#the number of white men surrounding me that I have to argue with every week is truly draining

[tacticaldiary]

I fear I've Olivia Pope'd too close to the sun

[modern-vellichor]

Withdrawal

Chapter One

Summary: Shes broken and bruised, and so are they. But at least she can't remember when shes sad; but god can they.

Warning: Substance abuse, alcohol, cigarettes, smoking, implied smut, self deprecation, self hate, destructive behaviour

Pairing: Steve x reader

"Trust me, Rogers", Tony sighs into Steve's ear as they push and shove through the crowd of stone-drunks and druggies.

"If you're finding her in a place like this, I don't think we should trust her", Steve states back.

Purple and blue light dances around them, and so do the nearly naked bodies of the 20-somethings surrounding them. The air reeked of sweat and cheap vodka, crushed pills and fine white powder dusted almost every surface, and smoke wafted all around them.

They really needed help. Something was coming, and they couldn't figure out how to stop it. Every day was the same: wake up, new theory, failed theory, repeat. Tony got so fed up that he decided to finally call on an old friend for help, except she didn't answer. She never called him back, or answered his texts, or his emails. And so he hunted her down, and now they were pushing their way through a sweaty and drugged up crowd of young adults in a sketchy bar.

Then they reached it, a doorway covered with a thin mesh curtain. A group of people, younger, all in their early twenties. A girl who was very clearly in charge sat in the middle of all of them, one hand gripped a cigarette loosely, it looked at home between her fingers, the other was latched around the back of a petite boys neck, small and blonde and so desperate to please her - to please you.

Your skin has a grey tinge to it, gaunt and daunting. Your eyes were dull and hazy, dark circles prominent. You looked ill, but you grinned nonetheless.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, inhaling with a small grin, unaware of the three men towering in the doorway, Bucky had joined them on the mission. They watched as the blonde boy passed a violently green pill to you, and you opened your mouth for him, sticking your tongue out, and playfully biting his finger before you swallowed the drug whole.

Tony coughed. He looked at home, and Bucky showed no emotion, but Steve was wildly uncomfortable, and apparently it showed.

You downed the last of the amber liquid in a glass on the small table, before gently shoving your boytoy away and standing up. You swayed for a moment before steadying and making your way to the group.

"You shouldn't have brought blondie over here, Stark. This isn't his scene, look at him", you scolded softly, the corners of Steve's mouth lifted slightly. You turned to him before speaking again, hazy eyes meeting his. "Let's go somewhere a little more quiet, yeah?"

The group nodded and you lead them through the crowd until you descended a staircase and made your way into a sleek looking room, and silence settled comfortably over the group. You discarded your cigarette along the way and so you made yourself comfortable on the leather chair behind the desk and lit another.

The three men got comfortable on a little leather couch. Tony sighed.

"How bad is it gonna be tomorrow?", he asked softly.

"Real bad", you chuckled dryly.

Steve wasn't so sure what Tony meant, but he was almost sure that he was talking about the aftermath of whatever you had taken. Bucky still stayed emotionless.

"How much have you had?", Tony asked again.

"Enough that if I have any more I think I might just die", again you laughed, you had an air of clear nonchalance about the whole situation. You seemed completely aware of everything, yet your pupils were dilating rapidly, and you were slurring your words, and swaying when you stood.

"So, Tony and the Golden Boys", you chided. "What do you want?"

"We need your help", Steve pleaded. You looked as if you would have argued relentlessly if Tony had asked the same, but your hazy eyes met his baby blues and you smiled.

"Tomorrow", you said, and Tony nodded.

"C'mon, Y/N, let's get you home, yeah?", you stamped out the cigarette and nodded, gladly falling into Steve's arms. The men carried you out of the bar and into the car they had come in, and took you back to the compound. Steve had let you stay in his room, tucking you into bed and sitting awake on the uncomfortable plastic desk chair he never used, just in case something happened in the night and he slept through it.

It was three in the morning when she began to shake lightly and broke out into cold sweats. Steve got a little nervous, but simply sat himself against the headboard and left you alone. After a half hour, you were shaking uncontrollably and drenched in sweat. Steve was trying desperately to calm you down, he had a cold face cloth over your forehead, and was running a hand through your hair and cooing softly. And when that didnt work, he scooped you into his arms and ran until he found Tony. The panic only really set in when Tony couldnt stop it either. Tony feigned calmness and dialed an unfamiliar number into his phone. Steve narrowed his eyes when the blonde boy from earlier waltzed in.

He surveyed the scene with mild interest before pulling a familiar orange bottle out of his pocket, he slipped one into your mouth and you swallowed instinctively. Less than twenty minutes passed before you had fallen back into a peaceful sleep.

"What's your name, kid?", Steve grunted as the boy turned to leave.

"Luca. Oh, by the way", he turned and threw the bottle at Steve. "These are for when she gets antsy"

"How do I know when to give her one?"

"Oh, you'll know", and with that he was gone.

When Steve woke the next morning, you and Tony had already started working in the conference room. Papers and Manila folders scattered across the table.

You worked in silence, the three of you together, until you found a lead, and the three of you gathered the necessary people and set off.

You drove in silence, dusk settling over the city. It was well near dark by the time Tony stopped outside of a sketchy looking club.

"You sure this is the place?", he said to you, surveying the building with care. Bucky was in the backseat next to Steve, and he watched you intently, Steve noted this.

You pulled out your phone, double checked something typed into your notes and nodded, getting out of the car.

You took one last look of the building before pulling off your sweater throwing it into the car. You unbuttoned your shirt and tied it up, pulling your sweatpants to your hip bones and smudging your mascara. Then you turned to Bucky with puppy dog eyes; "Bucky, can I borrow your jacket?"

He shrugged the heavy leather off without a second thought, throwing it gently around your shoulders.

"Why is it so important for you to look the part?", Steve asked, he came off more hostile than intended, thrown off by Bucky's gentle actions.

"Because if I look the part", you shook out your hair until it was messy and wild. "You don't have to"

You lit a cigarette and waltzed in like you owned the place, Bucky close behind, Tony and Steve keeping their distance. You were at home in the atmosphere, taking everything and anything offered to you as you pushed through the crowd, until you were shaking your head 'no', and leaning on Bucky for support. But still, you had a clear head and a mission, and made your way to the tall man with dark hair who dominated the back section of the club.

"Duke?", you asked sternly, he towered over you, but you crossed your arms and kept a straight face, Bucky looming behind your shoulder.

"Who's asking?", he shot back.

Steve watched from a distance as the two of you talked and eventually argued, and then followed you out of the club when you turned on your heel and stormed out. He was also the first to join you in your room after you had left for the evening.

He knocked gently, peeking around the corner and shuffling in. He sat at the edge of your bed, and when you patted the mattress next to you, had gotten comfortable against the headboard. You curled into his side. He hesitantly threw an arm around your shoulders and you only nuzzled further into him. You fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other.

Over the coming weeks you became dependant on him, and he worried about you. He worried when you came home drunk out of your mind or stoned to the edge of oblivion, but you always sobered up. It was the late nights that scared him, when you had already fallen asleep and begun to shake, and the only thing that seemed to stop it was the little green pills that he kept on him at all times.

He had been taught from the very beginning that addicts needed help, so slowly but surely he reduces your dose, crushing the pill and only giving you fractions of it. Until it was half, and you still seemed to be fine.

The weeks went on and your work piled up. You hardly ever left your desk, you and Tony working side by side, day through night. Steve spent his nights cold and alone and longing for you back in his bed. With your nights spent huddled up under dim lamp light, you hardly had any time to go out. You stole a few minutes for a cigarette on the roof every few hours, but that was all. Steve couldn't help but smile knowing how much better you were.

You looked constantly tired, but your smile was brighter and wider. Pictures of you and Tony lined the walls of your cramped little office.

Every few days you disappeared, saying your were checking up on your cramped little apartment. You always came back with a fresher air about you, happy and doe eyed. Steve longed to be invited on your little day trips to whatever life you hid from him. He didnt want to only be your night life, to be the only thing you could depend on when stash grew low. He dropped subtle hints here and there, little suggestions. He wondered if your house was anything like you. If its walls were bright and it was clean, or if it was unorganised and dark, curtains drawn permanently shut.

One day he found out. You couldnt find your car keys and asked Steve for a ride. He was more than eager to help, talking nonstop the short drive there. Your apartment was small, cramped. It was neat. Plants littered every surface, all alive and thriving.

"How are your plants still alive?", he pondered aloud.

"Luca waters them for me"

Steve sighed internally. Although Luca hardly ever came up in conversation, his existence plagued Steve. He couldnt get the image of how eager he was to please you, of how you held so much power over him. He didnt dare to imagine what the two of you had done previous to your introduction. He was lost in his self destructive train of thought the entire visit. When you grabbed his bicep and gave a reassuring squeeze, he was pulled back to reality and you returned to the compound.

You slipped into his room that evening. He could smell the hint of old whiskey and smoke on your breath, but he didnt mind. He drank you up, swallowing you whole. He crowded you into the mattress until you sang a song that was only for him. He was sweet and soft, but so distant once it ended. You could never forget, thighs rubbed raw from the scratch of his beard, lungs aching from lack of breath. But he simply rolled over and fell asleep. Some evenings, he would hold you close and tight and never let go, keep you tight there. Most, though, you had to curl against the broad expanse of your back and hope for some attention in return. And it never came on nights like this, but you tried anyway.

You were gone in the morning, as per usual, but he couldnt find you elsewhere. Not could he find Tony or Bucky, and that's when he realised that they had left without him.

[trojantoast]

Cold is the Night (Day One: Reunion)

 Zutara Week 2020

@zutaraweek

AO3

“Once he's gazed upon her, a man is forever changed

The bravest men return with darkened hearts and phantom pain

Ages come and go, but her life goes on the same

She lives to see the sun and feel the wind and drink the rain

Her colors change to mark the passing of the days

No Earthly sight can match the beauty she displays

And when I die I want her lying by my side

In my grave, in my grave”

- La Belle Fleur Sauvage (Lord Huron)

___

The arctic wind was bitter cold, but the sight of the Southern Water Tribe as he rounded the iceberg filled him with warmth. Unlike its northern sister, with its white, impenetrable walls. Only a wide harbor filled with ships and sea birds, separated the frigid ocean from the village.

 No great citadel greeted him, no sparkling palace. Yet, it was not the same tribe as years past. Gone were the huts and animal skin tents. A broad path in the snow led from the port to a neat cluster of igloos nestled at the snow covered foot of the mountains, cradled by a low wall. The only permanent settlement was the low rotunda of sculpted ice and snow that crowned the village. The home of the Southern Tribe winked with fire light in the eternal dawn.

Fire Lord Zuko breathed in the crisp, familiar scent of brine and metallic snow, as his cruiser dropped anchor in the harbor. In minutes his motor boat reached the shore, and his breath of fire was the only thing keeping him from shivering right out of his parka. Summer or not, Zuko was chilled to the bone. 

Three figures greeted him on the docks of ice. All were male, tall and broad. One broke away and as he grew closer his voice carried over the arctic wind, until he was only a few feet away.

“Gran Gran will be happy to see you wearing the parka she made you, though… the matching toboggan seems to be missing.”

Zuko smiled as he was enveloped into an embrace, “Hello, to you too, Sokka.”

The warrior gave him a quick squeeze and pulled back, his characteristic grin plastered on his face.  Zuko looked down at his previously mentioned navy blue parka. It was cut in the Fire Nation style, and lined with white fur. “Well, I couldn't refuse a gift from a foreign dignitary, especially one that was handmade for me.”

“Certainly not, parkas of that quality can take an entire winter to hand stitch. To have one made for you is a declaration of trust and allyship, sacred to our tribe.” Zuko looked up to the second Warrior, taller than Sokka, but narrower in the shoulders. The firebender bowed formally, 

“General Bato,”

There was a bark of laughter, and the third man joined the group, “General... that’s a good one.”

The tall warrior rolled his eyes, “What would you prefer, Hakoda, ‘Igloo-maker in Chief’?”

The leader of the southern Water Tribe threw his arm around the warriors shoulders and smiled, “As long as it's not my igloo.”

There was another round of chuckles, and Hakoda grasped Zuko’s forearm in a formal greeting.

“You really should take care of that parka. Bato’s not kidding, they do take all winter and you know how long those are around here.”

“I’ll be sure to express my gratitude to Kanna when I see her.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hakoda smiled softly, but his eyes turned more earnest, and he placed a strong hand on Zuko’s shoulder. The Fire Lord’s guards didn't even flinch. Snow swirled absentmindedly around the group in the moments before the chief spoke, “I believe we have some things to discuss.”

Zuko nodded, his hand dipping unconsciously into the pocket of his parka, “yes, we do.”

___

Talking could wait, apparently, as Zuko and the rest of his crew were loaded up into sleds (recently reintroduced to the tribe's way of life, after they finally had enough food to feed arctic dogs as well as themselves) and taken to the village. It was bigger up close, but barely larger than the smallest of villages in his home country. Children trailed after them, and Zuko smiled as Captain Jee sent little spirals of sparks, like fireworks, towards their awed faces. 

Sokka was giving him a very speedy tour, pointing out new landmarks and trying to explain who lived in what igloo, before they passed by in a shower of kicked up snow. The main gathering building of the tribe was circular and sprawling. Multiple branches and bubbles of different rooms peaked out of the drifts of snow. The ship's crew was taken to the temporary barracks to get cleaned up before the feast that the tribe's women had prepared. Zuko was led to the guest house he usually occupied on his visits.

Zuko tried to refuse any big ta-do about his arrival. It wasn't even an official visit. He knew that even if the tribe was quickly bouncing back after the war, that there wasn't much food to spare. However, the tribe members had been insistent, and he couldn't really argue. 

He followed Sokka around the backside of the rotunda to the igloos and huts that Chief Hakoda’s family and visitors used. 

He tried not to let his eyes drift to the home nestled between his and the chief’s. It’s doorway was dark, no smoke curled from its chimney, and from the snow drifted against the door, it had not been entered in a while.

That’s a good thing, he said to himself. 

He wasn’t very convincing.

“You know, I'm surprised you haven't asked about her yet.”

Zuko stilled at the door of his igloo, a now familiar place. He let his eyes linger on the other home.

“I know she’s not here, and that’s how I wanted it to be, so…” he trailed off.

“What has it been? Six months?” Sokka continued past him carrying Zuko’s trunk with little effort. He set it down by the large cot and bed roll. Zuko sighed and followed suit. The space was immediately warmer than the outside air. The curtain of a door settled behind him. 

“Seven… and three quarters.” He grabbed a tea kettle and set it on the small cooking fire at the center of the single room house. Sokka plopped down on the cushions around the pit, arranging them so he could comfortable lounge back.

“Hey, I haven't seen Suki in almost five months. I mean,” there was a grunt as Sokka removed his boots, “It's not quite the same, since me and Suki are technically married and you guys…” Sokka seemed to struggle for the right thing to say. In the meantime Zuko removed his own boots and parka, which had grown hot, and ran a hand through his unbound hair. He had kept it roughly the same length for the past five years. 

“We agreed that this was the best thing for everyone. Katara’s where she's needed, and so am I.” Sokka raised a critical brow, but just shrugged.

“And, I'm sure your visit here has nothing to do with ‘being where you're needed’” Zuko shot him a withering look. Sokka had the decency to look sheepish.

“Hey,” the warrior raised his hands in surrender, “I only speaking the truth.”

Zuko wasn’t quite ready to face the truth.

He wasn’t ready, because the truth frightened him. It kept him up at night. It made him lose focus in meetings and it made him count the days between every time he saw her. He knew the truth, and he didn’t want to hear it.

