#like miles has his friends almost die on his bedroom floor sometimes and that’s how it is

[milimeters-morales]

Miles waking up in the middle of the night to a noise and he sees Hobie or Gwen struggling to climb into his room and they’re all bloodied and beaten, so he hurries up and ushers them in without even thinking about what to tell his parents if they wake up (which he can probably get away with saying that they’re a friend who came to him for help bc he technically isn’t lying and hello, badly injured kid in front of two parents) and rushing to grab first aid supplies to help as much as he can. Maybe there’s still a bloodied handprint on his windowsill when it’s all over (for better or worse), and he stares at it for a while. just thinking about his own life and what he wants to do with it outside of being Spider-Man. and then he cleans it up and goes about his day.

[theanonymouswriterb]

Dusk til’ Dawn

Prologue: The Queen saved the King

Paring: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Mafia Au Series

Warning: SMUT, literally porn on paper 😗, lots of fluff, violence, gang, bratty!reader, dom!tae, daddy!tae, daddy kink, babygirl kink, punishment, bigdick!tae, rough sex, make up sex, lots of after care, pregnancy kink, oral!sex, deep throating and everything in between🤧

Warning in this chapter: just blood, wounds and guns, well a gun

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary:

Kim Taehyung, Now a feared and well known crimes boss but not was he always the man that he is today, searching for the women that saved him on the day that changed his life forever. Willing to sacrifice everything to find the women that could tame him.

One day after 5 years she shows up in his night club, will he be able to hold himself back from taking her and claiming her as his queen or will he do what he do everything in his power to make her his?

A/N: Hi, this is the first chapter that I’m releasing and it’s basically the prologue of how they met, hope you guys like it, if you want to be tagged please tell me and don’t forget to leave some feedback. Also I might be releasing chapter 1 tonight or early tmr, I just need to read though it for mistakes. Much love 💕😗 -B

~

Next chapter

Five Years Ago

The sound of police sirens roams the city, as darkness and fog rain down on Seoul city. Helicopters roaring the skies and the bad guy trying to hide. Kim Taehyung, A man being tracked down by polices and rival gangs from a exchange gone wrong, blood spewing from his stomach and bruises on his face as he runs through the alley. The only thing in his mind right now is to survive the night and make it make it back home alive, or at least die trying.

He keeps running and running for his life as he hears footsteps behind him like the devil is chasing me to take away his life and drag him to hell but he isn’t ready to die yet! Not just yet. He still has a lot more things to accomplish and until he does that not even the devil himself can drag him to hell.

The cut in his stomach is deep and the pain his unbearable but he has to keep it up and there’s no stopping cause if he’s stops he’ll get caught like a mouse in a trap. But he is no mouse, no fucking mouse at all. He’s a fucking mighty lion, no a fucking Dragon that’s roaring and will get his revenge on the people that played him, the ones he thought were family and sold him out. He will kill who ever gets in his way but he’ll just have to survive the deadly night as it calls out to him .

The pain keeps worsening and worsening but he doesn’t know what to do but clutch onto the stomach and hope for the best. A dragon doesn’t die easily, it’s gonna take more than a pack of Hyenas to take down this mighty Dragon.

But the Dragon wasn’t always like this, he had a family, that until he was left in front of an adoption center with no note no fucking idea of where he came from or who his parent were, he spent all his life trying to find out what happened that night that someone decided to leave him, was he not worth the love that a baby deserved? Was he that worthless that his parents gave him up for adoption? Was he not enough. These sentences rang through his mad all his life up til now, the day he’s praying to what every god is listening to him to not let him die, he will keep fight on and on until he’s on top of the food chain.

Kim Taehyung grew up to do bad things, very bad bad things, join gangs at a very young age, was made into the leaders puppet and rose up slowly to be the right hand man of the Cobra gang.

The cobra gang was well known gang of youths in their 20s doing wilds shits like shootouts with the police and drug dealing and selling girls, the reason Kim Taehyung joined the gang at such a young age was to survive, he didn’t like the idea of selling people, doing drugs or anything as such but he had to survive, in a world full of

Cobras and Hyenas he had to survive. He mad a living out of this and he rose to be the right hand man of the Cobras but oh man, that didn’t didn’t go down well.

Did it!?

The thing that burns him was that he was never a Cobra, never was and never will be.

A few miles away at Seoul estate town houses ~

Walking into her house Y/N sighed, “can this day get any worse” she flopped down in the sofa and looked at her phone, hoping for a call from a certain someone, but what was she hoping for?

She got up from the sofa and strutted up to her master bedroom. From the ceiling hung a huge diamond chandelier, to the side floor to ceiling widows, fine famous artwork hung on the walls and in the middle room, her queen sized bed made for the queen herself. Her room was every girls dream, a large space with with many expensive things, a humongous walk in wardrobe filled with designer clothings, shoes, purses and more. Y/N could get anything she wanted, whether it’s cars, houses, clothes, she could get anything she wanted, but she was no brat. Well maybe sometimes.

Walking into the closet, she took her suit attire off, she was promoted to the creative designer of Givenchy and got everything she wanted on her way up the ladder but the pressure on her shoulders were too real. She looked at the mirror in mirror in front of her and saw her figure, she was a beautiful girl no doubt about that, she was fine as hell, the only thing that could fault her was her mind, the mind that thinks she could be a failure to her family.

After changing into a white tank top and joggers she walked back out into her bedroom and down towards the living room that Intertwined with the kitchen.

Y/n turned the kettle as she walked from the kitchen to the living room, she sat down on her sofa and smiled as she turned in the tv “ finally, I get to sit the fuck down” she groaned. As she scrolls through Netflix a call comes through a phone. She looked at her phone screen and smiled at the name of no one else but her best friend E, short for EziKia, a girl she has known since she was a baby, their fathers grew up together and were very close with each other and that’s how they greet up to know each other. “Hey bitch” her best friend spoke “ how was work?!” She continued. As Y\N looked at the TV she replied “girl it was a disaster, you know how I get when I have to present my work”. “I know” her best friend laughed “But I’m sure you did fine and I’m sure they loved every bit of your design for the new collection” her best friend smirked as she spoke, “I’m already proud of you, I’m fucking excited for the new collection to drop”

Y/n’s a young girl, she always grew up with her parents love and affection but couldn’t find her place in the world, alright she had everything she wanted from her parents, finding love within her self was hard. Yes she has confidence, yes she’s amazingly breathtaking and beautiful, she doesn’t need anyone to tell her then cause she knows that and she knows she bad and she can get everything she wants in this world. She knows she worth all that. But why is it so hard for her to find love, not with any man but within herself, it is almost as if she hides behind this facade of confidence. Her insecurity’s ushers to come out of her but she builds this facade to hide it front he world. And the one thing she is most scared of is losing her family if she doesn’t make them proud. She feels as if it’s hard to love herself and make everyone else proud of her.

Y/N groaned as we moved on the sofa and said “I hope so, enough about me and my day, how was yours?” Ester sighed “ my day was amazing until I got home and got into an argument with my Khai” Y/N rolled her eyes and asked “what was the argument about this time?!” “ He dreamt that I cheated on him and he got mad at me!” Y/N couldn’t hold I get laughter and laughed out loud “ what the hell, now that is too funny”

“ well now he’s still mad at me for no reason and I won’t be the first person to apologize cause it wasn’t me fault to begin with”. EziKia replied

“Well it was your fault” Y/N began “ you cheated on him” “In his dream”they both said at the same time.

Ezikia and her boyfriend Khai have been dating for a while now and they’re hopelessly in love but they argue about the summery things in the world, which is why Y/N think they’re a perfect match cause they’re literally dumb and dumber.

The kettle hissed and Y/N spoke “ what’re you up to now anyways” as she Stirred her tea waiting for ester to reply. “ nothing if I’m honestly just playing games at the moment” she laughed out,”what about you”. “ just made some tea and about to watch haunted on Netflix” Y/N replied and she sat down on the sofa and pressed play.

A moment of silence filled the room.

“Have you spoken to J yet?” The voice of her friend E rang through the phone

“Who?” she replied

Sighing out in frustration her friend spoke “ You know who Y/N, you can’t stay mad it him forever he’s also your friend”

“I’m not mad at him E” she hushed out looking at her phone.

J short for Jungkook was Y/N other friend, they were very close, they loved each other but they both didn’t have the guts to tell each other that, it could fuck up the friendship but it was only friendship right?, they would always fight and instantly make up but this was different, they weren’t speaking but it’s not like it’s her fault....right? J was always a nice guy, treating her the best, they would always flirt with each other but it wasn’t anything serious, it was always just games but when she saw him kissing another person, her heart felt like it exploded and she felt like she had been betrayed and betrayal was too real to bear.

But how could this be a betrayal if they aren’t in love? That’s what they both keep telling themselves right?

He’s not her responsibility and she doesn’t love him like that, but she keeps lying to herself and he betrayed her and so she can’t let it go. Not just yet, she just needs to stay mad at him just a little longer.

The rain began to fall as she spoke to her friend, they laughed and continued speaking, hours has passed and the clock struck midnight and they said their goodnight and they both hung up. As she continued watching the tv, the rain outside came worse, Turning into a thunder storm. The wind whistled outside and lighting struck and she could hear the Thunder roaring. She began to shiver at the should and the flashes outside her windows “ why the fuck am I sacred of thunder” she whispered to herself as she continued to watch the series, it still came as a shock to her at how she was some what scared of the sound of thunder and lighting but she’s able to sit through and watch a full series of horror stories by herself at night.

Hours and hours had passed as she watched the series and she felt her eyes beginning to fall close and she then drifts of to sleep on her cloud like sofa and feels like dreams.

She dreams about her future, what it would be like if she followed what her parents told her to become, maybe then she would think she wasn’t such a Failure to her family.

Although her parents were always supportive, Y/N felt that she wasn’t enough, she saw the look on their face of disapproval when she said she wanted to become a fashion designer, it was like she disappointed her parents saying what she said and wanting to become a designer instead of a doctor. But her parents were always proud of what a women she had become and loves her deeply. However she felt that just In case her fashion career doesn’t workout, she learnt a few tricks from her older sister who was obviously a doctor about how to deal with someone is had been wounded.

The man still on the run 10 minutes away~

Kim Taehyung on the other hand was also having the worst fucking day of his entire life! How could this get any worse, first the drug and money exchange gone wrong with the rival gang, obviously he was set up to fail by you know who and now he’s not just running from the gang who are out to kill him for more money and truce between the gangs as Kim Taehyung’s boss thought he was out to take his place on the Cobras throne.

Now with the police are after him too, since he was like the “ right hand man to the king “cobra” he knew a lot about him and the police where out to shut all the bullshit down but Taehyung had his loyalty, but how loyal can a ‘dog’ be if he’s been abandoned but he never snitches. Running from the gangs, Taehyung has a run in with the police and they saw him at his venerable place, bruised up and cut deep, so they decided to take him out to show the “king cobra” what they could do with his “people”.

But obviously that was fucking useless cause they used him and played him hard.

And Taehyung was no longer a cobra at this moment of betrayal, Kim Taehyung knew where his loyalty lies and that was with himself, he will get his revenge on everyone that played him, the cobra, the police & his family.

He continued running as his life depended on it, but he never looked back to see if he was being followed he kept his eyes straight forward and went on. The rain kept pouring on him as he ran and ran and ran like there was no end to the road, he suddenly slowed down as he crouched down in pain and held his stomach, “fuuuck” he groaned. He wasn’t going to let today be the day that he died, he had a lot to live for if he wanted his revenge. He got up again clinging to stomach and continued walking. As he approached a few blocks of town houses, he had to get out of the rain and get some help of else he might die, he walked up the stairs to bang in the door but there was no response. He then continued to the next few houses but there was still no response. He groaned in frustration as there was no one to help him. He then saw a light at the end of the block of houses and walks towards the light, walked up the stairs and banged on the door as if trying to break down the door.

He continued banging on the door as if it was his last resort which it was, he whispered out all his might but the only thing that came out was a soft breath “please help” he never thought he would have to resort to begging but here he was outside a strangers door, hair and clothes drenched from the storm asking for help not knowing if the person inside would be kind enough to help a poor stranger in need.

As if he gave up, he leaned against the door and shut his eyes closed, but then he heard foot steps coming from the other side other door and the locks clicked and the door Swung open. He looked up slowly from down at the strangers feet to the face and he saw the stranger in front of him, “wow she’s beautiful” he thought to himself,

“Thank you” he sighed out of relief as his vision became blurry and everything went black.

At Y/N House ~

Y/N woke up from her sleep hearing banging on the front of her door, she lifted herself up from her sofa that was way to comfortable to leave the room and groaned out “ who the fuck is banging on my door at the hour”.

As she got up she realised that she fell asleep on the sofa and left the lamp on.

She looked at her clock and it was almost 3 am, she then whispered “ why do I always either get waken up or wake up at around 3am” as if she was scared and her suspicions came creeping in the back of her mind. And she thought ghost always wonder around at 3 AM. She then was pulled from her thoughts by the loud bang at the door again and she slowly made her way to the front of the house and she saw a figure standing outside, she thought to herself thinking she shouldn’t open up the door to strangers at this hour, as she slowly turned to leave she suddenly hears a cry of help “please help” the stranger whispered silently.

As she heard the cry of help, she thought to herself “ I should probably help this person” “ but what if the pardon is a Pedophile or someone really dangerous” as if her demon and angel thoughts were fighting each other she huffed out a breath and walk towards the door turned the lock opened the door. There stood a tall man twice her size, built like a Greek GOD, dressed in a suit that was drenched from the rain droplets of water falling from his fringe a hand holding onto his stomach that was bleeding, bruises on his face and the other hand holding onto the doorframe. The man then looked from down at her feet, then his eyes lifted up to her face, she then saw him smile for a second then his eyes suddenly shut closed and he fell forwards towards her.

Her eyes grew wide was she was trying to hold her balance and trying to hold a man twice her size that just fainted at her door step. Not knowing what to do as the man’s head laid on her shoulder, she then whispered “ fuck it” then leaned sideways and the man dropped to the floor. Sighing she looked down at the stranger that passed out on her, who she then dropped to the door, frustration and guilt overpowering her mind and she closed her eyes and thought for a moment.

She then crouched down, grabbed him from under his armpits and dragged him a little further into the house and closed the door. She then began to slowly drag him through her house to the living room, “ damn he’s fucking heaving” she choked out. After a though 20 minutes grafting him through her house, She then was able to lay him on her couch that she adored very much and said “ well maybe that wasn’t the best idea” as her white couch began to turn red form blood stain that fell form the stranger. Then her eyes turned to the gun that sat perfecting in the holster wrapped around the mans body. “Shit”. Her face was stoned cold from shock, asking herself why this man had a gun on him and why he was bleeding and she palmed then slapped her forehead, sighing out loud in frustration and anger at herself for helping this possibly dangerous handsome man.

She looked at him and for a few seconds fought with her self, asking herself if she should still help this stranger for all she knows he could be really dangerous. She shook off her thought and went into her bathroom to the her first AID kit to help this poor, passed out man on her couch. She ran back into the living room, crouched down lifted his shirt to tend to his wounds and bruises.

As she opened up his shirt she saw how beautiful he was built, the tone muscles that covered him and the tattoos that bloomed on his chest. She also noticed that he had many scars in his body, the ones where it shows be fought for his life.

As time passes, she stared at the beautiful but bruised up stranger and couldn’t help but feel bad for him, she thought of many things that he must have gone trough and couldn’t help but wonder who this man is.

Time deciding to go really fast~

The clocked struck 7:30 am and very loud pound bang came though the house from the door at the front. Y/N opened her eyes slowly and saw the stranger lying into of her, she hadn’t know that she fell asleep looking at the stranger and she drifted into her thoughts. Then the loud bang pulled her from her thought and she hurried to her feet and went to the door. The door opens and she saw a group on men in uniform. The mother-fucking police. “ Hi miss, sorry to disturb you this fine morning, We just wanted to ask you a few questions if that is ok” she nods her head and the police proceeded to ask the questions. “ Did a man came knocking on you door last night?” She hesitated for a moment and shook her head no and the made some notes in their notebooks and proceeded to ask another. “ Did you see or hear anything suspicious last night” she shook her head again said “ no officer” and the officer furrowed their eyebrows and said “Miss your are not lying to us are you?” she then replied “ no “ and they ushered “ Miss you need to tell us if you saw anything cause this man is a very dangerous man and he killed a lot of people and we need your help” The silence loomed around them but Y/N didn’t say a word. Although she just heard of how dangerous this man was, she helped him and already lied and there was no going back.

She could be arrested for helping a criminal and lying about it. The shock on her face was clear but she payed it off well and shook her head in disagreement and said “no officer, i didn’t see anything or any man of any sort” and smiled softly hoping to get them off her back.

The police stared at her as if they knew she was lying carried on saying,

“ Then miss what is this blood stain that is here on your door step?” She was surprised as she didn’t realize there would be blood at her door step even though a bleeding man was just at her foot steps a few hours ago. She then huffed out trying to sound as smooth as possible, then lied “ You see officer, last night I came home late From my boyfriend house and I forgot my underwear at his house, you know what happened there” she winked “ I came on my period and bled on the floor and I forgot to clean it up” she then thought “what the fuck was I thinking lying to the police like that, this is embarrassing” They’re not gonna believe that are they?

As she opened her mouth to speak again she stopped her herself as she saw the flustered faces on the officers, they then said “ oh, sorry miss, s-sorry to bother you and thank you for your help” then then bowed and turned and walked back to their car.

Y/n shocked at her own words hurriedly shut the door and leaned against it and spoke” fuck that was embarrassing”. As she turned she was greeted with a shirtless man with patched of wounds that SHE patched up holding a gun towards her head. Her eyes then widened in shock but not fear, “ so this is how your gonna treat your saviour?!” She spoke, the silent that came after could Pierce through someone like a knife, he then softly growled in a low husky voice “ thank you “ and lowered his gun. “You’re welcome “ she said as she rolled her eyes, bumped his shoulders and walked past him back towards the kitchen.

He then turned to follow the small girl that helped him last night. As they entered the kitchen he spoke lowly “ so YOU were the one that was bleeding in front of your own door” he asked, she then said with confidence “YES, the reason I said that was to save your ass and I don’t even know you” she turned to look at him and met his ice cold gaze, if looks could kill she would be dead right now. “ that’s right, you don’t know me” he hushed out “ so why would you help me” he raised his gun again. “ Will you stop raising your gun at me” she shouted, he then touched his stomach in pain. She then asked with worry in her voice “ are you ok”.. nothing, there was silence as she watched him crouch in pain. “Yea....I’m fine for now” he whispered, y/n furrowed her eyes brows and looked at him with sympathy and said “ do you want some pain killers?” He nodded and she turned on her feet to search trough her drawers for pain killers and sprung back into the kitchen to give home the medicine. She watched as he gulped down the pain killer with a glass of water and smiled, relieved that she was able to help him. She then broke the silence, “ since I don’t know you, want to tell me who you are?”

“No” he bluntly said he got up to pick his shirt up from the side of the sofa and put it on. “Also, who gave you permission to take my clothes off” he said glaring at her. She then scoffed “ dude, you seriously need to get you anger and manners in check, I helped you and this is how your repaying me!” His gaze soften at her words but then he frowned again saying “you don’t have to tell me every minute that you saved me”

Y/n couldn’t believe what the hell was going on, this man she just saved from DEATH itself never mind the police, DEATH! was treating her like this. But maybe he was right she thought, maybe she didn’t have to shove it in his face every minute that she saved him, “sorry” she said Turning from him as he was finally dressed in his bloodied clothes.

As she walked away, he slowly turned his head and leave into the kitchen, he thought to himself that he should be great full that this beautifully kind stranger helped him when no one else would. He then followed her into the kitchen and watch her make food for them. He watched as she busied herself in the kitchen with her task and a smile crept of his face. There was literally and angel right in front of him but he couldn’t give her the satisfaction of that and so his smile disappeared as she turn to look at him.

They then stared at each other for a few minutes and as if time slowed down he couldn’t believe his eyes, it was like love at first sight, he couldn’t believe he was falling in love with this stranger at their first meet but it couldn’t be love could it? He’s just great full for her helping him...isn’t he?

“What are you staring at” she broke the silence

“Obviously not you” he replied harshly

He has to be rude and he can’t fall in love with her not now and not ever, because of who he is, if he falls in love with her she could be a target to the gangs and it’s not like she’s in love with him anyway, she’s probably so scared for him and wouldn’t want anything to do with him after he leaves. He thought and sighed.

Y/n watched him as he lowered his gaze and thought to her self what this stager has gotten himself into that he’s running from the police, he’s such a beautiful and muscular man with tattoos that covered his body and instantly she almost fell in love. ALMOST. She was just glad she was able to help him and continued looking at him in pity.

A few moments had passed and she continued making the breakfast and he gazed up at her and watch her work.

She could literally be the light of his world but his world is to damn dangerous.

A few minutes later she had made breakfast, she turned and shoved the plate towards him “ Eat . You’ll need the energy” “thanks” he whispered and they both ate in silence. “I’m Taehyung” she looked up towards him as he broke the silence “I’m Y/N” “nice to meet you” he countered and then said softly “thank you for saving my life Y/N”.

Then awkward silence filled the room.

She shyly looked up from her plate and broke the silence again saying “ Why were the police looking for you?”

“ That’s none of your business” he said harshly and glared at her with his Piercing eyes

“Well it’s now my business since I helped you, why the were the police chasing you?” She shouted back

“ I don’t give a fuck that you helped me, I can literally kill you right now” laughing as he spoke out.

“ You really have a rude temper you know that?” She glared

Gazing back at her slowly, he opened his mouth to speak.

“I know” he spoke softly as if she just tamed him.

He watched as she got back to eating, and he watched the way she ate her food and how her lips moved as she continued speaking..as if he couldn’t like her more than he already does, everything she does changes him and makes him weaker than he currently is.

She was a girl full of sassiness and confidence but was also very kind and warm hearted and he couldn’t help but fall hard.

Was it wrong?

He got up as her gaze came up to meet his face,

He then leaned in over the small table and pecked her lips with his.

SMACK!

Out of shock her hand landed in his beautiful bruised face and he groaned out in pain “fuck, I deserved that” as he leaned back in his chair.

“ yes you deserved that!” She shouted back and he rose from his seat, rounded the table and approached her, grabbed her face and kissed her hard on the lips , flames rose up Y/N face and she shoved him backwards and slapped him hard again “ the fuck is wrong with you” she screamed. Taehyung held his face and smirked saying “ thank you for saving me princess”, he turned, put on his blazer then left, Y/N still shocked from what just happen lifted her hands to her lips and touched her lips softly with her fingers as she heard the door closed.

That was the first and last time last time they both saw each other.

The King just met his queen.

Tags: @sugarplummies

[babyloposts]

Sleepwalker

OneShot

Pairing: Soul x Maka

Fandom: Soul Eater

Warnings: fluff, nightmares, nudity, language

WordCount: 1.4K+

Summary: Soul has been having unexplainable nightmares as of late and finds that the only way to soothe them are from thinking about Maka. One night his subconscious takes things a little too far and he some how winds up waking up in Maka’s bed.

A/N: I love platonic SoMa almost as much as I love them romantically, but just them caring for each other is so fucking cute in any sense. So enjoy this cute fluffy stuff cuz I’m in that kind of mood

Darkness encompassed everything for miles. Shadows ran amuck against the walls that dripped black blood. Soul looked down at his legs. They were stuck in place. No way of getting out of the tar like substance his lower body was trapped in. This couldn’t be the end it just couldn’t.

Suddenly a voice eerily familiar echoed off of every building in the darkened city and rattled through his brain. “Don’t fight it anymore Soul. You’re not allowed to have nice things and you know that. Why don’t we get rid of that little Meister of yours so you can remember what your destiny is.” Soul searched everywhere for the source of the voice, but it was disembodied. There was no one out here for miles.

That is until Maka emerged about 50 feet in front of him almost drowning in sticky black ooze. Soul’s breath caught in his throat. How could she be here? She wasn’t apart of this.

“Soul!” The blood curdling yell struck a nerve jolting Soul into action. There was no way this was how it would end. There was no way he could lose everything like this. Using all the might he could muster he began to move his legs. He was moving at a snail’s pace even though he was sprinting with everything he had in him. His feet stuck to the ground with each step and pulled him back to the darkness from which he once came. He wouldn’t go back, couldn’t go back. Not until she was safe.

