’s…”

“Misono said that it could be the key to defeating the spider demon. I don’t know if it’s the same one but they’re remarkably similar. I was going to ask the Toru of the past about it but this might be it. Do you still have the necklace, Uncle?” Mahiru asked. He didn’t know why his father would be secretive about the necklace. “It might not be the same but I want to check.”

Toru let out a heavy sigh and walked to the living room. They followed him to the memorial they had built for his mother. He opened a drawer and pulled out the necklace. “Your father gave your mother this necklace. He said that it was a family heirloom. She never wore it when they dated but, after you were born, she wore it every day.”

“It’s beautiful.” Mahiru took the necklace into his palm. “The pendent is shaped like an arrowhead but it looks fragile. What is it made of?”

“I always thought that it was simple silver and gold like most jewellery.” He answered. Kuro leaned over Mahiru’s shoulder to study the pendent. He didn’t find anything strange or unique about it. He wasn’t the most knowledgeable about artifacts and sacred items. Hopefully, someone will recognize it when they take it back to the past with them.

“This belonged to my father before he gave it to Mom?” He stared into the red pendent. Mahiru rarely thought of his father but there were still questions he had. He met his uncle in the past and he knew his mother also lived in that time. Could he meet his father as well?

“This is a phoenix amber.” Licht told them when they returned and showed him the necklace. He held it up to the sun and the translucent stone refracted the rays. “There are small nicks on the stone so someone shaped it into a triangle rather than forming naturally. Phoenix amber holds magical properties but we rarely use it in weapons. Mahiru, can I see that arrow you made with the tree?”

Mahiru didn’t know what he intended to do but he passed him the arrow. He broke off the stone arrowhead and then tied the pendent to the tip. “I don’t know as much about making weapons as my friend but he told me a lot about sacred stones. Shot a demon with this phoenix amber and they’ll be consumed by flames.”

“The Thousand Years Old Tree can manipulate time. What will happen if those two abilities are combined?” Mahiru asked as he took the arrow back from him. He rolled the wooden shaft between his fingers. “This can be the weapon that Misono told us about but I don’t know. In the memory, she simply wore it as a necklace. Should we go back to the inn to speak with Misono about it?”

“I think it’s best if we avoid Touma and people connected to him until we’re strong enough to fight him. That means we can’t kick every demon we pass, Angel Cakes.” Hyde said pointedly to the demon slayer. For his comment, Licht shoved him off Kirara’s back and lightly nudged it forward. “Hey, don’t leave me behind!”

“I don’t know why Kirara let you ride her.” Licht glared at him. He had to question why he let the demon sit behind him. He told himself that the journey would be more difficult if Hyde had to walk. Kirira turned around and licked Hyde’s hair. He was surprised by how attached his pet had become to the oni since he had trained it to fight demons.

“Can we go a mile without you two fighting? We won’t buy snacks at the next stop if you two don’t behave.” Mahiru warned them and waved the arrow at them. He replaced the sacred arrow into his quiver and tucked it into a hidden pocket. He knew he had to use the arrow sparingly. “I sense a shard ahead of us. What’s in that direction, Kuro?”

He glanced over his shoulder to Kuro who had a map. Instead of reading the map, Kuro sniffed the air. “I smell salt water. We’re approaching the sea. I hope a sea demon doesn’t have the jewel since none of us can fight well in the water. Hyde, you said that there was an island we should visit. Is it nearby?”

“It’s close to the coast so we’ll be able to get a jewel shard and the ability to break a barrier at the same time. Our luck might be improving finally.” Hyde told them as he climbed back onto Kirara. “Misono said Touma has a barrier around his castle. I don’t know how much we can trust that mirror demon but Touma is the type of spider who keeps himself hidden behind a barrier while other does his work. During my travels, I heard of an island of bat demons who can create barriers.”

“They’re the guardians of a remote island. My family visited their nest once but we decided not to kill them. The bats are peaceful and they stay on their land.” Licht recalled. “They have the ability to create and manipulate barriers but I doubt they’ll teach us how to break them. None of us has the same powers as a bat demon.”

“The tessaiga does.” Hyde words confused Mahiru and Licht.

On the other hand, Kuro lowered his foot to the ground and forced the bike to a stop. “No.”

Tension thickened the air around them as Mahiru looked between the brothers. He didn’t know why Hyde’s suggestion was upsetting to Kuro. It was rare that Kuro became angry or argued with others. The brothers were mending the past rift between them and Mahiru didn’t want them to fight again. Kuro rarely used the sword after he used it to stop his father.