“Well, buddy, I’m just glad you’re here.”

Zuko looked up from inspecting the tea pot, and smiled, ever so slightly, 

“Me too.”

___

The meal was no feast or ball, but the entire village gathered in the largest and center-most room of the rotunda. The tribe’s numbers, with it’s warriors returned, and half a decade of peace, had grown to nearly 200. Yet, the room didn’t seem cramped as everyone piled onto cushions around low dining tables. Even when Zuko’s crew and personal guards (who where only there on principle, Zuko had never felt safer than among the Southern Water Tribe), joined the company, the crowded space felt comfortable and warm.

Zuko had been placed in the seat of honor, at the left hand of chief Hakoda, and the right hand of Kanna, the chief's mother, and the village’s elder. As per tradition, the youngest of the group and the unmarried women served the rest of the tribe before eating. Sokka told him once, that the action was to reinforce loyalty and represent how they serve their tribe first, until they marry, or become adults. 

The food was traditional water tribe cuisine, made by collective effort of the women, both married and unmarried, of the tribe. 

Platters of roasted fish, and savory rein-caribou meat was served, alongside various stews and cooked greens. sea prunes, clams, and other crustaceans were also distributed. The food, like the tribe who made it, was hearty. It was salty, and fatty, and so unlike the hot spices and complicated recipes of his Zuko’s homeland. The Fire Lord hadn’t had a meal as delicious in a long time. 

The room was filled with chattering voices and laughing children, muffled by the animal pelts and cushions they all lounged on. Everyone had striped their outer clothes off, and the parkas joined the piles of furs surrounding the group. People moved from table to table, catching up on the day's activities and trading jokes and stories. The older warriors took special interest in comparing notes with his crew on sailing techniques. Every member of the tribe, from the oldest widow, to the mother’s with their tiny babies, came to Zuko’s table and greeted him formally. Zuko gave them a warriors handshake or a bow, according to their age. Some of the children brought him tiny, crude, carvings of bone, made in the shapes of animals or people. In return, he bestowed a carefully wrapped cake from the satchel at his side into their tiny hands. The pastries were crunchy on the outside and impossibly soft on the inside; shaped like lotus flowers. They were straight from the royal kitchens, and Zuko pretended not to notice when they came back for seconds. 

Zuko barely had time to eat the food that had been piled onto his plate, between greeting the tribe, and joining into the discussions at his own table, but he made do. 

“So, young man,” Zuko turned from giving a little girl her third pastry, to Kanna. The older woman had finished her bowl of stew, and was now working on the delicate and complex embroidery on a deep blue parka. “What is it you plan to do with all those carvings the children are giving you?”

Zuko smiled, and turned to look at the small army of animals he had absentmindedly arranged in rows next to his table setting. 

“I’ll probably put them with the others. I have a glass bureau in my office that holds some of the gifts I’ve received from other dignitaries. The children’s carvings have their own shelf.” The carvings had become a sort of tradition every time he came to visit. 

She chuckled, it was a rumbling, gravelly sound, “I can’t imagine these next to the rich items you must get.”

Zuko picked up the carving closest to him. It was a black wolf-whale. The little boy who had given it to him, had charred the bone to mimic the pattern of black and white splotches of the animal in real life. 

“Yeah, but these are my favorite.”

He ran his hands along the upright fin on its back.

Kanna smiled quietly to herself and returned to her embroidery.

Slowly, as the night went on, the children grew tired, and their parents bid last goodbyes to the members of Zuko’s table. And as the kids were rebundled up and carried, sleepily, back to their own homes, the rest of the village filed out as well. The younger men and women left in groups, or pairs, laughing heartily together, to spend time among themselves. The widows and widowed warriors bore their own farewells. Soon, even the village elders grew sore of sitting and talking and eating, and went their own ways, wishing the guidance and protection of the spirits in the dreams of their chief, his family, and the Fire Lord. 

The dishes had been cleared away much earlier in the night, so when Hakoda led them into a hall toward a small study, they left the gathering room quiet and empty. 

Zuko rose from his seat, and extended his elbow to Kanna, who excepted it with a pat to his for arm and a smile. 

“Such good manners.” She praised. Zuko felt himself blush.

The adjacent room was furnished with low couches and a stone fireplace that peaked out of the white ice walls. More thick pelts lined the floor. Zuko recognized the large maple shelves and desk as those he gifted Hakoda himself, made of the finest Fire Nation lumber. 

Sokka, Kanna, Bato, and Zuko all settled into the couches, as the Chief pulled out a dark blue glass bottle from the bottom drawer of his desk. He poured each member of the group a drink of the clear liquid, before he sat another one of the couches, instead of his high backed desk chair. 

Zuko took a sip, and tried not to wince as the alcohol burned his throat. Immediately, he was warmer than before. He watched the others. Zuko knew what was coming.

Hakoda took a very slow sip of his drink, and turned to the firebender.

“I’m assuming you didn't sail all the way down to the South Pole to take in the scenery.”

Zuko swallowed, as they all turned their attention to him.

“No, no I didn't.” he took another drink, stealing his nerves, then placed the glass down. 

“Me and Katara have discussed it, at length.” Zuko found that Kanna’s stare was level and calm, he felt reassured. “She thinks it’s the best thing for us, and I agree.” Zuko looked around the room.

“We want, no… we're going to get married.”

Zuko didn’t know what reaction he would receive. He had been obsessing over what Katara’s family would say, what they would do, since the idea of marriage first entered his mind. He expected it would involve being forcefully thrown into the arctic ocean. The sensible part of his mind knew there was nothing to worry about, since almost immediately after him and Katara had announced their courtship her family, and her tribe, had taken him in as one of their own (Bato had even teased them about step-grand children). Yet, the other voice in his head still haunted him with fears of rejection. But, Hakoda only sat up, placed his glass down, looked into Zuko’s eyes, and waited for him to continue.

So Zuko did.

“We know that it’s not going to be easy. We know that it will be dangerous. We know that we each have responsibilities and duties, and I respect hers and she respects mine. We’ve been considering it for a while now, and it's what we both want. I know that relations between my nation and yours, are...tense, but they're getting better, and there's people where I’m from that won’t like it, but I think that together, we can show that the four nations can coexist and that the Fire Nation cares about reperatio-”

Hakoda held up a hand, Zuko went silent, he swallowed again. 

The chief looked deep into his eyes, Zuko didn't break the contact.

“I don’t care what your union means politically. I don’t care what message it will send to the other nations, what message it will send for your people, son. I just want to know one thing.”

“Anything.” 

“Do you love her?”

Immediately, he answered, “Yes,” his hand settled on his chest, between his two lungs, where he knew the scar sat, “with all my heart.”

Zuko looked around the room, each pair of bright blue eyes were fixed on him. 

“I don’t know when I started to, maybe it was the day of the comet, maybe before, maybe after, but when I asked her to come with me to fight my sister and regain my throne, I knew it had to be her that came. I love Katara, but before that, I trust her. I trust her with my life. I trust her with my people and my country. I would die for her.”

Zuko felt it then, the ghost of the pain, the exhilaration, the fear as he watched Azula take aim. “Taking that lightning was the easiest thing I’ve ever done, and I would do it again, ten thousand times over.”

Bato spoke next, “And she feels the same way?”

Zuko thought, for a second, replaying the last five years in his mind. The image that lingered in his mind was the flashes of blue fire through clear water as she battled Azula, risking her life to defeat the most dangerous firebender in the world, just to save him.

He smiled, gently, “Yes, I know she does.”

Kanna’s face was stone, “You swore an oath to serve your people and your country? Is that correct Fire Lord Zuko?”

He nodded. The elder looked him in the eye. He felt like she was looking deep into his soul.

“In our culture, the marriage vow outweighs any oath to lord or land. Katara must come first, before your throne, before your crown. The binding of two souls is far more ancient than any border or king, as old as the very first marriage of the spirits Tui and La. The promise you will make to each other trumps any other loyalty, and will last beyond your last breath, into the next life. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.” he instinctively reached into his pocket, “The only reason Katara doesn't know I’m here is because she would say that asking for permission from the bride's family was an outdated tradition” Sokka smirked at that, “but I also know how much your good opinion means to her, and I don’t want to hide anything from you.

“I want to do this by the book, so I’m here, to ask you personally,” he looked from person to person, “do me and Katara have your blessing for our union?”

There was silence in the room. No one moved. Zuko barely breathed. 

Then Kanna rose, slowly. Instinctively Zuko moved to help her but she held up a withered hand and crossed over to him.

“Kneel, and close your eyes.”

Zuko did. 

He felt her brush her fingers across his forehead. 

“Now,” he looked up, “I, Kanna, matriarch of the Southern Water Tribe, mother to Hakoda, grandmother to Sokka and Katara, grant you my blessing, and the blessings of the spirits for your union.” She looked behind her, “Does anyone present of the bride's family object to the bestoying of the blessing?”

The only response was Sokka’s wide grin. Kanna nodded, and returned to her seat. Zuko stood, he couldnt hid the joy on his face, he bowed, low, to each person in the room.

“So,” Hakoda dawned a smile for himself, “have you carved the necklace?”

___

Later that night, Sokka walked Zuko back to his igloo. After Zuko’s announcement there were multiple rounds of celebratory drinks, and the pair was distinctly drunk. The southern warrior threw his arm around the other man’s shoulders as they neared the entrance.

“You know, Zuko…” He burped, “we all knew it was a matter of time before you asked her. Dad just put you through all those formalities to make you sweat.”

Zuko chuckled, “Well, it worked.”

His friend, and soon to be brother-in-law, turned to him, seriously, "You also have to know Zuko, that if Katara was here she would object to you asking us not just because it's and 'outdated tradition' but because there's no question that our answer would be 'yes'."

The Fire Lord looked at the ground, "I just... wanted to be sure."

Sokka shook his head, placing a hand on Zuko's shoulder, "We love you, Zuko. Everyone does. Honestly, I think Gran-gran likes you more than me, which hurts, but whatever," he shrugged, "bottom line, your an important part of this family, and you were long before you an Katara started sucking face." Zuko couldn't hold back a snort of laughter, 

"I know, but sometimes it's hard, I'm not used to the whole 'unconditional love' stuff." he looked back, across the shining tops of the tribe, "you all just make it look so...easy."

Sokka laughed, "Yeah, tell that to dad the next time I loose blueprints." 

He ruffled Zuko's hair, and returned to his position leaning on him.

“So, when are you formally popping the question?”

Zuko’s eyes traveled over to Katara’s igloo next door, then to the lights of the harbor beyond, and the twinkling stars and moon reflected in the still water. 

“She comes back from Ba Sing Se in three weeks, so I figured as soon as she got home.”

Katara’s brother nodded, then grasped each of Zuko’s shoulders, making him look into his eyes, “That means you're staying long enough for bro time?” his brow was furrowed in absolute seriousness. 

“I wouldn’t dream of anything else.”

___

!!PLEASE REBLOG WITH THOUGHTS AND CRITICISMS!!

You guuuuuuys... it’s officially Zutara Week!!! YEE HAW!!!

Anyway, I’m sorry there was only indirect Katara in today’s submission. That will be rectified tomorrow. My plan for this year (though I haven't followed any plan for Zutara Week yet) is that all of my submissions will be apart of a linear narrative. It starts with today’s prompt, five years after the war, and goes from there. All of the submissions can be stand alone, but thay can also all be tied together. The only day that won’t follow this is Day Three: Celestial. I really love that particular one so its special. All of this could change, so don’t quote me on that. I hope you enjoyed :D

P.S. I’ll be tagging all my Zutara Week submissions for this year #ems zkw2020 

[halsteadpd]

The Beginning: Part 2

Part 1

A/N: First of all, I am so sorry to everyone who got like 10 emails alerting them that I posted a story-I have no idea what happened! I had to turn off all my Fanfiction email notifications because anytime someone followed/favourited/reviewed I would get at least 15 emails telling me about it. On that note, for those of you who did give me some love, THANK YOU! It definitely helps keep the momentum going when writing. Anyway, enjoy. Hopefully there isn't a thousand emails again.

There is TW in the tags.

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Jay has been in Afghanistan for a few months now. Tensions between the army and locals/terrorists are rising. Reinforcements arrive weekly as the firefights increase—men and women are dying often and if the army wants to keep their hold on the Taliban, new soldiers will continue to arrive. Every night there's a series of bombings nearby that keeps the army on their toes; sometimes the shells come close enough that they can feel the wind emanating from the explosion.

There's an upcoming high stakes recon mission that Jay and his crew have been preparing for. There's word of a village that's being quietly transformed into a second HQ—something closer to the army base so the Afghans can keep an eye on the soldiers and their activity. They first found out while locals were gossiping about the Taliban moving in—their translator had picked it up during a separate operation.

The busy schedule was a welcome distraction to Jay. He hasn't had time to think about Ava and in the rare occurrences when his mind does wander, he is surprised that he forgot about her for so long. Obviously he still wishes all the best for her, but the fact that she walked out on him still hurts. He doesn't get any letters like he did during his first tour; seeing his buddies get pictures and words of encouragement from home is probably what hurts most.

It reminds him he's all alone in the world and if he were to die, they wouldn't have anyone to tell.

Jay rolls over in his bed—the mattress creaking underneath his weight. His colleagues are all asleep around him and he knows he too should seek peace. Tomorrow evening is when they set out on their mission; one they had been anticipating since the beginning of the war. If all went in their favour, they would be crippling a central piece to the Taliban and how they operate.

The sky is clear and from his bed, Jay can see the countless stars littering the sky. It's on nights like these that make him feel like he's just a small speck of dust floating through the universe; it makes all his problems seem so small and obsolete. His day job is also a good reminder of all the good things he's had in his life; he never had to experience a war until he signed up for it.

Turning onto his back, he blows out a breath of air before further relaxing into his cot and falling asleep.

The next day, the base was bustling. As a decoy, teams were still sent out on their respective recon missions in case anyone from the enemy lines was spying on them. Most of the soldiers on base were helping prepare for the real assignment that would be taking place later at 1800 hours. They needed to make sure they had enough ammunition should something go sideways.

Jay sat on his bunk polishing his gun, ensuring that everything would go smoothly and that his gun would be ready for combat. The last thing he needed was his gun jamming—in country it was the only thing that kept him and his friends alive.

As teams returned from their respective operations, the energy of the base increased. There was a combination of excitement and anxiety; they didn't want to get too excited in case of a failed mission; there was also the risk of losing people on their side. After dinner, the three groups that would be going into the village prepared their equipment. Nobody spoke and the only noise came from equipment being stacked and guns being loaded.

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The teams quietly made their way towards the outskirts of the village and regrouped before rushing in; a surprise invasion is the only way to catch those inside off guard. It also prevents casualties on their side. Screams of women and children reverberated against Jay's ears as his team began to clear out the first house closest to them.

"I've got a mother and three children in here!" One of his group members yelled out, alerting his squad of the civilians. He gathered them in a corner while the rest of the team cleared the home.

"The rest is empty!" Jay called back as his team finished sweeping the home. "Let's move."

His team stayed along the side of the home—using it as a shield—as the other two groups finished clearing their areas. They kept an eye on rooftops nearby, looking for any sign of unusual movement.

"Move forward!" The commander called out as everyone regrouped and Jay's team stealthily made it to the wall of the next home.

"Breach!" As soon as the team stormed into the home, bullets began to fly from both inside and outside of the home—they no longer had adequate cover. Jay could hear the guttural moans of one of his friends over the sound of bullets flying as another was crying out as he attempted to stop the bleeding. Quickly, they all rushed into the hut—their guns going off in quick succession at the enemy.