“Soul! Help Me!” She sounded like she was drowning and crying. So was he. Tears streamed down his face as the end looked closer. He wouldn’t make it in time. She was sinking and he was too fucking slow. No this couldn’t be it, he could go faster.

Soul tried, and pushed, and screamed. It was down to the wire. She was sinking fast and there wasn’t much left he could do to save her. There was only a few feet left, but he couldn’t make it. The blood was already seeping from her mouth and her tear ducts before he even reached her.

“MAKA! NO!”

“S-soul... please Soul... Soul!”

His eyes jolted open as he took in the new scenery. It was familiar in a comforting way. The floors and walls covered in books and plants only bringing warmth to the man still coming off a terrifying high. He breathing stilled as a hand was brought up to his chest, that hand belonging to the owner of the room.

“Soul?” She spoke softly not trying to provoke the fragile giant in her bed.

“Maka...” Soul’s cognitive skills were finally coming back to him as he realized this was not where he had fallen asleep. Somehow in the time it took for him to pass out in his bedroom and have that nightmare he had ended up... in his meister’s bedroom. “How...?”

Maka shook her head and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I’m just as surprised as you apparently, but...” Maka shied away. She had awoken to Soul quivering by her side. She didn’t know how long he had been there, but... there were tears.

Soul sat up fully and dropped his head into his hands. Why now of all times? Right before a big mission. It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t slept-walked since he was a child and now all of a sudden he starts up and climbs into his best friend’s bed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I haven’t... done this, in a long time.”

“You didn’t scare me. I’m just worried about you.” Her palm moved from his chest to his cheek, doing anything she could to be comforting. Soul sighed, he felt like a baby and how could he not. He was basically crawling into “mommy’s” bed after a bad dream. He was fucking crying. His disdain for himself replaced all the fearful and vulnerable emotions from before.

“Soul. What was it about?” Maka questioned hesitantly.

“Nothing. Just had me scared a little.” He brushed off, but Maka wasn’t buying it.

“Nothing? Really? You crawled into my bed at 3AM.”

“Well if you wanted me to leave you could’ve just said that.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Maka outstretched her arm to make him stay, but not before realizing the actual elephant in the room. “S-Soul you’re... naked.” Maka pulled away quickly and covered her eyes.

If Soul wasn’t embarrassed before he certainly was now. His cheeks burned red hot and he grabbed the closest thing he could find to cover himself. Wrapping Maka’s towel around his waist he sat himself on the edge of the bed and prepared for the scolding that was sure to ensue.

“Are you decent?”

“Y-yeah.” He sighed. Maka opened her eyes to see him facing away from her with his head held in his hands.

“That’s my towel.” She chuckled.

“I’ll wash it.”

Maka laughed at the hint of annoyance in his voice, but quickly regained her worry for the boy. He wouldn’t sleep walk into her room, or cry if that dream was just “a little bit scary”.

“Seriously Soul, what’s wrong? You can tell me anything, you know?”

Soul sat pouting for a minute more before giving in. He barely had any dignity left anyway.

“The dreams. They’re about you.” He sighed. He couldn’t look at her, wouldn’t dare try to gauge her reaction now. She probably thought he was pathetic. “I keep seein you, all surrounded in black blood and drowning. And I can never save you. I’m never fast enough. I usually wake up around the time that you die. And for my own conscience I come and... check on you.”

Maka stayed silent allowing Soul the space to say what he needed. She didn’t know how to feel. Dream analysis usually says that if someone close to you dies in a dream that could mean good fortune, or the start of something new, but she doubted Soul’s dreams were anything less than literal.

“I know it’s stupid, but I always check. To make sure you’re still okay. And I guess... I don’t know. They say old habits die hard, hence the sleepwalking and I’m sorry. You’re just the only thing that can ease my mind when I get like this.”

No words were passed between the duo, just Maka’s arms coming to rest around Soul’s shoulders and her head lodged in the crook of his neck. “I’m right here.”

Soul felt like it was the first time he could breathe that night. Finally he felt that comfort he had been looking for. He moved a hand back to pat Maka’s head as a ‘thank you’. “Thanks Maka. I needed that.”

Maka released soul from his captivity within her embrace. Reluctantly he stood and started for the door. “I’ll get you a new towel.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“You’re leaving?” It was the first time he was able to catch her gaze since the admission. He studied her face. Those bright green eyes luring him towards her.

“W-well, I figured I might as well try to get another hour of sleep in while I can.”

“What if the nightmares come back?”

“Are you asking me to stay?”

“Only if that’s what you want.” That’s exactly what he wanted. To have Maka right beside him assuring them both that they would be okay. Soul smirked at Maka before turning to leave her bedroom without another word.

Maka sighed and flopped down onto her back. Soul was so stupid sometimes. He wasn’t the only one who worried. She worried about him being safe all the time. If only he would let himself be vulnerable sometimes, at least around her.

Approaching footsteps brought Maka out from her thoughts. Soul appeared in the doorway again, now with shorts on. He closed the door behind himself and slunk in next to Maka on the bed. He sighed to himself before meeting her gaze with a small content smile on his face.

“Thanks for worrying about me.” He smiled.

“You’re not the only one who worries, Soul. I just wanna be here for you okay?” She let a delicate finger trace along his jawline in reassurance. He nodded and sighed at the comforting touch.

“We should get some sleep.” He suggested. Maka agreed, but she still had one last thought lingering at the back of her mind.

“Yeah we should. But Soul...”

“Hm?”

“You sleep naked?” Maka couldn’t even try to contain her giggles as Soul groaned in annoyance. He turned so that his back was facing her to hide the embarrassment prevalent on his cheeks.

“Shut up. I get hot at night!”

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 55 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Thanksgiving went on for 17 million years. (AKA 5 Chapters) We laughed, we cried (did we cry? I don’t think we cried – except for Adore maybe), we fucked on some stairs until our knees gave out...

This Chapter: Pearl makes a getaway, Raven carbs up, and Violet returns to work with help from a very special assistant.

***

“Pearl! Pearl, wake up!”

Pearl stirred, a hand shaking her, and opened her eyes. Fame was leaning over her, a sleep mask pushed up on her forehead, a frantic expression in her eyes.

It had been a long night. When Pearl arrived at the townhouse, they’d at down and had a long heart to heart, Pearl tearfully confessing the whole sordid tale of her and Adore over tea and leftover cranberry apple crisp, Fame even going the extra mile and topping it with an uncharacteristic scoop of ice cream--she must really have seemed pathetic. Pearl told her everything, and while Fame was understanding, she didn’t hold back or let her off the hook either, pointing out where she thought she’d fucked up, how she could have done better, and why Adore was justified in her hurt and anger. It was difficult to hear at times, but Pearl appreciated her honesty. Most of all, she appreciated that Fame stayed to listen, giving her the space to talk it out, sometimes resting a hand on her thigh just to let her know that she was still there.

After that, cried out and emotionally exhausted, they’d climbed into Fame’s bed to snuggle and watch TV, Pearl’s eyelids soon drooping heavily. When Patrick got home, Pearl had offered to leave, of course, but he saw how tired she was and insisted she stay, Fame sleeping in the middle of the bed.

Now, it was morning and Fame was apparently in a tizzy over something. Pearl rubbed her eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“The chef’s idiot assistant let in my in-laws without asking. I have no idea why they’re here so early, we clearly said brunch was at noon!” Fame fretted, Patrick buttoning his shirt in the background.

Pearl tried to catch up. “The chef?”

“Oh my god, what are we going to do?!” Fame explained, hands pressed to her cheeks.

“She could go out the window…” Patrick joked.

“Yes!” Fame turned back to Pearl. “Get dressed, you’re going out the window.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Pearl asked. “That’s dangerous!”

“Use the trellis!”

“Darling, I was kidding,” Patrick said gently.

“Well, I’m not!” Fame snapped her fingers. “Where are her pants?”

Patrick handed over Pearl’s skinny jeans, shaking his head. “Can’t we just say that one of your employees came for an early meeting?”

“Oh yeah Patrick, an early meeting on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Here in our bedroom. Sounds totally respectable. I can’t believe this, we’re never using chef John again! Pearl, hurry up.” She got up and walked to the window that overlooked the backyard, unlocking it and opening it wide.

“Was he supposed to let them just wait on the front stoop?”

“Patrick,” Fame said sternly, in that tone that told them both that she was not fucking around. “If you’re not going to offer any other solutions, you can just go downstairs and entertain your stupid family.”

“I’m gonna let that one slide,” Patrick said as he walked to the door. “And Pearl, godspeed. Try to avoid the rose bushes if you fall.”

“So, is this your way of telling me that I’m not staying for brunch with the fam?” Pearl asked, putting on her jacket and slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Pearl.” That same tone again, entirely unamused.

Pearl stepped up to her at the window, looking out. The good news was, there was a high cement wall that would likely break her fall before the ground. Worst case scenario, she’d break a bone...or two.

“This is the first time I’ve done anything like this since high school,” she giggled, then reached out and touched Fame’s hand. “Thanks for last night.”

“Of course,” Fame replied, softening for a moment, leaning in to give her a gentle kiss on the mouth. “Anytime.”

“Anytime except right now, you mean?”

“Exactly,” Fame said, helping her climb onto the window ledge and over to the trellis. “Once you get down to the garden, make sure to go around that way,” she pointed, “And duck when you pass the windows.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

***

“Now,” Juju took the dinosaur tray from the counter, handing it to her son, his pancakes carefully cut up, “take it slow when-” Juju was cut off as Owen grabbed the tray, practically spinning around in his haste to make it back to the family room. “Hey! I said take it slow young man!”

It was a Sanderson family tradition to spend the Saturday after Thanksgiving with pajamas, pancakes and TV, and even though Kelly had gotten too old to join, their teenager leaving the house almost as soon as they had made it back from Boston, Juju knew with absolute certainty that she’d find a toddler under each of her husband's arms, time with dad something the twins valued above anything else.

“They grow up so fast.” Raven smiled, her best friend sitting at the kitchen counter in a set of soft pink silk pajamas, twirling a bit of hair around her finger.

“Don’t even say it,” Juju sighed, cutting up the last of the fruit so she could make Raven a plate too. “It feels like we just left the hospital.”

“You’ll have another little one soon.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Juju smirked, and Raven laughed, taking the offered assortment of fruit that Juju handed her, but then, something crazy happened. Raven grabbed two pancakes too, putting them on her plate.

“Hey girly, what’re you doing?” Juju didn’t normally care about Raven’s diets--actually, she tried not to be involved in them at all whenever she could, but she had already spotted her best friend putting creamer in her coffee. Juju worked in fashion as well, several houses and magazines using her on shoots, but she didn’t think she’d ever really understand the sacrifices models went through. Sure, it was part of their job to go to the gym, but she didn’t think she’d ever be able to do it, even though Raja had made it seem effortlessly easy when she had been in her prime. “I know Sutan isn’t here, but I don’t believe the warden has relaxed the rules that much.”

“Well.” Raven looked uncharacteristically insecure for a moment, crossing her arms. “I’ve decided I’m done doing swimwear.”

“Oh?” Juju knew Raven had campaigns coming up in December, her friend complaining about it the last time they saw each other.

“Yes.” Raven nodded. “I’m done. It’s not worth the money, when it’s killing me to stay in runway shape year round.”

“Okay.” Juju nodded, sort of understanding where Raven was coming from. When she wasn’t walking fashion weeks where everyone had to fit sample sizes, the industry loved her curves, Raven smoking hot when she allowed herself to get to a size 4 or even a 6, which was a much more accurate representation of what her body actually looked like. “And Tan is cool with it?”

Somehow, it worked for Raven to have her fiancée’s brother as a manager, but Juju knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would have killed Detox if he ever tried to make decisions on her career, even the idea of Raja, Fame, heck, even Bianca moving in on her turf making her genuinely uncomfortable.

“I…” Raven clicked her tongue. “Might not have told him yet.”

***

“Urgh,” Sutan groaned as he flopped on the couch, face first, a white t-shirt clinging to his chest. “Fuck.”

“Hello,” Violet was biting her lip in an effort not to smile, her boyfriend absolutely exhausted, his duffle bag thrown somewhere on the floor. “Did you have a nice time at the gym?”

They had been in the middle of breakfast, Violet making her way through a coconut yogurt when Sutan had gotten a call, his eyes widening to an almost comical size when he recognized the number, the horror on his face telling the clear story of how he had completely forgotten.

“My trainer is an absolute sadist.”

“Mmh?” Violet had never seen him move so fast, Sutan drowning his coffee in one big gulp, barely pressing a kiss against her temple before he had rushed out the door, grabbing what was apparently an emergency gym bag from the hallway closet.

“He made me do 25 extra sets of everything for being late. Can you believe I’m paying someone to torture me?” Sutan toed his shoes off, winching at the movement as he got on his back, putting his head on her thigh, his hair still slightly damp. “I thought I was going to die.”

Violet had wondered why Sutan had never let her be around when he went to the gym, the man only going on nights or mornings when they weren’t spending time together.

Now, it seemed like she had her answer.

“Poor you.” Violet smiled, running her fingers over his forehead, the TV playing quietly in the background.

“I know you don’t mean that,” Sutan looked up at her, “but I’ll take it.”

“You know,” Violet bit her lip not to yawn, the smallest of efforts almost taking her out, putting their breakfast away and getting to the couch feeling like enormous tasks. “I’m going to be so jealous once I’m off my pain killers.”

Violet tried not to think too hard about what a broken bone actually meant, not being able to run or even do yoga to manage her emotions a complete nightmare.

“Seriously?” Sutan lifted an eyebrow, and Violet ran a finger over it. “When I was 23, you couldn’t force me to go to the gym.” Sutan smiled. “Not that Raja’s model diet made it necessary.”

“You were on a model diet?”

“Beat having to cook for myself.” Sutan grinned, and Violet could totally imagine it, the Amrull twins chugging their way through green smoothies side by side.

“How long did you actually live with Raja?”

“Literal decades,” Sutan snorted. “God I’m ancient.”

“I like to think of you as finely aged wine.”

“HA!” Sutan laughed, and Violet couldn’t help but smile. She loved watching him laugh, loved seeing his face scrunch up with happiness. “For that lovely eyes,” Sutan pointed up at her. “You get to stay another week.”

“Oh…” Violet paused, “I, umh, I didn’t…” She had felt so happy just moments before, but now, she could feel the uncertainty crawl up her spine. “We never actually talked about… You don’t have to do-”

It wasn’t like her at all, but Violet had simply not considered the week to come, hadn’t even thought about where she would be staying, what she would be wearing, what she’d be doing with herself beyond believing Sutan when he said he’d get her to work Monday.

“Violet.” Sutan reached up, grabbing her neck, his fingers easily holding her. “You live on the 5th floor with no elevator.”

“And I appreciate your help, but I’d never want to-”

“You’re staying here. No argument. I’d be a terrible boyfriend, fuck, I’d be a terrible friend, if I wasn’t cool with you staying here.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Sutan nodded. “Besides,” He pulled on Violet’s neck, forcing her down so he could press a kiss against her lips. “I like having you around.”

Sutan smirked, and Violet couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”

***

“Where do you think you’re going?” Katya was whispering as she looked over at her fiancé. She and Trixie were in the movies, Annabelle playing on the screen.

“I have to pee, I had an extra large soda.”

Katya placed her hand on Trixie’s chest, pushing him down into the seat, keeping him in place. “No.”

“What?!” Trixie hissed.

“I said no.”

And in that moment Trixie saw how Katya was smiling, and he felt a surge of arousal go through him.

“Okay…”

Trixie leaned back in his chair, Katya’s hand on his chest ending up on his stomach where it rested, keeping him in place.

Trixie couldn’t help but squirm, arousal and the need to pee getting mixed up in his head, a heavy sensation settling over his entire body, his fingers drumming on the seat, restless energy filling him as the movie continued.

“Katya, please…” Tixie hissed, the stupid movie not even halfway done. “I’m about to explode.”

“No.”

Katya smiled, picking up her drink, her lips closing around the straw as she oh so slowly drank the rest of her own small soda, the sound causing chills to run over Trixie’s spine.

Katya held him in seat through the credits, and Trixie had tears in his eyes, he had to pee so badly, but Katya had told him he couldn’t, so he wouldn’t, because he was her good boy.

The very last name ran over the screen, and Katya removed her hand, Trixie shooting up from his seat, his jacket and even his bag forgotten as he ran to the bathroom, a sense of euphoria rushing over him as he could finally, finally, finally pee, his entire body shivering in delight.

***

When Bob heard the design floor door open, he instantly perked up, whirling around in his chair.

“Well well well!” he exclaimed, yelling out to the floor, his oversized coffee mug in hand, a pencil tucked behind her ear. “Look who’s back!”

“Hi everyone,” Violet came through the door, a happy but unsure smile on her face. It was clear that she wanted to wave, but she was stuck with her crutches, a bulgy cast on her ankle.

Violet looked over her shoulder, and Bob felt his eyes bulge out as none other than silver fox of the year, Sutan Amrull, came through the door in an impeccable suit, Violet’s purse and what had to be both of their jackets on his arm.

“I knew it!” Bob cried out, slapping his desk with his hand. “I knew those two were dating! No lipstick my ass!”

He looked around triumphantly, everyone's attention now divided between Bob and the pair at the door, Sutan looking on with a raised eyebrow and a smile on his lips, while Violet seemed like she was wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

“Good work, Sherlock.” Jovan drawled, his head in his hand as he was sitting backwards on his chair. “How’d you figure that one out?”

“Well you see-” Bob grinned, just about to go on a tangent, when he was cut off by his boyfriend, Maxwell leaning against his desk.

“I literally told you they were dating a fucking week ago.”

“Right.” Bob huffed. “But you’re always wrong about this stuff.”

Sure. Max had told him that about the whole Violet falling thing, the drama with Aiden the talk of the department, but he hadn’t actually believed it when Max had said he had seen Sutan Amrull press a kiss against Violet’s temple, the two of them apparently leaving together.

“Are your coworkers always this much fun?”

Bob’s head whipped at the sound of Sutan’s voice, the man smiling as he looked down at Violet, one of his hands in his suit pocket.

“Don’t answer that Chachki!” Jovan yelled out, making everyone laugh. “Just come on over here!”

Violet looked extremely relieved to be called for, and Sutan followed behind her as she swung herself across the room on her crutches-- No hobbling for that bitch.

“Man, look at you go!” Bob grinned, walking over to Jovan and Violet’s desks, his own work completely abandoned. “It’s like you’ve been using those things all your life!”

“Thanks Bob,” Violet replied drily, even though she was smiling. She looked a lot better than he expected, her hair and makeup done to her usual perfect standards, curls cascading down her back. She was wearing a long sleeved black dress with a high-waisted skirt, and even a heel on her good foot, Violet Chachki as always picture perfect.

“I cannot believe you’re wearing heels with crutches. You’re an icon, and we should all aspire to your standards.”

“You’d fail.”

“Ha!” Jovan snorted, the man giving Violet’s shoulder a quick squeeze before he returned to his computer.

“Besides.” Violet pulled out her chair, sitting down with as much grace as she could muster, shaking her head disdainfully. “It’s only 2 inches.”

“I promise you,” Sutan smiled, putting Violet’s bag down on the table. “I tried to tell her it was a terrible idea.”

“Good to know.” Bob bit his cheek not to give too much away, but on the inside, he was dancing with delight at all the delicious gossip he was gobbling up. “Hi, Bob Caldwell.” Bob held his hand out, nearly shrinking on the inside when Sutan took it. “Design Project Manager.”

“Sutan Amrull,” Sutan smiled, shaking it firmly. “Elite Model Management, though around here I’m probably better known as Raja’s brother. I assume you know her very well.”

“We sure do.” If Bob was honest, he had forgotten that Maxwell had followed him over, but what he wouldn’t forget was the ridiculous grin on his boyfriend's face as he shook hands with Sutan. “I’m Maxwell Heller. Designer.”

“I’m familiar with your work.” Sutan grinned, pulling back to take a seat on the edge of Violet’s desk and Bob wiggled his eyebrows at Max, who nudged his elbow into his side.

“What do you have there, lovely eyes?”

Bob’s eyes widened in delight as Violet looked up like she had fully forgotten they were all still there, her embroidery frame already in hand, the massive skirt she was working on tethered to it.

“The dress.” Violet smiled, the worry Bob had seen on her face when she first walked in all gone now that her work was safely back in her hands. “The couture one.”

“This is your couture dress? Let me see.” Sutan reached into his jacket pocket, taking out a pair of glasses that he quickly slipped on before he carefully picked at the skirt, taking a section that was already done, examining the work. “This is very impressive.”

“Did you hear she’s closing the Spring runway?” Bob grinned, the morning only getting better and better.

“Well,” Sutan pushed his glasses into his hair, a big smile on his face, “with a gown like this, how could she not?”

“And that’s enough for you!” Violet reached out, her cheeks pink as she took the dress from his hands, her tone stern even though she was smiling. “Thank you for fulfilling your duties as a full time boyfriend by carrying my stuff. You can leave now.”

“Boyfriend?” Maxwell squeaked, and this time, it was Bob’s turn to nudge him.

“Am I a little too old for that title?” Sutan smirked, looking between them.

“Well,” Violet interjected, her tone completely dry. “You can be my man friend if you’d prefer?”

“Ha!” Sutan snorted, a grin on his face. “And I think that’s my cue to go. I’ll text you.” He leaned over the desk, giving Violet a quick peck on the lips before standing up, shaking hands with Max and Bob and waving to Jovan as he grabbed his jacket and left.

“Damn Chachki,” Bob watched as Sutan left, his arms crossed over his chest. “We gotta hand it to you. That is one sexy fucking man.”

“Umh…” Violet paused, looking up at them, her embroidery needle already in hand. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

***

“Morning, Jackie!” Sutan waved, stopping in the assistant bullpen to check if he had gotten any physical mail. Jackie was a new girl, had originally only started out as a temp, but she had done a shockingly good job, so Elite had officially hired her a few weeks ago.

Sutan didn’t have his own personal assistant, and had never had one even though he was sure Tamisha would give him one if he asked.

“How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Great, thanks.” Jackie smiled, her brown bang swept across her forehead. She was wearing a green and yellow sweater, her nails painted in a deep orange.

Sutan loved Jackie's style, the woman always dressed like she was living in the 60s, but his favorite thing was that she was cool, calm and collected under pressure, and unlike the baby temps, she was a woman in her late 30s who hadn’t just taken the job in the hopes of becoming a model.

“Also,” Jackie lowered her voice, leaning over the desk. “Ms. Petruschin is waiting for you in your office.”

“Hmm?” Sutan raised an eyebrow. He had an open door policy, and everyone was always welcome, but usually, they were welcome when he was actually there. He hadn’t stopped for coffee after dropping Violet off at work, and now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a mistake.

“She didn’t want to wait at reception, so I let her in.”

“Ah.” Sutan nodded. That sounded just about right for Raven. “Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing.”

Sutan walked over to his office, not even trying his key in the door since he knew it’d be unlocked.

“Raven!” Sutan put on his best game face, his voice light and happy. “To what do we owe the honor of your presence?”

Raven looked up from where she was sitting-- not sprawled on the couch where she’d normally be, but at a chair in front of his desk, spine ramrod straight, her Birkin carefully placed on the floor.

“... Everything okay?” Sutan shut the door behind him, quickly flicking the lock. Normally when he had his models come by, he’d take a seat behind his desk, but today, that didn’t seem like the right option, so instead, he sat on the corner of the table, looking down at his sister in law. “Raven?”

“I,” Raven bit her lip, her white teeth sinking into it. “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay?” Sutan kept his voice level, doing everything he could not to let his worry show on his face. The last time Raven had come to him like this, it had been with an absolute disaster involving several talks with a lawyer, but Raja hadn’t said anything, hadn’t given him any hints or sent a single text, so it couldn’t be that bad.

“So,” Raven took a deep breath, lifting her chin as she looked directly at him. “I don’t want to do swimwear anymore.”

“.... Okay?”

“It’s not worth it, and I hate it.”

Out of everything Sutan had dreaded. Of all the things that had flashed through his mind. This was not what he had expected at all.

“Well, that’s not a problem.”