Mahiru tried to reason with Hyde. “I know the tessaiga is strong but it’s made from a nekomata’s fang. How can it use a technique only bat demons know?”

“The tessaiga has the ability to absorb its wielder power to become stronger. You have seen it, Mahiru. Kuro can use shadow and ash with the tessaiga but Tsubaki turns the blade red with blood. For me, the tesssaiga becomes gold and it can create spikes.” Hyde explained.

“So, the tessaiga will gain the ability to control barriers if a demon bat holds it. I don’t think we should give the sword to a stranger though. Kuro’s mother made it.” Mahiru understood why Kuro wouldn’t agree with Hyde’s plan. He stayed silent behind him and Mahiru placed a comforting hand on his back. He could feel how stiff he was beneath his palm.

“I wasn’t suggesting that.” Hyde corrected him. “As you know, the tessaiga will always revert back to a dull blade once we stop fighting. Our father found a way to permanently use a demon’s unique power. Tessaiga’s wielder must kill a demon and let the blade absorb their blood. I don’t like the thought of killing someone either but we’ll be able to save more lives by defeating Touma.”

“No.” Kuro repeated firmly. Before he met Mahiru, he never thought he would use the sword again and sealed it away. Then Mahiru showed him that he could use the power to protect others. He decided to only use the tessaiga for the sake of those he loved. The guilt and pain of killing his father still affected him and he never want to experience it again.

Silence fell between the brothers but Licht could see that Hyde wanted to say something else. He bit his tongue out of respect for his brother. He didn’t know if they had the time to search for another way to destroy the barrier. Each day Touma’s web grew and they would be caught soon. He looked down at the wind tunnel he was cursed with. He didn’t want something similar to happen to his family.

“Let’s focus on finding the jewel shards for now.” Mahiru broke the silence. He understood Hyde’s urgency to stop Touma but it wasn’t right to pressure Kuro to relive something painful. “We’ll deal with Touma’s shield later. There must be another way past it rather than brute force. Between a priest, a monk and a demon slayer, we have a lot of knowledge about barriers.”

Their attention was drawn away when they heard a group of people ahead of them. Mahiru stepped off his bike and walked it towards the noise. A parade of people was walking across the beach with a palanquin. He could see a faint glow through the curtain, a shard. The people appeared to be human and he hoped they wouldn’t have to fight anyone.

He overheard a few of the villagers nearby. “Do you think the child sacrifice will appease the sea demon? The storms have been worsening every night. At least this is our chance to be rid of that demon child.”

After he heard those words, Mahiru dropped his bike and ran down the hill to the beach. The person in the palanquin was most likely the child they said would be sacrificed. He couldn’t let the child be taken. He thought he could stop the villagers by offering to fight the demon for them. “Please stop! You can’t sacrifice a child.”

“What? Who are you?” The man leading the group paused at the sound of Mahiru’s voice. They stopped long enough for him to stand in front of them and block their path. A few of the men gave him a glare while others stared at him in confusion. Mahiru stood with his back straight and he ignored their distrust. “Get out of the way.”

“I heard you were planning to give a child to the sea demon but that’s barbaric! It’s wrong to abandon a child, let alone sacrifice them! You’re all adults so you should be protecting vulnerable children.” Mahiru knew that the feudal era was much different from his time and they had their own beliefs and traditions. He had to rescue the child though. “My friends and I will deal with that sea demon for you. Just let the child go.”

“One man cannot defeat the sea demon. We need to take the sacrifice to the temple before the sun sets or else there will be another attack. Get out of our way!” The man tried to strike Mahiru but Kuro grabbed the staff before he could be hurt. “A demon! He must be working with the sea spirit!”

The people started to panic and they dropped the palanquin in their haste to run away from Kuro. He sighed and ignored their reaction to walk to the carriage. Mahiru was already next to the palanquin and he parted the curtain. The child appeared unhurt by the fall but she didn’t try to leave the box. He spoke in a gentle voice, “It’s okay, Little One. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The girl held a red orb in her hands with a coral inside. He could see that a jewel shard was placed in a crack on the orb’s surface. Mahiru knew the jewel shard was important but he was more concerned with helping the child. He held out his hand to her. “The villagers are gone so you can come out. I won’t let them give you to the sea demon to be sacrificed.”