With efficiency and prowess, the group cleared the rest of the house and took cover against a wall while the other two groups focused on the attack going on outside. They were trapped for now.

Jay looked down at the now lifeless body of his teammate—he had been shot in the throat and blood continued to ooze out of the wound that was no longer being covered. Another called for immediate backup from base while bullets continued to lodge themselves into the exterior walls of the home. The only thing the soldiers could do was lie against the concrete wall and hope for help to arrive soon.

As Jay rested against his shoulder against the wall, he took in the scene in front of him. Six children, two women, and three men were dead. There was blood all over the floor which was consequently smeared throughout the home from their boots. The smell of blood was in the air and Jay gagged slightly, not having any fresh air to breathe.

All he could do was wish for backup to arrive quickly so he could get out of there.

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It was early the next morning by the time the US Army had the upper hand against the terrorists. The sun was beginning to rise and the smell of gunpowder, smoke, and iron remained in the air.

The village had been freed from a Taliban hold but the night had been long and full of firefight. Those who made it through the darkest hours were lucky to be alive. The sight of the area they currently occupied was a mess. Those who lived there were trying to make sense of what had happened all night—Jay wasn't even sure he knew either.

The army wasn't expecting an ambush; they thought they had the advantage since they acted so quickly. Evidently the Taliban were already stationed in the village.

The number of deceased were currently unconfirmed but based on the sound of women and children still crying, there were many. Jay couldn't bear to watch a toddler covered in blood, screaming out for his mother. Unfortunately that toddler wasn't the only one who lost someone the night prior.

Three were confirmed to be dead on the US side and were currently laid on the ground under white blankets. The bodies would be loaded into the trucks whenever the group would leave and return to base. Soon they'll be put into coffins with an American flag tied snug on top.

It's days like these when Jay really appreciates his life, because that could have easily been him lying on the ground instead. He remembers his first tour—the firefights would always scare him because he would be flirting with death. But now, he didn't have anyone to go home to; nobody cared whether or not he would make it out alive.

He wished it was him instead.

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Erin quickly made her way into her office and placed all her paperwork on her desk. She was running late this morning and needed to leave right away if she wanted to make it on time to the press conference. She double checked that she had everything she needed before rushing out of her office.

Journalism is a subject that Erin was always intrigued with. She loved watching news anchors argue and debate with individuals they brought onto the show—she always wanted to be one of them. Even now her days are surrounded with interviewing and investigating during the day and pouring over the news in the evening.

Currently, she's advocating about how the war in Afghanistan is only a way for the President and his friends to fill their pockets; soldiers are dying at the hands of American politicians. She's been reprimanded by her boss multiple times for asking the President "inappropriate questions" but frankly, she doesn't care. She's trying to bring light to an issue that she believes is important—this is exactly why she became a journalist.

Erin makes it just in time to the White House Presser and quickly gets out her recorder and list of questions. She makes notes of others' questions in case she needed to follow up with the President about his answers. Often, pursuing a question that others are uncomfortable with is what gives journalists popularity; she knows this feeling well since she's often trending on Twitter.

A few of the other reporters ask their questions before she gets picked to ask hers. "Mr. President reports came out this week of the US Army being ambushed during a recon mission in Afghanistan that resulted in three dead soldiers, do you feel any remorse for sending these men and women into a war that could have been avoided?"

"Listen, you've asked questions similar to this before Ms. Lindsay. I will reiterate what I've said in the past. The brave men and women in our military are the reason why we live in a free country and get to live our lives. The whole point of them being stationed in war torn countries like Iraq and Afghanistan is strictly for peace keeping business. There are women and children in these countries that have seen nothing but war in the last few years and our military will ensure peace as soon as they can. Next question."

Erin rolled her eyes as the next journalist began asking his question. Many people knew that the military wasn't sent in for peace keeping purposes. Many of the politicians in the U.S. were crooked and war was an easy pay day for them. It didn't matter to them that people were dying daily on both sides—unnecessary deaths. More money was allocated towards war than anything else. Erin thought many of the millions could instead be used domestically to ensure Americans had basic healthcare, had enough food to eat, and had a roof over their heads.

But apparently that was too much to ask for.

She sat through the rest of the presser quietly and quickly left the building when she got a second. She was sure her boss would be waiting for her when she returned to the office—he had ordered her to ask "more journalism questions" instead of constant questions of the war. It was as if everyone was against Erin and her advocacy.

As soon as she entered her building, she was ushered to her boss' office by his assistant. She flopped down onto the chair across from him and took in his unamused expression.

"How can I be of service?" Erin asked, a small smile on her lips.

"You know exactly what you're here for. I asked you to stop asking about the war." He spat back.

"Look, I'm just doing my job, okay? Americans are dying and people need to know!" Erin retorted.

"I understand that, but the President is getting annoyed. There's a lot of negative attention on us because of your actions."

"Are you really that shallow that you can't see past yourself and this company?" Erin asked, her voice dropping low. "Nobody here knows what's going on over there! Why are so many of them dying? We deserve to know. This is taxpayer money being used for war!"

"Okay, fine. I understand what you're saying." He blew out a breath. "How about I offer you an alternative position for the time being? It'll be three months, max. It's right in your wheelhouse. We've been talking about this for a few weeks now and I think you'll like it."

"I'm listening…" Erin drawled out, clearly intrigued.

"How about you cover the war in Afghanistan?"

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[byorder-fanfic]

A Good Woman

Summary: The man Lizzie loves is put in the hospital by the two other men she thought she loved. So, she does what any woman in her situation would do- she points a gun to their heads.

Word count: 2327

Warnings: Hospital, descriptions of injury and pain, mentions of sex work and sexual abuse, swearing.

Author’s Note: Hi, this is a part two to A Good Man. It’s an AU in which the vendetta doesn’t happen because Lizzie Stark is a badass, and it’s inspired by that scene in S5 when she tells Aberama, Johnny and Tommy to “get out of her house”. Hope you enjoy it xx

Angel was screaming. Lizzie had never heard him in so much pain before, his anguished moans echoing in every corridor of the hospital. Or was it just her mind replaying the sounds that had greeted her as she raced through the nurses and doctors, just trying to find him. She didn't think it could be true- John was a good man, wasn't he? He wouldn't have done this to her. But the bandages wrapped around Angel's face proved otherwise. She leaned her head against the wall, trying to focus on the tapping of shoes on shiny floors, trying to think of anything but the screaming. Lizzie had seen him in pain before; she had taken a bullet from his shoulder after a nasty shoot out. Even then, he was grinning through his winces, trying to flirt with her as she poured spirits on his wound. It made her smile for a second. Then she thought of his face, now forever scarred. That was, if he survived. Lizzie felt tears sting her eyes, and for once in her life, she let herself cry. That was exactly why she isolated herself to this corridor, moving away from his room just so Audrey and Vincente wouldn't see her fall apart. They didn't need her pain. But Lizzie did. She needed to feel the tears stream down her face, needed to feel her throat get dry as she gasped for air. She needed to feel this, just to remind herself how much she loves him. Loves. Not loved. Not yet. Suddenly feeling grumpy at herself, Lizzie brought up her sleeve to wipe away the tears. She would be strong for Angel: she would hold onto his mother and pray with his father, she would give them tears when they cried and whisper hope into their ears. Hope was easy for her, she thought, with a lifetime of hopelessness.

When she came back, Audrey reached up to hold her tight. She was much smaller than Lizzie, her tears warm against her neck as pulled apart with a smile. Angel had stopped screaming.

"He will live," Audrey stated, before more tears fell down her cheek. Lizzie didn't let herself smile just yet, looking up to the white haired man for confirmation. Vincente nodded, and Lizzie grinned and beamed and smiled so much, it felt sore on her face. Thank you, God, she thought, thank you Jeremiah, too. She knew the preacher would've prayed for him, just as he knew she couldn't as long as he screamed like that.

"Have you seen him?" Lizzie's eyes darted to the hospital door, now shut. "Is he awake?"

"Yes, we've spoken," Vincente spoke for his wife, bringing her into his arms as she kept on crying with joy. "He said he'd like to speak to you, too."

"If that's alright," She hesitated, thinking of what he would say. What she could say.

"Of course it is, Lizzie," Vincente smiled kindly. 

When Lizzie walked in, she knew exactly what to expect. White walls, white sheets, white bandages on his face. Yet she still couldn't stop the sudden thrill of happiness that warmed up inside her when she saw him. Angel was smiling, despite the morphine drip connected to his arm (or maybe that was the reason why), eyes lighting up as he saw the tall silhouette he knew all too well enter the room.

"You're here," he grunted out, trying to shift himself to sit up.

Seeing his struggle, Lizzie strode in, resting a hand on his chest as she gently put him down, as she perched on the edge of his bed, careful to check for any wires she might be constricting. Her hand immediately found his, still the same unscarred hand she would hold onto under the table at his restaurant. It was weird at first, since he wasn't wearing the rings she'd grown accustomed to digging into her bony fingers. But it was still him. She reached her other hand up, running her fingers through his matted hair. It was wild and dark with sweat instead of gel keeping it tidy. She tried not to brush against the bandages- a difficult task. They covered most areas of his face like an incomplete patchwork of his likeness, some flecks of blood staining the gauze.

"I'm sorry." The guilt she'd been hoarding since his restaurant burnt down all came pouring out, her voice tearing as she carried on. "If you'd never met me, if I never worked for those Shelby fuckers, then you wouldn't have gotten hurt. It's all...it's all my fault, Angel, I'm so sorry."

"Lizzie, love," Angel smiled as if it amused him, squeezing her pale hand tighter. "This isn't your fault. You're allowed to be with whoever you so choose." A shuffling behind his bandages told her he was giving her that cocky eyebrow lift that drove her insane. "And you choose me. Those Shelby fuckers can deal with that."

"They will," she practically growled it out. "I will make sure they pay for this."

"I know," he nodded gently. "You're a remarkable woman, Lizzie Stark, and you make sure to give them Hell for me, okay?"

"Okay." 

Angel pulled her down to his bed so she was lying next to him, her head resting on the shoulder of his hospital gown and her legs falling off of the bed.

"You look worn out, love," he whispered.

"Aw thanks," she joked.

"Sorry, you look beautiful as always," he corrected himself with a little kiss to the top of her head. "Have you been eating and sleeping alright?"

She thought back to all the days and nights Angel had been in the hospital, all the days and nights she had stayed here too. The hospital staff had tried to kick her out since it's "family only", but Audrey Changretta had insisted Lizzie was family, and, well, no one argues with her. 

"I've been staying in hospital with your parents," she told him. "So, not really. We've all just been worried."

"Well, as soon as I get out of here, I'll make us a big meal," he promised, hand tight around her waist.

"You still want me?" She said it quietly, not quite believing it.

"I'm the one whose hideously scarred, Liz." Even though she couldn't see, she knew he was grinning. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"You're not hideous," she lifted herself up, staring into his eyes, twinkling under the bandages. "You could never be hideous."

They fell back into comfortable silence as Lizzie laid uncomfortably in the bed, but she didn't care. At least he was here, his chest expanding with each breath that Lizzie anxiously listened to, heart still beating.

"Y'know," she gave a sly smile. "When you get back, I could cook dinner for you."

And Angel laughed, a loud guffaw that made him grunt a little in pain, as he brought Lizzie closer to his chest.

"Mi amore, I will do anything for you," he declared. "Except for eating your burnt toast."

Lizzie didn't stay at the hospital the next day. With a clap on the back from Vincente, another tight hug from Audrey, and a kiss good luck from Angel, she was marching down Small Heath, a blaze in her eyes that forced everyone to step out of her way. A woman on a mission, with only one target in mind. The betting shop was surrounded by smoking Blinders, each of them giving a blank stare as they watched her storm into Number 6, Watery Lane. She could feel everyone's eyes on her as she charged on through, walking past the Shelby family at the table before reaching her desk. She didn't answer their questions, posed loud and rudely, as she opened up her bottom drawer. She didn't respond when she brought out her revolver. She didn't feel sorry when they screamed at her as she cocked it with a click. She just rose up, graceful as a dancer, and marched back to them, gun pointed at John's head.

"Now, then, Liz," Tommy held hid hands up, trying to get her to surrender. Everyone was on their guard, tense and wide-eyed as they watched her hold the gun, unshaking and unrelenting. She wouldn't let him take the gun from her again. "I know you're upse-"

"Shut up, Tom," she growled, pointing the gun back to him. "For once in your fuckin' life, will you just shut up and sit down?"

"Okay," John spoke, calmly, as he nodded for everyone to sit back down. She tried not to look at the betrayal in his eyes, knowing he didn't like the familiar look in hers.

"What d'ya have to say, Lizzie?" Arthur asked, gruffly.

"You fuckers are lucky," she began. "If Angel died, it wouldn't be me showing up here to point a gun at you. Killing a Changretta would start a vendetta, and you would just keep on killing each other till there was no one left." She looked down a moment. "Cept me, of course. Need someone to put a flower on your grave, right?"

"We weren't trying to hurt you," Tommy said it coldly.

"No, course you weren't," she laughed at the thought. "Cause you never think of me, none of you do. You didn't want me, Tom, and neither did you, John." She glared at them both. "So why the fuck are you getting territorial now? Why do you have to hurt the one good man who loves me?"

"Loves you, huh?" Arthur scoffed a little. 

"Yeah, he does, and I love him," she said it just as coldly as Tommy would've, making sure they could all see her teeth as she snarled at them.

"You've said that before," John said, cruelly.

"I think I did love you, John," she looked at him. "And I didn't see anyone the first week after you proposed." Esme was watching on awkwardly. "But then the money I saved up ran out, and it was either keep my promise to you and starve or lose some dignity and keep a roof over my head."

"We've all been through hard times, Lizzie." Polly looked just like Tommy as she said that, eyes blazing.

"Well I never had a family like you to take care of me," she said, shrugging slightly. The gun was getting heavy in her hands. "All I had was a dad who abandoned me and a mum that drunk herself into an early grave." Everyone flinched- she'd never told anyone but Angel and Jeremiah about her past. "And I was chucked out into the streets with only the clothes on my back. No one would hire me cause I always had mud on my clothes and I bathed in the Cut." She shuddered as she remembered those times, so long ago. "So I became a whore, and I got food in my stomach and I saved up to get myself that dingy little flat, and I was miserable." She shook her head. "And I thought the only way out was with a ring on my finger, so I said yes to John. And then I said yes to Tommy, cause I will not ever go back onto the streets." She put her gun down at last, feeling it swing by her hip. "But I'm not a whore anymore. I'm happy now, with a proper job that I'm proud of and a good man at my side. You will not ruin that for me." She glowered at the three Shelby brothers. "Tommy, John, Arthur, you will go to the liquor shop round the corner and buy a bottle of wine, red, and go to the hospital, and apologise to Angel."

They all started to protest but Lizzie raised the gun again.

"I said shut it," she said firmly. "You will swallow that fuckin' pride of yours and apologise to him, and you will finish this stupid war."

"Or else?" Tommy didn't take her seriously, looking more amused than concerned.

"Or else I'll do what I should've done at the Darby," she pointed her gun to him again, seeing the flicker of recognition in his eyes at the sight.

"What happened at the Darby?" John also remembered seeing her, battered in her pretty dress. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

"You really think I'd've whored myself out if I didn't have to?" She spat out the words, and Tommy had the decency to look ashamed as Arthur and John turned to him with confused looks.

"Tom, you didn't get Liz hurt, didya?" Arthur asked, not believing the word of a whore over his brother. Even though she's not a whore now.