“You’re not mad?” Raven’s eyes widened, surprise and anxiety painted on her beautiful face.

It was clear that Raven had expected him to be disappointed, or even upset, and Sutan couldn’t help but remember the inexperienced young girl he’d signed at only 17 years old.

It had been a long time since he’d been reminded of that, the Raven of today much more likely to slam a door or yell in his face, but the tough act had always been and would always be a facade to hide her obvious vulnerability.

Other agents had sometimes asked how he dealt with her, how he could remain calm in the storm of Raven’s emotions, but he had always felt responsible for her well being, and had always felt protective of her.

“Raven.” Sutan crossed his arms. “It’s your career. Your body. Your decisions. How I feel, and how the brand feels doesn’t matter if you hating it is your genuine emotion.”

Raven nodded, swallowing, and Sutan could see that it wasn’t an easy decision for her.

“As your agent, it’s my responsibility to make sure that you stick to your commitments, but cancellation fees exist for a reason.”

At that, Raven winced, two cancellation fees taking a hefty chunk out of her next paycheck, half of the money going to the brand while the other would end up in Sutan’s pocket but she didn’t protest, sticking to her decision, and that was when he knew she was serious, that she had thought it through.

“Rave,” Sutan reached out, touching her shoulder. “We’re okay.”

At that, a smile finally cracked through, a relieved sigh coming from her. “Good.”

“You know,” Sutan pushed up from the desk, walking around it. “We just got the potential for a Clinique campaign.” Sutan picked up the sales pitch he had received, Clinique sending over a courier with the products they wanted to focus on, Raven being one of their top five picks for the campaign.

“Clinique?”

“I wasn’t going to offer it to you because it conflicted with your December shoots, so I’ve been pulling alts for them, but now, it seems like we can say yes.”

“They pay well, don’t they?”

“That they do,” Sutan had to hide a smile at Raven’s obvious enthusiasm. “You haven’t filmed any commercials in a while, and I know you generally avoid speaking.”

To say that would be an understatement, a director once telling teenage Raven that he couldn’t understand her because of her Russian accent. Raven had gone directly to a speech therapist after that, even though Sutan had found it completely unnecessary, the director just a bigoted jerk.

“Consider it.” Sutan handed her the pitch. “You’d be absolutely fabulous.”

“Maybe,” Raven smirked, “if the offers are lucrative enough to be worth my time.” She tossed her long dark hair over one shoulder, and Sutan grinned.

That was the girl he knew and loved.

“Only the very best, top tier gigs for you.”

“Exactly,” Raven laughed, standing up, the pitch still in hand as she cleared her throat. “Well, guess I’m off.”

“Off to celebrate with some bonus desserts?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.” Sutan smirked. “Just remember that you’re still a model.”

“Yeah, yeah yeah, stop yapping,” Raven said, her sass fully back as she sailed out the door with a flurry of air kisses.

“Leave it open!” Sutan sat down at his desk, his plans for the day suddenly shifted around. First of all, he’d have to call up the magazine who had booked the shoots and break the news that Raven wouldn’t be available.

It’d require some smooth talk, but it was what he did best.

The real challenge of the day was convincing them to switch to another model, and hopefully, a model that resided under his own wing.

Sutan pressed the button that called for Jackie, the woman showing up before he had even opened his computer. She really was incredible at the job.

“You called?”

“I need the best possible portfolio we can make for Symone, and I need it stat.”

***

“Oh dear god…” Fame covered her eyes with her hands. “Please tell me that this has been handled, Raja, I cannot-”

“Of course it’s been handled. Trixie let Aiden go on Tuesday, and Rita took care of everything with the hospital. We’re making an attorney available to Violet if she wants to press charges.”

“Do you think she will?” Fame asked, concern creasing her brow. “That’s the last thing we-”

“Listen. We obviously can’t do anything to dissuade her, or we face an even bigger liability.”

“I know that, Raja,” Fame snapped.

“-But, my guess is that she’ll want to wash her hands of the whole thing, certainly not become embroiled in a lawsuit.”

“Right. Right…” Fame sighed. “And we’ve covering all medical costs, taxis, whatever she needs right?”

“Of course. It’s a worker’s comp thing now, so everything’s covered by insurance.”

“Good. I should probably send her something, too. Flowers, maybe. Or a little spa treatment?”

“That would be nice, I’m sure she’d appreciate it. She’s staying with Tan if you want to-”

“Courtney!” Fame called out, pausing for a few moments before shaking her head. “I swear, that girl left her head at home today. Courtney!”

***

Courtney was obsessing again, reading her last text exchange with Bianca for about the 75th time since Friday.

COURTNEY: Have a good flight! <3

BIANCA: Thx! See you next week. XX

It was so mundane, so trite, and Courtney found herself cringing inwardly every time she looked at it, wishing she’d said something deeper or smarter or more sophisticated. And the “see you next week” - did that imply that Bianca didn’t want to talk to her while she was away? It certainly sounded like it. But Courtney wanted to send her another message, wanted desperately to let her know that she was still thinking about her.

She’d been racking her brain for something, anything, to say. She could ask her a question about their upcoming meeting at Marie Claire on Friday, but something told Courtney that would be transparent and dumb, and in no way sexy anyway. What she was really thinking about, nearly constantly, was if she’d ever get to feel Bianca’s hands on her again, the heat of her mouth, the press of her perfect body. That she was ready to sell her soul for one more night together, one more exhilarating night...

But she couldn’t very well say that. She didn’t want to appear needy or crazy, even if that’s how she felt. What she’d said to Adore was tragically true: the ball was entirely in Bianca’s court. And if she was done, if she didn’t intend to see her again except at work-related events or casual encounters, then that was something Courtney would just have to live with.

The one source of hope that Courtney had, maybe a false one, was the way Bianca had kissed her goodbye. Soft and tender, cradling her face, a kiss that promised more.

Even if she’d made no such promise out loud.

Even if Courtney was an absolute idiot for thinking that’s what it meant.

“Courtney!”

Her head snapped up, realizing with a sinking feeling that Miss Fame had called her name multiple times. Shit. She grabbed her notepad and jumped up.

“Coming Miss!”

***

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter three.

wc: 1,972. original publish date: october 5, 2020.

Van Gogh switches off his phone, smiling to himself in secret contentment to have his best friend back. The fight didn't last more than an hour -- definitely their shortest fight to date -- but usually he's the one who has to go seek out Kennedy to make things right. Which makes sense: Gogh's usually the one who starts the fight so he should be the one to finish it. But it still feels nice to know that JFK cares enough to put an end to it all. Sometimes Van Gogh wonders if Kennedy is ever as hurt by their arguing as he is. Now he doesn't have to guess.

Van Gogh begins packing his carryon-sized suitcase, which is brown with black trim and scuffed plastic wheels. He's had it since he was a kid -- he used to have to go on his parents' business trips with them. They started leaving him at JFK's house when he was ten and eventually stopped leaving him with anyone at all. He had to learn how to watch the house himself once he turned fourteen -- he was a scared freshman with only one friend who lived on the upside of town. He never learned how to meet anyone new. Van Gogh grew so accustomed to being alone that he never knew he should meet anyone new.

The boy begins tossing various articles of clothing and his favourite novels into the suitcase. Mostly he just stuffs the luggage with underwear and socks. He throws in a pair of jeans and two solid colour t-shirts. He walks into the bathroom and starts shoving toiletries into a plastic Ziploc bag. He takes his toothbrush, a full tube of toothpaste (it's family size, but of course he's the only one using it), a travel-size hairbrush that he barely ever uses, and a minute box of floss that he'd acquired from the dentist six months ago, but never used since. He seals the bag and turns toward the door to walk back to his room, but decides to snatch some extra bandages out of the closet for good measure. He barely ever needs to switch out his head cast now that his ear wound has stopped bleeding, but the bandages might get dirty from outside sources and he can't have that.

Van Gogh walks back to his room and throws the Ziploc bag on top of the clothes folded in his suitcase. He crouches down to flip the lid and zip the luggage, but realises he doesn't have a real jacket and this thin and simple windbreaker won't do much good outside of the heat of the house. He unzips the bag and fishes the green fleece blanket off of his bed. It's still sitting in a messy pile. Kennedy never thinks to fold anything. Van Gogh fixes it into a neat square and places it in the suitcase. He crosses the room to his closet, searching for an extra layer more practical than a blanket.

He finally decides on a jacket after meticulously searching for the perfect one. He pulls it off the plastic white hanger by the shoulder panel. It's heavy, with its leather sleeves and fleece lining. It's orange and white, which is a hideous combination, but they're also Clone High's mascot colours. Van Gogh pushes his short arms through the sleeves of the jacket and models it in the mirror, the clothing dripping off of his body and swallowing him whole. He turns around to admire the back, which is his favourite part for some reason. Sewed in crude felt lettering are the initials JFK -- it had belonged to him in freshman year, but he'd tragically outgrown it that spring. Kennedy was going to throw it away, but Van Gogh had told him not to, insisting that there was no reason to dispose of a structurally sound jacket.

Van Gogh zips the suitcase securely and tilts the whole thing upright, taking one more sweeping look around his room before deciding he's ready to go. Well, he's not ready, exactly; he just knows it's now or never. He's never been one to contemplate that sort of dilemma and still choose now, but maybe if he doesn't think at all he'll actually go.

He turns off his bedroom light, blanketing the orderly knickknacks and tight corners under a veil of deep velvet. Only the moon, hanging high and glowing bright, lights the room through the window. Van Gogh nods in satisfaction, or maybe in farewell, before turning around to walk through the ocean cave hallway and out the front door of his house. He locks it with the key which is miraculously still hidden away in the pocket of JFK's jacket from the last time he wore it. Gogh usually doesn't lock the door at all. Maybe one day the house will get robbed and his parents will finally take that as a hint to stop putting him in charge of their most expensive asset all by himself. Who trusts their sixteen-year-old son with their whole house, anyway?

Van Gogh sits on the wooden steps leading up to his splinter-hazardous porch, elbow on his knee and head in his hand. He's pushed the handle of the suitcase down and parked it on the wood slat next to him. He waits for Kennedy patiently, but his stomach sinks down into the soles of his feet as the endless minutes tick by. Maybe his dads caught him sneaking out. Maybe he changed his mind about spending so much time with Van Gogh. How long were they gonna be spending together, anyway? Kennedy hadn't said.

Gogh's head is still spinning, swirling like moonlight caught in the infinite night sky as JFK pulls up. He's driving a flashy red convertible... not the most practical car for a road trip, but the only one he has all to himself. Van Gogh doesn't have a car. Even with his parents absent as often as they are, he still doesn't own something so luxurious.

"I started to think you weren't going to come," Gogh says in place of a greeting.

"I was packing."

Van Gogh looks at his own suitcase. "So was I."

"Well, maybe you should've packed more."

"I'm sorry I don't have as many beauty products are you do," he scoffs. "I'm naturally pretty."

Kennedy walks up the stairs to wheel Van Gogh's suitcase to the car for him. "That you are."

Gogh rolls his eyes, but doesn't give a passionate retort. His head drains of all thought -- including the spinning moonlight that dizzied his conscience just minutes prior.

"I don't need help with that," he finally manages, hoping his voice is frozen over enough to make up for the seconds of thoughtlessness. He lifts himself up off the steps and snatches the suitcase away from JFK, probably a little too hastily for how he's feeling.

"Damn, I was only trying to help."

Van Gogh freezes and turns around, painting on the most innocent smile he can find. "I know you were." He lifts the trunk of the car and hoists the suitcase in. He then walks around to the passenger side door of the vehicle and climbs in, clicking his seatbelt securely before closing the door. He stares ahead out the windshield as he waits for JFK to join him.

Once Kennedy is securely inside the car, he drapes his wrist over the steering wheel and stares out the windshield as well, seeing the neighbourhood from a different view than Van Gogh even though they're looking at the same place.

"So," JFK starts, and the sound of his voice almost makes Van Gogh jump as he's pulled out of his trance. "Where do you wanna go?"

Gogh stares at the boy in the driver's seat, his eyebrows knit together and a scowl frothing on the corners of his lips. "You mean you don't have a plan?"

Kennedy turns to the boy, his expression soft. His whole body looks so calm and relaxed. He looks like himself, but it's a different sort of cool -- almost... withdrawn.

He's wearing his letterman jacket -- the new one he'd gotten at the beginning of the year after outgrowing the one Van Gogh is wearing. His fingernails are bitten down to stubs, from anxiety, or possibly just poor hygiene.

"My plan is that I don't want to be here."

Van Gogh shrugs agreeably. "Then let's just drive."

JFK doesn't pull his gaze away from Van Gogh, and the shorter boy shrinks down into his seat with each second that passes. Kennedy's stare is so intense and serious that Gogh squirms under the pressure. He squeezes the side of the leather seat. It's cold, just like the rest of the snowy world. He wonders if wherever they're going will being having as shitty of an April as Exclamation! is.

"Put on the seat warmers," Van Gogh whispers.

Kennedy finally looks away. He seems to snap back into reality, not knowing he'd ever left it. He starts the car and it spits to life. He revs the engine and it whirrs, comforting him with its eager lurching. Van Gogh watches JFK's hand as he presses some buttons, illuminating them green. A few seconds later, the bottoms of his thighs are warming up through his jeans.

Kennedy sinks his foot down onto the gas, oblivious to the fact that the accelerator might disturb Van Gogh's neighbours, some of whom go to sleep before 9:55pm on a Friday night. In the part of town where JFK lives, the lots are all so big that noises can't be heard from other houses. Gogh's street is jam-packed with families, stuffing their single-story homes full to the brim. Sometimes he envisions the buildings overflowing, flooding the streets with unnecessary as-seen-on-tv merchandise. Maybe that's something he'd like to paint one day, when everyone stops worrying about him and overanalysing his artwork.

JFK eases off the gas as they drift out of town, exploring the unfamiliar landscape. The night is somehow brighter out here, despite being away from all the motion and the lights. They drive up a hill, slowly, the car wheels gripping the asphalt cautiously. Kennedy pulls into a turnout, a barren overhang with a view of nothing for miles and miles spread beneath it. Kennedy turns off the car and the headlights die along with it. Van Gogh's head snaps in his direction, his chest welling up with fear. The height, the quiet, the darkness under the moon -- Kennedy doesn't do any of this. They sit on the floor of Van Gogh's bedroom when his parents are MIA. They do homework or stare at the ceiling as they listen to music from a record player. Gogh doesn't know how to be silent with his best friend -- not when they have no other task to be occupied by.

Van Gogh opens his mouth, his eyebrows heavy with concern. Kennedy starts to speak, as if on cue.

"Just breathe," he says, and it doesn't sound like a suggestion.

"It smells like nothing," Van Gogh replies after taking a deep breath.

"No," Kennedy says, shaking his head slightly. "It smells like our world."

Gogh's expression switches from vulnerable to critical. "Our world. Like we own it."

JFK turns to him. "We can. We do."

Van Gogh opens his mouth to respond, but he's cut off by his best friend again. He makes a low shhing noise without turning to his passenger.

Gogh stares out the windshield at the unfinished map beneath them, and he wonders where to begin. They have the whole world at their disposal. Van Gogh wishes he'd packed darts to throw at the map, so he could plan an unplanned trip.

From up here, he feels like he could touch the moon. He closes his eyes and relaxes in his seat. For a second, he does touch the moon.  

[bangtan-gal]

Rev Up

Han Jisung x Fem!Reader street racer!au  word count: 2.1k warnings: angst, swearing, blood, brief mentions of drugs, fluff, smut Requested

Masterlist

Your whole childhood, you’d been sheltered. You grew up with your parents constantly hovering over you. So when college came, you hit the ground running. Freedom and exhilaration were your drugs and you were addicted. And the biggest dose you could find was in Han Jisung.

You’d met Jisung your freshmen year. You had been trying to sleep before your final the next day, but he and a bunch of boys were making a bunch of noise outside your window. Simply put, you made quite a first impression on the boy. Throwing a neon pink, plastic hairbrush at him from your window and then marching down to the parking lot to retrieve it and give him a piece of your mind was quite the way to be memorable. From first sights, the two of you looked like you didn’t get along; but if people actually paid attention, they’d notice the odd chemistry that burned between you.

You hadn’t meant to become friends with the obnoxious blondie when you first met him. Actually, your first several interactions with the boy made you think he was the most annoying thing to exist. That annoyance led to a burning curiosity, and then next thing you knew you were at one of his races, your heart practically leaping out of your chest.

Now two years later the two of you were inseparable. Jisung would skip his classes to come to yours and you would ignore homework to be at his races. You weren’t dating. That was the most annoying thing about Jisung. He hated labels and didn’t seem to understand why you wanted an actual relationship out of… whatever was going on between the two of you.

It had started when Jisung asked you to ride in the car with him. He had started calling you his Lucky Charm and it only grew from there. It quickly became long nights talking about everything and nothing and nights that were full of kisses, giggles, and sly touches. Then one day you made the mistake of asking what the two of you were. He’d clamped up and ignored you for two days straight.

Friends had told you it would be best to drop his ass, but you found yourself unable to do it. You knew it was toxic, you weren’t stupid, but Jisung became your everything. Some said that you couldn’t tell the difference between an addiction and love, but you were certain Jisung wasn’t classified as that drug. Sure, he was the epitome of freedom and only had a wild side, but you’d dug deeper into him over the years and found yourself falling for the boy that lay underneath. 

Yet the problem was that life doesn’t always grant perfection.

It was cold and you hated sitting on the sidelines, shivering in your oversized hoodie. Jisung leaned against his beat up Mazda, sneering at the boy across from him. Minho, Jisung’s best friend, stood beside you, arms crossed as the argument went down. 

“How much longer are we gonna be here?” You grumbled.

“Believe me, I wish I knew,” Minho huffed, lighting a cigarette. This was the first time in months that you weren’t actually in the car with Jisung for his race. This was also the first time you found yourself not excited to be here. This was just plain stupid. A rematch because somebody’s ego got hurt.

“Why are you here?” You asked him, eyes looking at the empty sidewalks. Normally there would be small crowds, sometimes huge, to come watch. Today it was five of you: the two drivers, you, Minho, and the other guy’s supposed girlfriend. “Jisung’s my best friend, if he gets here, I have to be here, don’t I?” He huffed, taking a puff from his cigarette. “Why the hell are you here?”

Minho didn’t like you and he never tried to hide it from you. He’d treated you the same since the first day he met you: like a bump in the road. You never tried to make friends with him; he was stubborn and you had to just deal with it.

“I mean—you’re technically not anything to him, are you?” You smacked the cigarette from his hand, angrily crushing it under your shoe.

“Fuck off Lee,” you spat, moving away from him. Jisung glanced over his shoulder, smiling nervously at you. It made your heart warm and you smiled back, giving him a thumbs up. Then he slid into the car and started the engine.

There was no enthusiasm in Minho’s gait as he walked in front of the cars. He pulled his lighter and a small firework from his pocket. You flinched when it exploded and the cars zoomed off. 

This was why you liked to be in the car. Standing there in silence, watching as the cars disappeared around the corner, there was nothing entertaining about it. You felt like a loser standing alone at a party, but this time, it was just you and a guy you hated. Minho walked towards you, holding his phone up. You sighed when you saw that he was on the phone with Jisung.

There was no talking coming from the other end, only Jisung’s muffled breathing and the audible vibrating of his car. You held your breath, hands clutching one another in your pocket. You closed your eyes and for a moment felt like you were actually in the car. You could see the lights zooming by, feel the excitement in your stomach and the way the car rumbled.

“Holy shi—”

Your eyes flew open as Jisung’s voice crackled through the speaker. You knew what was happening before it did. Something screeched and then there was a loud crunch and a thud. You met Minho’s gaze and the two of you took off in the directions the cars had gone. They were at least several miles down the road but your fear was egging you on. The car came into view and the sight almost made you throw up. The front was completely crunched in and smoke was curling up from it and disappearing into the cold air.

Your heart pounded as you hurried to the door, ripping it open. You helped Jisung out of the car, struggling as he leaned against you. Blood trickled from his nose and down his lips. His eyes were half open and glazed over.

“Oh fuck,” Minho hissed, his eyes darting around. “Where’s the other guy?”

His car was nowhere in sight.

“Who cares,” you huffed, “just call an ambulance.”

Minho frowned. “But they’re illegally racing don’t you th—”

Jisung coughed and blood spattered across your front.    

“Fucking call them Minho! Do you want him to bleed everywhere?” You screamed. You felt like you were about to pass out as the boy quickly dialed 911. Jisung groaned, eyes fluttering open. His gaze swung back and forth and then managed to settle on you.

“I’m r-sorry Y/N,” he gasped. You shook your head, still struggling to hold back tears.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, nearly crumbling under his weight. Minho was struggling to describe where you were to the operator, but you were unable to help as Jisung met your gaze. His eyes looked completely clear and you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away.

“I love you,” he mumbled. 

You sputtered. 

“W-wha—”

“They’re on their way,” Minho interrupted. He was completely unaware of the moment the two of you just had. “Here, let me help.”

The boy took Jisung from you, easily supporting him. You stood there, arms hanging limp at your side and eyes focusing on nothing in particular. Han Jisung didn’t like labels. Han Jisung didn’t openly express his emotions like that. He especially didn’t just say ‘I love you’ out of the blue. Did near-death experiences really change people? But he seemed mostly fine and nowhere near death. 

Then again, Han Jisung didn’t follow any rules, not even his own.

🕱🕱🕱🕱🕱

By the next afternoon, you were back at your apartment. Jisung lay on your couch, snoring away. Minho was collapsed in the extra bedroom. You were exhausted as well, but you couldn’t sleep. Thankfully, Jisung hadn’t sustained a bunch of horrible injuries. Nothing was broken or internally bleeding. His ribs were slightly bruised and his face was scraped up a bit. You had probably overreacted, but it felt like your mind had short-circuited when you saw him in the destroyed car.

“Y/N.”

Jisung’s croak had you hurrying to his side. He smiled at you and sat up, yawning. 

“You’re okay?” You asked.

“Yeah, I am.” He met your stare. “I promise.”

“Thank god,” you sighed and then smacked his shoulder, “how dare you fucking just drop that statement as if you were about to die any second! Do you know how much that scared me? I thought you were going to actually di—”

Your voice cracked and you stopped yourself. Jisung’s eyes searched your face and then he reached for your hand. You tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip and his eyes begged you not to leave.

“Y/N… when I lost control of the car I felt like I could just see my whole life flash before my eyes. I have never been loved by anyone before and that has caused me to always cut people off at some point. Then I just realized that you’ve been here all along, glowing so bright in my dull world,” he murmured, “I truly do love you Y/N, I just suck at showing it.”

You smiled, your cheeks flushing at his words.

“That was really corny.”

Jisung kissed you, pulling you close to him. Your hands tangled in his hair and you let yourself fall away in him. His taste and smell was a perfect intoxication. You straddled his lap, pressing yourself further into the kiss. The two of you fell back and Jisung pulled back for a second, eyes glazed over as he smiled at you. 

“I wished I said it before,” he hummed. You chuckled and pressed your lips to his again in a quick kiss.

“We can’t base our lives off wishes.”

He hummed as you kissed him again, deeper this time. Things started to pick up the pace as both your shirts were tossed over your head and onto the floor. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw and then down your neck. Soft gasps were escaping your lips as his assault became harsher. His hips bucked into yours and you jerked against him. 

Jisung winced.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you muttered, pulling back, “you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine, I swear,” he stated. You pressed a hand to his ribs and he flinched again.

“Yeah, perfectly fine,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. You slid off his lap and sat on the other end of the couch. Your eyes dropped down to the obvious problem in his shorts. His mouth was slightly open, eyes focused on the ceiling.

“But if you relax, I can help you.”

He looked over just in time as you grasped him through his pants. A strangled, absolutely beautiful gasp fell from his lips and he rolled into your touch. You slid his basketball shorts and boxers off, mouth-watering as his cock sprang up. You knelt on the floor and gently wrapped your lips around his tip. 

“Fu-uck.”

You hollowed your cheeks and bobbed up and down. Jisung’s hand found its way to your hair and he groaned, tugging on the strands. You licked along the underside of his cock and then pulled off with a ‘pop!’ You grasped the base, meeting the blonde’s stare as you went down on him again. You forced him as deep as you could take him, gagging around his tip. 