“Can you tell us more about the sea demon? With those villagers gone, there’s no one else to ask.” Kuro stood next to Mahiru. He could see that the child was half demon. “Where are your parents?”

“Papa!” She cheered the moment she saw him. Kuro and Mahiru were both confused as she jumped towards him. He caught her so she wouldn’t fall and she smiled up at him. “Shiro knew you would come back for her, Papa.”

“Papa? I don’t know who you confused me for but I’m not him. Your parents are probably worried so let’s go find them.” Kuro tried to place her on the ground but then she began to cry. She refused to let him go and clung to his leg. He awkwardly patted her head and hoped she would stop. He didn’t know what he should do and looked to Mahiru for help.

Mahiru knelt next to the girl and placed his hand on her shoulder. A barrier suddenly came between them and he was forced to step back. Due to the sand, he lost his balance and he fell backwards. Kuro started to go to Mahiru to help him but he was stopped by the barrier. He felt a light tug on his jacket and he groaned slightly. He looked back to the child. She had a right grip on this clothes. “Papa, don’t go again. The human will hurt you.”

“Mahiru won’t hurt me.” He said but she shook her head frantically. Since he was half demon as well, he could imagine why she was wary of humans. Kuro laid his hand on the barrier. He was surprised by the strength of the barrier and he knew he wouldn’t be able to break it easily. Mahiru placed his hand over Kuro’s on the barrier. He was searching for a way past the barrier as well.

“Are you trying to steal my Papa?” She stood between Mahiru and Kuro.

Kuro sighed and thought of what he should say to make her lower the barrier. He knelt in front of her and said: “If I’m your Papa, that man is your other dad. While I was away, I married that man. He makes the best food so you’ll like him.”

He waited to see her reaction and he hoped that the believed him. The barrier disappeared and she ran to Mahiru for a hug. “Papa number two!”

“Well, this is going to be troublesome.” Kuro said as he stood. “What are we going to do now?”

[zwiezraczek]

Criminal - Chapter 9

Billy (viliain) x Female reader (cop)

Prologue/Chapter 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5 - CHAPTER 6 -  CHAPTER 7 - CHAPTER 8 - CHAPTER 9:  But mama I'm in love with a criminal  - CHAPTER 10

SUMMARY: You always wanted to become a police officer. And you became one of them, brilliantly and they offered you your first case. “The Ghosts” case. The case of fleeting people and one sneaky bastard parkouring around the town to annoy you. You swore to yourself to catch him them. 

WORDS: 1.6k

NOTE: Okay, this was a hectic week by any means, I came back home, I had my 21st birthday and now we’re starting a revolution in the world, this week was a long one. So as I said, I’m only updating today, I hope you’ll enjoy the update! 💕

TAGLIST: @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @natsficrecs​​ @suckerfor-fanfics​(leave a comment to be a part of it!)

PERMANENT TAGLIST @suckerfor-fanfics​​ (leave a comment to be a part of it!)

HOUR 24 BEFORE HEIST TRAP

Billy felt like shit. He had shivers going down his spine from time to time, thinking of you, thinking about what he probably had done to you while he told his squad that you were nothing. That your relationship meant nothing to him, that this nemesis friendship you had meant nothing. But he lied as much as he cared about you.

He felt hopeless. Hopeless because he probably had sold you in the worst way possible, he was about to hurt you without showing any regret. And God knew he had many regrets in his life.

From the day he was caught with you he had to prove himself to his squad, to the Ghosts about his totally “professional” relationship with you while being flirty and lovely in order to hear your cute laugh and to see your eyes sparkle as you looked at him. He loved looking into your eyes when you were this happy, he almost felt like having the whole world in front of him and only dreamed of running away with you, a cop and a criminal. There's no better pair than the latter, and he knew you could hide, together, without any problem with his and your skills. But the Ghosts were his family, and you seemed to be an ethereal love story that began to hurt more than intended. But he loved it anyway. You were his little sunshine, and in every letter he had written to you he poured care but mostly love. And it hurt, how fucking it hurt to know that he was partially lying to you about the greater purpose of his mission, because from his heart's perspective everything was genuine.