"She wasn't supposed to-"

"Tommy here was too busy chatting up the Irish spy and Lady Carleton to save me in time," Lizzie said. "Because you boys can fuck who you like without us women getting possessive."

She didn't need the comparison to the bandages on Angel's face to the ring on Grace's finger, to the wedding that got his restaurant burnt to a char.

"The Changretta war is over," Polly said sternly, looking over to her nephews. "They will apologise and Lizzie can be free to fuck who she likes."

They all gritted their teeth, but they knew better to fight their aunt and a woman with a gun to their heads.

"Good, and I quit," she said, putting the gun to her side. "I expect a really good letter of recommendation, by the way."

"It'll be done," Polly said. Things were much better when Polly was in charge, like in the war.

"What'll you do?" Despite their complicated relationship, Lizzie was still friends with Esme. She grinned at her friend for a second.

"I'm gonna work as Chief Secretary for a foundation for Women and Girls in need," she said proudly, thinking of how she could help women like her, recover like her. "Oh, and I'm getting married."

They hadn't seen the shining diamond on Lizzie's trigger finger.

[reyescarlos]

there’s no way (that it’s not going there)

for my love @sulkybbarnes on your very special day. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARA! my goodness, i’m so glad the universe created you. how lucky we all are that you exist! 💕💜

word count 3.6k || read on ao3

We just dance backwards into each other Trying to keep our feelings secretly covered You touched me and it's almost like we knew That there would be history

As he sits with Michelle inside the Ryders’ backyard, the heat of the late summer evening still kissing his skin, Carlos smiles in contentment at the sight of all his colleagues turned friends and even perfectly good strangers all bound by their shared love for Grace and Judd. It’s because of them that they’ve all gathered today, to celebrate the Ryders’ vow renewal. It’s the perfect atmosphere in every sense, one of joy and festivity.

A few feet away, the happy couple mingles with the small gathering of their family and closest friends. Grace’s melodic laughter soars a note or two higher than the jazz music playing. Judd’s arm is slinked around her waist and Carlos can only stand back and admire the ease to which they orbit around each other. This is what years worth of love looks like. Carlos knows it can’t always have been an easy road, that all marriages— all relationships for that matter— are never without their hardships. But if it leads to something even vaguely resembling this, Carlos wants it at whatever cost.

He’s always been a hopeless romantic, swept up in the belief that finding the right partner could be a salvation. It’s not a sentiment the men he’s seen care to ascribe to. The world of dating hasn’t always been kind to him with Carlos almost always chasing after people who proved themselves adverse to being caught.

He’s vowed to himself repeatedly that he won’t fall down that rabbithole again. But what he hadn’t accounted for was meeting TK Strand, a man that makes Carlos willing to make an exception. TK has only been a part of the fabric here in Austin for a few weeks but he’s already managed to work his way into Carlos’ heart and mind. He hasn’t been able to shake his thoughts about the firefighter since their night at the honky tonk. The attraction he had for TK was instantaneous out on their call earlier that night but it’d only strengthened as they danced later. Ever since, there’s been this energy between them that neither has addressed. But it exists as a third party, living in each stolen glance, each quick retort traded between them like currency.

He and TK have been at this for weeks on end, this constant back and forth where they say so much without actually saying anything at all.

That’s all it ever takes, just one look to light the match. It’s a wonder they haven’t both been consumed by the flames though Carlos would argue he’s been coming dangerously close these last few weeks. At first it was fun, a casual flirty game between the two of them but now Carlos has been getting restless.

He takes in the sight of TK standing with his father under the back awning. Carlos can’t stop himself from giving him a once over, eyes roaming from top to bottom shamelessly. It’s truly a pleasant view with TK dressed up for the ceremony and looking far too attractive than any man has the right to.

“Carlos, if you stare any harder you just might strain those pretty brown eyes for good,” Michelle teases, her hand cupping her chin as she rests her elbows on the table, following where his eyes linger.

Carlos sighs and ruffles his hair slightly, forcing himself to look away from TK and back at her.

“Is it really that obvious?”

Michelle snorts out a laugh, covering her mouth and laughing even harder as Carlos groans.

“Aw, come on, no, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh but my god, Carlos. Do you really think either of you have been subtle this whole time? Anyone that’s spent so much as ten seconds around you both since he blew into town could call it.”

Carlos lifts a brow. “So you see it from him too? It’s not just me, right?”

“Absolutely not. To be honest, I’m actually shocked you guys haven’t hooked up already. It’s long overdue, my friend.”

Carlos picks up his glass for something to do as he thinks it all over.

“I think I just want it to mean something. Maybe that’s dumb, I don’t know but I really like him and we’ve been...in this weird limbo with each other. I don’t know what his endgame is here.”

Michelle tilts her head to the side, casting her glance off Carlos over to TK once more. He’s still caught up in conversation with Captain Strand. The younger Strand must have said something hilarious because Owen cracks a hearty laugh.

“You could do the totally crazy thing of actually talking to him and finding out what his deal is. He seems really into you. He’s been staring at you all night when you aren’t looking and who could forget that night we all went out? I think you got him hooked pretty fast. Reel him in already.”

Carlos chuckles at the analogy but even he can admit Michelle makes an extremely valid point here. This hasn’t been all in his head. Even if they’ve both managed to successfully avoid talking about it, it’s clear that there is something that they’ve been eluding from the moment their paths crossed.

“Screw it. You’re right. I’m going for it.”

Before he can lose his nerve, Carlos sets his glass down and rises from his seat. He can feel the reassuring press of Michelle’s hand on his forearm just before he leaves the table and begins the short but daunting walk over to where TK is standing.

Captain Strand notices him approaching before TK does and the man makes a move that Carlos isn’t expecting. He locks eyes with Carlos and in that brief bit of contact, there’s recognition of some kind and Owen seemingly excuses himself from his son.

Owen walks towards him and gives a polite nod of his head. “Evening, Carlos,” he says as he passes, not slowing down at all and leaving a clear path to TK.

Carlos doesn’t have the time to mull over the implications of this gesture but he makes a mental note of it, marking it as something to investigate later. His main pursuit now is a particular firefighter who has been weighing so heavily in his thoughts for weeks now.

This unspoken thing between them needs to be addressed once and for all. TK looks far too good tonight for Carlos to keep this little game of cat and mouse going any longer. Coming on too strong has more or less always been his problem but this is something he desperately wants and Carlos knows he can’t hold back beyond tonight.

TK soon notices him and stays in place, a slow smile inching across his face. By the time Carlos nestles in beside him, it’s a full on grin. It’s so reminiscent of the first time they ever hung out outside of work. Then, much like now, they were surrounded by this crowd of coworkers and people he’ll more than likely never see again. But it’s all just background noise, so inconsequential in comparison to his primary focus right now.

“Hey,” Carlos greets. It isn’t exactly the smoothest or most captivating thing to say but it had been enough that night out the bar and Carlos is hoping that it’ll prove itself useful enough again now.

TK looks briefly at the party at large, eyes pulling away from the throng of people dancing to Carlos and Carlos’ sense of déjà vu threatens to overwhelm him for the briefest of moments. But he focuses up once more as TK looks at him fully, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

As always, the man’s expression is playful as ever, as if he knows something Carlos doesn’t. Carlos has no doubt that TK is taking a trip down memory lane right now, too. How they were always finding themselves in a scenario like this was beyond Carlos’ comprehension then but it hardly matters. It serves as the perfect ice breaker for them now, a nod to the night that truly set things in motion for them. It makes this feel like a full circle moment, as if everything over the last few weeks has been leading to this.

“Wanna dance?” Carlos asks, tipping his chin towards the other guests bopping to the music.

TK’s eyes roam over his frame but Carlos doesn’t waver or back down. It’s merely part of the script they’ve been reading off of for weeks now. He’s confident that TK will accept, just as he had that night at the bar. The only difference now is that TK’s display of reluctance isn’t him genuinely debating the merits of taking a chance and saying yes, at least Carlos hopes that is the case. They have enough history between them at this point that Carlos feels safe in guessing that they’ve moved beyond that. Now it’s simply banter, a call back to that night.

“Yeah,” TK says after a moment, his perfectly white teeth trapping his bottom lip.

Carlos doesn’t even attempt to downplay how much he notices this, his own lips parting slightly before he pulls his focus back to the task at hand.

Carlos leads them to the makeshift dance floor just as he had that night of the honky tonk. TK falls into step with him, the two dancing along to the uptempo number playing throughout the yard. It’s all too easy to tune everything and everyone else out as he feels both their guards lowering even further. TK is all smiles and it’s the most infectious thing ever.

They dance for a while together, their smiles growing bigger with each new song that plays. Carlos is breathless and yet he can’t seem to stop himself from moving. But a new song comes on, the opening tone far more subdued. Carlos looks to TK, his face covered with a slight sheen of sweat. It makes Carlos’ breath hitch and he can’t help but to want to keep going, even though this is a different terrain than they’ve been dabbling in thus far.

“Do you still want to—,” Carlos begins to ask but TK answers in actions, not words as he slips his arms up over Carlos’ shoulders and begins to sway to the music.

This part is the variable, the break from their usual bit. Instead of dancing around each other with no real contact, they’re now wrapped up closely with TK hugged to his frame, their bodies pressed together, enough for Carlos to feel the firmness of TK’s chest against his.

This feels right in a way that Carlos can’t even begin to put into words. He wonders if maybe everything feels heightened because of where they are and what they’re celebrating tonight. But that still doesn’t change what he’s experiencing now, the rush of having TK’s warm body in his arms, more alive than anything. Even though they’re now moving slower than they have all night, Carlos feels the most electric now. It only instills what Carlos has known all along. This is so much more than a crush, it always has been, but now it feels like a tangible thing, a very real possibility and a step up from the hypothetical.

TK peers up at him as they continue to rock gently and Carlos can feel the man’s breaths as they fan across his face like the gentlest, most subtle breeze. The longer Carlos stares back at him, the more he realizes how uneven TK’s breathing actually is, the way it stalls and starts. The only explanation is that TK is nervous. Carlos is well-versed in reading people. After all, he literally gets paid to assess situations. He’s seen countless people he’s interviewed on a call panic and grow uneasy. He’d know the telltale signs of an anxious person anywhere.

“Relax,” he murmurs quietly, just low enough that the words get trapped between the two of them, safe in this private bubble. His hands hold even more firmly, more reassuringly to TK’s hips as if to remind him that Carlos is truly right here holding on to him, keeping him upright and present in this moment.

TK blinks twice and licks his lips. Carlos tries to take his own advice and settle his racing heart but even without meaning to, with doing something as mundane as wetting his lips, TK is getting under his skin. There’s something about this hazy summer night that’s making his mind feel like it’s drifting, floating like the fireflies that flicker on and off in the yard. It’s as if they’re under a spell of some kind. Carlos can’t remember the last time he’s felt a pull this strong towards someone, as if they’re a planet and he’s a helpless moon sucked into their gravity. And yet still, TK makes him feel grounded.

“Carlos, what is this?” TK asks, his voice barely above a whisper. But Carlos catches it all with how close they are to each other, with how much he always seems to hang off TK’s every word.

It would seem that Carlos isn’t the only one keen on getting answers tonight.

“The beginning of us, I hope,” he replies.

Carlos isn’t sure where that boldness comes from but with the words out there, there’s no way for him to snatch them back or undo them. And frankly, Carlos realizes that he doesn’t want to. Clear cut answers. A line drawn in the sand. Clarity. That’s what they need now. Tiptoeing around feelings or pretending as if they aren’t there at all is no longer something that he can accept.

TK eyes him for a moment before slipping his arms off of Carlos’ shoulders, letting them fall at his sides. Speaking outright about this thing that’s been brewing between them is in clear violation of the unspoken rule, he knows but if TK was bold enough to ask, Carlos figures he was right in matching that. Yet now TK is pulling away and Carlos fears he’s said too much, his bravado from only seconds ago now dwindling. But before he can dwell on it for too long, TK is grabbing hold of one of his hands and tugging him off the dance floor.

Carlos knows better than to ask questions then. Wherever TK wants to take him, Carlos will willingly go. TK leads him out of the yard, ignoring the piqued interest of their coworkers who no doubt have questions and assumptions about where these two are headed off to. But Carlos takes a page out of TK’s book and tunes them out as well. Instead he focuses on how easily their hands slot together as if they were designed to hold on to each other.

They come around the side of the house to the front of the Ryder household. A few guests are milling about outside, chatting among themselves. Carlos doesn’t recognize any of their faces, the entire lot of the 126 now left behind in the yard.

TK keeps moving forward, beginning to walk down the block, raking a hand through his hair.

“TK?” Carlos ventures, starting to grow a bit concerned.

With an abrupt stop in his tracks, TK turns to look at Carlos before taking a seat on the curb. They’re only two houses down from the festivities and can still hear the revelry of the reception but it’s distant enough that Carlos feels far removed from it all. TK looks up at the sky, his face bathed in a wash of moonlight, half his features thrown into shadow from the lamppost a few feet away. Carlos settles in beside him, wrapping his arms around his legs.

The silence between them is heavy and with how unmoving TK is now, Carlos knows he’ll have to be the one to breach it if they’re going to get anywhere with each other.

“I know I’m not losing it here, am I?” Carlos asks. “I haven’t been imagining this vibe between us, right?”

TK looks down at his hands and shakes his head. “No, something is definitely happening. I just...it’s starting to feel real now and that’s not something I was expecting to find out here in Austin.”

Carlos considers this for a moment. “But is that necessarily a bad thing?”

It’s then that TK focuses back on him. “That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. It’s one thing to BS and flirt but it doesn’t feel like a game or a tease anymore. If it gets serious, there’s no going back and I don’t know what that’ll mean.”

Carlos’ brows furrow. “And you don’t know if this is worth it?”

“It’s so much more than that,” TK sighs. “Long story short, I left behind a lot of baggage in New York.”

Carlos knows what that’s code for. “What's his name?”

“Alex,” TK mutters, a hint of disgust coating the two syllables. Carlos doesn’t press for details. He simply nods his head in understanding and stays quiet for a beat.

“I can’t speak to this guy and whatever went down between you two but from what I know of you, I think you’re amazing. I’m sorry he made you feel like you can’t take chances or fall for someone again. But, I’m here, TK. I’m here and I’d like to see where we could go from this point.”

TK frowns and fiddles with his fingers again. “If you knew everything, I’m not so sure you’d still feel that way.”

This is a different version of TK than Carlos is used to but he welcomes that. Gone is the facade, the carefully crafted demeanor the man maintains in public. Here with just the two of them on a quiet street under the night sky, Carlos feels like he’s getting to the heart of TK and he likes what he sees. Certainly the man is in a self-deprecating mood, a complete shift from the confident guy out on the dance floor. But he’s being forthright about himself and Carlos can respect anyone that’s being candid. It’s an admirable trait and makes TK even more real to him.

“Maybe you could give me the chance to decide that for myself? Or to show you that I’m serious about this.” Carlos cringes a bit then, worried he’s coming on too strong considering TK’s hesitancy. “I don’t...I hope you don’t feel pressured here. I’m sorry if I’m—”

“No. Honestly, you aren’t making me feel like that. If anything, it’s the exact opposite. You make me feel...free. To possibility, to everything. I don’t know. There’s something about this town and the people here. Nothing is going at all like I expected it to, which is a very, very good thing.”

Carlos smiles softly at this. “Glad I could play a small part in that.”

TK knocks his shoulder lightly against Carlos’ and that tiny bit of contact sends his heart racing.

“Not a small part, believe me.”