His hips bucked up and a loud groan fell from his lips. You swallowed around him and watched through your eyelashes as his head fell back. His stomach started to tighten up and you picked up your pace. 

“S-shit Y/N!” He whimpered, hips momentarily retreating from your ministration and then bucked back up into your mouth. Jisung came with several quick gasps and you pulled back, his cum dripping down from your lips and chin. You wiped it off and then crawled back up onto the couch, gently laying down beside him.

“I think I forgot to mention that I love you too,” you murmured, tracing circles on his chest. 

He opened his mouth.

“Are you guys fucking serious? You couldn’t have taken it to the damn room?” Minho shrieked.

[waveridden]

FIC: there’s a red mark where my mouth should be

A Beauty and the Beast AU. Hadrian/Samot, Hadrian & Hella, 4.7k. Content warnings apply for semi-graphic violence, but nothing more dramatic than canon.

AUcember || read on Ao3

#

Hella says, “There’s a beast in the woods.”

Hadrian exchanges a skeptical look with Rosana - he doesn’t mean for it to be so openly dubious, but he can’t help himself. Hella isn’t normally prone to this particular kind of dramatics. When he looks back at her, she’s scowling at him. “A beast,” he says, just to be sure.

“Yes, a beast,” Hella says impatiently. “A lot of people have been saying it, way too many for it to be a coincidence.”

“Coincidences happen.”

“Not people talking about a giant wolf.”

“A giant wolf?” Hadrian repeats. “And you’re, what, going to kill it?”

“No,” Hella says, “we’re going to kill it. You’re my backup.”

“I’m retired.”

“I’m asking you to come out of retirement.”

Hadrian glances at Rosana. “I don’t-”

“We’ll talk about it,” Rosana says, voice so even and measured that Hadrian knows that she’s upset. “Thank you, Hella.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t serious,” Hella says, voice low. It’s as close as they’re going to get to an apology from her, Hadrian knows.

Rosana just nods. “Thank you,” she says again, and waits for Hella to leave.

Hadrian swallows. He doesn’t want to go. He’s retired. But he doesn’t want Hella to go alone.

Rosana looks at him as soon as Hella’s gone. “I won’t stop you,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to go.”

“I know,” Hadrian sighs. “I know. But I think I have to.”

“Okay,” Rosana says, voice soft. “Be careful.”

He takes her hand, squeezes it, lifts it to his mouth to brush his lips against it. “I will.”

  #

  He doesn’t hear what happens. Hella doesn’t even so much as scream. All he knows is that they split up for a matter of minutes and when he comes back to camp there’s blood in the snow, and a trail.

Hadrian follows the trail, because it’s Hella and he doesn’t have another choice. It’s not terribly long, maybe half a mile, and he can see footsteps in the snow alongside the pawprints. It doesn’t look like she was dragged or anything, and it doesn’t look like she’s bleeding out.

The trail ends at a dilapidated mansion, with countless claw marks gouged in the outside walls. Hadrian doesn’t know what kind of a wolf lives in a mansion, but he pushes the door open anyways. It creaks loudly, loudly enough that he figures any subtlety is gone, so he calls out, “Hella?”

“Hadrian,” Hella shouts, from far away. Something about her voice is too strained, too distressed, and it makes his heart clench.

Hadrian moves slowly through the mansion. It definitely looks like a wolf lives here: scratches on the walls and furniture, fur everywhere. Everything seems old, like it hasn’t been used in decades. It was clearly a home once, but it clearly hasn’t been in a long time.

“Hella!” he shouts again, and this time when she answers it’s easy to tell which room she’s in. He starts running, and he finds her in a bedroom, slumped against the wall. “Hella-”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she gasps, but she hugs him fiercely when he drops to his knees in front of her. There’s what looks like a bite in her arm, not so bad that she can’t move it but bad enough that Hadrian can feel blood seeping into his clothing, warm against his neck. “You should’ve-”

“I absolutely shouldn’t have.”

“It won’t let me leave.”

“We need to bandage your arm.”

“Hadrian,” she says pleadingly, and then stills. Hadrian turns around slowly.

The wolf is massive. Hadrian’s only seen a couple of wolves before, but either they were small or this one is exceptionally large. It towers over both him and Hella, kneeling on the floor.

“Let me help her,” Hadrian says. His voice shakes, and Hella grabs one of his hands. He squeezes it tight, clutching it close to his chest. “Please, let me fix her.”

The wolf growls loudly, warningly.

“It won’t let me leave,” Hella repeats, a strange note of despair in her voice.

Hadrian looks the wolf in its eyes. It looks back, steady and not nearly as animal as he would expect.

“If I stay,” Hadrian says, “will you let her leave?”

The wolf steps out of the doorway.

“Hadrian,” Hella says urgently. “Hadrian, you can’t, Rosana and Benjamin-”

“They’ll trust you to come find me, and so do I.”

“But-”

“You need medicine. You can’t stay here.”

“Can’t you help me and leave?”

“I can’t leave you here,” Hadrian says. “I can’t, Hella-”

She throws her arms around him again and exhales into his neck, and Hadrian understands. Hella doesn’t want to die here. He can’t say he wants to either, but he’s pretty sure he’ll be better off than her.

“I’ll come back,” she says. “I will.”

“I know,” Hadrian says.

  #

  The wolf brings him food. Animals it hunts and kills, mostly, but occasionally it comes back with things like loaves of bread and crates of vegetables.

“Are you stealing these?” Hadrian demands, the second or third time a crate shows up. The wolf just stares at him, and he shakes his head. “We can’t just take food for people. I can hunt and forage for myself-”

The wolf growls. Hadrian glares at it, even though that’s undoubtedly a foolish thing to do. “I’m not going to leave. I’ll just come with you or something. I’m not going to let you keep scaring people.”

And the strangest thing of all is: then he does. He gets to go with the wolf on a hunting trip, sword in hand, and bring back things that he foraged for himself. He doesn’t know what to make of that, of this strange, intelligent wolf. But he thinks that it might trust him.

  #

  The first dream happens a week after he gets to the mansion.

He’s in a version of the mansion, but this one hasn’t been ravaged by the wolf. In fact, it looks much newer than the real mansion. All of the furniture is brightly colored and whole, and the counters are unbroken and polished. He runs a hand along one of the walls, which is newly painted in an almost blinding shade of white.

“It’s beautiful,” says a voice behind him.

Hadrian whirls around. “Who-” he says, before his voice dies in his throat.

The man standing behind him is not tall, but he’s elegant, carrying himself with the posture of someone important. He has long blond hair past his shoulders that ripples when he tilts his head, a strange and analytical gesture. “You’re the newest one the wolf has brought,” he says.

Hadrian swallows. “I am.”

“Not injured, I hope.”

“Not at all.”

“Why have you stayed?”

“It won’t let me leave.”

“Hm,” the man says. “I suppose.”

“I haven’t seen you before,” Hadrian says cautiously.

The man smiles, there and gone in an instant. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. You’re dreaming right now. I don’t exist outside of these dreams.”

“Oh,” Hadrian says. “That’s… I’m sorry. That must be difficult.”

“It is,” he says. “I’m happy to have company again.”

“Has the wolf brought people before?”

“Not often. Not recently.”

Hadrian nods slowly. “My name is Hadrian,” he says. “I don’t know how long I’m going to be here. My friend is looking for me. She’s going to be back soon.”

“The mansion can be hard to find,” the man warns. “You shouldn’t expect her to be back soon.”

“I don’t. But I still expect her to come back.”

“You have that much faith in your friend?”

“Of course,” Hadrian says, surprised despite himself. This man doesn’t know Hella. He has no way of knowing her life with Hadrian, full of sparring sessions and quiet adventures and trying to find peace after they were done with violence. “Always.”

“Good,” the man says. The dream is beginning to blur around the edges. “You’re lucky to have that kind of faith in someone, Hadrian.”

“Wait,” Hadrian says desperately. The mansion is fading, but the man isn’t. “You didn’t say your name.”

He smiles. “I am Samot,” he says. “I hope to see you again soon.”

He wakes up with a gasp, reaching for his sword out of instinct. It’s there, albeit sheathed, and he ends up clutching at the hilt for a moment, trying to let the weight of it ground him. But it’s still hard to focus, because when he closes his eyes, he can see Samot’s smile behind his eyelids.

  #

  His days fall into a strange routine. He spends his mornings wandering the mansion, going everywhere except the places that the wolf tries to prevent him from going. He spends his afternoons with the wolf, sometimes on the mansion grounds and sometimes hunting. He’s getting really sick of simple meals, but he’s never been good at anything more complicated than he can make over a campfire. The mansion has a kitchen, but it’s dirty and out of use, and he never bothers cleaning it.

And his nights belong to Samot. It’s a strange situation, the pair of them. He doesn’t answer everyone of Hadrian’s questions, but he answers most of them. He’s an inventor who fancies himself a poet - or perhaps it’s the other way around, he says laughingly. He was married, although he doesn’t truly remember his husband or his son. He prefers red wine to white, and part of that is because he thinks the color of red wine is more romantic.

He asks about Hadrian, too, and Hadrian tells him about Rosana and Benjamin, about Hella, about living as a chaplain in a city with no real need for a chaplain. He talks about trying to learn to cook and almost burning the kitchen down, earning him a lifetime ban from Rosana. He talks about missing his son’s formative years during his time as an adventurer.

“Hadrian,” Samot says one day. “I have a question that I hope you don’t think is foolish.”

“I’ve asked you plenty of foolish questions,” Hadrian points out. The two of them are in the drawing room of the mansion. Samot doesn’t like it here; he thinks the decor is tasteless. Hadrian likes it because it’s the only place with room enough for both of them to sit together comfortably. “What is it?”

Samot sighs. “Why haven’t you just killed the wolf?”

Hadrian leans back, stunned. “What?”

“Think about it,” Samot says impatiently. “You’re waiting for Hella, who sounds like quite a daring woman, but you’re quite a daring man. It’s large and intelligent, but you seem like a capable man. You have your sword, you’ve told me the wolf hasn’t taken it.” He pauses, takes a breath.

There’s something he’s not saying. “What else,” Hadrian says, not quite a question.

Samot shakes his head. “I think the wolf is what is keeping me trapped here,” he says, with a strange, bitter rage in his voice. “I don’t know how, or why, or what magic it’s using. I don’t remember coming here. But it must be. And I am tired of being here, Hadrian. You must be too.”

“I am,” Hadrian says, and it’s not quite a lie. He misses his wife, his son, his life. “It… I’ll think about it.”

Samot snorts, a soft and familiar noise. “I understand your hesitation, but forgive me if I don’t excuse it.”

“I don’t need you to excuse it,” Hadrian says, more sharply than he intended. “I’ll make my decision in my time, on my terms.”

“As you wish,” Samot says, and Hadrian wakes up just like that, without so much as a chance to say goodbye.

  #

  There’s a room on the south side of the mansion that the wolf has never let Hadrian into. It’s a strange, arbitrary border, one that Hadrian is surprised that the wolf guards as zealously as it does, but he’s always respected it.

The morning after Samot asks him to kill the wolf, he goes to that room. The wolf doesn’t stop him; maybe it’s asleep, or maybe it doesn’t care. Either way, Hadrian pushes his way into the room, holding his breath every step of the way.

It’s a master bedroom, he can tell right away. It’s huge, and there’s a massive window letting sunlight in. It looks old, of course, but newer than the rest of the mansion. There are hardly many scratch marks, hardly as many rips in the upholstery.

There are photographs, too, which Hadrian notices with some surprise. They’re old and faded, but he picks one up to squint at it. It’s a picture of a boy, light brown skin and curly hair and a gap-toothed smile. It makes him miss Benjamin fiercely, so he forces himself to put it down.

The next one he picks up is a picture of a family, clearly taken for some kind of holiday. That same boy is there, a couple years older and teeth slightly straighter, a sardonic edge to his smile now, but still a smile. There are two men standing behind him, one hand on each of his shoulders. One of them is dark-skinned and broad-shouldered, with a warmth to his smile that Hadrian is fascinated by.

The other man in the photograph is Samot.

His hair is longer, and he looks so small next to the other man that Hadrian almost doesn’t recognize him. But it has to be him. He has the same eyes, and the same wicked tilt to his mouth.

There’s a rustling behind Hadrian. He’s not at all surprised to see the wolf standing there, looking at him. It whines, a strange and plaintive noise that he hasn’t heard before.

Hadrian swallows. “Samot used to live here,” he says, heart pounding. “He doesn’t even remember it. Why didn’t you want me to know?”

The wolf pushes forward, bending its head to push its nose into Hadrian’s hand. He runs his hand up its snout absently, resting it on top of its head. “Do you know him?” he asks tentatively, and the wolf makes a noise, almost like a snort. Almost like the noise that Samot makes when Hadrian says something foolish.

“Oh, fuck,” Hadrian says. “Oh, shit, Samot? ”

The wolf draws itself up to full height. Hadrian stares it directly in the eye, trying to make any of this make sense. “He asked me to kill you,” he says dumbly, and the wolf growls. “I mean, I’m not going to. Especially not now. Why doesn’t he remember in the dreams that he’s the wolf?”

The wolf makes a noise that Hadrian, frankly, can’t even begin to parse.

“Sure,” he says, because what the hell else is there to say? Samot is the wolf, Samot doesn’t know he’s the wolf, Samot was here and can’t come back. “Well… I have some things to think about.”

The wolf makes another noise and presses its nose against Hadrian’s other hand, where he’s still holding the family photo.

“That’s your husband and son,” he murmurs, and it’s not a question. Carefully, he sets the photo on the floor. “I’m going to… leave you to this.”

The wolf doesn’t respond. Hadrian leaves quietly, mind still racing.

  #

  “Have you thought about what I’ve asked?” Samot says as soon as Hadrian appears. The two of them are in the dining room today, glasses of wine already on the table.

Hadrian swallows. He’s been trying to decide all day if he wants to tell Samot about the wolf, if he wants to lie and say he’ll kill the wolf and make a run for it, if there’s a right answer to this at all. He’s beginning to think there’s not.

Samot arches an eyebrow at him. “Well?”

“I can’t,” Hadrian forces himself to say.

“Can’t?” Samot repeats incredulously. “And why’s that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell me?” He snorts, but it sounds like the wolf, and Hadrian flinches despite meaning to. Samot frowns. “What was that?”

“It’s nothing,” Hadrian says, too quickly, but that can’t be helped. “It’s - I need you to trust me.”

“You won’t tell me what’s happening.”

“Samot,” he pleads. “I can fix this.”

Samot looks at him. For the first time since they’ve met, it makes Hadrian feel cold.

“You had better have a good reason,” he says at last, and the mansion vanishes, and Hadrian is alone in his dreams for the first time in weeks.

  #

  The wolf is nowhere to be seen the next morning. Hadrian looks everywhere, even the bedroom on the south side of the mansion, but there’s nothing, not even a trail leading away from the house for him to follow.

So he leaves.

It is, he tells himself, for the best. He can’t help Samot from the mansion, neither the wolf nor the man. There’s something magical going on here, and he doesn’t know enough to break this curse. If he can get home, he can find Sunder and bring her here, or find someone else. But he can’t do anything himself.

He doesn’t have time to say wait around and goodbye to the wolf, so he leaves his sword instead. It’s a foolish move, probably, but he means it as a reminder. As a piece of himself. As a promise that he will come back.

He’s never had the best sense of direction, so he squints and figures out which way south is and starts moving. In the worst case, he’ll find a road to another village and make his way home.

The best case goes as follows:

“Hadrian?” Hella says, full of disbelief.

Hadrian whirls around. He hasn’t been paying as much attention as he should’ve been, instead thinking about wolves and beautiful men and trying to find a trail. So he didn’t notice that he was wandering towards a campsite. But he surely is, and it’s Hella there, staring at him, like she’s seeing a ghost.

He swallows. “Is your arm okay?”

“My arm? ” Hella shouts, and the next thing he knows she’s flying at him, squeezing him in the tightest hug she’s ever given him. “You asshole, I thought I left you to be eaten by a giant wolf, nobody’s seen you in a month-”

“A month?” Hadrian repeats. He supposes that makes sense, but it doesn’t feel like a month. “Hella, it- I need your help.”

She huffs loudly. “My help,” she repeats. “With what?”

And so Hadrian tells her. About the wolf, and the photographs, and the man in his dreams. She listens to him, brows furrowed, head tilted suspiciously.

“We have to save him,” he finishes, and then looks at her. She looks guilty. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what,” Hella says, but she’s stalling, he can tell.

Hadrian frowns and looks behind her. It’s definitely a campsite. In fact, it looks like a campsite far too big for one person. It looks like the kind of things soldiers would set up.

“Hella,” he says, dread building in his stomach. “What did you do?”

She looks at him fiercely. “I thought you were dead,” she says, soft and vicious. “I thought I left you to die. I thought this was going to be a mission for vengeance.”

“Oh, Hella,” Hadrian murmurs. He feels sick. “How many?”

“Only a dozen.”

“We have to help him.”

“Are you sure I can’t talk you out of that?”

“He was kind to me,” Hadrian says, and he’s not sure if he means the wolf robbing random people so he could eat or the man listening to him in his dreams. “He was good to me.”

Hella shakes her head. “Okay,” she says, and Hadrian feels warmed through. “Let’s go save the fucking beast, I guess.”

  #

  Most of the soldiers are already dead when they get back to the mansion. Hadrian doesn’t look too closely at the bodies, stepping past them towards the mansion. He can hear shouting.

“Stay behind me,” Hella snaps. She’d already laid into Hadrian for leaving his sword behind, and she was right. He misses the weight of it in his hand, and also the security of being able to defend himself.

They make their way into the mansion, slowly. It’s as dilapidated as ever, except for the fresh blood splashed on the walls and floor. It makes Hadrian feel sick. The mansion isn’t home, but it is Samot’s home, and it looks awful like this.

“Varal,” someone shouts, and Hella whirls, sword raised. It’s one of the soldiers, and he’s facing off against the wolf - against Samot. “Lend me a hand.”

“We were wrong,” Hella says, voice clear with conviction, and Hadrian’s heart aches with love for her. “Let him go.”

“He killed our men!”

“He killed your men. I think that means I get my deposit back.”

The soldier shouts wordlessly and charges at them. Hadrian bends down and picks up the sword from a dead man’s body - lighter than he prefers, but it’ll do - and shifts to a ready stance.

“Get the wolf out of here,” Hella says to him, and rushes forward.

Hadrian runs over to Samot. “Are you hurt?” he demands. Samot just whines at him, which isn’t a terribly helpful answer, but Hadrian can’t see any wounds. Only blood on his muzzle and in his teeth. “We have to get out of here.”

Samot starts towards the back door, and Hadrian follows him, sword at the ready. “Hella and I set a rendezvous,” he says, and he’s about to lead Samot away when suddenly the wolf begins growling next to him, looking at the shadows off to one side.

Hadrian whirls around and lifts his sword just in time to block a swing from another soldier. “Shit,” he gasps, but the soldier attacks again, and again. Samot leaps at them, but he can’t get too close; the sword flashes dangerously close to Samot’s underbelly, and that’s all it takes for him to back off.

Unfortunately, it’s also all that it takes for the soldier’s attention to shift. Hadrian can feel it immediately: the slide of attention from him to the giant wolf beside him. The soldier begins advancing towards Samot, and none of Hadrian’s desperate attacks seem to divert them.

From inside, Hella shouts something triumphant. Hadrian takes a deep breath and redoubles his efforts. “You can’t kill him,” he says, and it’s enough for the soldier to turn away. “You can’t.”

“Can’t I?” says the soldier, and charges. Hadrian lifts his sword, but it’s too slow, he knows it’s too slow. He takes a moment to be thankful that Hella won’t see this as it happens, and then the sword stabs into his abdomen.

Hadrian falls to his knees and claps his hands over his side, a weak attempt to staunch the blood flow. Distantly he hears the wolf howl, a vicious, mournful sound he’s never heard. He must close his eyes, because when he opens them he’s lying on the ground, and the soldier is gone.

“Hella,” he rasps, and then coughs. Everything tastes like blood. That’s not a good sign. “Fuck. Hella-”

“Hadrian,” a voice gasps. It’s not Hella’s.

There are dark spots at the edges of Hadrian’s vision, but he forces himself to turn towards the voice. It hurts so badly to move even that much that he gasps. He’s going to be unconscious soon, he can tell.

The last thing he sees is a man reaching toward him, a man with blond hair and blood on his mouth.

  #

  Samot is not in any of Hadrian’s dreams. He doesn’t know what to make of that.

  #

  Rosana says, “Next time, the answer is no.”

“Next time I’m not arguing,” Hadrian mumbles. Everything is hazy, and his side still hurts, but it seems like he must’ve been healed, at least partially. “M’I home?”

“We’re at Sunder’s.”

“Okay,” Hadrian says. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna live, right?”

Rosana’s face crumples, but she leans forward and rests her hand on Hadrian’s chest, over his beating heart. “Yes,” she says quietly. “Yes, love, you’re going to live. And I’m happy you’re home.”

“Me too,” Hadrian says, and closes his eyes. “Is Hella okay?”

“She’s fine. She and that man brought you all the way back here.”

Hadrian cracks one eye open. “Man?”

“Said his name was Samot.” Rosana arches an eyebrow at him. “He seemed very concerned about you.”

“Yeah, he used to be the beast,” says Hadrian. “I think he’s a little possessive.”

“Ah,” Rosana says wisely. He gets the impression that she’s laughing at him. “Well, I’m sure the two of you can talk after you get more rest.”

“I’ve spent so much time asleep,” Hadrian complains, but he’s already falling back asleep. “Rosana?”

“Yes, Hadrian?”

“I love you.”

Her palm presses down on his chest, firm and warm. “I love you too.”

  #

  When he’s healed enough to sit up, Hella comes to see him. She brings his sword and says “Never use this again, but also don’t leave home without it.”

“Thanks,” Hadrian says. “You made it out okay?”

She smiles. She looks exhausted. “Yeah, I did. You’re lucky your wolf-man knows how to dress wounds.”

“Rosana said he was a man again.”

“He is. I came outside and saw him trying to wrap your chest.”

“How?”

Hella shrugs. “I mean, magic is fickle bullshit, right?”

It’s such a comfortingly Hella thing to say that it makes Hadrian laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

“But it saved you, so I’ll put up with it for today.”

“Yeah,” Hadrian says. “Me too. Thank you for coming for me.”

“Always,” Hella says, and then pauses. “But don’t… do that again.”

“I won’t,” Hadrian says. He means it.

  #

  The last time Hadrian sees Samot is the first day he’s healed enough to be back on his feet. He’s walking outside Sunder’s house and finds Samot in the backyard, sitting on a lawn chair. “Hi,” he says, although it doesn’t feel like enough.

Samot smiles wanly. “Bed rest doesn’t suit you. It seems unnatural.” His tone is glib, but he sounds shaken, underneath everything.

Hadrian slowly lowers himself into the chair next to Samot. “You’re back.”

“I’m back,” Samot agrees. “It appears that my request that you kill the wolf was… hasty.”

“You made a guess based on what you knew.”

“I guessed wrong.”

“Did the wolf remember the dreams?” Hadrian asks, suddenly curious. “Did you know?”

Samot smiles, sad and gentle. “I remembered everything when I could not say it, and nothing when I could speak. You brought me back to myself.”

“I think you came back to yourself on your own.” Hadrian pauses. “I might’ve given you the push you needed, though.”

Samot doesn’t laugh at that. His eyes flick from Hadrian’s bandaged side to his own hands back to Hadrian’s face. “I would’ve liked to come back sooner,” he says, and Hadrian can hear the apology lying underneath.

He nods slowly. “I understand,” he says. “You’re not going to stay, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” Samot leans back in his chair. “Now that I have the memory and the means to travel again, I’d like to find my husband. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen him.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“I hear you won’t be travelling anymore.”

“I won’t.”

“A shame,” Samot muses. “He would like you. But I understand.”

Hadrian shifts to face Samot more fully. “Be careful out there,” he says. He doesn’t quite mean it to come out as a plea but it does, plaintive and low. “It’s not safe.”

Samot lifts both of his hands, slowly, to rest on both sides of Hadrian’s face. Hadrian closes his eyes. When Samot’s lips brush against him it’s gentle, barely a kiss at all, but it’s still there. His lips are warm, and soft, and Hadrian can feel Samot’s breath against his mouth as he says, “I know, Hadrian. My brave knight.”