Except the heist and the trap the Ghosts had set to destroy your unit. He tried to minimize the whole thing, the whole mission to not be as violent as Three intended it to be but probably it wasn't possible to let Three take care of the mission without wanting to hurt some bad guys who were in their way. Thankfully Two tempered him – God bless her for this! – and allowed Billy to think about something he could have done about all of this. And he had an idea. And he knew exactly hos to handle this by himself, but at the same time with you.

~~~~

HOUR 22 BEFORE GHOST TRAP

Breathe in, breathe out as your cat purred into your ear. You scratched the top of your cat's head while thinking about what you were about to do, and how it would affect you. Jailing Billy. What once has been a dream quickly became a horror. Quickly – after a few months. It escalated too quickly and you lost control from the very beginning, especially when you agreed on meeting him in the coffee shop on that day, when Gina found out about your letters and threatened to tell everybody about it if you didn't let them both – Jake and her – investigate with you until setting a trap. And you had to watch your relationship with Billy becoming an awkward one, and only nice enough when you could get rid of either Gina or Jake during your “date” - yes you went on date with him, at least you hoped these meetings meant the same thing to him.

And this was why you decided to meet him right before the trap would be set, to discuss about everything your team had planned, probably risking it all. Risking your career for a fleeting feeling, butterflies in your stomach that made you scared and think about your heart possibly getting broken. But if it was the price to pay for something beautiful, you were able to handle it, and if it wasn't you were ready to face the consequences.

And you were ready to face them walking in the street, where you planned on meeting him, Billy. You had your hood over your head, hiding you from possible colleagues as you walked down the infamous street you were meeting on for the past two months. It had become a great infiltration, but mostly a good time while you were laughing and sharing information with each other, he seemed genuine but you were not – totally. You looked around, and spotted him jogging up to you as his golden locks came out from his hoodie. You couldn't help yourself but smile, a smile that faded as quickly as he seized your hand and began to walk even quicker as you gasped in surprise.

“Don't ask questions,” he told you without looking at you, “we need to go somewhere clear.”

And you stayed silent. For the first time in a few months you felt in danger, uncertain of what was happening to you as you walked right behind him, holding his hand and thinking. Thinking until your mind would explode. You couldn't imagine what he was about to tell you, or what reason made him change his plans but you were scared to. And you walked in the streets, turning left and right, slaloming between people in the crowd until finding an isolated place where nobody would disturb you. Near a dumpster, classic Billy move.

You looked at him, arching your eyebrow while keeping your hood on. He had some explanations to do, but so did you. With a tight feeling in your stomach, you tried to remain calm as you began to cold-sweat.

“Y/n, I'm... I'm sorry for many things,” he began after he had looked around the corner to make sure that nobody had followed you. You frowned, unsure about what he was about to say. “But I think I'm the most sorry about the fact that I lied to you about one thing.”

“One thing,” you repeated anxiously. He came closer, holding your hand in his with his green pearly eyes piercing yours. You probably were about to faint from the whole pressure.

“One thing. And it's why I have to reveal you this first, because this one isn't a lie,” he continued as he face was closer and closer to yours. “I... I think I fell in love with you, y/n,” he stated as he put his forehead against yours. You were short of breath for a moment, still holding his hands. “I know that you're probably scared, and that what I'm saying doesn't make sense at all but I truly...”

“Love you,” you finished for him before kissing his cheek. And this was where everything became even more complicated for you, a storm in your mind and a beautiful sunshine as he put his lips against yours right after you kissed him. And you didn't allow yourself to think about what was planned in a few hours, because right here and right now with him was what you needed.

“From nemesises to lovers,” he said with a smirk against your lips. But quickly, he pulled away, still holding your hands with a very serious air. And you were afraid again. “And that's where the nemesis part comes and ruins everything...”

“Why,” you whispered, asking him and yourself too. Why you had to ruin everything by your stupid imprudent act? Why you couldn't be happy and try this relationship? Why was it all looking like a Romeo and Juliet love story with a bad end?