Carlos bites back on the corner of his bottom lip and holds his hand out in the small space between them, palm up towards TK who smiles at him before accepting it. They sit in companionable silence for a moment before TK rests his head against Carlos’ shoulder. The reception is still in full swing with voices and music carrying over but Carlos couldn’t be happier with where he is now.

It makes him think loosely of that Oscar Wilde quote. He is quite literally in the gutters with TK now and yet there’s such a beauty to it as they both watch the stars beside each other for a short while with TK still resting on him.

“I could be good for you. Whenever you’re ready. If you’re ever ready,” Carlos amends, stroking his thumb along the back of TK’s hand.

TK sits up and Carlos shifts to face him. TK’s normally bright eyes are darkened now, his expression calculating as if he’s trying to make his mind up about something. Before Carlos can ask what’s on his mind, TK is leaning in, his lips pressing gently against Carlos’.  There’s no rush to it, no haste as if TK is trying to prove something by kissing him. It feels more like an exploration, a tentative dive into uncharted waters.

Carlos matches his pace, leaving this all entirely in TK’s hands but he’d be lying if he said his mind isn’t already spiraling, his thoughts running away from him to the point where all he can think about is the mouth keeping time with his own. TK’s ability to make himself Carlos’ sole focus reaches new heights with this now. Carlos wants all of him, to swallow him whole and keep every bit selfishly for himself.

TK deepens the kiss and Carlos follows his lead, his hands grasping gently onto TK’s hair. TK responds in kind, his nails dragging down Carlos’ back. TK kisses him hungrily and Carlos serves it right back. This is weeks’ worth of tension bubbling to the surface, completely unfiltered. It makes Carlos feel delirious, his breath catching and blood pumping in his ears.

TK lets out a small whimper and pulls away sharply, both of them breathless and panting.

“I’m sorry,” TK says, licking his lips and pressing his fingertips against his mouth.

Carlos shakes his head, waving him off politely. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

TK breathes out shakily, lowering his hand and searching Carlos’ face with urgency.

“I still want to take this slow. I just got a bit carried away there for a second.” Even in the dark, Carlos can see the slight pink tinge to TK’s face.

Carlos leans in and gives him a soft kiss on the cheek, taking his hand again and entwining their fingers.

“Progress is progress no matter the pace,” Carlos says simply. “Point is, we’re moving forward together. That’s all I could ever ask of you.”

[therainbowwillow]

Part 3, TW: Death

Hermes marches again through the snow, deeper now. The winds are colder too. A looming sense of dread hangs over him. No mortal could survive for long out here, not even the son of a god. He wonders what he’s looking for... Orpheus or a grave.

The longer he walks, the lower the temperature seems to drop. It’s been days. Days, without so much as a hint of his lost son. And what he had found, some four days into the search, was only a scrap of cloth, frozen solid long before he’d found it. It was white, though, like the nightgown Orpheus had worn, so Hermes had told himself it was a sign that the boy had come this way. 

The sun is no longer visible beyond the blinding blizzard when Hermes finds a strange mound of snow in a clearing. He brushes away the drift and discovers a face staring up at him, frozen in shock. He stumbles backwards, horrified and fearing the worst. 

He forces himself to investigate further, crawling over to the bank. To his slight relief, finds that this poor soul is not his son. How long, he wonders, before Orpheus meets a similar fate? He rises to his feet, draping a blanket over the woman. Her shade, he hopes, will take solace in the warmth of the underground. 

He carries on with new urgency, the bitter cold stinging his face. The wind howls through the trees, rendering all other noise nearly inaudible. Over the gales, Hermes hears it. A single note, plucked on a guitar. He runs for the sound, as quickly as his divine feet can carry him. 

The notes draw nearer and nearer and the air only colder. His foot lands upon something beneath the snow, finally halting him. Glass. Red wine oozes from where the bottle has cracked, freezing almost instantly. 

The song is close now, undoubtedly sung by Orpheus. Hermes looks up. He stands in a glade. Or what’s left of a glade, anyway. The wind has whipped the branches off of every tree in sight. The pelting ice crystals have torn the bark to bits. 

But it isn’t the trees Hermes notices. Rather the people. Frozen like statues on their feet. He remembers the stories he used to tell his son. How Perseus had found Medusa, surrounded by the men she’d turned to stone with a single glance. 

He spots Orpheus next, his eyes closed, leaned against a tree in the center of the clearing. The air hums with his music, the lyrics nearly indistinguishable from the howling of the wind. Hermes calls out, loud and desperate, but his cries are whisked away by the gales. 

He stumbles as near to the boy as he can get. The song peaks with strange notes, as if its singer is frightened by his approach. Hermes shields his face behind his coat. He’s so close he can nearly reach his son, shivering in his torn nightgown, stained with blood. “Orpheus...” Hermes falls to his knees. The wind rips his coat off his shoulders. “Orpheus!” The boy doesn’t look up. He strums his guitar and the wind rushes faster. The world of pure white turns black.

Hermes wakes, slumped against the frozen figure of a woman, a knife in her hands. He drags himself away from his son, away from the sculpturesque forms of Orpheus’s would-be attackers. He pulls himself to his feet and sprints, faster with every step. Orpheus will not hear him, no matter how loud he calls. Hermes can only pray that perhaps he’ll hear a different voice.

...

“Hades?” Persephone’s husband starts at the sound of her voice.

He blinks in disbelief. “You’re early. Too early. Seph, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” she snaps, stomping at the ice underfoot. “The winter’s reached all the way down here. What have you done?”

He recoils at the accusation. “Nothing.”

“You expect me to believe that my husband plays no role in this?”

“Why would I?” he growls. “Nonstop work. Triple the usual number of shades coming in and it’s only August.”

The train whistle blows, as if on cue. Hades takes his wife’s hand. “Look.” He guides her to the train station. “This is not what I want, Persephone. Thousands of shades, every hour.”

But rather than shades, Hermes stumbles out of the nearest train car. Persephone shakes off her husband’s grasp and hurries to his side. “You shouldn’t be here,” she tells him. He nearly collapses into her arms. “Hermes?”

“I found him,” he mutters.

“What is this?” Hades approaches the exhausted god carefully. 

“Orpheus. He’s doing this,” Hermes says.

“Hermes, are you sure? Gods, you’re freezing.”

“He couldn’t hear me. I tried to stop him. Persephone... I wasn’t the first to find him.” She drapes her coat over his shoulders. 

“Let’s go,” Hades orders. “Somewhere warm. We’ll discuss this once you are capable, Hermes.”

“No, we’ll discuss this now,” he argues.

“Let’s talk on the way,” Persephone compromises. 

Hades guides them to his office, lined wall to wall with space heaters. Persephone sets Hermes in a chair and bundles him in blankets. 

“You say this is the boy’s doing?” Hades inquires.

Hermes nods, seeing no way to lie. 

“And how did this happen?”

“He disappeared over a week ago,” Hermes explains. “I went looking for him. I... wasn’t the first to find him. He was hurt, I couldn’t see how badly. But his attackers... they never left,” he mutters, uneasily. “I don’t know how he did it, but I felt it too. The closer I went, the colder it got. I almost touched him before I passed out. If I’d been mortal, I doubt I would’ve woken. He froze them. His attackers, I mean... like statues. Or his song did.”

Hades sighs. “I’ll send Thanatos. Put a swift end to this.”

“Like hell you will,” Hermes snarls. “He’s still my son. I didn’t come here to ask you to assassinate him.”

“Then pose a better idea.”

“We get through to him,” Hermes offers.

Hades rolls his eyes. “You tried and this,” he gestures to Hermes’s shivering form. “Was his response. Any mortal would be dead before they reached him.”

“Not every mortal. He spared me because he knows me,” Hermes says. “Send someone he knows. Someone he loves.”

“No.”

“Hades,” Persephone pleads, “He could be right.”

“He sings of his sorrow for her. His words are hard to comprehend, but I’m sure her death is what he laments,” Hermes adds.

“He lost her,” Hades reminds them. 

“You could fix this, husband,” Persephone says, firmly.

He narrows his eyes. “A deal, then. If she fails, they’re both mine.”

[mistabullets]

Angst 13 & 15 w/ Giorno please

The Flowers You Give

Characters: Giorno Giovanna x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: It’s been a year since you overthrew the old boss. But so much has changed. Don Giovanna attempts to comfort you.

Content Warning: mentions of deaths, loss of loved ones, grieving, depression, arguing, healing, slight mentions of violence, angst but there’s a happy ending at least

A year had past.

You were trying.

You tried your best to numb the pain. But you missed them. It felt surreal, how fast everything changed. It started when Giorno joined and quickly spiraled when Bucciarati betrayed the old boss. In a span of few weeks, you lost most of your loved ones.

You still had Guido, but he had took things better. He attempted to reassure you it was the future Bruno had envisioned and dreamed of but where was your dear capo to see this all unfold? You tried so hard to be dedicated in your studies, in honor of Narancia. But it was so hard to focus on a research projects or homework when you were crying about how it should have been you, not him. You attempted to fix your insomniac and restless slumber and listened to Leone’s old music player. But then you would wake up from that same old nightmare, taunting you with your friend’s dead body, the hole punctuated through his corpse with a missing heart.

You couldn’t look at Fugo the same. While you never told anyone, you had come to despise his decision, when he refused and called out everyone on their stupidity, how suicidal going up against the don would be. You thought him as a coward. But, now considering what all that haunted you, Fugo may had been right. But the damage was already done; it was over. And while you couldn’t see him as the chosen brother you once had, you recgonized the desolation which disturbed his purple hues. If you searched hard enough, one could see it in Guido’s black orbs, too. It had preyed at your mind, a glint of sorrow in your (e/c) eyes. Passione was no longer a place you could call home.

No laughing, yelling, and crying. Just quiet.

It no longer felt like you were familigia.

**

A year had past.

And you had finally snapped.

You were beckoned into the don’s office by Guido. However, you were not quite sure why he had summoned you for a personal meeting. As one of the higer ranked capos and having close contact with the boss, Giorno had a great amount of trust in your ability combined with your quick thinking and natural skills. You couldn’t help but ponder, if perhaps something might had been wrong.

However, your boss greeted you with a dazzling smile, one that could usually put others at ease. You had liked Giorno. In fact, when you met a year ago, you did develop a mild crush on the new golden boy with emerald eyes. But now, you were too prideful to ever admit that to your don. And you still liked him but when you around him for too long, dread filled your heart followed by your blood boiling and indignation making your stomach do flip-flops.

But none of that had surfaced yet. You returned the smile, albeit fake, considering the force put into it, along with the bags under your tired eyes. Giorno took notice. He had keen eyes and was aware of detail. You were stressed out. “Please, have a seat.”

Nodding, you sat in the cushined seat right in front of his desk. “So, uh, why did you call me in here, boss?”

Giorno, with soft consideration, chose his words carefully. He didn’t want vex you, since he was coming from a place of a concerned friend, rather than your boss. “You know you can just call by Giorno, Y/N. We’re familigia, after all.”

You winced at his words but attempted to brush it off. Sure, Passione is just one big family to him. That’s the motto in most mafias. To be frank, while you used to have a small crush on your boss, you never considered him a brother like you did Mista, Narancia, and Fugo. And you certainly never thought of him as someone with parental warmth and guidance like Bucciarati and Abbacchio. Familigia was not a word to be taken lightly. But you continued, giving a light snort at his request, “Okay, Giorno. Tell me, what’s up? Did something happen.”

“Well... to put it simply, I’m worried about you,” there was an edge of caution with his tone. He was not meaning to offend, but to help.

You quirked an eyebrow , trying to keep your cool. Sure, you didn’t like him going off about the family bullshit but he was still your boss at the end of the day. You looked at him, slightly confused, “What do you mean?”

“I’m concerned about your mental wellbeing. I know it’s been hard for everyone. For me, Fugo, Mista, and you. And it’s hard to talk with each other nowadays since we’re so busy... but it’s been a year since I took over Passione. I know you must be grieving. And I understand your pain—“

“—Stop. No you don’t. I’m always grieving. For the past year, I’m always thinking about them,” you paused, guilt was mixing in with resentment toward Giorno. “Do you ever think of them, boss? Or even grieve for your losses?”

He considered your words thoughtfully. Despite knowing them for a short time, he would forever be grateful. They gave him a grand opportunity and helped him seize it, achieving the impossible. He thought of them everyday, fondly remembering his time with them. From Abbacchio’s piss haze when they first met, to Narancia’s loud music playing in the background, and Mista’s hour long rant about the cursed number four. Giorno cherished the short time he spent being apart of Bruno’s gang. Giorno never had a loving family so he was envious of the natural chemistry which seemed to bounce off of the gang along with the subtle familial dynamics.

Bruno took on the maternal role, having recruit each and every one of you, basically adopting you. Abbacchio was a tough-love-kind-of-man, always making sure the younger ones were in line and keeping order in the family. Mista was the brother who would protect you, from heartbreak and harm’s way. Fugo was the brother who would help you study but would always start a fight for no reason. Narancia was the brother that would plot schemes with you but would constantly up each other’s ass. Then there was you, the youngest, the baby of the family, the weakest stand, the more emotional one; having to face the home you once loved become a distant memory. The reality simply being, that your chosen family crumbling apart and dying in front of you.

“I do think of them. Every day and how they helped me become the person I am today. I do grieve, but not in the sense that you do, Y/N. Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.”

You grimaced, finally snapping at the don, “They’ve died because of you! They barely knew you... hell, I barely know you now! How do expect me to grieve with a stranger?! You... you took away my family! And now you wanna call us family? B-Bruno should be the don! A-And L-Leone...” you hiccuped, tears clouding your field of vision, “h-he should have been his right hand man... N-Narancia should be graduating right now... this... i-it’s not all fair!”

“You’re right. It’s not fair,” Giorno narrowed his green eyes, avoiding your gaze, “but before Bruno died, I promised him to take care of you... and the others. But especially you, since he knew you would be hit the hardest. But I wish he was here to help me. Along with Leone and Narancia. I... I wanted to make things work. You all deserved to be happy as one familigia.”

You sniffled, tears streammed down your face but not daring to attempt eye contact. It was true, you took everything the hardest. You cried out of relief after intense missions, so glad everyone survived. There were times when you cried over trivial matters, such as Fugo calling you a dumbass for not knowing your multiplication tables or the time when Mista had teased you over a small crush had on a local. But Bruno had always reassured you it was okay to cry; it meant you still had a touch of humanity left (or in your case, too much humanity).

Giorno stood up from his desk, approaching you from your seat, deciding it was cold of him to have the desk separate the two of you. After all, this was not a meeting, but rather a heart-to-heart. He kneeled down before you, building the courage to reconnect eye contact while cupping your hands in the warmth of his palms, where life radiated. His thumb rubbed circles into your knuckles. “But I know, they would have wanted you, Guido, and Pannacotta to be happy... to not grieve like this,” he paused, considering what his next course of action would he, “Y/N, would you like to go to my garden?”

You silently nodded, not letting out a peep.

**

He led you by the hand like a lost child, taking you toward his personal garden, the backyard to his office. You knew of it; constantly in the background through the windows. He led you to the middle of the garden, the aroma perfuming a sense of tranquil, replacing your quiet anger. In the center, there was a beautiful marble statue of three men, of similar builds and features, reaching up toward the skies, ascending to the heavens above. It was surrounded by a small fountain, spurting out clear water. It just occurred to you that they may represented your past loved ones but it may have been a coincidence (you doubted it was accidental, Giorno was thoughtful). Around the edges of the fountain were flowers, that now you were up close, you could not identify to any known species from your limited knowledge of botany. Giorno released your hand, kneeled to the earth and picked four buds of different colors. Thank god you were not Mista.