“I’m not a knight.”

“Well, you’re my knight.”

Hadrian smiles and opens his eyes. Samot’s face is very close to his own, and his eyes are beautiful and sad and steady. He leans forward, just for a second, to kiss Samot more firmly. He knows, even now, that he will never have this again. So he might as well have it once.

Samot smiles and sits back in his chair, hands slipping down to fold in his lap. “Stay with me for a while,” he says. It’s an invitation, but it’s mostly a goodbye.

“I will,” Hadrian says, and he does.

[gffa]

Every time I try to sum up why I love STAR WARS fandom and the fic so much, I’m just sort of at a loss and can only flail wildly in the direction of about three dozen different fics to encompass everything that is just so good. Sometimes I want happy fic, sometimes I want fic that will break my heart further, sometimes I want to focus on the characters that don’t get enough story (LEIA ORGANA AND PADME AMIDALA BOTH DESERVE MORE STORY, ALSO PLEASE TELL ME MORE ABOUT APHRA AND BREHA AND MORE) or I want to roll around in shippy feelings, sometimes I want to read time travel fix it fic, sometimes I want a completely different universe! And Star Wars fic really provides so, so many different things, that there should hopefully be at least something for almost everyone, no matter what you’re here for! I have a lot of love for this fandom and I just want to share it with everyone! So, here, please read a bunch of fic and cry from feelings with me. STAR WARS FIC RECS: PREQUELS RECS: ✦ The Uses of a Sandwich by Laura Kaye (laurakaye), obi-wan & qui-gon & oc & cast, 17.6k    A few months after being taken as a Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi faces a challenge: meeting his Master’s first apprentice. ✦ Ghosts of the Present by randomlyimagine, plo & aayla & jedi & cast, 5k wip    Every single Jedi killed during Order 66 becomes a Force ghost, often before their bodies even hit the floor. ✦ Soaked by CJinn, obi-wan & cast, 1.8k    Little Obi-Wan Kenobi is left behind in the garden during a rainshower. Oneshot. ✦ Night Shift at the Temple by ReneeoftheStars, oc jedi & cast, 1.8k    A Jedi Temple Guard sees all, speaks to few, and has attachments to no one. One must be prepared for any threats that may arise, especially at night, while most of the Temple sleeps. ✦ Problems with the Neighbors by spaceyquill, obi-wan & ahsoka, 1.1k    Ahsoka visits Obi-Wan for the first time on Tatooine and gets wrapped up in a sudden scheme against the local Jawas. ✦ Frayed At The Edges by zed_pm, obi-wan & anakin, 1.5k    Anakin counts Obi-Wan’s wounds. ✦ Jedi of Light by Sannah, obi-wan/anakin/padme & mace & yoda & plo & even & jocasta & cast, 7k wip    Out of irritation with the war and with permission from the Council, several talk show hosts create a show that airs weekly about the Jedi. They name the show *Jedi of Light,* and go around following Jedi and asking them questions. ✦ Every Moment Points Toward the Aftermath by HiNerdsItsCat (HiLarpItsCat), obi-wan & anakin/padme & palpatine & mace & cast, 5.9k    In a strange sort of way, this is the story of how, in the final days of the Clone Wars, Mace Windu saved the galaxy by taking a nap. ✦ untitled by elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon, 3.1k    Anonymous asked: if you’re still accepting prompts: smol padawan obi-wan letting slip his law abiding exterior and letting loose the terrifying intensity beneath it. preferably in defense of qui-gon or something. ✦ Shadows of Dathomir by Artemis1000, asajj/padme, 3.5k    Hunted by the Emperor, Padmé Amidala needs a sanctuary for herself and her newborn twins. Asajj Ventress is an unlikely protector and Dathomir an even more unlikely sanctuary, but beggars can’t be choosers. It’s a sensible arrangement. Padmé certainly hadn’t expected that she would ever care so much. ✦ Falling Upwards by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 1.8k    He didn’t exactly remember how he ended up here. He remembered returning to the apartment after a long Council meeting. He remembered thinking about making himself some tea because of the headache that pounded in his skull. ✦ Sith of Old by esama, obi-wan & anakin & asajj & ahsoka & rex & asssassin’s creed characters, crossover, 22.6k wip    In which generals Skywalker and Kenobi investigate an Ancient Sith Temple and Desmond Miles isn’t really a Sith, promise. ✦ still burning by skatzaa, ahsoka/kaeden, 2.9k    “Sith spit,” she hisses, reaching out and jabbing at the far wall of the ‘fresher with her free hand until the water turns off entirely. The skin on her arm and shoulder is tender and inflamed when she steps out into the rest of the room, dripping water on the durasteel floor. ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, yoda & ellé & cast, 1.2k    Worried, Yoda is. Brought up a terrible thought, his conversation with young Skywalker and Tano did. ✦ yoda would vape send tweet by destiny919, yoda & mace, ~1k    A few years before even the Battle of Naboo, Master Yoda agrees to retire as Grand Master of the Order. ✦ To Live and Die and Live Again by AriesOnMars, ahsoka/barriss, 12.9k    Ahsoka has escaped from the Sith Temple with the knowledge of who Darth Vader truly is and she begins to seek help to understand what it was that could change him so completely. Intel leads her to believe Barriss is still alive and Ahsoka goes to find her, thinking that by undestanding her former friend’s fall from grace she can better understand her Master’s. ✦ The will of the Force by Lysore, obi-wan & yoda & qui-gon, 2.7k    Obi-Wan piqued Yoda’s interest early on, except the Grand Master of the Order had known for just as long that the Initiate was destined to be Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan. OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ Alcohol and demonic rituals don’t mix by anecdotalist, obi-wan/anakin, supernatural au, modern au, 1.4k    Written for the prompt: “Do you guys hear the demonic frat-chanting outside too?” ✦ Bedroom Hymns by JediMistress, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, spanking, bondage, bdsm, d/s, 16k wip    Anakin Skywalker is a young student with some kinky interests, and his search for a Dom leads him to Obi-Wan, a former professional. Obi-Wan has retired, but their purely professional kinky relationship changes the lives of both men. How long can they keep it professional? And what happens when they start falling for each other? ✦ One touch and I ignite by Paper_cut, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & padme & cast, nsfw, 59k    Anakin makes a bit different choices, and learns better communication. So does Obi-Wan. Eventually. ✦ Passionate Reunion by bluebell26, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.4k    Obi-Wan comes back to the Jedi Temple after a dangerous mission. In the privacy of their shared apartment, he meets with Anakin, with whom he shares a secret relationship, and passion ensues. ✦ Upfall by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & obi-wan/satine & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, 27.2k wip    Anakin is doing just about everything he can to hold himself together; it won’t last. ✦ Across the Darkness by xpityx, obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & clones & cast, 12.4k wip    Obi-Wan knew they had hit the temple’s inner security measures when Anakin went from calm to clutching both Obi-Wan and his lightsaber between one step and the next. ✦ Drums in the deep by liv_k, obi-wan/anakin & cast, 6.5k    On the inside, Anakin was devoured by his own inner fire. A moth to the flame, Obi-Wan knew that sooner or later he would be caught in the firestorm too. ✦ Maintenance by orphan_account, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, spanking, ~1k    Written for the FFA 1000 Prompt and Fill Fest. Obi-Wan ends up with Anakin over his lap and learns a new trick. ✦ Stability by SingManyFaces, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, mild d/s, mild bondage implied, ~1k    Anakin loves it when Obi-Wan quiets the noise in his head, Obi-Wan loves taking care of him after. ✦ You Don’t Know the Hair of the Dark Side by SmileAndASong, obi-wan/anakin & luke & leia, modern au, 3.5k    Obi-Wan comes home one night and discovers that Luke decided to give Anakin an impromptu haircut. Why? To defeat the dark side, of course. ✦ Penciling in sleep by anecdotalist, obi-wan/anakin, 2.6k    It’s two years after the Battle of Geonosis. Obi-Wan Kenobi is the Jedi War General and leads the GAR. Anakin Skywalker had just been Knighted 6 months ago after completing supplemental healer training under Master Che and is now the Commander of the Relief and Support Forces. He’s just returned from a trip and learned that Obi-Wan has not been taking care of himself so he takes matters into his own hands. ✦ untitled by subskywalker, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 1k    Obi-Wan kissed his shoulders as he settled behind him. “Oh, dear one, you’re so very beautiful like this. You’re such a good boy for me Anakin.” ✦ Rumpled Collar by Corde_And_Dorme, obi-wan/padme (/anakin?) & cast, white collar fusion, 3.4k    The White Collar! AU that absolutely NOBODY asked for except one Discord channel like… months ago. ORIGINAL TRILOGY RECS: ✦ cinched by spookykingdomstarlight, aphra & padme, 4.7k    The woman leaned forward and folded her hands over her knees. “What would it take? For you to tell me about him?” ✦ Coming Home by Ljparis, bail/breha & leia, 1.4k    Wherein Bail returns home to Alderaan from Coruscant and brings with him surprises for both his wife and daughter. ✦ Endings and Beginnings by AngelQueen, bail/brehan & leia & cast, 2k    Leia is four hours old the first time Bail holds her. ✦ The Forking Path by McBangle, obi-wan & leia & cast, 1.6k    Leia Skywalker had long known there was more to Ben Kenobi than her Uncle Owen had told her. Once she realized that her aunt and uncle didn’t want her to ask about the strange hermit, she was too stubborn not to track him down. ✦ The Joy of Cooking by victoria_p (musesfool), obi-wan & anakin & leia & kanan & finn, 1.5k    “Cooking is like flying. Once you’ve got the basics down, you just do what feels right.” ✦ Salvage by celeste9, obi-wan/owen/beru & luke, 1k    Luke takes to rescuing the abandoned droids of Tatooine, much to the perplexity of his guardians. ✦ At Sunrise on the Forest Moon by victoria_p (musesfool), luke & ahsoka, ~1k    She finds her way to Luke’s side at the site of Vader’s pyre, after the flames have died down to embers. SEQUELS RECS: ✦ Coins, Flasks, Sabers, Staves by Meggory, rey & chewbacca & r2-d2 & lando & maz & hondo & cast, 5.8k    Chewie and Rey set out from D'Qar to find Luke Skywalker, but that bantha’s arse can wait, because Chewie has something he has to do, first. ✦ a gate to many wonders by melannen, luke & yoda & han & anakin & ben & cast, force ghosts, 3.6k    Dying, for a Jedi Master in the line of Yoda, was a gentle thing. or “Hi, Not Listening To This Anymore,” Han said, appearing suddenly. “I’m dead.” ✦ Mother and Child Reunion by victoria_p (musesfool), leia & ben, 1.3k    “I’m your mother and I will always love you, but I can’t save you from this path you’ve chosen. Only you can do that.” ✦ out of the dust by maplemood, han & rey & chewbacca & ben, 3.1k    He drops by Jakku for a steal on old engine parts and leaves with a half-starved, more than half-feral child. FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE!

[bitterbetterbun]

Umber

[Pt.1/Day 1 of NaNoWriMo]

Klara laughed at the lighthearted response to her question. It wasn’t every night that she met someone still willing to hold fast to their sense of humor. She liked that about Jennifer. The sky began to brighten around them, the Sun calling for dawn over the hills in the distance. The wind that blew Jennifer’s hair into her face and wrapped it around her neck was lost on Klara. She wished she could feel it. Instead, she knowingly turned her attention to the train tracks behind Jennifer’s heels.

“I really enjoyed talking with you tonight.”

Jennifer smiled, the sheen of wet in her eyes showing the sincerity of her momentary happiness. Though Klara knew she was in no danger, she took a step back.

“So, Miss Lingston. How did you die?”

The roaring sound of a train horn came from behind Jennifer just as she stepped back onto the train tracks. Klara closed her eyes when the blaring lights came into sight, turning her head as she heard the all too familiar sound of metal going at 90 miles per hour obliterate flesh and bone within a millisecond. 

The soft sound of an alarm came over the loud whoosh of the train. Klara opened her eyes and stared up at her ceiling. She silenced the alarm and sighed.

“Another suicide.”

The wood floor beneath her feet as she got out of bed was a comfort she welcomed. It reminded her that she was awake, and in better cases, that she was real. Klara flicked on the TV as she made her way around her small apartment, readying herself. The newscasters voice came to life.

‘-has not yet been a full 24 hours since forty-seven year old Jennifer Lingston’s tragic accident and yet, hundreds of family members and friends have gathered to make sure she will never be forgotten. City council will be meeting in an hour to discuss the addition of a train track safety class in all school districts...’

Klara started up the shower, happy to drown out the robotic voice coming from her television. She stood under the stream of water, letting in encompass the whole of her body and wash away all of the vivid memories she had from the previous night. The worst part, she thought, was that they were not even her memories to begin with.

After her shower and another fifteen minutes of scrambling around her bedroom to dig out her sweaters, Klara was out the door. The scent of fall was in the air and she was all too ready for it. The beautiful leaves, crisp and nearly weightless, reminded her of an important recurring theme in her life. Death and the beauty within it. The leaves turn, ripen and wisen on their branches until it is their time to let go. Then they float down, like snow flakes, softly kissing the gound at the end of their decent. The allegory of it all was ironic to Klara. Perhaps we all do fly at the end of our lives. But Klara knew better. Flying and falling were two very different things.

Then there were the leaves that were picked off, their lush green lives taken from them prematurely. And the accidents, as well, the leaves blown off by the wind. That was the difference between humans and leaves. Most leaves fall when they were ready and the few rest come to and end of their cycles prematurely.

Humans almost never made it to the grave organically. The gust of wind plucking a healthy leaf from a branch could be the cancerous smoke from cigarettes that entered a man’s lungs. Everything about humanity was nearly inhumane.

Klara took a deep breath of the autumn air. Fall really was the most beautiful time of year. But no matter how she looked at it -- the crunchy leaves, the warm, earthy smells -- Klara couldn’t help but think about the fact that she was surrounded by death.

The bright sound of a bell rang as Klara entered a coffee shop. With a glance, she spotted who she was looking for and moved to join him.

“Morning sunshine,” Talbot welcomced Klara, never breaking eye contact with the newspaper in one of his hands, a coffee cup in the other.

“Morning.”

Klara set her bag and coat down in the chair across from his.

“Want a refill?”

“You know it.”

Klara took Talbot’s cup, returning shortly with it and one of her own.

“Train track safety classes,” Talbot tossed the paper to the side with a humorous grunt as he lifted his freshly filled coffee cup to his lips.

“But of course, using that money to teach kids about important things like, I don’t know, sex-ed maybe? Well, that would be atrocious.”

“No one wants to think about their kids fucking, Talbot, they wanna prevent their deaths.”

“STDs?”

After staring at Talbot with concern, the two friends broke out in laughter. If there was anything they agreed on, it was everything.

“Tal, did you know doctor visits from STDs directly fund the golden toilet seats in the White House?”

“You’re wrong, Klara.”

Talbot took a sip of coffee, lowering lifting his brows.

“They fund the man that wipes the shit off of the President’s ass.”

“Jokes on you!” Klara slammed her hands on the table in victory as she leaned forward.

“His is only doing his country’s duty so he isn’t even getting paid.”

“Did you just say ‘duty’?”

The two laughed again as Klara kicked Talbot from underneath the table. Though the coffee shop was small, its environment seemed to welcome people like Klara and Talbot with its  private tables and warm and cozy atmosphere. Talbot smiled at Klara, glad to see the life back in her eyes after a fit of laughter. He could only imagine what she must have gone through last night. He leaned in to speak softly.

“So?”

“Another suicide.”

“How do you know?”

“Like I know every time,” Klara propped her chin up on a fist, “she told me.”

Talbot nodded, sitting back as she assessed the information from his friend. He leaned in again.

“Klara, how long do these dreams usually last?”

“I don’t know. Time is weird in dreams. Sometimes it can feel like I’m there, living their whole life with them. Other times, it goes in a flash. All I know is they all have one thing in common.”

Talbot tapped the front page of the newspaper on the table, “That they all died the day before.”

“Ugh.”

Klara put her hands over her face, rubbing her eyes in tired, circular motions.

“This is all too weird.”

Talbot grabbed hold of one of her hands, pulling it from her face.

“Let’s be fair, klar,” he stroked it while tenderly looking her in the eyes, “you were weird before this phenomenon.”

Klara snatched her hand, giving him a sly ‘whatever’ smile. He knew just how to make her feel better. That’s why he had become the only person she could trust when it came to things she couldn’t understand.

“Think of it as like some sort of power, hm?”

Klara sipped her latte, mulling it over.

“It can’t be a power. It’s not like I can save any of these people. They come into my dreams after they’re already dead.”

“Who said everyone with powers has to be a hero?”

Damn, Klara thought. He had a point.

“Fine.” 

She sat back, lifting up her chin.

“Then tell me, oh wise sir, what shall I do with this... spectacular talent?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask.”

Talbot slammed his laptop onto the table, the browser page open and ready. Klara jumped in surprise.

“Did you have that waiting under the table the whole time?”

“Read it.”

Klara rolled her eyes, fixating her gaze upon the screen. She looked from one striking word in the article to the next, pinning phrases in her mind; fortune teller, witch, speaker of the dead.

“You want me to be a wacko physic?”

“I want you to make yourself some money.”

Klara’s brows lifted in curiosity. Talbot took that as a sign to continue.

“You don’t have to tell people their futures, the exact opposite really. Connect with the families that lost a loved one and give them some clarity and closure.”

Talbot clicked to another tab full of information on the topic.

“It won’t be like you’re taking advantage of families that lost someone dear to them because it’s true, you actually do see these people. You charge for your service, that’s all. And-”

Klara gently closed the laptop, abruptly stopping Talbot in the middle of his prepared speech. As if reading her mind, he knowingly rubbed the back of her hand with his.

“I hear you, Tal. It’s a good idea. I mean, I am poor.”

“You are poor, oppressed and a POC which basically screams ‘steal from the rich’ if you ask me.”

Klara sighed out some laughter.

“True. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to let the world know about all of…” she gestured to her head, “this yet.”

“I get that.”

Talbot grabbed both of her hands, looking his friend in the eyes.

“Drinks.”

Klara smiled, “strong drinks.”

She found it silly, being able to find comfort in another person when the thing she feared the most was within them all. Her whole life was turning out to be a contradiction. But perhaps, she thought, she was looking at it wrong. A gust of wind blew a pile of pumpkin stained and maroon leaves around outside. Perhaps it wasn’t a contradiction but that one thing complimented the other. Death was not to be feared, it was a thing to be accepted. It was a thing of beauty. And as brightly as life shone throughout all of them -- the buzzing sounds of a coffee shop, the pitter-patter of people hurrying to work outside -- death was in them all. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps knowing that one day will be your last, it would help a person to live each day as just that -- their last. Or, in contrast, the pressure could make that same person end it all before something else had the chance. 

Klara shook her head. She was thinking too much again. Her thoughts were not her own nowadays, and she found herself analyzing every aspect of life as it is and after its course. She was aware she was no philosopher but she sure felt like it, sometimes. But though another may have a different take on the prospect of life and death, one thing would always remain certain. 

Death was inevitable.

The two gathered their things, Klara wrapping herself up in a thick knitted scarf as they headed out for their next stop.

[deanswinchcster]

She had a sister.

// While investigating an unusual murder the boys find out Charlie has a younger sister which just so happens to be the reader.

This will be a series so be prepared for more parts.

Paring: Eventual Jack x Reader.

Warnings: Mild swearing, some blood. Nothing unusual for supernatural.

Credit: to the creators of the gifs I've used. You guys are amazing.

(I know I’ve been gone a while, somethings have happened in my life but everything has been sorted and I’m back to write more stories for you guys. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing)

College was rough. At only 19, you were on your last year. Apparently the Middleton family had brains. From what you knew, your sister had a high IQ as well. You would have finished university a few years ago had you not taken some time off to 'find yourself.' Whatever that means.

Being dumped in the foster system as a baby meant that you sometimes struggles making any connections with people. You had always closed yourself off and stayed quiet as some form of protection. Everyone you loved either died or left. You had never been in a home with a real family for longer than a month. They told you that your intelligence frightened them but you had started to doubt that a long time ago.

When you finished high school at 12, you were set to go to college and for a month, you did. You tried to block out your emotions but loneliness always crept in so you stopped your education for a while. At 14, you tried again but there was no point. You didn't feel connected to anything you were doing.

At 18 once you had left the foster system, you had managed to afford an apartment with the money your family had left you but you weren't rich by any means so you had a room mate.

Nina Kelly was a sweet, kind girl and she had managed to form a friendship with you when you thought you were incapable for being liked. She was the one that convinced you to go back to college and this time it stuck. She was the same age as you and you had been studying law together, but you had managed to surpass her by a few years. Unlike most, she wasn't jealous. Only ever supportive.

So imagine your shock at finding her cold, dead body on the floor of your apartment after coming back from classes last night. You were devastated.

Maybe it was you. Perhaps you were cursed.

It sure felt that way.

Since your apartment was an active crime scene and you had already been questioned by officers, you were staying in a run down hotel room. And the last thing you had been expecting was a knock on your door so early in the morning. Not that it woke you up. You hadn't even bothered to change out of your bloodstained sundress dress, let alone think about sleeping.

With a heavy sigh, you heaved your body from the floor by the side of your bed and walked over to the door, pulling the handle down and opened it slightly to reveal two men you had never seen before. One extremely tall and the other a good amount shorter but still taller than you.

When the figured you weren't planning on speaking, they looked at you through the small crack and the shorter one began to talk. “Y/N Middleton?”

“Depends on whose asking.” Your phone had been blowing up all day with news outlets wanting a story on the mystery murder of your best friend. The last thing you wanted was to be questioned by someone wanting to make a entertainment out of your misery.

“FBI. I'm detective Mercury and this is my partner detective May.”

They both pulled two badges out of their pockets and flashed them in your direction. Maybe not the best idea. You were smart, from a mile away you could see how ridiculously wrong they had gotten certain aspects of the badge. Granted most people could probably be fooled by it but not you.

“Okay, first of all, Mercury and May? As in Freddie Mercury and Brian May from Queen?” Their jaws dropped and you couldn't help but question why. Did they think you wouldn't be able to crack their code? Or hadn't they expected someone so young to know classic rock bands? Either way you weren't in the mood for their bullshit. You were already having a rough day. “And secondly, those are so fake. Go away.”

Just as you were about to slam the door in their faces, a foot came between the crack and forced it open. Both men's eyes widening when they caught sight of your tired eyes and the dry blood on your skin and dress. You were a mess and you knew it but you didn't count on company so soon.

“Okay Carrie...” How original. “we're just here to help, that's all.”

“Oh please, if you wanted to help you would leave me alone.” Gathering they weren't leaving, you took a step back as they walked in and you sat on the edge of your bed.

“Excuse my brother, he seems to have forgotten his manners but I'm Sam and this is Dean...” Why did those names seem so familiar to you? “we're just trying to help, we know all about Nina but we want to hear from you what happened. We're not trying to cause any trouble for you or anyone in this town, we're trying to prevent it.”

Though your mind was telling you to stay away from these people, you felt as though you could trust them. The sincerity in the taller one's eyes filled you with the comfort that you had been missing for as long as you could remember so reluctantly you looked in their direction and nodded your head along.

“Okay... what do you want to know?”

After a few questions about what was happening that night, any strange behaviour, any one who would want to harm Nina and the rest of the random bullshit you had already answered to the real cops, a question came up that immediately grabbed your attention. “Did you smell sulphur at all?”

“How did you know that?” For the first time that morning, genuine curiosity flickered across your face. “I tried to tell the cops but they said it was nothing.” By the looks on their faces, it most definitely was not nothing. They looked at each other and sighed, turning towards the door.

“Hey! I was talking to you, I have a right to know what's going on.”

Just when you thought they were going to leave, the two brothers stopped abruptly and turned in your direction. The taller one, who seemed to be the sweeter out of the two, looked at you with sad eyes. Great. You had been given that luck your entire life and just when you had gotten rid of it, someone else in your life had to die to return it to everyone's face. This isn't what you wanted. “Look, it's complicated. We'll be back to talk to you soon. Why don't you take a shower and change your clothes?”

That would have been a great idea, but you get what you pay for unfortunately.