“Because I... I betrayed you,” he softly said as he let your hands go and your mouth went agape. “Because I told them everything you told me, I told the Ghosts about what you were planning to do with your unit and they... They want to end this tomorrow.” He was... Also... “They will attack you when you'll enter the building, they won't hesitate to hurt you because I told them that you meant nothing to me, that you were just a way out of the shit hole we were in, but in fact... I don't want to do this, y/n. Please, follow me,” he quickly said as he brushed your hand with his fingers, lingering for your touch again, “we'll go out of here, we'll be able to live together hiding from them. I know we can, I know we can do this y/n, together we can do everything just like our plans when we were talking together, just like we joked in our letters. Please, come with me.”

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to process the information. He... He did exactly what you did, putting his mission first and his heart second with a catastrophic outcome, an almost broken heart which would only be healed by one antidote: love.

“I... We... We betrayed each other,” you finally said as he looked at you, even more confused than you were in the first place. “We seemed to never trust each other too much, nemesises things right?” You slightly joked. “But... I had to tell my colleagues about us too, they found out the letters and... I had to come up with an excuse and... We're also setting a trap, tomorrow, same hour as you probably. Billy, we're screwed.”

“Y/n, we're not,” he replied after kissing your knuckles. “We can run away, we can leave them with their problems and live our lives... Peacefully, together.”

Billy, we made this mess, we need to clean this up,” you stated, your cheeks slightly blushing from the contact with his lips. “We need to interfere, tomorrow when they'll try to kill each other. We need to stop the fight, because we're playing for the same team.”

“I'll play in any team if it's with you.”

Two was fucking wrong: he was living in a fairytale.

[tellerford-mayhem]

Americano - No hablo su Jesu Cristo: Chapter 9

Masterlist

Ship: Chibs x OC

Word Count: 2, 575 Words

Synopsis: Isa and Chibs decide to “talk” about what their relationship is.

Rating: M/NSFW

Warnings: Language and Violence, Sexual Content (angsty sex)

A/N: Here is the long awaited chapter 9! Since it took me FOREVER to write this, I made sure to give some long awaited smut.  Please let me know what you think! xoxo

Her POV

Isa didn’t sleep much that night. She didn’t know if it was nerves or excitement. Every time her phone buzzed, she would jump and check it - hoping it was Chibs telling her his plane landed, but it never was. It was either a text from work or a friend or a reminder that she had voicemails from her aunts and uncles that she had been ignoring. Between notification rings, she managed to sleep for a few minutes at a time, but by the time her alarm went off for work, she had been wide awake for several hours. Isa jumped out of bed and began getting ready for her day at work. 

Her drive to work was excruciating. She continuously looked over to her bag, almost willing her phone to ring. She pulled into the lot and parked in her usual spot and sat in her car for a minute. Isa looked to her left and saw Becky, her manager, standing just outside the door with her arms folded. Shit, she thought. Isa launched out of her car and ran to the door. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “I overslept. Yesterday was just exhausting.”

Becky grinned. “Just don’t let it happen again. Did you get settled in?”

“I have a lot of unpacking to do, but everything has been moved in.”

“Glad to hear it. Simon won’t be here today. He’s sick. So you’ll be covering his shift.”

Isa’s heart sank. “But I -”

“Did you have plans?”

She thought about Chibs. When they landed, she wasn’t going to be waiting at TM for them. They hadn’t even talked about what this was. So, no, she didn’t have any plans. Isa sighed before giving her answer.

“Perfect,” replied Becky, “You will be splitting his section with Audrie.”

Isa nodded and walked inside the diner. She clocked in and grabbed her apron before she helped everyone prepare to open. Audrie joined her at the waiting station while she refilled the salt shakers. “Becky tell you?”

“Yeah. At least I’m splitting it with you.”

“Do you think those douchebags will be back?”

She smiled and remembered when Tig came to her rescue. “I highly doubt it. One of the Sons scared them off, I hope.”

Audrie leaned against the wall. “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow in suspicion and grinned. “Anything I should know about?”

Isa tried to hide her suddenly red cheeks. “We just have mutual friends. So they look out for me.”

“Mhm. I’m sure. Then why are you dressed to kill? You have on a full face, a sexy top, and those skinny jeans you wear when we go out.” Audrie laughed. “Just be careful. I’ve heard what happens to the women that get involved with the MC.”

“Nothing is going on with me and the Sons.” Isa finished the salt shakes and grabbed a few of them to place on the tables. Anything to just stop this conversation from continuing. 

“Well, whatever is going on, please just be careful. I don’t know what you know about Motorcycle Clubs, but they’re dangerous.” 

Isa laughed to herself at the irony of that statement. “Duely noted.”