The golden-haired boy gave you the hand picked bouquet with unique colors: pure white, soft orange, lilac purple, and your favorite color, a pale yellow. You looked at them curiously, knowing they were a new species of flowers, perhaps unearthed here. “I named them after you guys...” he explained softly, “that pale blue flower is Guido. That light red flower is Pannacotta. I think you can figure out the rest.”

Tears formed again, but not of anger, more from genuine amazement and the sense of dedication behind the plot of land and the time spent to discover these blossoms. “O-Oh wow... they’re beautiful, boss—sorry, I mean, Giorno. Ugh... sorry, I don’t mean to cry again.”

A serene smile plastered his thin lips, “It’s okay. Crying is fine... but, if you ever feel sad, angry, scared... or just uncertain. Feel free to come here. I... I know it may be hard to believe but I do care for you, Y/N. Like family.”

“T-Thank you,” you said with a slight hiccup. Damn, you really were a crybaby. But that was fine.

A year had past since you last saw them.

You sniffed the flowers in your hands.

And somehow, the smell reminded you of them.

[frobster]

Will you write me something soft and sweet with Peter and his daddies? Maybe they're loving on him and he's all soft and happy. Smut can be included.

I hope this helps!! Inspired by the convos in the server earlier ♡

☆☆☆

Peter had been trying his hardest to be good for his daddies, to prove he was well-behaved and had nice manners. He cleaned when he was told, went to bed on time, even ate his vegetables without too much complaining. There was a plan forming and he was determined to see it through. 

Bucky had praised Peter for his behavior multiple times over the past week. He preened and grinned every time, but worked hard to not let it go to his head. Even Steve had softened up when he was usually the more stern partner.

"Hey, daddy?" Peter's voice was soft and sweet when he spoke up from where he was cuddled into Bucky's side.

"Yeah, baby?" Bucky looked down with a smile, giving Peter all his attention. 

"Can I get a pet?" Peter put on his best pleading face - big puppy eyes and a cute smile.

Bucky sighed at the question, finally realizing why Peter had been so well-behaved lately. He tried to give Peter whatever he asked for to ensure he was happy, but some requests had to be taken more seriously. 

"What kind of pet?" Maybe it would be something easy, something they could leave alone in case of a mission.

"Ferret!" Peter perked up with a bigger grin, grabbing for his phone so he could show Bucky all the pictures he found.

The pictures were quite adorable, Bucky had to admit. And Peter was so excited as he rambled off facts he had learned and ideas for how to make their unit suitable for such a pet. But Bucky worried about how it would handle stints alone. And weren't they destructive little things? He didn't want to be cleaning up messes all the time.

"I dunno, sweetheart. Ferrets are a lot of work," Bucky said carefully, hoping to keep from upsetting his boyfriend. 

"I know. But so is being a superhero, and I can handle that! And I got you an' Stevie to help." Peter wasn't going to back down without a fight. He really wanted the ferret.

"How about we think about it, huh? We'll ask Stevie and see what he thinks."

Just as Bucky spoke, the door opened behind them. He glanced around as Peter cheered and leapt off the couch to pounce on whoever just walked in.

A familiar grunt told Bucky that Steve had just caught an overeager boyfriend.

"Hey, Petey. How are ya?" Steve asked as he carried Peter back over to the couch. 

Sitting down where Peter was before, Steve let the boy stay on his lap. Their boyfriend was grinning and holding up his phone, eagerly showing Steve all the same pictures he had just shown Bucky.

"Look! Aren't they cute?" he chirped.

"They sure are, baby. You want a new plushie?"

"No! I want a real one!" Peter insisted yet again, looking a little pouty about it.

Bucky and Steve glanced at each other, both sighing together. When Peter got his mind set on something, it was very difficult to dissuade him. A pet could be a fun idea, something to occupy Peter when both Steve and Bucky were busy. But his schedule was so unpredictable most of the time, they worried about the impact that would have on the pet.

"Maybe we can go to the pet store and look at some, yeah? Just so you can see them in person, get a better feel for them," Steve offered.

Peter perked up again and Bucky gave Steve a very pointed look. Steve pointedly ignored it in return.

"Can we? Please, Stevie!" Peter turned to look at Bucky too. "Daddy, please?"

"Alright, alright. Fine. We can go look." Bucky emphasized that they would not be buying a pet that day.

Peter cheered and leapt off the couch once again, darting to his bedroom to get dressed in proper clothes rather than staying in his pajamas. Bucky and Steve had a heated discussion with just looks so Peter wouldn't hear them arguing, but it was cut short when Peter soon reappeared. He was practically bouncing with excitement and still grinning.

"Ferret, ferret, ferret!" Peter chanted, jumping each time he said it.

Steve chuckled and ruffled Peter's hair before opening the door and ushering everyone out. He knew of a pet store not too far away that allowed patrons to reach into the open-top cages and play with the animals. Hopefully there would be ferrets and Peter could experience handling one for real.

The drive wasn't too long but Peter felt like it took forever. He was vibrating with impatience and shot out from the car before Steve even put it in park properly.

"Ah, slow down!" Bucky called as he got out too.

Peter whined but he stopped, resorting to bouncing in place again as he waited for Steve and Bucky. Both older men took his hands as they all headed to the store, which helped Peter settle. He always liked getting held by his boyfriends.

In the shop, Peter's eyes went wide. There were so many pets in their own enclosures, squeaking and chittering as they scurried around. He squeaked too as he ran to the nearest enclosure, giggling as the little mice scampered over his hand. They were curious and gentle, but not what he was looking for.

It took nearly twenty minutes for Peter to make his way to the ferrets. When he found them, his gasp was so loud that Bucky and Steve worried he got hurt. But when they saw where he went, they relaxed and walked over to join him.

Peter was giggling loudly as a noodly creature went crawling up his arm and nosing into his shirt sleeve. He was grinning and his eyes were alight with amusement. Everything about him showed how truly happy he was to be interacting with the animal.

"Daddy, look! It's like Tro!" he called when he saw Bucky approach. 

Much like Pietro, the ferret was clingy and curious, never sitting still for very long. It snuffed at every part of Peter, tickling his ear and even trying to crawl onto his head. The boy shrieked with joy as the ferret crawled all over him, laughing loud enough to be heard across the store.

"Alright, alright," Bucky said with a chuckle, reaching out to take ahold of the ferret and set it back into the enclosure.

Peter turned to Bucky, still grinning as he went in for a hug. He clung on tightly and nuzzled against his boyfriend with a happy hum. Getting to play with a ferret for real had him in such a good mood, he felt like he could just melt where he was.

Steve came by a few minutes later as he tucked his phone into his pocket.

"We ready to head back? Think on it for a little longer?" 

Bucky nodded, so Peter did too even as he cast a longing glance to the ferret tank.

"Come on, sweetheart. We'll talk again in a few days, okay?" Bucky offered with a smile.

Peter agreed, so the trio headed out and back to the car. As Bucky drove back to the compound this time, Steve sent him the pictures he took of ferret enclosure prices. They had a lot of research to do before Peter brought the subject up again.

Back at the compound, Peter made a beeline right to his bedroom and changed into his pajamas again before flopping onto the couch once more. He wrapped up in his blankets and was fully cocooned before Steve and Bucky sat down. When the two joined him, Peter wiggled around so he could sit between them both.

"That was fun, yeah?" Steve asked with a smile as he leaned down to kiss Peter's head.

"Yeah, they're really fun. I liked the one with the white stripes, it reminded me of Tro." Peter yawned before nuzzling against Steve's shoulder, trying to convey that he wanted to be cuddled.

Steve and Bucky both moved so they could get Peter tucked snugly between them. Their sweet boy settled with a sigh as he closed his eyes, curled up and sitting still for the first time since he woke up that morning. The trip to see the ferrets had worn him out, as most activity did when he felt little. It was an adorable tendency for Peter to wear himself out with his excitement.

"So, are we really gonna get him a ferret?" Bucky asked softly as he gently rubbed along Peter's back to help him sleep.

"Maybe. I know we have more thinking and talking to do. And then we'd have to retrofit this place for a proper enclosure." Steve was running his fingers slow and gentle through Peter's hair as he thought.

"How about we take a nap too before deciding?" Bucky yawned and slumped over, almost laying on Peter.

Steve chuckled and didn't even have to answer before shifting to settle in too. Both older men got Peter nearly squished between them, tucked as securely as possible into his blankets and the couch. Peter shifted in his sleep to curl up tighter before settling again, subconsciously quite happy to be surrounded so securely by his boyfriends. 

They were an odd sort of family, and adding a ferret to the mix would only increase the chaos. But maybe that wouldn't be so bad. They all understood responsibility and Peter really was very smart, even when feeling little. And a ferret wasn't really the worst pet he could've chosen.

Maybe their family would increase by a number or two in the next week.

☆☆☆

This is chapter 24 in Collection of Cuties!

[untilspringdays]

Lovely Sins || Chapter 1

Summary: You were a researcher investing six strange beings that you didn’t quite understand. They had strange powers that you and your partner Mark Lee were tasked with testing the extent off. It was your typical day really but as time progressed between you and the seven of these men, you found yourself growing attached. Will the seven of these men restore some of your humanity? And could you help them escape?

Pairings: Reader x Super M (OT7)

Genre: Sci-fi AU || Angst, Fluff, Smut (Eventually)

Warnings: Violence, Experimentation, Cussing, Torture, Dark Themes. (Will have some dark things going on please read at your own risk!)

A/N: This is kind of an SCP inspired fic. I was watching some videos on the game again and really go inspired so here we are. This will be a long running series! After this my next goal is to get chapter 4 of Catalyst done, and then that mini series. So many things to write so many things to do. 

Word Count: 2k

Tag-list: Ask me or message me to be added! 

Master List || Next

✦ ✦ ✦

“CONTAINMENT BREACH.”

The bright red words appeared on your screen with ease. The alarm for your sector following shortly after the words had appeared, you had heard the doors locking the sector down to prevent anything from moving too far into the research center and causing harm. 

A small sigh escaped your lips.. This was the third time this week.. Quickly dismissing the alert on your tablet screen, you brought up the video feed to 88’s containment room to see that he was once again gone. Just as you expected. Quickly you brought up more video feed of the surrounding area, including the six other’s containment. As soon as you did you saw him. 88 appeared on one of the cameras before disappearing once again just to appear on another. 

What you didn’t understand was why he didn’t start heading for an exit as easily as he could with his teleporting ability. Instead every time he got out it was like he was looking for something, and it puzzled you as to what exactly. You wanted to know what he was looking for… but every time you had run this test he never seemed to find it before the guards managed to contain him once again. 

As much as you wanted to let him free for as long as possible til he could find whatever he was looking for, you couldn’t. The higher ups always refused and said that the chance for escape was too great if 88 wasn’t contained again after the amount of time provided. Though a bad feeling was creeping up on you about this test.. Well more exactly you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to run it before 88 would just no longer take his chance at getting out of his containment. 

You stood silently in the observation deck of subject 4’s containment. The white haired male seemingly unbothered by the noises going on around him. Even as the lights flashed and changed in intensity he didn’t budge. Your eyes flicked back and forth between the screen on your tablet and watching the male in the room just below you. The first time he killed the lights the second the alarm when off as he had so previously done before 88 had arrived at your facility. The second escape attempt he let the lights go for a while longer before he killed them once again. This time though.. It was well past the previous time period and it didn’t seem like he was going to make any move to stop the light. 

The radio at your hip buzzed to life, pulling you from your observations on the white haired male below you. “Y/N! Look at the feed! 88 finally stopped!” The familiar voice of your partner had you scrambling to look at your tablet, scanning through the different feeds until you finally spotted the familiar dark haired male. 

He was standing in front of a door. A door that was all too familiar to you. You refreshed the feed just in case that it was wrong or if he moved on but no.. He was standing right in front of 4’s door. Standing at the entrance to the room that you and subject number 4 were in. Was he after you, or was he after 4? You didn’t understand. 

You felt your heart rate pick up, knowing that a potentially dangerous subject was standing just down the stairs from you. Were you really about to do this? You swallowed harshly before returning your gaze to the tablet held in your now shaky hands. Quickly you went to 4’s containment controls and released the lock down, opening the doors up for 88 to get inside. 

“Y/N? Why is 4’s containment open? What are you doing? Aren’t you in there?” You could tell your partner was getting panicked about you opening the doors, but you didn’t want to respond to him. You didn’t want to make a noise that would alert 88 just in case he was coming for you. 

As quietly as you could muster you opened both doors to 4’s containment. Both to get inside the room and then the actual containment itself. Your eyes flicked over to 4, watching as he perked up when he heard the door slide open, but he made no move to exit. Instead his eyes watched the door, probably expecting some sort of staff member to step aside. 

Your eyes went back to the stairwell, holding your breath as you watched 88 step inside. Fear coursed through you as he looked around for a moment before moving forward once again, either not noticing that you were here or not caring. 

Swiftly you turned your attention back to the containment room. Watching as 88 stopped just inside the door. His eyes falling on the other figure that sat against his bed on the floor. 

Questions filled your mind. What was going to happen now? Were they going to fight? Is 4 the thing that 88 had been looking for so long? Did they know each other? 

You stepped forward closer to the glass of the observation room. Watching as the two studied each other for a long moment. You couldn’t see 88’s face for his back was to you, but you could see 4 clearly. His face held confusion, recognition, fear, but also relief? Maybe? You watched as 4 spoke, words too quiet for you to hear even with the audio system in place. Then in just a second 88 was over there hugging the other. Not what you were expecting, but you more so weren’t expecting the beautiful smile that graced 4’s features. A smile you haven’t seen in the longest time. 

You observed for a small moment before you realized that you needed to get 88 contained before he was dragged back to his own containment. Quickly you pulled up the controls for 4’s containment agan closing the door to the room the two were in. Their gazes snapping to the door before looking at each other. They were confused maybe even scared but you wanted them to remain together so you could study what was going on, to figure out how the two knew each other. 

You reached for your radio pulling it to your mouth to speak. “88 has been contained. Test 14 has come to a close.” You could deal with your higher up’s reaction to this new move later. You weren’t going to let this chance slip by. You certainly were going to get an earful from Mark, your partner, here shortly. You were more afraid of the man that was supposed to be your equal than you were of your bosses. 

Quietly you stepped out of 4’s containment area, letting out a breath of relief as the door slide home behind you. The lock down from the breach just a moment ago was lifted as the locks that required a manual override were released. You tucked the tablet under your arm as you moved back to your office just at the end of the sector. 

As soon as you stepped inside two familiar faces greeted you. Mark’s eyes narrowed into a glare, while Ten was smiling brightly as ever. Ten was the first to speak breaking the silence that had settled between the three of you. 

“So how did the test go?” He asked, the curiosity clear in his tone. 

“Ten you know you aren’t supposed to know the findings on other subjects seeing how you are a subject yourself.” You reminded him. As you moved around to your desk, setting the tablet down on top of some papers. “What are you doing in my office anyway?”

As your gaze found subject 10 again, you could see the pout on his face. “Well I was already here waiting on you when the lock down occurred so I couldn’t go back. Plus I have been curious about 88 and 4 for the longest time. Besides you guys will tell me anyway. I have free roam so I hear pretty much everything.”

You rubbed your forehead letting out a small sigh before shooting Mark a glare knowing that the other researcher probably already let some things slip to the older male. 

“88 and 4’s status is not something you should be concerned with.” You answered firmly trying to get it through his stubborn nature but you knew he would ignore you anyway. 