“I would, but this place doesn't have a shower... just the basics. This disgusting bed, with sheets that look like they haven't been changed since 1942 and a toilet and sink in the bathroom.” It wasn't like you would be staying long anyway. Once your apartment was no longer an active crime scene, you would move back in.

In the mean time you would shower at the gym or something. You would figure it out.

“Jeez kid. Don't you have any family to stay with?” It shocked you when the one Sam referred to as Dean looked at you with concern.

You shrugged your shoulders and began to talk. Telling the same story you had recited a hundred times over. “No. My parents died in a car crash when I was a baby and I haven't seen my sister in years. God knows where she is know.”

The boys looked at one another and you observed them, almost instantly noticing when their eyes grew larger. It felt like they knew something you didn't. They were keeping something from you and you were determined to find out what. However before you could so much as utter a word, the kind one started to speak again.

“You can stay with us until you can get back to your own apartment.” Sensing your apprehension, he continued his talk, trying to sell you on his idea. “Come on, we have spare bedrooms and a shower that you can use. It's better then this dump and we're only trying to help.”

On paper this was by bar, the worst idea in the entire world. Leaving with two strangers after your best friend had been murdered. For all you knew, they could be the two responsible for her death. They were certainly mysterious enough for that. After weighing in your options, you nodded your head and agreed. It wasn't like you had anything to lose. If they were to kill you, maybe that would be more of a blessing then a curse.

“Great.” He smiled, although it was somewhat reluctant. “You change out of that..” He signalled to your blood stained outfit and you couldn't blame him for wanting you out of it. You probably looked like a deranged killer yourself. “and we'll wait for you outside.”

Just like he promised, the boys left the room as you pulled some clean clothes from the duffel bag you were able to fill before you left your apartment.

“Seriously dude.” Dean hit his younger brother's shoulder and looked over at him with narrow eyes.

“I know you're thinking what I'm thinking to Dean.”

The Winchester's looked at one another, having a silent conversation with their eyes. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Surly they would have already known who you were if it were. Shaking his head, Dean sighed and ran his hand over his tired face. He didn't want to believe it.

“Y/N  Middleton? Her parents were killed in a car crash when she was a baby and she hadn't seen her sister in years. The red hair... come on Dean” It all added up. Seeing his brothers apprehension, Sam asked a question he knew Dean would answer. “What was Charlie's real name again?”

“Celeste Middleton.” He gruffly replied, narrowing his eyes at his brother. “Damn it, fine! I just hope she hurries up. You stay here and I'll phone Jack and Cas... warn them about this whole situation  and see if Castiel can figure out who this demon is.”

The drive to the brothers home was longer than you would have likee, but Dean's constant need to play his classic rock made the situation bearable. You hadn't wanted to talk to either of them though so if they ever turned back to check on you or attempted to ask you questions, you pretended to be asleep to avoid it. Though it was the furthest thing from your mind, your body was tired and you weren't sure how long you could stay awake now.

It had been at least two and a half hours until Dean pulled up to the side walk. Looking out the window towards the creepy looking building caued your eyebrows to furrow in confusion at the strange sight. It looked as though no one had lived here for years.

Perhaps you were going to get murdered after all.

“This is where you live?” You questioned, stepping out of the car as the same time as the brothers. The spoke up in confirmation and you went back to being quiet, reflecting over the last twelve hours of your life.

You were still so confused, so heart broken and angry but you never let anyone see how you truly felt. There was no point. Emotions were personal and you didn't trust yourself to be vulnerable around anyone else. Being close to someone just opened opportunities to break you once more and you weren't sure how much more you could be broken down until you gave up. Instead, you kept a smile on your face, a cold exterior and hoped that everyone would leave you alone.

Dragging your body from leaning against the car, you reluctantly followed the men to the door and though you were shocked by the size of their home, you hadn't allowed it to show on your face while trailing a few feet behind them.

While you remained quiet, you heard voices down the halls and then Sam and Dean joined in the conversation as you entered what looked like a kitchen. Instead of getting involved and speaking to the two strange men you had yet to be introduced you, you leant against the wall and watched from a distance.

The youngest out of the bunch seemed to stare at you and you couldn't help but feel paranoid as to why but like always, you didn't let it get the best of you and kept silent. He was probably weirded out by the blood covering your skin which had you thinking, you really wanted to wash it off.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, you hadn't realised the person that was staring at you before had stepped closer in your direction. “Hi, I'm Jack and that's Castiel.”

It wasn't hard to see that he was harmless, a small smile played on his features and even if you knew deep down he was just trying to be nice, you wouldn't allow him to get close. You couldn't handle it again.

So you did what you had to do and ignored the boy, trying hard to ignore the way your stomach flipped at you doing such a thing. “Sam, can I have a shower now?”

Since he was the one you trusted the most, you knew it was better to ask him. He had a kind aura and caring eyes. He made you feel safe and although Dean didn't really scare you, you felt as though you were more a bother to him then you wanted to be so Sam was the way to go.

Ignoring Jack's wondering eyes, you followed the younger Winchester down the hallway until you came across the bathroom.

“Towels are in cupboard below the sink, you can use my shampoo and stuff.” Giving him a grateful smile your gaze wondered with his movement as he walked towards the door. “Oh and before I forget, your room is directly opposite, you won't have to go far.”

“Thank you.” He silently left and you locked the door behind him, letting your bag fall from your shoulder to the floor. Your entire body still in a state of shock, you had yet to cry but maybe you never would. Maybe you had cut yourself off from your emotions so much that your body just couldn't produce tears any more.

You wished that was the case but you could feel them fighting their way to the surface. You were stronger though and wouldn't let them win.

After stripping of your items of clothing, you had the longest shower in history, scrubbing away at your skin until it turned red to ensure that you had every inch of blood removed from you. Even then you still didn't feel clean. You could still feel the blood tainting you. Just like Sam had suggested, you helped yourself to his shampoo, and though it wasn't the usual floral scent that you were use to, it still smelt incredible. The shower gel wasn't sweet smelling either but it was comforting to say the least. You weren't about to complain.

Once you had finished, you stepped out, dried yourself off and wrapped a fluffy towel around your naked form before grabbing your bag, opening up the bathroom door and heading straight towards the room Sam had told you would be yours for the next few days.

Being sad was one thing, showing it was another. You wouldn't allow yourself to be vulnerable. So to deceive the boys you dressed like always. Some skinny fit black jeans, matched with a crop top swearer and a leather jacket carelessly thrown over the top. You didn't take long on your make up but you still made yourself look presentable and quickly curled your signature red locks with the curling wand you had managed to take from your apartment while packing your clothes and make up. One look the mirror and you decided that you looked fine, hopefully now no one would ask you how you were. If you looked fine, they would think you were fine.

The hardest thing to do was pull yourself together when you felt like falling apart but you didn't need sympathetic smiles and sad eyes looking in your direction every ten seconds. Over the years you had become an expert and even though you had allowed yourself to function normally for the past year, you hadn't forgotten how to do it.

Brushing the curls behind your ear, you walked from your room down the hallway and followed the sound of familiar voice to what looked like a library. “Hey.”

The men turned in your direction and you could see their shock at how well you had managed to pull yourself together. Hell, if they had walked past you in the street they never would have known you had faced a tragedy not even a day ago.

“Are you alright?” The one you knew to be Castiel asked causing you to inwardly roll your eyes.

You probably seemed like the biggest bitch in the entire world but it's what you need to do to keep people away. These weren't just people though, they wanted to help you. Well, Sam and Dean did and you supposed that this trench coat wearing man only wanted to do the same. Guilt would eat you alive if you just ignored him, he seemed genuinely curious as to how you were. So after giving him a reassuring smile you spoke up. “Yeah, I'm fine, thank you.”

Dean and Castiel went back to reading a giant book on the table, Sam looking at his laptop while Jack sat in the corner of the room looking up at you. They all had things they seemed to be doing and you knew that involved finding the person that killed Nina. How they were going to do that you had no idea, they were regular humans with no power over peoples actions, and even if you knew your intelligence could be used to their advantage, your mind was completely jumbled at the moment so you decided to leave them to it.

“Do you have a TV I could watch?” A distraction more like it.

Sam looked up from the screen and nodded his head, pointing in the direction of another room. This place was huge. If you were alone, you were sure you'd get lost in it.

After shuffling into the room, you flung yourself down on the couch and instead of watching the TV like you had planned, you looked around. Only you weren't alone for long. Pretty soon the youngest of the men had entered the room and taken a seat beside you.

There was something about Jack. You couldn't exactly put your finger on it but just by looking at the goofy smile on his face you could tell how innocent he seemed, how pure he looked. Maybe he didn't get out much. You envied that.

Once he realised neither of you had spoken, he looked into your eyes and spoke with such sincerity you could have broke. “I'm really sorry about your friend.”

Instead of allowing your emotions to get the best of you, you decided to pretend not to care. Leaning your elbow on your knees, you leant your head against the palm of your hand and looked over at him. Though you tried your hardest, your eyes showed your pain but you hoped he wouldn't notice. “Why? It's not your fault.”

“I know.” Good. Maybe now he would leave you alone. Only he didn't, he continued to speak to you, like you had known him for years. “You seem sad, almost like there was a spark surrounding you before but it's fizzled out. You're not happy I don't like when people aren't happy so I'm sorry.”

Your eyes softened. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offered but that was the last thing you wanted to do.

“No.”

“That's okay.” God, why did he have to be so understanding? “You wanted to watch the TV, right?” You nodded your head. Quite frankly a distraction would be much appreciated. Even if it didn't become a distraction, background noise was better than silence. “I usually watch Scooby Doo but you can put on whatever you want.”

A soft laugh came from you. Jack looked close to your age and you were shocked he watched it so regularly. Not that you could blame him, it was an awesome show. You watched it as a child constantly. “Scooby Doo? I haven't watched that in so long.”

“It's my favourite.” He exclaimed, his eyes bright and happy as he spoke. “Should I put it on?”

For some reason, you couldn't say no. He seemed so excited about the cartoon, there was a light in his eyes that you wished you had and never wanted him to lose so you found yourself nodding in his direction and gave a sad smile as his grin widened. “You have a nice smile.” You complimented, finding it almost cute as a soft blush came over his cheeks.

Once the show was clicked on, Jack became engrossed in the storyline and laughed occasionally at something stupid Shaggy or Scooby were doing. You however had completely tuned out. Your wondering eyes caught sight of a few photo frames sitting across the room with the faces of the boys you had recently met. Some smiling, others not but all showed love.

This was family, this was friendship. Something you no longer had, something you craved but something you knew could destroy you in a minute. Without realising you had allowed it to happen, tears began to back their away down your cheeks.

You didn't know when it happened or why but pretty quickly Jack had wrapped you up in his arms, your head resting against your chest as silent sobs came from your body. His hand soothingly rubbed up and down your back in attempt to calm you down. He was so sweet and somehow it just felt right. You didn't wanted to be anywhere else. “Don't be sad, you have us now.” He was trying to calm you but it was doing the opposite.

You couldn't get close to another person. You couldn't! You wouldn't! Even if you desperately craved to have someone you wouldn't have to worry about losing you knew it wasn't possible. You were better off staying away from people. And sadly that included Jack.

“No, don't... I'm sorry.” You pulled back from his comforting embrace and looked up at his concerned eyes. They looked so worried but you could also see the sadness that you had caused by pulling away. You were an awful person. “I'm going to bed.”

Quickly standing on your feet, you hurried across the room only to come to a complete stop when your eyes caught sight of a picture frame of Dean and a familiar red head. Without hesitation, you picked it up and stared for a few seconds. “Celeste?”

[howlnikiforov]

Trespass

Chapter Nineteen: Guilty

Pairing: Hyungwon x Reader

Word Count: 1924

Summary: You would think that one would be able to trust their soulmate, be able to love them unconditionally, and know them better than yourself. But that isn’t always the case. Who was H.One, and why did the universe think you could be soulmates?

WARNINGS: Abuse, swearing, mentions of blood

Trespass Masterlist

Hyungwon stared outside the window, watching as lightning struck in the sky, listening to the crashes of the thunder sound. He hated himself. He had pledged to be there for you during every thunderstorm, no matter the time of day, or where you were at. Yet here he was, standing outside his bedroom window, doing nothing.

He knew, that wherever you were right now, you were suffering; he could feel it. You were in pain, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had no idea where you were, what was happening to you.

He picked up the empty vase on his nightstand and threw it across the room in anger and frustration. The only lead he had was that it was Youngjae who took you, and that Youngjae was working with YG.

The vase shattered the second it made contact with the wall. The shards of glass fell to the floor with a clatter, but Hyungwon didn’t care. Kihyun was getting pissed because of all the glass he’s been breaking, but his friend didn’t say anything. No one dared talk to Hyungwon unless it was necessary. The last man to talk to him about something that didn’t require his immediate attention lost an eye.

A particularly loud boom shook the house, and Hyungwon knew that that was your limit. A second after that crash the bond felt off in a way, the pain in his arm spiked, and the colors around him seemed to dull. The moment he realized the colors had marginally faded, his heart stopped. Something life threatening had happened to you. It killed him, not knowing what was going on with you.

He punched the wall, a hole slightly larger than the size of his fist forming. Whatever Youngjae was doing to you, he’d pay the price for it. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the man that took his soulmate, claiming her as his own. He wouldn’t rest until he made sure Youngjae knew the extent of his transgressions.

The door to his room opened, but before Hyungwon had time to throw something at the intruder, Changkyun said, “Boss, I think I’ve found the van they used.”

Hyungwon stopped short, letting the knife he held fall back into his pocket. “Show me.”

He followed his hacker down to the basement, where all the technology he could possibly need was located. On various computer screens were pictures of a single van, all from different angles. “It took awhile, but I was able to find the van on CCTV seven miles from her apartment.” He explained, “I’m still working on getting a clear, distinct picture of the license plate, but for now, we’ve got the van. If you look at this picture,” He pointed to one of the monitors on the left, “You can just barely make out Youngjae in the driver’s seat.”

Hyungwon leaned forward, squinting his eyes at the screen. He was almost certain that was Youngjae. “Do we know where the van went?” He asked, staring intensely at all the other screens.

“No, but get this. Just a day after the incident the van is seen again, going out of town.” Changkyun pulled up a new set of pictures and video clips, allowing Hyungwon to view each one of them. “It seems like they may be going to an abandoned sector. I’ve looked into the ones we’ve already identified, but they’re not there. They must have more hidden lairs we have yet to discover.”

“Have you told anyone else?” “No sir. I knew you’d want this information the second I got it.” “Yes, that is correct. I’ll start sending groups of men out to scope any areas outside of town. Prepare any equipment they may need to take with them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hyungwon turned on his heel and left to go back upstairs. He immediately called for thirty of his men, telling them to prepare to leave in pairs to scope out new areas and look for clues.

The pain in Hyungwon’s arm was never ending, but he’s begun to learn how to deal with it. Some days were better than others, but for the past week everything has been filled with agony. Sometimes it was too much to handle, and he’d lock himself up where no one could get to him, where he could let it all out. It hurt, you having been forcefully taken from him. He despised himself for a number of reasons. He failed at keeping his promise to protect you, to keep you safe. He failed at always being there for you, at keeping a watchful eye on you. He failed at keeping his promise to be there for you when you needed him. He failed at finding you in a timely manner. He failed in everything. He had thought that by now, he would have gotten to you. But it was only now that he was getting a lead. He’s failed you in so many ways, he wouldn’t be surprised if you never forgave him. He wouldn’t forgive himself.

At most, it’d take his group of men a few hours to gather any information. He prayed that they’d find something, even if it was the smallest thing. He was going crazy, not knowing where to even begin to start finding you. To make things even better, your father had begun to search for you because Sohyun reported you missing, so he now had to skirt around everything to avoid running into him.

He paced the room, chewing on the nail of his thumb. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Minhyuk come into the room. Minhyuk put his hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump and stiffen, ready to fight whoever it was. He relaxed when he saw it was Minhyuk. “What?” He managed to croak out.

“You gotta come eat. Kihyun made some soup.” He said, glancing about the room. “I see you broke another vase.”

“I’m not hungry.” Hyungwon stated, continuing his pace around the room.

“Hyungwon, you need to eat. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“Yeah, because I’m not hungry.” “How do you expect to fight Youngjae if you don’t have the strength, because you’re not eating?” Minhyuk didn’t want to play that card, but it seemed he had no choice.

Hyungwon ran a hand through his hair, huffing in frustration. Minhyuk was right, he needed to have energy to get to you. “Fine, I’ll eat.” He relented.

Minhyuk grinned, and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the room and down the stairs to the dining room.

“Oh, Hyungwon, I was worried you wouldn’t come down.” Wonho said, looking up from his laptop screen.

Hyungwon merely rolled his eyes, and sat at the head of the table. Jooheon bounded into the room, a wide smile on his face. “Guess who just bribed a bunch of guys to spy on YG and infiltrate his men?” He announced, “Me! Oh the things people will do for money. It’s quite funny really.”

Hyungwon felt a sense of pride in the man, ecstatic to hear the helpful news. “How much are you giving them?” He asked.

“Well, there’s five of them. I started them off with two-fifty grand, and told them I’d give them an extra twenty grand with each useful piece of information. They think that by the end of it all they’ll be billionaires, but I was bluffing about that part. They’ll probably die soon anyways.” Jooheon informed. Everyone in the room nodded in approval.

Right now, everything seemed to be working out well. If they kept up their pace like this, they’d find you soon. Hopefully the men Jooheon employed would be successful, and hopefully the men Hyungwon sent out would find something.

Suddenly, food seemed more appetizing, and Hyungwon was able to realize just how hungry he really was. He nearly scarfed down the soup Kihyun put in front of him, burning his tongue in the process.

The bad news came after dinner. One by one, the men that were sent out came back with their reports, none of them having found anything. It was near 1am when the last pair came back, and that was when Hyungwon lost his patience.

“We’re sorry boss, but there’s nothing. There was no trace of any living thing, and no one’s been there in years.” The taller one lamented. Unfortunately for him, Hyungwon had a glass of wine in his hand. The deep red liquid soaked the other man’s clothes, staining the small patches of white.

After pouring the liquid on the man, Hyungwon threw the glass against the wall. It shattered, much like the vase from earlier did. No one dared to say a word as Hyungwon forced himself to calm down. “Keep. Looking.” He gritted out through his teeth.

“H.One,” Kihyun put his hand on Hyungwon’s arm, “settle down. There’s still time. You know she’s alive. It’s okay. We’ll get to her. You need to be patient. Anger isn’t going to get you anywhere useful.” Kihyun paused, waiting for a reply from his friend. When the only thing he got was the death stare, he sighed. “Okay, come on, let’s get you to your room. You need to sleep.”

Hyungwon let Kihyun pull him away. He knew he needed to calm down, but he felt that no one understood just how dire the situation was. The colors were fading for fucks sake! Your life was in danger! The only way he could communicate this was through violence. Nothing would be getting done if he was sitting around dilly dallying and being patient.

Kihyun pushed Hyungwon onto the bed, demanding for him to sleep. “Don’t make me have to knock you out, because I will.” He threatened, leaving Hyungwon alone in his room.

He really did try to sleep. In fact, he had almost been asleep, but then pain shot through his body, stemming from his arm. He shot up, gasping for air. Something was happening to you. Someone was hurting you, and he couldn’t be there to stop it.

The pain was unrelenting, steadily growing worse as each second passed. A scream bubbled up in his chest, forcing its way out. He scrambled off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud. He couldn’t get up, he could only howl in agony as he curled in on himself. His hands buried themselves deep into his hair, tugging viciously as a way to try and distract him from the sharp throbs in his arm.

He could understand now, why it was so dangerous to separate soulmates, why those in power were willing to split the universe to get their partner back. It ached. It mutilated his body and soul. He could only imagine how much worse it was for you.

No one dared to come in and check on him. They knew there was nothing they could do to help him. The only they could do was help to get you back, then everyone’s suffering could end. His followers would do anything he needed them to, anything to help him. They pledged their loyalty to him, and that loyalty extended to you.  

The pain started recede marginally, but it was hardly noticeable. Hyungwon wept, cursing the universe for doing this to you, for taking you away.

When he finally began to calm down and open his eyes, he fainted. In the seconds before he lost consciousness, all he saw was black and white. The world had lost its color.

[saccharinedanganimagines]

You guys are the besssssssstt 😁 can I get Souda, Hajime, Nagito, Gundham and Nekomaru reacting to an s/o asking to stay with them because they're scared to sleep alone during the killing game? Thank you 😘 best blog 💖

No you’re the best don’t make me come over there–Seriously though thank you Can you imagine if someone really did break in though?? Oooohhhh~

Kazuichi:

○ Totally freaks out (in a good way)! He tries to act calm about it but it’s super obvious that he’s anything but calm.

○ At first his thoughts end up a bit dirty. I mean, his crush asking him to spend the night? In their bedroom? Alone? How could his mind not go there, even if for an instant

○ Kazuichi still scolds himself though. He knows that that isn’t what s/o meant (it-it isn’t, right?) and he should be trying to be serious for them. It takes him a second, but Kazuichi does manage to compose himself

○ Doesn’t even hesitate in accepting. What kind of guy would say no to spending the night with his crush?! Plus, this gives him an opportunity to show off in front of them and try to make s/o think he’s cool

○ Goes through a million emotions during the day, from elation to almost outright terror. Fuyuhiko ends up getting the brunt of Kazuichi’s venting even if he doesn’t really get why he’s freaking out this much

○ Kazuichi is super nervous when he finally arrives at s/o’s cottage. He has no idea what to do with himself and he’s sweating and stuttering so much. ‘I-I’ll uh. Sleep on the floor!’

○ He had an entire scene planned out in his head in which he said all sorts of cool, reassuring things and s/o basically fell madly in love with him and threw themselves into his arms– He realizes that’s not realistic, but he was hoping to at least say something to make them feel better and maybe make himself look good

○ If s/o offers to share their bed with him Kazuichi is actually going to be vibrating. Pillow barrier or not he’s going to be way too aware of how close they are, the warmth coming off of them, the sound of their breathing… there’s no way he’ll sleep

○ More likely than anything, though, the night will begin with s/o thanking Souda for staying with them even though they may think it’s a bit of a pathetic thing to ask. This’ll lead to Souda comforting them, saying he’s scared too (even if he thinks he’s dumb for admitting that) which in turn leads to the two of them opening up to one another about their feelings and fears.

○ They’ll stay up all night talking, but despite that both of them feel a lot more refreshed than they have in a long time. They’re closer than ever too.

Nagito:

○ He hesitates at first. It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend the night with s/o, or doesn’t want to comfort them, but with his luck he’s afraid it might not be the best idea.

○ With enough convincing s/o will be able to get him to agree, though. As much as he berates himself for it sometimes Nagito can’t help but do things against his ‘best’ judgement if s/o asks him like that.

○ “Well, if someone does try to hurt you I can at least sacrifice myself. It would be an honor for someone like me to die in order to protect the hope that you hold.” Nagito missed the point on that one by a few miles, but at least he’s agreed to stay the night–

○ Honestly, s/o is probably more nervous than he is about the whole thing. “ohh, so this is what your room looks like huh?” being the first thing Nagito says when he walks in definitely doesn’t put them at ease. ‘Ahh, it suits you. I mean that in a good way!’ probably doesn’t help either

○ Nagito can’t help but observe his surroundings. He’s not creepy about it, he doesn’t go through anything, but he’s noticing all sorts of things about s/o’s room and equating them to their personality. The decor, how clean/dirty it is…

○ Probably offers to sleep in the bathtub or something so s/o doesn’t have to be near ‘trash’ like him while they sleep. There’s no way Nagito is willing to take the bed, but they can probably compromise on him taking the couch

○ In all honesty he’s… not the comforting verbally. His ideals are very uniquely his own, and he doesn’t find the killing game despairing because of the hope it has the potential to bring. If s/o is anxious talking to him may not help too much

○ At the very least he’ll assure s/o that he will protect them. His way of saying it is perhaps a bit… Nagito (offering to sacrifice himself, talking about how important their hope is, ect) he is being genuine. Knowing that he’s there for them is somewhat comforting, at least

○ Lowkey stays up all night to make sure they’re safe. Nagito doesn’t know if his luck might turn on them and he wants to be sure he can try to take the fall if it happens. Though he’s normally all for the killing game he can’t bear the idea of something happening to s/o; he passes that off as the idea that their hope shines more brightly than that of the others and he has to protect it.