***

Work passed at a slow rate. Even on her lunch break, Isa was still working through it. They were slammed at work, and she never had a moment of reprieve. Being down one person always seemed to happen on the busy days. However, she counted her blessings that her regular douchebags hadn’t made their trip in yet. At around 6:00, she managed to catch a small break for dinner. She reached into her apron pocket to check her phone for any messages. She thought it was weird that she hadn’t heard anything from Chibs all day. She started to panic and worried the worst had happened. However, when her hand reached into her pocket, she noticed her phone was missing. She slumped against the kitchen wall in frustration and realized she had left it in her car when she jumped out earlier this morning, and there was no way she would be able to just walk out the diner to grab it. She let out a small frustrated groan before returning to her sections.

She saw Audrie standing at the hostess stand writing down a family of 5’s name. They were right in the middle of dinner, which meant they were about to get slammed again. If Chibs tried to call, there was no way she would know until after they closed. She prayed that the next 5 hours would pass swiftly so she could leave. Becky approached her the second she stepped out of the kitchen with a concerned look on her face. “Where’s your head today? Ever since lunch, you’ve been all over the place. Tables getting the wrong orders, checks wrong. I saw you drop the tray of dishes when you walked into the kitchen earlier.”

Isa shrugged. “I’m sorry Becky. Today has just been one of those days.”

“Well, get it together.”

She nodded and cashed out Table 22 at the waiting station. Isa felt like the end of the day would never arrive, but when Becky was finished counting the drawers, Isa could have cried. Today was the longest day of her life, and it was finally over. She walked out with Audrie laughing and chatting about customers they had that day. “Do you want to hang out tonight? We could get some well deserved drinks down at the bar.”

Isa shook her head. “I need to get home. I didn’t sleep worth a damn last night.”

Audrie was now looking past her and smiling. “I rescind the invitation.” She leaned in an whispered. “Turn around.”

Isa slowly turned to face her car. Leaned up against the driver’s door, wearing his kutte with his arms folded across is broad chest was Chibs.

Chibs POV

He couldn’t help but smile when he finally saw her approaching her car. She waved goodbye to her coworker and bounced her way over to him. “Where’s my hello?” he grinned.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Not until after we have that long begotten talk.”

“We could ‘ave had it sooner had ye answered yer phone.”

She slumped forward. “I left it in my car on accident.”

He stood up straight and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Tha’s fine, lass.”

She looked around for his bike, but didn’t see it. “Did you walk here?”

He laughed. It was a deep, hypnotizing sound that make Isa weak in the knees. “No,” he said, “Tig dropped me off. Straight from tha airport.”

“Oh,” she said, sliding closer to him, “then how do you plan on getting home?”

He placed a hand on the side of her face. “I figured I could crash at yer place, or ye could drive me ta mine.”

Isa reached around him to grab the doorhandle on her car, but he stopped her. “I’ll drive. Ye’ve been workin’ all day.”

Her heart fluttered at the kind gesture. Chibs took her in. He was shocked to remember she had been working all day. She looked just as beautiful as the day she woke up in nothing but his t-shirt and hungover. Her smile made his heart stop as she turned and walked to the other side of the car. He couldn’t help but watch the way her hips swayed away from him, and he didn’t care at this point if she caught him. “Eyes up here, Scottie.”

He hopped in the car and started it. “My place?”

“I’m at your mercy,” she said with a wink.

He felt something stir in him at her seductive tone, which caused him to force the car forward and towards his place as fast as he could. She leaned against the window and shut her eyes. She didn’t open them again until she felt Chibs put the car in park in front of his condo. She got out of the car and walked to the front door like she owned the place. “Yer actin’ like ye live here.”

She laughed. “I practically did. Now, are you going to let me in or not?”

Her POV

He unlocked the door for her and allowed her to walk in. He didn’t have much time to react as she grabbed the front of his kutte and pulled him in behind her. She pushed him against the wall and kissed him deeply as he tried to close the door. She could feel her knees weaken as his hands explored her body and she became drunk on his taste. When they finally came up for air, he looked at her with a mischevious grin. “Did ya miss me, lass?”

“I thought you wanted a hello.”

“I thought ye wanted ta talk.”

She held her hands up in surrendure. “I guess you’re right.” She started backing away from him towards his living room. “No more until we talk.”

“Oh no, ye don’.” He lunged at her to grab her wrists, but she playfully dodged and ran into his living room. He caught her around the waist and pulled her down on top of him on his couch. 

She moved to straddle his lap and smiled down at him. “Looks like I still have all the control.”