“Speaking of which,” Mark interrupted the conversation before this turned into more of a deal than it needed to be. “What were you thinking back there? Letting 88 in the room with you inside, he could have killed you!”

You let out another sigh, not really wanting to deal with this. “I was doing what I needed to do to get answers. 88 has never stopped before. We couldn’t risk him not stopping again just to make sure I was safe.” You would do anything to get answers about your research subjects, even if it meant harming yourself but 88 has never shown any violent behavior. 

“But he could have stopped again. Seeing what I already saw between him and 4 it was a most likely occurrence! You need to be alive to answer the questions you have!” Mark retorted, coming at you with a point that you knew you couldn’t argue against. 

You waved your hand brushing him off, ignoring the smug look on Ten’s face as he was getting what he wanted. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter at this point. What is done is done, and I am safe.”

Mark let out a sigh. “You can’t keep brushing it off. If you don’t listen then one day you won’t be safe. What if that had been 109?”

Of course he would bring up 109.. If it had been 109 you wouldn’t have done what you did. Probably.. 

“Look, I know you care Mark but at this point we have made progress. More progress than we have ever made with 88, and he is connected somehow to 4 so we might end up making progress with both of them at this rate. It has been a long long time since 4 has done anything or even showed remote interest in other things!” This time he wasn’t able to argue with you. You were right, it was like the two of you had hit a brick wall when it came to progress with 4. Nothing seemed to work until now, until 88 got into his room.  

“If it takes others for 4 to make some progress then maybe I can go in there?” Ten asked after a moment of silence between you and mark. 

Both you and the other researcher looked over at him. 

“No.”

“Yes.”

The two of you said it at the same time causing a confused expression to cross over Ten’s features. “Okay what is the answer here?” 

“Ten you know the rules, you aren’t supposed to be near other test subjects without proper clearance, and that is clearance I already have denied you many times.” You stated, looking at the subject in your office. 

“Oh come on Y/N! You already broke the rules, so why not him? We can see if more progress is made with Ten and besides he already wanders around our sector might as well give him something more to do than just bug us in our offices.” Mark stated doing a hand gesture while he spoke to emphasize his point. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words, but he had just as much authority as you. If you didn’t agree Mark would probably do it on your day off. “Fine.. In a few days from now after we are done picking up data between 4 and 88 we can try it.” You fixed a heavy stare to Ten. “Just don’t try anything funny you got that?”

“Loud and clear ma’am.” Ten said brightly, the ‘ma’am’ making you scowl.

[smmahamazing]

Cowboy Blues

InuKag

Word count: 5114

Rating: M for language

A/N: My gift for everyone this White Day!!! Haven't written fanfiction in 10+ years, so here's to hoping this isn't completely terrible LOL. This little fic was inspired by a song of Kesha's titled "Cowboy Blues", and I would recommend putting it on in the background for maximum effect!

_____________________________________________________

🎵“They say you know when you know, what do you do when it don't, they're saying ‘love it'll happen if it's meant to happen’, but what do you do when it don’t”.🎵

At least Kagome could say that she only has one cat snuggled up with her in bed, although Buyo was big enough to feel like three. She had been laying in bed for the past hour, the feeling of utter defeat pinning her where she lay. Her mind begged her to turn off the music playing through her speakers, but her body resisted any thought of movement. What did it matter in the end anyways? All the hard work she put into the last week and a half was wasted. And she had been doing so well! Up until today that is. As soon as Kagome had came home and crawled into her bed, turning on the music via phone app, she let down the walls she had been building up, giving in to every emotion she had shut away.

It had all started earlier in the day, after Kagome was done at work. She needed to make a simple trip to the gas station, a task that should have only taken her maybe five minutes, but some unseen force in this universe just wanted her to be miserable. Swiping her card at the pump, she jumped at an all too familiar voice calling her name.

“Kagome! Fancy meeting you here!”

‘Ugh.’

“Oh, h-hello Hojo.” Kagome had such a bad case of tunnel vision that she failed to notice her friend’s husband and old schoolmate pull up to the pump right beside her as she inserted the gas nozzle into her tank.

“How have you been Kagome? Ayumi and I haven’t heard from you in a while, we we're starting to get worried.”

“Oh, I’ve just been really busy with work and all, you know how it goes”, Kagome chuckled awkwardly, running her hand through her hair. This was the last thing she wanted to deal with today. And Kagome was pretty sure she was stationed at the slowest pump in all of history.

“Well, it's a good thing I ran into you here! Ayumi wanted to invite you to dinner with us tomorrow.”

‘Ab-so-lut-ely not.’ “No, that’s okay Hojo, I’m not about to put you guys out on Valentine's Day. Don't worry about me, and just enjoy your night together.”

Hojo looked like he was about to argue with her when the pump connected to Kagome's car clicked, letting her know her time at the gas station was finally up. ‘About damn time, too.’

“Well, I’m all finished up here, so I’m going to head out to beat the traffic. I'll talk to you guys later, okay!” Kagome spoke in one breath as she dived into the drivers seat and sped away, leaving Hojo behind looking confused, and mildly worried for his old friend.

Kagome had been avoiding everyone since the beginning of February. She knew that her friends and family meant well. She knew they only wanted to see her happy, but Kagome didn't know if she could do it; another Valentine's Day filled with people throwing her yet another elaborate pity party. If she didn’t know any better, it was like they thought she forgot that she was almost 30 and still single. But Kagome was determined that this year was going to be different. She figured that if she just ignored everyone and stayed home until Valentine's Day had passed that she could bypass all her own feelings of inadequacy and loneliness. And since the first week of February, she was nailing it. Kagome worked in the kitchen of a little diner, and since business is always a little heavier leading up to the holiday of love, she had signed herself up for some much needed overtime with the hopes that she would too busy for anything else. In addition to working extra hours to occupy her time, she had stockpiled her household with enough food and supplies to last through the week. And if she forgot something? Well, grocery stores will deliver to you now, so Kagome didn't have to worry about walking into her nearest shop, only to be surrounded by chocolates and candies and giant stuffed animals that served no purpose other than reminding Kagome of her unwanted solitude. Kagome had planned her last week so meticulously, giving herself little to no free time to think about the fact that she was still single, or to let anyone else remind her of that fact.

Kagome had always been a rather stubborn child. Kagome knew what she wanted, and if something didn’t live up to her expectations, then it was kicked to the curb. Unfortunately, this personality trait included all the men she dated. It wasn’t like Kagome had never been on a date, or been with a man sexually, but more often that not she found that no one could keep her interests in more than one area for more than a night.

When she was still in high school, Kagome had gone on a couple of dates with Hojo. He had always been quite smitten with her, and it wasn’t as if he wasn’t a nice guy. Hojo was always (and remains to be) one of the few good guys out there, but he was a little too….amicable for Kagome's tastes. His personality almost seemed fake in the sense that he never had any disputes with anyone and could never find anything bad to say about anything. It wasn’t as if Hojo's courteous nature was a bad thing per say, but Kagome always had a wild spirit, and she found it difficult to see herself settling for someone who couldn’t at least sometimes find themselves on her level. On their last date, Kagome had even tried to start a fight with him, just to spawn some other form of emotion from him, but to no avail. In the end, Kagome decided they were better off just being friends. Luckily, Hojo didn’t take the rejection too hard, and in the coming years, he found a cozy companionship with one of her best friends, Ayumi, and in no time at all had proposed to her. They were wedding number one that Kagome was a bridesmaid in.

After Hojo, Kagome dated a couple of other guys, but she quickly found faults in every one of them. Koga, an extremely forward wolf demon, was a great lay, but Kagome did not share in his views that she should just settle down to become his woman, which was just code for becoming a housewife who spat kids out faster than you could say ‘I do'. Kagome liked working, and she wasn’t about to just up and quit her job because some guy told her to. Meanwhile, Bankotsu, who worked at her old gym, ended up on the other end of the spectrum opposite Hojo; his whole life seemed to revolve around fighting and conflict, which was a lifestyle Kagome didn’t want to be apart of. Actually, Kagome was pretty sure he was in a gang. She switched gyms after their break up.

The last time Kagome had been on a real date was five years ago. Since then, she had seen all the rest of her best friends find their true love and get married. Even her most lecherous friend, Miroku, found a woman willing to put up with him. Kagome's mother tried to set her up on a few dates, mostly with the sons of the ladies she plays bridge with, but after a while Kagome just started to flat our reject them. She hated going on blind dates, no one could live up to her expectations. Because the one thing that no one else had known about was that about three months ago, she had met a guy. And he had completely flipped her world upside down.

~flashback~

It was November 1st. Halloween was officially over with, and Kagome had decided to head down to a local bar to celebrate the fact the she was still standing. Earlier in the year, the diner she worked at had started making seasonal desserts, so Kagome had spent the past week baking ghosts and pumpkins and bats on top of all her other cooking duties. Her days at the diner that week usually started far before dawn and ended far after dusk. To say she was tired would be an understatement, so what better way to treat yourself to a job well done than with a celebratory drink? Kagome found herself seated on the opposite end of the bar from the door, pulling out a thick hardcover book. She had not invited anyone else out with her, having no qualms with drinking alone. In fact, after the week she had, she preferred it. She would have a couple of drinks, read a little bit of the current fantasy novel in her hands, and head back home for a good night’s rest.

Kagome was only halfway through her first drink (a standard rum and cola) when a foreign hand suddenly engulfed her page, ripping the book from her hands.

“Excuse you!” Kagome exclaimed, a look of indignation washed over her face.

“You’re excused,” her book thief shot back, his face showing an indifferent look as he rifled through the books pages.

“Do you mind giving me back my book? And don’t lose my spot, either!” Kagome attempted to swipe the book from his hands, but the man merely held it over his head, just out of her reach.

“So tell me, who comes to a bar – alone – just to read a book? Can't find yourself a date on this day, after All Hallows Eve?”

“That is absolutely none of your business,” she squeaked, her face dusted with a slight blush. For a moment, Kagome was struck silent, unsure of how to respond to this stranger. But, for the first time in the maybe twenty seconds they’ve interacted, she finally took a moment to glance at the stranger who found themselves sitting next to her.

‘My GOD is he gorgeous!' were the first thoughts out of Kagome’s head, taking in his tanned skin and perfectly manicured nails. His long silver hair, which only seemed to shine despite the darker environment of the bar, went about halfway down his back and was pulled back in a low ponytail, two strands pulled loose on either side of his head. As her eyes roamed upward, she took in every aspect of his face, from the fangs held behind his smirk to the pair of fuzzy ears that sat on top of his head. ‘So he's a hanyou. I wonder how soft those ears are,' she thought, stifling her yearning to reach out and touch them. But what really took her breath away was his eyes. Golden in color, they glowed, despite the darkened environment. Amber, mixed with flecks of soft brown swirled together as they gazed down on her. He had to be at least a whole foot taller than her. A pair of black slacks accentuating his long legs, while a simple bright red shirt hugged the muscles of his arms and chest. Kagome had never laid eyes on a man more handsome than the stranger beside her, despite her irritation with him interrupting her date with a good book. 'Do I really care though?' she thought, licking her bottom lip slightly to relieve herself from her all-of-a-sudden chapped lips.

“If you must know,” she started, looking slightly down across the bar rather than in his general direction, “I’ve had a hard week and decided to treat myself to a drink and a good book. If that’s okay with you?”

“By yourself?” he said incredulously, slightly lowering his arm that held her book. It gave her just the distance to snatch it back before he could defend against her.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Well, when it comes to celebrations, no one should be alone.” He motioned to the bartender. “The lady and I will have another round, on me,” he spoke the second part of that sentence facing towards her, causing Kagome to blush even more.

“Here you are buying me a drink, and I don’t even know you’re name.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” he smirked, a lone fang poking out from his lips. It was outlandish, in Kagome’s mind, how that one simple facial expression could make her go utterly speechless. She really wanted to throw out some witty, sarcastic quip just to see what kind of expression she could get out of him, but the only word she could seem to utter was her name.

“Well, Ka-go-me,” he said quietly, the bartender handing them two new drinks. The way he enunciated each part of her name sent a small shiver down her spine. “Shall we make a toast then?”

“A t-toast? To what?” she spoke in a hushed voice.

“Hmmm…” he paused, dramatically taking his chin in his thumb and index finger and sporting a most reflective look which made Kagome giggle. “To the rest of tonight. The name's Inuyasha.” He raised his glass in front of her, his eyes glazing back and forth between their drinks. Kagome wasn’t sure what was happening, the room felt like it was spinning, and she barely had anything to drink yet! A part of her was reluctant towards him. She had not planned to talk, let alone meet, someone tonight, but she couldn’t deny she was a little lonely. And he was really hot. ‘So fuck it,’ she thought, and raised her drink up to delicately clink their glasses, a beginning to what would become one of the greatest night’s that Kagome had experienced in a while.

Minutes soon turned to hours. One drink together turned into two. They spent hours playing pool, loser buying celebratory whiskey shots, and when their fill of competitive playfulness had been satiated Inuyasha and Kagome found themselves laughing and dancing the rest of the night away next to the jukebox.

The atmosphere in the little bar that night was perfect. There were just enough people in the bar to make the place feel welcoming without the claustrophobic ambience that a normal club or more popular bar would have. Kagome couldn’t remember the last time she had as much fun as she did that night. Inuyasha was….perfect. They talked about a variety of subjects throughout the night, mostly about the little things, like what their favourite food was or what reality television show was their most guilty pleasure. Work, of course, was another topic they came upon. Kagome talked about her passion for cooking, how it was stemmed from time spent in the kitchen with her mother after her father passed away, and Inuyasha talked about his job as a mechanic. He was definitely a textbook definition of a “car guy", Kagome was pretty sure he could have talked all night about engines and tires and….torque? Kagome didn’t have a clue what he was talking about most of the time, for the most part nodding her head at the appropriate times, but for some reason she found it endearing when listening to Inuyasha talk and all she could do was smile brightly at him.

Despite their steady drinking, he was a perfect gentleman. There was never any instigation to do anything more than have a fun night out, which Kagome found utterly refreshing. One of the reasons she hated going to the more populated bars and clubs was because most guys wanted (and almost expected) something more from her months bedroom department. And while she did not consider herself to be chaste, she was not a fan of sex on the first date – or meeting for that matter.

~present~

‘It was the most perfect night,’ Kagome mused, the music pulling her from her memories as she tried to will her body to become one with her bed.

🎵“Did I fuck my whole life up? Did I miss my one true love? Was he right in front of me at the dive bar? Was that you with the cowboy blues?”🎵

With an aggravated huff, Kagome finally found the nerve to turn the damned music off. She didn’t need any more reminders of her romantic failure. Kagome had thought about that night long and hard. At no point in their celebrating did she feel weird around Inuyasha, and the more time went by, any misgivings she might have had in the beginning about him dwindled to nothing. What could have happened to make everything that was good about their evening go so wrong?

'My drunk, dumb ass is what,' Kagome thought, taking both her hands and pulling them through her hair in frustration.

Kagome was not a lightweight when it came to alcohol for the most part. She rarely went out in that kind of setting, but when she did the necessary precautions were taken to pace herself and keep hydrated. But between their mixed drinks and shared whiskey shots, Kagome had drank more than she could handle, and about an hour before the bar was to officially close for the night, she proclaimed (louder than she probably would have liked If she was sober) that it was time for her to head home. Any other man she could have been with would have taken this opportunity to “escort her home", with the possibility of a night cap, which would have been easy in her inebriated state. It wasn’t like she hadn’t let her mind wander at all that night, especially sit the way his ass looked in those slacks. But ever the gentleman, Inuyasha simply called her a cab, paid the driver, and sent her off on her way.