○ Can’t help but watch s/o’s sleeping face, even though he doesn’t think he deserves to see them like this. They look absolutely beautiful when they’re finally at peace like this, and Nagito can’t help but be terrified that something is going to happen to them because of him

○ Because of that he thought that he’d be relieved when the night was over and he could leave s/o to the safety of their other, not luck-cursed friends. However, Nagito’s rather surprised by just how empty he takes his leave in the morning…

Gundham:

○ “Do you have any idea what you’re doing, asking this of the forbidden one?!” The answer is flustering him. He’s not sure how to respond to s/o proposition at first so he just starts spouting about being a supreme overlord of evil and whatnot

○ After a few minutes of letting him rant and calm down after the unexpected proposal s/o will either ask again, or assure him that it’s ok if he doesn’t want to. They’ve just been feeling on edge lately and they’d feel safer with him–

○ Not only is this a bit of a puff to Gundham’s pride (after all, they wanted him to keep them safe and not anyone else) but he does earnestly want to protect them. It takes him a few moments of uncomfortable silence to find the proper words but he will accept

○ “Of course you would be able to sense my power s/o. Yet, you do not fear me. You’re incredibly strange for a mortal. But! I will accept your request!” No matter how smug he tries to look and sound, Gundham is holding back a blush at the thought of spending the night with s/o

○ Distracted all day thinking about it. He goes over everything with the Devas, wondering how he’s going to handle this. He’s even more aloof than usual and keeps getting startled when/if anyone approaches him. He’s too in his own head to bother with much of anything else…

○ He arrives at s/o’s house around sunset. He doesn’t want to be late, but he didn’t want to look weird by being too early either. He shows up on their doorstep with his scarf pulled up over his nose saying something like “I’m here about the contract made prior.”

○ Feels really endeared when he walks into s/o’s room. There’s an aura to the place that’s very uniquely them and it puts him a little at ease. Relaxed enough to pull his scarf down, he lets himself ease his shoulders. It even smells like them. Is this what it’s like to be in a girl’s room?

○ He’s not sure if he should touch anything?? He’s there to help but he still somehow feels a bit like an intruder. He’ll be standing stock still in the doorway and s/o will probably have to almost physically usher him to sit down somewhere

○ A shared cup of tea and conversation will help Gundham calm down quite a bit. It helps him see that this isn’t that different from his regular time spent with s/o. It’s almost relaxing, to be somewhere domestic with them.

○ As the topic of conversation turns to the evening and s/o thanking Gunham for coming over, he’ll make a promise to protect them. It’s worded with as much grandeur as always (”Of course! Even an overlord such as myself cannot deny the request of the Queen of Darkness! My powers shall vanquish all who even think to bring harm upon thy exalted name!”) but he is being completely sincere

○ He might just share a bed with s/o if they insist. Even if he’s bright red and hiding in his scarf, he doesn’t want to seem cowardly! But by default he’d be most comfortable staying on the couch.

○ He offers to stay up all night, but when s/o protests and says they’ll feel terrible if he loses all of their sleep for him he’ll relent. Still, he instructs the Devas to wake him if they see anything even a little unusual

Nekomaru:

○ The least shy about it out of any of these boys - probably most of the cast too, to be honest. He understands where s/o is coming from and he’s happy to make them more comfortable

○ He doesn’t like to think anything bad is going to happen, but he’s glad s/o is trying to be prepared. He admires that, but he knows that as much as he tries he can’t be there for them 100% of the time. It’s reassuring to know that s/o is wary

○ Nekomaru may say yes, but s/o isn’t getting off that easy!! If they want to be safe at all times it means they need to be able to protect themselves! The only way to learn that is training

○ Nekomaru cares about s/o so much. He’ll never not protect them in any way he can. But, in his mind, the very best way he can protect them is to teach them to protect themselves. He’ll spend the rest of the day training with them, though he will go at a pace they can keep up with

○ If s/o lets him he’ll make it a regular thing. He’ll even let them train with Akane if they want, though he’s not a fan of the idea of them sparring. He knows s/o’s limits and how to hold back. Akane… not so much. He doesn’t want s/o to get hurt

○ By the time s/o gets home that evening, Nekomaru at their side, they’re probably about ready to pass out. They’re so tired that it outweighs the fear and paranoia they’ve been suffering with at night

○ Nekomaru pretty much just decides that he’ll stay up on the couch. He’s there to keep them safe after all, which he can’t do if he’s sleeping. After all, he agreed to take responsibility for them right? It’s a managers job to take care of their athletes (s/o trained with him at least once it counts) so s/o doesn’t need to worry; he’s just doing his job

○ Once s/o falls asleep Nekomaru can’t help but look at them, sighing quietly to himself. He’s always felt a want, a need, to protect them but it’s at this point that he properly vows to himself that he’ll never let anything happen to them.

○ He really does stay up all night. He’ll even take the liberty of bringing s/o breakfast that morning. Usually he’d wake them up to keep them on a sleeping schedule, but he gets the feeling that this is the first time s/o has been able to sleep properly in a long time…

○ If it helps, Nekomaru offers to stay with them whenever they need it. He likes being with them too, after all.

[lovinthepizzalife]

Never Trust a Smiling God (Part 4)

A/N: Apparently, Tumblr has a daily post limit. Who knew? Chapter 4 was finished and ready to be published yesterday, and then, Tumblr. Didn’t work so now I’m trying again today.

"Hey neighbour," the Soldier - AlexAlexAlex, it is a name and it is his, now - greets. The Asset - Alex, now - was ordered to reshape itself. It moved in two months ago. Alex hasn't unpacked yet, but his neighbours haven't seemed to notice. Alex doesn't mind. He is quiet, talks when he runs into people, and doesn't cause too much of a disturbance. Compared to the group of "delinquents" that live a few doors down, Alex could be worse.

Whether Peggy Carter has noticed him, living two doors to the left of Alex, is another question. She has nothing to fear from Alex, but the Soldier has a mission, and it is not to move into the relatively quiet neighbourhood. The smiling god was explicit in its request; Peggy Carter had to die,

"Bit early to be out, isn't it?" Alex asks, tipping his chin to Jane. The sun is barely a blip of gold along the horizon, a spot of burnished gold that slowly rises. Were the Asset anybody else, it would say something better than, "The sun's rising pretty quickly. Should probably get inside before it's too bright to sleep." Alex's neighbour, Jane, huffs a laugh and glances towards the sun, shaking her head.

"I like being out this early," she admits. "No one talks to me - usually." She gives him a pointed glance and Alex smiles, rocking back on his heels. His smile is a little boyish and a lot bashful, enough to make her soften, eyes crinkling. From the few that step into her home, Jane wants to talk to people but can only do it in small doses. The longest someone's been in her house is three hours. From the shouting and the slammed door, it wasn't a happy visit.

"Wanted to enjoy the sunset and I keep odd hours, so here I am," Alex shrugs, smile shifting into something more honest. Jane smiles back at him, tucking a curl of her behind her ear. The Asset categories her smile as curious, lips titled almost nervously, like she doesn't know what to do when she isn't talking. Alex can understand that. The Asset can't.

"Mind if I smoke?" Alex asks, tapping out a cigarette and glancing at her. The carton is mostly empty, and Alex smells faintly of smoke, a conscious decision made by the Soldier. They needed to fit their part. Having cigarettes without smelling of smoke would draw unwanted questions.

"Yeah, sure," Jane says dismissively, groping around her pockets. "Do you need a light, or?" Alex waves her off, sparking up his lighter. He needed to have a lighter as well, to bled in. This mission will be long, with little supervision. There is only two handlers, the "delinquents" that live two doors down. As Alex smokes, the Soldier watches from behind his eyes, silent. People admit so much with so little. With how dismissively she spoke, it shows a familiarity with cigarettes. She may have smoked and managed to break the habit, but still carried cigarettes, or she carries lighters with her for friends she knows.

Either way, if the mission goes sideways and the Asset needs to dispose of witnesses, people dying from dropped cigarettes are common. The Asset can pretend she fell asleep and dropped her cigarette. The Asset has done it before, after all. It makes no difference, so long as the mission is a success. Witnesses are collateral. The Soldier has no issues disposing of them.

"Well," Jane yawns, making a show of checking her bare wrist, "I'm gonna take your advice and hit the hay. You gonna head inside once you're done?"

Alex turns his head so the stream of smoke doesn't hit her, letting it whisper into the air. He taps out the cherry tip, letting the ash fall, and offers up a small smile. The Asset categories the smile she offers back as interested. If need be, the Asset can use her in future. Interrogation doesn't have to be painful.

"I'll head in once I've finished this," Alex assures, tapping off the excess ash. Jane gives him one last smile and walks away, disappearing into her house. The Asset hears the lock click and nods, taking a drag. The lights flicker off, one by one. The Asset breathes out. The curtains on the second floor shut, and a little while after, the lights in the bedroom go off.

Alex drops his cigarettes, crushes it under his bare foot, and steps inside. It's time for him to sleep.

-~-

Two months later, the Soldier draws in a breath, waiting. There's a chill beginning to rise in the late November air, a wind that draws the Asset's hair away from its face. It's an odd mimic of the last time the Soldier saw the Servant, a fog that faded into the shadows, disappearing into the dark without a sound. The Soldier isn't used to nostalgia, probably. It is used to pain. The arm leeching the heat from the Soldier's body. Nostalgia isn't useful to the mission, nor the Asset's continued maintenance.

The Solder adjusts its scope, glancing up. It's laying across a roof a little North to the targets home. The Asset was told to avoid making the death look like professional. For now, the Soldier is conducting surveillance. Peggy Crater lives with her husband, Daniel, but he's often out at work. She has one dog and no cat. Most days, she wakes up early and eats, reading the newspaper. Her favourite music is forties dance. Sometimes she drinks late at night and whispers about dances and being late. Her husband usually dances with her, letting her cry into his shoulder.

The Asset files Daniel away as a possible witness and a level three threat to the mission. The Asset has one month remaining. When Alex finally leaves, he will have lived there for five months. The cover up will be that Alex failed to pay his rent on time, and the landlord grew sick of it. Kicked him out. No one will question it when Alex looks so young. Too young to handle a job, and smoking at such a young age on top of that.

The Asset packs away its sniper and stands, walking away. It needs to report its findings at the park a few minutes away. The handlers will decide what action the Soldier is to take next. The Asset knows this mission will end in death. For once, it is not sure whose it will be.

The Asset takes the ladder for the fire escape two rungs at a time and disappears into the rising sun. It will let time decide who dies first.

-~-

Daniel leaves the house at thirteen past five in the morning, pressing a quick kiss to Peggy Carters lips. The sun rises to the quiet sounds of the radio in Daniel's car. The Asset waits. It cannot look like a professional killer her, the Asset knows. It hasn't observed the target smoking, or showing signs of any similar habit. The target is a healthy, ageing woman. But healthy, ageing woman are robbed often. The Asset is to make the death look like a home invasion gone wrong. Unprofessional, and with the "delinquents" who moved in a little before Alex, the fingers will be pointed to them.

But the police can't arrest people who don't exist, and justice will never be served. The Asset knows how to stage it so no one asks questions except the right ones. No one will know.

Inside the Asset's ear, its com buzzes. The Asset's signal. The Asset doesn't buzz back as it walks, nearing the West side of the roof. It will keep to the shadows. There's a window open in the targets bathroom, second floor. The target is in the kitchen, kettle boiling. If the Asset makes a noise, the target will not hear. Somehow, as the Asset steps off the roof, landing quietly, it wishes the Servant were here.

The Servant is silent. Quick. Hides in the shadows and dark places. When the mask is off, the Servant's eyes glow star-bright in the dark. The mask is never off. But there are days, sometimes, when the Servant is not on a mission and it removes the mask, steam curling in the air, smoke blowing from its eyes, letting the Servant speak without being muzzled. The Asset is always muzzled, but the Asset has seen the Servant's fingers twitch at the sight of the muzzle. Like it wants to undo the buckle at the back of the Asset's skull, hidden under its hair.

Thinking of the Servant is not needed for the mission, however, and the Asset shoves the feelings aside as it scales the back wall of the house. The windows of the bathroom and main bedroom, the only rooms on the second floor, overlook a forest. On the other side of almost thirty miles of woodland, the Asset will exit the forest near a stream and be collected by the waiting handlers. If the Asset does not exit within the span of five hours, the handlers will leave, report back, and deem the Asset a failed tool.

There is no planned retrieval afterwards and the Asset accepts this, slipping in through the now open window. The air slips in, cool enough for the hairs to raise on the back of the Asset's neck. November becoming December, slipping into the last month of Winter. The Asset pays it no mind as it slips out the bathroom, walking silently down the hall.

A sound, and it will be caught.

Two steps. Voices. Quiet murmurs of a conversation. Not from the TV, but from people. Interesting. Witnesses were not expected.

Five steps. The conversation is louder. A British accent, female, and another accent. American and not. Possibly changed from exposure to the British accent. Undecided.

Seven steps. The voices are loud enough to be words. Muffled but still understandable. Quiet words about concessional things, the undercut of wanting to say more.

The last step and the Asset lifts its gun, eyes flicking to the blond man and its target. The blond appears to be the biggest threat, larger than the Asset's target and built like they're trained. The Asset keeps its gun trained on them, mind clicking and buzzing because that face that face thatfacefaceface who -

"Bucky?" The man asks, nervous and hopeful, and the world goes black.

---

@lemirabitur @bash-it-all @journeythroughtherain @greythunderkat

@no-more-pop-references-parker @starkdocx @smittenkitten143

@winteriron-trash hello hi, I’ve been angry about this since yesterday so enjoy??? If you can, I hate this chapter

@ibreathebooks-42 hi. Is the chapter as bad as you expected? I fucking hate this chapter

[syxjaewon]

overture; ‘that which bends must break’

                                                                                        five years ago

Vera Noriko Regalis mon Blackhound sits at the head of the table like the right hand of god, steel woven into her clothes, into her skin, into her bones, the shiny metal reminiscent of her eyes when she’s at her finest. across the surface of the stained wood before her, a plethora of legality documentations, star-charting, navigational means, messages hidden in code, all of which are within her means of reach and reason, her many years on this job subsequent enough to render her well-versed. her name, its length and many years both whispered and shouted across the verse, has enough reputation wherever she may tread, enough lethality to keep troublemakers at bay, enough command to lead her ship and her crew steady and true.

or at least, that’s way it’s been, the way it’s always been, except for this past year. she’s gaining in age; there’s a reason one doesn’t see many older space pirates about, a reason why adventure is for the young. and vera is not young anymore, not for a while, not healthy enough for these sorts of excursions for too much longer, not patient enough to continue her job and her livelihood the way it has been all these years. she grows tired, spent, the bones in her body feel long and worn, the steel trapped in her heart now threatening to revert and poison her, the way she supposes all people must go through, all people must accept about themselves eventually. age. death comes to us all one way or another, by either a bullet or a breath.

she knows she’ll need to give this all up one day, she’ll need to pry white-knuckled fingers from the metal of this ship, her ship, her home, her whole life. there was at one point a time when vera had nothing except this metal casing, left to die, left to rot, unprotected by the people who had raised her, kept her, molded her, their scorn and abandonment leveled only by the sheer rejection and betrayal of her own sister. a long, long time ago now, old wounds, old scars— but when the dust had settled, vera had found herself a new life, a new family, and this mega heaping scrap machine had been one of them.

the ship shakes for a tense moment, a low rumble filling the bird, something down in the engine no doubt shuddering and threatening to snap off. yeah, she’s getting old too, already older than vera even. won’t be long now that neither of them can stay in the sky, hover between star clusters, run ahead of everyone else. both getting slow, getting weary. she knows she’ll have to do something about that pretty soon, make the announcement, make the arrangements. say goodbyes.

but then— someone screams.

BAM

the shot echoes out from behind her, from the quarters section of the boat, where most of her crew is asleep, the hour late, the air previously calm, and she is out of her seat like a lightning strike, the chair almost tumbling over as she makes her way towards the rooms down the hallway. she doesn’t need to think twice about where she’s going or how she’ll handle things when she gets there; she already knows, already has the past six months rehearsed in her head, the same lines of dialogue and phrases filling her mind as she reaches for the room closest to the bridge, the noise having prompted her first mate to the hallway and one of her pilots out of their seats.

she disregards them, but her pilot speaks up. “what the fuck’s he on about now?”

“return to your station, gavon.” she has no tolerance for his shit right now, punching in the keycodes for the door to force it open despite its lock.

“was that a gun blast? he’s gonna blow a gorram hole in the hull and get us all killed—”

the door opens but she steps away from it, the steel of her resurfacing as she enters gavon’s personal space, so much more than just a woman, just a captain, just a commander— she is a thunderstorm clad in black, the smoke and ash from a volcano, the deepest, darkest recesses of ariel’s oceans, the only light this side of the verse beaming through blue-grey eyes, glaring widely at her pilot as he runs his damn mouth off. the force of her presence, all ebony hair and sharp cheekbones, a mirrored image of space itself, actually manages to intimidate him backwards a step, the man blinking and cutting himself off, his disgruntlement no match for her forty-plus years of a hurricane personality.

“i. can. handle. it,” she tells him slowly, teeth bared, hand at the weapon sitting on her hip, enunciating each word so he’s sure to understand, despite being an idiot. “get. back. to. your station. pilot.”

she can see gavon crumble a little bit, but another bang sounds behind her, this one not a gunshot but something falling, and she immediately turns away from him to tend to it. there’s a reason the bedrooms are set up the way that they are, a reason why she knew this room would be perfect for its occupant; double-sided walls, extra steel around the hull in that particular spot due to protection needed around the bridge. it’s colder than most the other rooms, but it serves a stronger purpose than just warmth.

when she climbs down the ladder and lands on the ground, she finds jaewon in a mess of his own bedding on the floor, blond hair askew, the shelving toppled over and used as some sort of barrier he’s pressed himself back against, a gun in his hand. immediately she ducks, gets down to his level on her knees as she listens to him heave in breaths, only a vague light in the room cascading down from the doorway behind her, illuminating them both softly.

“jaewon…?”

“sh!” he shoves his hand out to her, fingers outstretched but shaking, she can see the sweat glisten off his skin, his arm, his chest, his face, see the wildness in his eyes— those strange gold eyes. she hadn’t known what to think when he’d come back to her with those gold, mechanical things implanted, hadn’t really approved, hadn’t really gotten over the way his original irises could be deeper than the abyss sometimes, expressive even when the rest of him wasn’t. the fires inside him used to be something muted, controlled, revealed only when one fell into his gaze, understood him enough to appreciate the black flames he exhibited, but now it’s like he is a burning man all the time. she misses the way he used to look, the way he used to sleep through the night.

it had taken them years when he was a child, to erase the ptsd he’d suffered with from valluria, the way his dreams brought him back to the deaths of his childhood friends, seeing their blood splashed against the walls, their bodies split open. he used to tell her he could still smell their corpses at dinnertime, still imagine them running through the hallways in the mornings. the scars on his skin still sang when he took showers, but he’d always refused to cry at his branding, miraculously managing to turn it into a source of pride for himself. and then as soon as he’s recovered, as soon as she sees him rested and smiling, not whole but working on it, what does he go off and do? join a goddamn war.

“they’re here,” he whispers, shivering lips, shifting eyes, breaking voice. “they’re here, they’re here, they’ve come—”

“no, there’s no one here, rat, it’s just us...” she keeps her tone steady as possible, inching towards him.

“no- NO, they’re here, they’re trying to get in, they’re going to cut off the fourth division, i can hear the missiles, i can—“

“there’s no bombs, child, it was just the ship.” he’s gripping that gun handle so tightly, finger on the trigger, without paying enough attention to where he’s pointing it; including at himself.

too busy pleading with her, desperation in his growling, croaky voice “we have to, we have to stop them, vera, vera, they’re coming, we have to—“

“who’s coming, jaewon? who are you talking about?” both her hands outstretched, her mind pinned to that gun in his grip, eyes flickering over to the darkness in the rest of his room. silent. empty.

at that though, he doesn’t answer, jaw clenching and unclenching, his thoughts obviously running a million miles a minute, suddenly unsure, as though he’s hearing too many things at once and she creeps a little bit closer, hoping he won’t turn the barrel on her to keep her back. again. after another few intense seconds, he moves, peeks carefully over the edge of the shelf, searching and searching. she knows he got those eyes for better sight, better focus, she knows he can’t see anything, but that’s only just one sense, isn’t it? one out of six.

“the war is over, rat.... it’s over....”

he looks back at her for a single moment before shutting his eyes, drops the pistol and pulls away from the shelf, hyperventilating, his scarred, tattooed chest rising and falling as though there’s not enough air in this room, on all the planets in all the verse, for him to inhale, for him to recover. he collapses in on himself like a dying star, hands covering his head as his forehead touches the floor. she collects the gun carefully, quickly sets it out of his reach before coming over to him slowly, gently putting her hands on his shoulders.

“ghosts,” he sobs out before she even realizes he’s crying, his hands clutching and scratching at his ears, his body flinching from imagined bomb blasts. “i can hear them dying.”

even as a child, he’d always been strong, always something impenetrable about his onyx eyes, broad shoulders, fearless demeanor, the way he’d keep his sentences short and clipped, direct to whatever point needed to be made. it was in his walk, in his scrutiny, in his determination, his drive, his understanding of the verse around him; if she could label valluria’s perfect son, it would be this boy who’d named himself, who’d taught himself, who’d pulled himself out of the gutters, away from the trash, to earn a place in life, to earn a legacy, to earn respect and title, even among her crew, who tended to be amoral brigands and rogues at best, monsters through and through at worst.

the more he grew into a man, the more she understood there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about anything he set his mind to, the boy becoming himself regardless of what anyone else thought or did around him. and she cherished that, encouraged that, even when he’d told her he was going off to fight in some damn fool-hearty war for an independence she’s never believed in anyway. she knew she couldn’t influence him. tensions between the core and the rim planets had been rising for years now, but it hadn’t touched vera’s ship, hadn’t messed with her operations, not until one of her engineers, the older one, had stepped off to go fight for it, and jaewon too.

she can still remember the way it felt to watch him walk away, pack slung over his shoulder, the light in him burning bright as though he really thought he would make a difference— and who knows, maybe he did. maybe things would have ended a lot sooner and a lot bloodier without him. she’d watched him, watched the piece of her soul, her heart he’s always carried leave with him.

and she’d thought that was hell. until he came back and showed her what hell really is.

this. the boy who wouldn’t cry, the boy who wouldn’t bend or break, not for storms or bullets or death itself, decaying before her eyes, disintegrating down to embers on this cold metal floor, muttering about the dead who haunt him, who call to him, beg him to die with them. the war has hollowed him, embedding itself deep into his chest like jaws, the memories, the battle tactics, explosions, screams, gunfire, hopelessness, the stench of carcasses, the certainty of slaughter— it all replays in his mind over and over, broken and breaking him.

she wraps her arms around him tightly, squeezing her eyes shut, the ends of her fingers burying themselves in his skin, hoping to reach further down into him than the war ever could. someday, he’ll get his light back, he’ll remember he is all molten lava and solar flare, but for right now, she just holds onto him and tries to keep him together. she hates the alliance for what it’s doing to the verse, but not as much as she hates the independents for what it’s done to her boy.

[ftwd-nicky]

You’re Not Helping!

Pairing: Nick Clark x Reader

Author: @ftwd-nicky

Words: 2838

Author’s Note: @lovefilledtragedy had given me this idea and I think this fic is pretty good... hopefully. I like it and I really like writing for Nick, like seriously. I have dug my own grave he’s so cute. Halp. Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did and thanks to my main hoe @mf-despair-queen for proofreading this for me! :)

I’ve been staying at the ranch for a few years. Being family friends of the Otto’s, it didn’t take much for them to let me in after my parent’s had gotten sick then relatively putting them down before they ate my face. During the first few weeks of living at the ranch, I stayed to myself. I ate by myself, worked mainly by myself, and slept in my own little hut, not really wanting to be around anyone. I mourned my parents deaths for a couple months before realizing that it was the right thing to do, better than being one of those… things.

When I began communicating with the other residents here, Jake and Troy Otto were the two I became close with, even though Jake could barely stand Troy. The two of them felt the need to protect me for some reason. When the Clark’s first arrived, I was intrigued by Nick, Madison’s son. He was an absolute cutie. Nick was put in Troy and I’s group for going out into the desert, looking for supplies for us to bring back that would be useful to the ranch.