He raised his eyebrow at the challenge and ran his hands down her sides, over her hips until he was able to get a better grip on her, before moving her body closer to him. She let out an audible gasp as she dug her fingers into his arms. “I promised ye would be the one beggin’,” he said, “and I intend to keep tha’ promise.”

She looked down into his eyes and saw the raw hunger and desire there waiting for her. “You’ll be the one beggin’ before we are done.”

He leaned forward to wrap her legs around his waist as he flipped her to her back on the couch. Chibs leaned down and kissed her while he let one hand wander all around her body. He pulled her shirt up just high enough that he could easily slip it underneath. His hands were surprisingly delicate on her body, and as much as she hated to admit it, she craved his touch elsewhere. He travelled up and ran his hand gently over her bra as she let out a soft moan into his kiss, and then he stopped. “So, ye want ta talk?”

Isa knitted her brow together. “Really? This is how you’re going to get me to beg?” She placed a hand on his chest. “You’re going to have to come up with something better.” Isa’s hand traveled down, stopping at his belt. She leaned up and whispered in his ear, “because I’m pretty sure you’ll be begging here in a few minutes.” She playfully toyed with his ear between her teeth as she ran her hand past his belt slowly until she lightly grabbed the bludge that was coming through the rough jean material. “Oh, I think I found something.”

She felt his breath start to become uneven on her neck. “Yer playin’ with fire, there.” She felt his hand start to make their way to the top of her jeans. With a quick flick of his wrist, her button was undone, and his hand separated her jeans from her underwear.

Isa’s toes curled as she felt him apply pressure to the already wet spot and took a loud breath. “Mm. I think yer closer than I am, love.” He lightly stroked her, rubbing circles with his thumb, causing her to let out the softest wimper. She looked at him as he smiled a devilish grin. “Well…?”

“You can do better,” she said, her voice almost a whole octave higher. “Make me beg, Filip.”

Without missing a beat, he pushed her jeans down far enough to him to have better access. She heard him growl a little as  his fingers moved her underwear aside and he ran them up and down the wet slit between her legs. She dropped her hand on his bulge and grabbed the side of the couch and his arm. “Not….” she cleared her throat. “Not….bad.”

He stopped what he was doing long enough to remove the bottom half of her outfit completely. “Be careful wha’ ye wish fer, love.” He let his hand go back to work massaging her. At an excruciatingly slow rate, he entered one finger, curlying it ever so slightly. Her hips involuntarily grinded against his hand as he opened his palm against her. “What was tha’?”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “You’re hearing things, old man.”

He sent another finger in, and this time she let out a loud moan. “I’m goin’ ta need ye ta repeat that.” He rubbed his thumb over her clit. 

“Oh Jesus,” she cried. 

“Yer gonna give me a superiority complex if ye keep callin’ me tha’,” he laughed. He started to pump his fingers in and out. 

Her back arched. “Fillip,” she cried. 

He stopped and pulled his hand away from her. Isa came to her senses and stared at him. “What are you doing?”

He smiled and said nothing. He slid her shirt off, and reached under her to unhook her bra. “How is this fair? I’m naked and you have -” He cut her off when he took her breast with his mouth and his hand returned to its ministrations. “¡Ojala!” She cried. “Please, Chibs.”

He paused. “Please, what?”

She grabbed his hair and looked at him. “You win. I am begging you.”

“I need ya ta be more specific.”

“Fuck me.���

He grinned and she heard him undo his belt. She reached to help him hurry the process, but he stopped her. He ground his hips down on her, rubbing himself between her legs. “Fillip, please. I’m begging you.”

He positioned himself over her before taking her by surprise and thrusting himself as far into her as he could. She let out a cry of euphoria and her nails dug into the leather kutte still on his back. “Oh god, yer tight,” he breathed into her neck. 

He rocked his hips once, at a slow and painful pace. He placed his thumb on her lips as she licked them, before resting it on her clit. The friction of his thumb with his pace was almost enough to send her over the edge. Isa felt her hips buck against him, forcing him to move faster. He moved in a slow circular speed before picking up the pace. Their moans melted together with sound of skin on skin and heavy breathing. The faster he went the louder Isa became. He could feel her tighten around him, sending her to her first of many orgasms as she clenched around him and came very loudly. He kept going, helping her to continue the wave of pleasure. She came again before he finally found his release.

He laid there on top of her for a while, staying inside her as he looked down her her silky skin glistening in sweat. “So, lass,” he smiled, “Ye wanted ta talk?”

She laughed. “I think I was clear on what I wanted.” She wrapped her legs around him to keep him from moving. 

“Dinna worry. That asshole from the diner was wrong.” He looked down on her with the same hungry look as earlier. “I dinna need a little blue pill either.”

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@jerseynurse82