 Nick and I became very close pretty quick, especially when Troy had us pair up to check out this supermarket that was about ten miles from the ranch.

 Nick was driving the truck as I sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window at some of the infected that were aimlessly walking around, enjoying some scenery that was left in this dreadful world.

 “Have you known Troy for long?” Nick’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I glanced over at him, his eyes on me for a few seconds before glancing back towards the road.

 “Um, I’ve known him for about a year and a half. When I first got to the ranch, I mainly stayed to myself since I was mourning the death of my parents,” I mumbled, playing with the ends of my fingers.

 “What happened to them? If you don’t mind me asking,” His deep rugged voice filled the air, smiling to myself at how much I like the sound of him speaking.

 “Well, they got sick and I had to shoot them… to stop them from eating my face. And it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do,” I whispered quietly, wondering if he actually heard me or not. I sniffed, wiping a tear off my cheek as I felt his large hand softly rest against my thigh.

 Nick pulled the truck over, turning the engine off as he shifted, turning his body to face mine. He cautiously took one of my hands in his, rubbing his calloused thumb against the back of it, his eyes gazing at them. “Hey, it’s okay. It would’ve been the right thing to do,” He mentioned and I nodded my head, smiling softly at him.

 “I know,” I whispered, scooting closer before wrapping my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. I felt him tense up under me, his arms wrapping around my waist as he rubbed my back. “Sorry, I’m kind of a hugger,” I chuckled lightly, my cheek brushing against his.

 “That’s okay. We all need a hug once in awhile,” Nick laughed lightly, his hand stilling on my back, sighing softly as my eyes fluttered shut slowly. We sat there for about a minute in silence before pulling away from him, giving him a small smile as he started the truck back up, getting back on the road towards our destination. I glanced back out the window, feeling my cheeks heat up thinking about the moment Nick and I had.

 Nick parked the truck outside of the supermarket, seeing a few infected dragging around the front entrance and the two of us take our our melee weapons, glancing towards each other before we exited the truck. “Stick together, alright?” Nick asked and I nodded my head, looking towards the dead that were currently walking towards us.

 We had stabbed our way through the small group of infected, making sure all of them are actually dead before continuing into the market. Nick smashes a window by the front doors, crawling into the place as he looked back at me, motioning me to come in. I awkwardly crawled through the window, a sharp piece of glass digging into my skin. I wince, falling to the floor as Nick crouched next to me.

 “What? What happened?” He asked panicked, looking around my body. Nick notices the shard of glass protruding from my leg as he muttered to himself, looking around the area. “Alright, we need to find a first aid kit. C-Can you walk?” He asked and I nodded my head as he helped me get off the floor, wrapping an arm around my waist, the other holding my hand that was slung over his shoulder. I limped towards the the isle where first aid would be shelved as Nick gently sat me against the shelf, grabbing a first aid kit, ripping it open.

 Nick shuffled towards me, grabbing the fabric of my jeans in his hands as he glanced up at me. “I have to rip your jeans to get to the glass,” He mentioned, a blush barely covering his cheeks as I nodded my head. Nick ripped my jeans open, revealing the wound as he took some cloth, wiping up the blood around the piece of glass. Nick let out a sigh as I breathed heavily, wincing as he grabbed a hold of the glass, slowly pulling it out, pressing another cloth against it to try and stop the bleeding.

 “N-Nick... I-I don’t wanna die,” I whispered, glancing up at him and his eyes met mine, shaking his head.

 “You’re not going to. You’ll be just fine,” He muttered, continuing pressing against the cut, lifting it slightly to see the bleeding had slowed down a bit. “See, you’re going to be fine.” Nick smiled softly, licking his lips as he grabbed the peroxide from the kit, pouring it onto the wound. I let out a small scream, my fingers digging into his arm as he dabbed at the wound with a clean cloth, the bleeding stopped. I smiled, laughing slightly looking up at him, watching his face as he wrapped my leg with gauze and medical tape.

 “T-Thank you,” I muttered, gripping his forearm, feeling the veins on his olive skin. Nick smiled down at me, brushing some hair out of my face as he got up, grabbing some tylenol before going to find a water bottle. He came back a minute later, handing me the two white pills and the water bottle and I swallow them quickly, scrunching my face up a bit.

 Nick sat down next to me, wrapping an arm around me as I leaned my head against his shoulder, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, gnawing at my lip a bit.

 “Why are you sorry?” He asked, his hand rubbing my arm and I craned my neck up, looking at him as his eyes were already on me.

 “Because I slowed us down…” I muttered, pressing my lips together and he shook his head.

 “It’s okay. Shit happens. As long as you’re fine, that’s all that matters.”

 It’s been almost two months since that happened and my leg has fully healed since then, Nick still checking on me every now and then. After that day, I’ve kinda found myself falling for him and sometimes I feel like he does as well, but then my mind decides to overthink things and I deny everything.

 I sat at the steps of Nick’s place, tapping my leg as I ran a hand through my hair, wondering how he was doing. Troy had been exiled for opening fire on the Natives that we had teamed up with when they decided to take our guns one night, claiming it’ll be safer and Nick was placed into a hot box, possibly dying. I haven’t gone to see him yet, not really sure if I’d want to see him in that condition. Fuck it.

 I walked towards the place the hot box was placed, slowly walking towards it as my heart was pounding against my chest. I picked at my fingers glancing through the medium-sized square hole, seeing Nick sweating majorly, his eyes shut as he was breathing heavily. “Nick? Nick!” I yelled out and he jumps, sitting up a bit.

 “Y/N…” He breathed out, his hands resting on the edge of the hole in the metal. I rested my hand against his, letting a small sniffle, tears threatening to spill.

 “Nick… I wish I could get you out of here. It’s killing you,” I murmur rubbing his fingers softly. Nick leaned forward slightly, his lips parted as small breaths left his lips.

 “I-It’s okay, it’s okay…” Nick muttered, his fingers intertwining with mine. “Go, before someone catches you.” I shook my head, not wanting to leave him, but he insisted. I sighed, placing my lips to his hand, softly kissing it before walking away, glancing back at him as he watched me leave, his eyes fluttering shut.

 A few weeks after Nick was finally released from the hot box, some serious problems began to happen. We apparently only had six weeks of water left in the well, so Madison and Walker had gone to find some water. Nick allowed me to stay at his place for the time being, claiming that he wanted to keep an eye on me. I accepted his invitation, feeling a little nervous to be sharing a bed with Nick.

 I had woken up to the sound of footsteps, glancing at the empty spot next to me. I slipped out of bed, wrapping the thin throw blanket around my body as I headed towards the living area, hearing two voices.

 “Nick… in a few hours, this place is going to be obliterated,” Troy muttered to him through the broken french doors. I stayed back, keeping quiet as Troy ran off, Nick yelling after him as he disappeared from the other side of the door. My breath hitched, my mind racing at what Troy had meant. Nick walked back into the house, noticing me standing towards the bedroom and he waltzed over to me, his hand laying against my cheek.

 “You okay?” He asked and I nodded my head a bit, staring up at him. Nick muttered incoherently, walking towards the living room, slumping onto the couch.

 “What do we do?” I asked and Nick glanced towards me, pressing his lips together.

 As morning came around, Nick and I had gone to see Jake to take him to where Troy was talking about, Alicia concerned about him going since they were kind of a thing. I looked out the window as we drove down the dirt road, hearing the small chatter between the two guys in the front seat about how Jake had to put down a staked skinned rabbit when he was little. We pulled off the road, seeing the massive horde that drags towards the ranch, cursing to ourselves as we went to leave, hearing an explosion. The three of us saw Troy on a lower ledge, staring up at us as Jake growled to himself, heading towards him.

 Nick began to follow him as did I when he turned around to stop me. “Stay here,” He muttered and I scoffed, shaking my head. His eyes narrowed at me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

 “I’m not going to just sit here, Nick,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “I want to help. I’m going to help,” I glared and he let out a huff of breath, running a hand over his hair.

 “No. You’re going to stay here and look after the truck,” Nick told me, leading me towards the truck and I pry his hand off my wrist.

 “Let me help!” I yelled and he quickly turned around to face me.

 “You wouldn’t be helping! You don’t know Troy like I do, so stop trying to help him. Let me do it. Now stay here,” He growled and I shrunk a bit, leaning my back against the truck as he walked off. Nick’s never yelled at me like that before…

 I climbed into the bed of the truck, sitting in one of the corners that’s facing the horde, watching them slowly make their way closer to the ranch, picking at my fingernails. I sniffed, wiping the tear off my cheeks as I heard screams, my head immediately snapping up, standing up in the truck bed.

 The three of them made their ways back towards the truck as Jake was missing half an arm, gasping lightly. “What happened?” I asked, but neither of them answered me and I let out an annoyed breath, sitting in the back of the truck as Troy placed Jake back here, leaning his body against his chest.

 I held the sides of the truck bed tightly as Nick was speeding towards the ranch. I winced every once in awhile as my back hit against a the metal of the truck. “Is he okay?” I asked quietly, Troy glancing up at me and he shook his head, looking back down at Jake.

 “No… he’s dead,” Troy muttered and I frowned, holding back tears as I glanced into the back window of the truck, meeting Nick’s eyes for a moment before turning back to the road. The three of us got closer towards the ranch, seeing it being overrun by the infected as I stayed back towards the truck, rubbing my arms as I heard Nick and Troy’s conversation, or should I say argument.

 The two of them decided they were going to go in, so they could redirect the infected into an opposite direction. I didn’t even bother to interject about helping since apparently I can’t help. I jumped a bit when I felt a hand on my arm, glancing up to see Nick standing in front of me. “Um, I want you to stay here. You can be our eyes from afar,” He told me and I nodded, going towards the small shack that was placed here, leaning against the wood. I heard Nick sigh, motioning for Troy to follow as he glanced between Nick and myself.

 Troy got into the driver’s seat while Nick got in the passenger seat. As the two were driving down the road, Nick looked out the window, having an internal argument with himself as he glared at the scenery.

 “I don’t know why you didn’t make up with her before we left. It’s a possibility that we don’t make it out of here alive,” Troy told him and Nick glanced towards Troy, not saying anything at first.

 “Yeah, well I’m pretty sure she hates me now,” Nick muttered, glancing back out the window.

 I watched Troy and Nick distract the infected, but end up getting trapped in the helicopter that was in the middle of the area. My hands began shaking as I paced, thinking of what I should do as I began to run towards the ranch on foot, desperately hoping that everyone was okay… especially Nick. As I made it to the gate, an array of vehicles drove towards me and I let out a sigh of relief, seeing Madison and Walker in a water truck with someone else. Troy stopped the truck he was driving, letting me into the back as I wrapped my arms around Nick’s neck from behind his seat.

 “Thank god you’re okay,” I muttered into his ear, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand as he leaned his head against mine.

 “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” Nick chuckled and I smiled, looking at the back of his head before doing something irrational. I leaned over the seat, swinging my face around to see his before planting my lips on his. My eyes flutter shut, feeling Nick’s hand rest against my cheek as his lips began to move against mine, our noses mushing together when I tilt my head to the side. The two of us heard Troy clear his throat and I pulled away, staring into Nick’s eyes for a few seconds before sitting back down in my seat, smiling to myself.

 “Well that was quite the reunion,” Troy laughed, glancing back towards me. “Where’s my kiss?” He asked and Nick punched his arm, glaring at him slightly as Troy put his hands up in surrender, claiming that he was joking. I reached my hand out towards Nick’s placing it in mine as I intertwined it, grinning widely.

 “I’m sorry about before,” Nick whispered and I nodded my head, letting him know that it was okay as I leaned my forehead against the back of his shoulder. He placed a small kiss to the side of my head, letting out a sigh of relief as he leaned back in his seat, glancing out the window as we traveled to our next destination.

[strangerstarsandlands]

Sharing is Caring

Five times Bernie and Serena share

Serena had never expected to fall in love so far down the road. She just didn’t expect it; the butterflies in her stomach and the frogs in her throat, the way her palms get all sweaty when Bernie is near. Or the way she feels when she finds Bernie has left her Holby jumper all bunched up on the desk in their office.

Serena picks it up, and without thinking brings it close. It smells of Bernie, like coffee and cigarettes. There is a small coffee stain on the left sleeve, and Serena traces it with her index finger. She wonders how long it's been since Bernie did the washing and decides to take it home and do it for her. A friendly gesture, nothing more. It’s not like Bernie will miss it, since she's off for two days. Two whole days of work without Bernie. Serena sighs at the thought, and gently places the jumper in her bag.

She doesn’t think about it until later that evening when she searches for her phone to set her alarm. Dinner was hectic and Jason had insisted on watching Pointless together, and she’s left the washing too late. It's just gone 10pm and she’s bone tired. Even so, she gingerly removes the hoodie from her purse, and places it beside her as she sits on the edge of her bed.

The fabric is soft and the inside is a warm-looking fuzzy material. Serena’s chest hurts at the soft feeling beneath her fingertips, and remembers that Bernie won’t be at work in the morning. She lets that realization sink in and turns it over and over in her head, looking at the feeling as she would a vascular surgery. As if her feelings for Bernie were an ailment to diagnose and treat with professional precision and cool detachment.

Love. The signs and symptoms are so familiar, that she hadn’t felt them creeping in until it was too late. Its terminal , she thinks. A hopeless case.

Serena collapses back into the bed and tucks Bernie’s jumper under her pillow. A small part of one of the sleeves is poking out, and Serena  holds onto it until she falls asleep.  

In the morning, she sits up slowly, and blinks at the morning light filtering in through the window. The room is cold and Serena shivers when she places her bare feet on the wooden floor. She reaches for the hoodie and holds it in her lap, fiddling with the string for a moment. She sighs and thinks, fuck it.

The hood is big and forms a cocoon around her head, and the sleeves are a little too long. Serena pulls them down anyway, and takes in a deep breath, letting herself find comfort in the smell and the warmth of the hoodie. After a minute, she stands, and starts getting ready for work.

…

The first time Bernie spends the night is quite by accident. Serena had gotten drunk after a particularly hard day at work. Losing a patient never gets any easier, and Guy Self making an unannounced visit to the ward hadn't helped matters either. So when Fletch suggested Albie’s Serena had said, “God yes,” and dragged Bernie across the street and into the noisy pub.

Albie’s is warm and filled with friends and colleagues and Serena drinks more than she should and sits nearer to Bernie than she should. Their legs are touching beneath the little table the AAU family is crowded around, and Bernie keeps looking at her and Serena feels hot and clammy. She drinks quickly and tries to forget the name of the patient, their family with their hopeful faces. Tries to forget Bernie’s smile as she said they should keep it confined to theatre.

Bernie keeps looking at her, and after the third glass of shiraz Serena feels the courage to look back.

Bernie looks tired. Beautiful, but tired, and Serena leans a bit closer and murmurs into Bernie’s ear.

“Do you want to go to my place? Have a cup of tea?”

Bernie smiles, and it's a smile Serena hasn’t seen in weeks. Her stomach does that thing again, flips or flops or somersaults. It doesn’t go away until they’re halfway to Bernie’s car. The drive is short, since Serena only lives a few miles from the hospital. The evening is chilly, filled with the first signs of autumn, and Serena shivers as they walk up her drive.

Her house is warm and cosy and they stand in her kitchen and sip the tea in companionable silence. When the tea is gone and Bernie places her mug in the sink, Serena finds another burst of courage.

“Stay?”

Bernie stills and looks at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re just as exhausted as I am. You can stay in the spare room if you like?”

Bernie thinks for a moment, and then nods.

Serena leads her upstairs, hands her a towel and an extra toothbrush, and explains Jason’s rules of the bathroom. They make the guest bed together, tucking in the sheets in each corner, and fluffing up the pillows.

“I haven’t got any pajamas,” Bernie murmurs.

“I think I may have something,” Serena whispers, mindful of Jason asleep down the hall.

She goes back into her bedroom and rummages through her drawers, until she finds her old Harvard t-shirt. It’s covered in paint stains, from when she painted the sitting room five years ago, and it’s got a hole at the hem near the bottom. But it's soft and comfortable, and Serena thinks the crimson color will look lovely on Bernie.

She’s proved right in the morning, when she sees Bernie standing in her kitchen in nothing but the t-shirt and pants. Serena doesn’t wash the t-shirt for a month.

…

One foggy afternoon, Serena is sad.

It’s not depression, not really. Just a day where she feels unfocused, as if the world is a little out of synch and fuzzy, the noises too distant and her consciousness too disconnected.

She stays home and watches telly, doesn’t even attempt leaving the house.

This happens sometimes, and usually it passes. So she puts the kettle on, pops in the dvd of Pride and Prejudice, and stares longingly at Colin Firth galloping across the English countryside.

She hears her mobile ding a few times, and decides it's not worth the trek from the sofa to the kitchen. She hears it ring, and she turns up the volume as Mr. Collins proposes to Lizzie.

She hears insistent knocking on her back door when Lizzie arrives at Rosings Park.

She frowns at the intrusion, pauses the dvd and slowly stands, making her way to the kitchen and to the back door. She opens it and prepares her tongue for a quick barb, but the bitter words die on her lips when she sees Bernie standing at her door.

“I heard you were sad today,” Bernie says. “So I brought cookie dough.” She holds up a shopping bag from Waitrose and Serena thinks she could kiss this woman right here and now. She quickly pushes the thought away.

“You better come in then,” she replies, already feeling a little better.

They sit on the sofa and watch Lizzie reject Mr. Darcy as the smell of baking cookies filters through the house. The cookies are still warm when Bernie comes out of the kitchen with a plate of them. But Bernie must have found the coat rack near the door, because she’s wearing Serena’s faux fur hat.

Serena giggles at the sight, and smiles fondly as Bernie, very seriously, sits down and bites into the biggest cookie off the plate.

“Nice hat,” Serena says between giggles.

“Thank you,” Bernie replies in a posh accent, and takes another bite, but this time with her pinky primly pointed to the ceiling.

“Suits you,” Serena quips.

Bernie laughs and takes the hat off, carefully placing it on the coffee table in front of them. She sits a little closer and takes in a quick breath when Serena places her hand on her thigh.

“Thank you for coming over.”

“Of course,” Bernie whispers.

Bernie is tense and stiff until Serena removes her hand, and Serena tries not to feel hurt by the way Bernie relaxes as they pull apart. They watch the telly until Serena falls asleep, and Bernie quietly tidies the kitchen and places a blanket over Serena before she tiptoes out the door.

The last thing Serena remembers is Lizzie wandering the grounds of Pemberley, and remembers thinking how nice it is to have Bernie in her home. How warm and lovely it is to laugh, to be taken care of, and to not feel like a burden.

The hat is still on the coffee table when Serena wakes up a few hours later.

…

For Christmas, Bernie buys Serena a pair of dangle pearl earrings. They have silver backings and topaz undertones, and Serena wears them every day for a week.

She shows Lou and Morven on the ward, leaning forward so that they can see the way the light catches and makes them subtly glitter. Jason rolls his eyes as she tells a colleague about the earrings in the line at pulses, and later answers a stranger's questions about the earrings in the lift.

“My partner got them for me for Christmas. Aren’t they lovely?”

“The entire hospital knows about your new earrings, Auntie Serena,” he groans.

Serena can’t bring herself to feel embarrassed.

On New Year’s they have to attend a work party, just a small cocktail party for consultants. It’s a notoriously boring function, but it is black tie, so Serena dresses in a dark navy blue dress. It’s a simple ensemble, adorned with golden stud earrings and a matching bangle.

Serena watches Bernie get ready in her bedroom, and marvels at how quickly some of Bernie’s things seem to have taken up permanent residence in Serena’s drawers. There is nothing major, just a few socks, some running clothes, and an extra pair of scrubs. Never pajamas, though. Bernie always wears the Harvard t-shirt when the stays over.

When Bernie is dressed and ready, the outfit seems unfinished somehow.

“How do I look?” Bernie asks, nearly blushing under Serena’s appreciating eye.

“Almost perfect,” Serena sighs.

“Almost?” Bernie asks with a small smile.

“I have just the thing,” Serena assures her.

She goes to her vanity and pulls out the small black box with the pearl drop earrings. Bernie looks confused when Serena holds them up, but Serena stops her protests and reassures her.

“I want you to wear them tonight. They’ll look lovely on you.”

“Are you sure?” Bernie murmurs, as Serena puts an earring in Bernie’s right ear. “I bought them for you to wear, not me.”

“I’m sure,” Serena whispers, before turning and kissing Bernie on the cheek. She steps back once both earrings are in, and takes a look.

“Perfect,” she says.

Bernie grins and keeps on grinning, until Serena kisses the grin right off her at midnight.

…

Serena had cut her hair short when she was in her 40’s. It’s just easier to maintain, and cheaper to colour, and she doesn’t have to buy hairbands anymore. Which is why, one day, when Bernie has to scrub in, Serena is utterly useless to her.

“Do you have a hair tie? I can’t find mine and I need to scrub.”

The scrub caps help cover hair, but without a tie the hair can escape. Serena hasn’t had to worry about that for nearly a decade, and feels a little silly about going to Morven and asking for a hair tie. So the next day she buys a pack, and starts wearing one around her wrist. The feeling is a little strange at first, having not had one around her wrist in ages. Not since Ellie was little and wore scrunchies with pompoms and beads. But it pays off one morning when Bernie rises early to go for a run.

She sits at the foot of Serena’s bed and puts on her trainers and pulls on a shirt, and then goes to pull her hair back into the world’s smallest ponytail.

“Damn,” she mutters.

“What is it?” Serena asks sleepily from her place tucked under the duvet.

“I haven’t got a hair tie, and I don’t like running with my hair down.”

“Here,” Serena murmurs, and raises her arm in the air. A hair tie sits delicately around her wrist. She feels Bernie gently take it off and she sits up to watch Bernie tie her hair back. Serena loves watching Bernie.

“Thank you,” Bernie whispers against Serena’s forehead, as she leans down for a quick Good Morning kiss.

Serena smiles and mumbles “welcome,” and lets herself drift back to sleep once Bernie has gone.

It becomes a common thing. Serena keeps a pack in her handbag, and always wears at least one on her wrist. She hands one to Bernie before they scrub for a case, before they cook dinner together, and before Bernie joins her in the bath. She hands her a hair tie before countless runs, and on mornings when Bernie is too tired to even think about brushing her hair. Serena wears the hair bands like a promise, and gives them away each time Bernie needs her. It’s simple and kind and something Serena loves doing.

One evening after work, they’re watching some documentary Jason put on. Elinor is on her phone texting or something, and the snow is falling outside. It's cold and soft and the world seems almost perfect. Bernie follows her up to bed, and Serena looks at her.

She steps forward and frames Bernie’s face with both hands. Kisses her softly on the lips, and puts a hand up to the little ponytail at the back of Bernie’s neck. She tugs gently, and lets Bernie’s hair spring loose. Bernie shivers as Serena combs her fingers through the blonde locks, and leans down to kiss her again.

The kiss is soft and warm, and Serena is not sure how many times they’ve kissed over the years. She feels tired, but gently places the forgotten hair band on her wrist, and takes Bernie’s hand in hers. She leads her to bed, and they curl up together and talk for a little while. They talk about the kids, about the ward, about the snowstorm that is supposed to come at the weekend.

When Serena is about to fall asleep, she hears Bernie whisper.

“I love that thing you do.”

Serena cracks open one eyelid.

“What thing?”

“The thing with the hairband,” Bernie says shyly, as she looks at Serena through her fringe.

Serena loves that after all this time, Bernie can still be a little shy. She reaches up and pushes back the hair covering Bernie’s eyes, leans forward and kisses Bernie’s forehead.

“You always lose yours, so I make sure I have one for you.”

“Sharing is caring, and all that?” Bernie whispers.

Serena nods, and after a few moments whispers back.

“I love you so much Bernie.”

Her voice is sleepily and her words are a little slurred, but Bernie pulls her closer, until they’re pressed together. Serena tucks her head into the crook of Bernie’s neck and listens to her breathe. She takes in a deep breath and sighs at the smell of Bernie. Her stomach flips at the way Bernie’s hand is drawing comforting circles on her back.

She smiles when Bernie kisses her forehead one last time, and finally drifts to sleep.