If Kagome hadn’t been so drunk, she would have asked for his number. Or maybe his social media account. Hell, she would have been content to just get his last name! But at the time, there was no way Kagome could think straight, and with barely a “Goodnight Inuyasha!”, the taxi cab had whisked her away before Inuyasha could even begin to maybe put his own number in her phone.

For a week, Kagome tried her hardest to find any sign that Inuyasha existed since that night. She thought it would have been easier with such an unusual name, but without knowing his last name, her internet searches came up blank. There were surprisingly more ‘Inuyasha’s out there than she ever would have thought. He didn’t seem to have a social media account, so that became her first dead end. She tried looking up all the mechanic shops in the area to try and find some sign that Inuyasha worked there, which proved to be a very daunting task. About halfway through her search, Kagome had then come to a startling hypothesis; What if Inuyasha didn’t live in the area? He could have been visiting from out of town, which means searching through local mechanic shops could be a wasted venture. The thought only made Kagome more frazzled in her search. She even attempted to go to the bar, going on the same day of the week the had met, but after about a month and a half of light drinking and fending off the desperate men that tried hitting on her, Kagome had finally given up. Hell, for all she knew, her mind had probably imagined him up. It’s not like perfect men like him exist anyways.

Soon enough, Christmas and New Years had flown by, filling Kagome with a sense of emptiness. They had only spent a few hours together, but she felt as if she had known him for years. There was this feeling in Kagome that she couldn’t quite verbalize. She felt such a longing for a man she barely even knew, and it killed her inside to know she may never get to indulge in it again. The end of January had brought about a wistful demeanor in Kagome, which conjured up many questions amongst her friends and family. They may not have known about her night with Inuyasha, but it wasn’t difficult to see that something considerable was weighing on Kagome's shoulders, causing her to fall into a dispirited state.

Hence Kagome's need to throw herself into work and not have any contact with anyone she knows until Valentine's Day was over with. Except it didn’t work, and Kagome still ran into Hojo, pulling her back into her own self pity. Why was life so unfair? Did Kagome do something to earn such dreadful luck?

“God, I need a drink,” Kagome muttered as she pushed her cheeks up with her hands. She wasn't scheduled to work tomorrow, although Kagome had planned to go in anyways, but running into Hojo at the gas station had unleashed a barrage of emotions in her and for the first time in a week, Kagome realized just how tired she was. Maybe taking tomorrow off wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

‘Well, in that case, I might as well get out of this house to drink my sorrows away,’ she thought, as she stood from her bed and walked towards her closet. Kagome found herself dressed in a comfortable pair of yoga pants matched in an enormous, bright red hoodie. About two weeks after her night with Inuyasha, Kagome had found the hoodie hanging in a window display at the mall, and without missing a beat she had walked inside and purchased the first one she could get her hands on. She wasn’t an airhead, Kagome knew exactly what pulled her to buy a piece of clothing such as this. She knew it reminded her of him. After religiously wearing the hoodie to bed for months, Kagome had tucked the hoodie away into her closet when February began, knowing that one piece of clothing would never let her forget about him. Thus, she found it fitting now to don the oversized sweater, since there was no use trying to not think about him anymore.

Soon enough, Kagome was out the door, heading down an all too familiar path to the bar. Kagome, in fact, lived practically walking distance to the bar. She could walk from her apartment to the bar in about twenty minutes, and in the car that time was basically nothing. Because she lived so close, Inuyasha could have just as easily helped walk her home that night instead of calling a cab. They could have spent more time together than parting ways at the bar. Maybe he would have had the time to ask for her number. Hell, maybe he would have come inside. Kagome felt a pang of guilt when thinking about just how drunk she got. If she were less intoxicated, she could have had a clearer mind to ask him out again.

A chill breeze swept against her face, causing a light shiver to run down her body. Kagome picked up her pace slightly, desperate for the warmth the incandescent lights above the bar would bring. There was no point in dwelling in the what-if's of the whole situation at the moment; there would be plenty of time for that with a spirituous drink in her hand.

Before long, Kagome had finally reached her destination, the tinkling of the small bell above the door floating through the air. Absentmindedly, she meandered towards her usual seat on the opposite side of the bar. Luckily, it was a Thursday night, so there wouldn’t be too many people around with a clear view of her imminent sour thoughts.

“Kagome! Long time no see!” Looking towards the voice, Kagome spotted the small wildcat demon child, who hopped onto a protruding ledge on the employee side of the bar. Well, ‘child’ was a relative term here. Kagome was sure that despite his small stature, he was probably older than her. Wildcat demons weren't known to get very big.

“Hello Bunza!” Kagome said with a light smile on her face. “How are you this evening?”

“I'm doing alright I guess. It’s been pretty slow tonight, and Totosai gave me this HUGE list of chores to do before we close,” Bunza sighed with a dejected look on his face. “But don’t worry about me Kagome, did you want your usual?”

Kagome giggled slightly at his less-then-enthusiastic attitude towards his duties. He might be older than her, but in the demon world he was still a child, and what child likes to do chores? “Not tonight Bunza, how about making me a Cosmo?”

“Coming right up!” Bunza grinned and set off to work as she sat down, hanging her purse on the hook in front of her legs.

It had been a shock to Kagome the first time she had seen Bunza working the counter. Sometimes, she had to remind herself that the demon world worked different when it came to certain things, such as a child like Bunza working at a bar. Kagome had learned, from her many visits, that Bunza had worked there for about five years. His parents died in a fire when he was very young, leaving him an orphan. Totosai, the actual owner of the bar, was a family friend and agreed to take Bunza under his wing. Of course, this meant he would spend many a night at the bar, working his way up from just sweeping and keeping the bar relatively clean to actually making drinks for patrons. Totosai had actually installed a ledge along the bar for Bunza when he started learning how to make drinks so that it would be easier for him to interact with the customers sitting on the other side of the bar. Many people who came in would comment on his age, about how he was too young to be put to work, but Bunza would just brush them off. It was plain for anyone to see, if they truly tried, that despite the work Bunza was happy to just not be by himself after his parents death. Totosai made sure he had a roof over his head and warm food in his belly, which was more than he could have asked for.

A few minutes later, Bunza set down the finished Cosmo in front of her. “Let me know if you need anything else Kagome!” he said, hopping down from the ledge to pick up where he had left off with his chores. Kagome had always enjoyed talking with Bunza, but her heart just wasn’t in it today. Sighing heavily, she slumped her shoulders, trying to release all her tension from the week. With a few turns of the neck, Kagome grabbed her drink and took a sizeable sip.

“You better be careful, take any more drinks like that and I’ll have to call you another cab.”

Kagome almost choked on her drink at the unexpected voice behind her. Coughing as she tried to take in huge gulps of air, she felt a hand brace her back, patting it gently, the other hand gripping the bar. The motions of the man brought him into her sight, although Kagome didn’t actually need to see him to know who was behind her. If the past week had taught her anything, it was that there was no force on this planet that could possibly make Kagome forget anything about Inuyasha. The deep baritone of his voice. The way his eyes bore into her own, as if he was trying to memorize every bit of her own visage. The velvety texture of his snow-white hair that would tickle her cheeks if he bent his head near hers. The way he always seemed to smell like fresh pine and sandalwood. No, there was no possible way for Kagome to forget him, not that she'd want to anyways.

“I-Inuyasha…” she stuttered, her face starting to burn from the embarrassment of it all. He wasn’t suppose to be here! She hadn’t taken the time to get herself dolled up on the off chance she would see him again. Not that Kagome wasn’t happy to see him, she just wished she was more prepared. She currently held the appearance of a troll rather than a lady. She thought so anyways.

“Well damn, Ka-go-me, didn’t know you were that drunk already,” the way he enunciated her name, yet again brought shivers down her spine. His deliciously plump lips twerked upwards in an all too knowing smirk. She knew he was teasing her, and under normal circumstances she would have huffed in indignation at his ever apparent satisfaction of picking on her, but Kagome had waited months for this moment. There would be plenty of time for pointless bickering later, and by God she would make sure there was a later. The smirk on his face transformed into a wide smile, and Kagome couldn’t help but tilt her lips up to try and imitate his own. She was about to change her own fate.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Kagome said all in one breath. Inuyasha squinted his eyes at her slightly, his smile remained wholeheartedly.

“What’s the rush?”

“I didn’t get a chance to eat dinner yet. It’s been a long week"

Inuyasha snickered. “You’re just always having a bad week, aren’t you wench?”

“Only preceding when I see you, apparently. Maybe it’s a sign?”

“A sign of what?”

“That I should see you more,” Kagome muttered, breaking her eye contact for just a moment before gazing at him with hopeful eyes. His face held an emotion that Kagome couldn’t quite place. Relief? Awe? Contentment? She continued on, afraid any pause in her plan would spell disaster.

“There’s a really great ramen shop not too far from here. If you don’t mind walking.”

His eyes lit up at the word ‘ramen. “You just said the magic word,” Inuyasha said, backing up somewhat to give her enough room to stand. Kagome could not contain the smile on her face as she dug into her purse. Kagome had let Inuyasha get away once, and she wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. Once she found her wallet, she placed some bills on the table and turned to walk out the door with Inuyasha. The night had turned even colder with the sun having been fully set, but Kagome and Inuyasha hardly noticed. Every look that they would pass back and forth would keep them plenty warm.

It was too bad the sun had already gone down though. Kagome had always envisioned she'd find him one day and they'd ride off into the sunset together.

'Oh well, another day.'

[yourlocalmusicalprostitute]

Happy Halloqueen ! !

A//N: Happy Halloqueen!! This is for @littlespoiltthing ! It was so hard not to reveal myself lol but I really hope you like this. I've never written poly ships so like ya know...go easy on me.

Warnings: mention of alcohol, bad attempts at humor, Ben is a little flirty, poly relationship

You had been bouncing in your office chair all day, dying to get home. Yourself and all of your men were hosting Halloween at your house and the anticipation was eating away at you. 

As soon as your eight hours were up, you were dashing to your car and speeding home. You could hear music from the driveway, which meant Joe was doing his usual pre-party cleaning. 

Joe wasn't the first of your boyfriends that you saw though. It was Gwilym. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up practically elbow deep in the food he was preparing. 

"Hi Gwil." You greeted him. You set your bag onto the counter before coming to wrap your arms around him. 

He wanted to hug you, but couldn't due to being preoccupied. Instead he twisted a bit, leaned down, and planted a kiss on the top of your head. "Hello love, how was work?" He spoke. 

"It was work. I've been way too excited to get home and get my costume on. Think I'm winning the contest this year." You smiled after Gwilym leaned back in laughter before answering you. 

"You're the hostess Y/N. You're not supposed to compete." He said factually. 

You shrugged, "I know. I like to say I won in my head." 

Gwilym chuckled a bit more at your antics before you let him go to get your costume. 

"I'll be back. Don't burn anything." 

"Unlikely, make sure Ben isn't drilling holes in the wall." 

You giggled as you walked down the hallway. You saw the bathroom light on and heard a few clinks. That couldn't be anyone except Ben. You smiled at the sight of him crouched by the bathroom cabinets. 

"Ben…" he looked up when you called his name. Your eyebrows went up in question and Ben smiled. 

"I'll hug you in a second Y/N. I've got to finish putting this screw in here." Ben was surrounded by an array of tools, including electric ones. All which seemed a bit too much for changing a screw. 

"All of this for one screw Ben?" 

"Well it had to be the right one! You know some people can be judgemental when it comes to other's interior design." You laughed at his definition of interior design and waited patiently for Ben to finish so he could fulfill his promise of a hug. 

It took him a few minutes since the screw had to be just right, but once he finished Ben gladly took you into his arms. He asked the same question as Gwilym, "How was work?"

"Boring." You stated simply. "So happy to be home."

"I'm happy you're home too. Very excited to see you in costume." Ben smiled down at you cheekily which made you blush a bit. 

"That's a good idea." You agreed with Ben, but neither of you let each other go. 

"We should both be getting ready." Ben stated, but made no effort to move. 

"Yeah, don't want to be in a rush later." You still had your hands on Ben's chest. The two of you did this kind of thing often. It always made you two late for whatever you needed to attend, but it was always worth it. 

Before anything escalated, Joe came sliding in. Literally, sliding in. He was the only one in full costume already. His white button down was slightly wrinkled and half buttoned. He bought new boxers for his costume. The socks were spot on too. 

"Just take those old records off the shelf," Joe sung along to Bob Seger, "I said I'll listen to them by myself!" 

You joined Joe in the hallway."Today's music ain't got the same soul! I'm on that old time rock'n'roll!" The two of you broke into a dance number. It was really just Joe being animated as ever as you strutted around him. 

Gwilym peeked out of the kitchen at the commotion. He secretly took a video to send to the group chat that all the party guests were in captioning it with "Pre-gaming."

Joe wrapped you into a tight hug once the song was over. "We're so playing that every time someone shows up." He said. Before you could formally protest, Ben butted in. 

"No! You get one grand entrance mate!"

Joe looked to you for support, but you shook your head. "I'm with Ben on this one. The song's great, but over and over? Don't think so. As Ben and Joe argued over the official playlist, you finally got to slip into your costume. 

It may have been cliche to be a witch, but you weren't just some run of the mill, party city witch. You were the Wicked Witch of the West. The classic Wizard of Oz villain. Gwilym knocked before swinging the door open. 

"Almost ready? Rami and Lucy are on their way." His costume matched yours. He was the house that fell on the wicked witch's sister. He had a hat that resembled a chimney. 

You couldn't help but smile at how adorable he was in his costume. "I'm just about ready. Is Ben dressed?" He was and appeared in the doorway just as you asked. 

Ben stood with his hands on his hips, a very proud look on his face. "Guess who I am!" 

You thought it over. "A boy scout?" You asked. 

"No! I'm Joe!" He said as if it made any sense. 

"You're what?" Gwilym asked for you both. 

"I'm Tim Murphy! Joe!" The room erupted into laughter. You thought he was kidding when he brought up the idea two weeks ago, but he obviously wasn't. 

The party jumped off at dusk. A few more people showed than you expected so the cocktail sausages were gone within a few hours. Otherwise it all went swimmingly. 

Rami and Lucy won the costume contest by a landslide. They looked impeccable as Edward Scissor hands and Kim. You and Gwilym got second place based on the sheer hilarity of Gwilym being an actual house. 

Around midnight all three of your boyfriends came staggering up to you. All of their faces were warm from the alcohol. (You remained sober for the party, just to keep an eye on people.) Joe was the first to speak. 

"We love you!" He might be a bit more drunk than the other two. 

"I love you guys too! Is everything okay?" You passed Joe a water bottle that he graciously took. 

"Slow dance with me!" Ben pulled you out into the crowd that was slowly diminishing. 

"Ben, we can't slow dance to Thriller." You tried to reason with him, but it was in vain. You actually didn't slow dance. It was more of a waltz around the dining room. 

After your Thriller waltz was over many people started to find their way out the door. The wreckage from the party actually wasn't that bad. You knew that it would be a much quieter clean than earlier due to Joe's impending hangover. He was the first to join you in bed. 

You slipped off the witch dress, as your hat was in some mysterious place in the house, and wiped off the green makeup. Joe's costume made it very easy to get comfortable for bed. He removed his socks and shirt after he basically threw himself into bed. 

Gwilym took his place on the other side of you and Ben beside Joe. There were ringing in your ears from the loud music of the party, but the silence was inviting. The last thing you heard were the words mumbled by your favorite men in the world. 

"I'm gonna have a cavity." Joe slurred. 

"I'm a better Tim." Ben muttered. 

"Shut up." Gwilym finished. 

[alj4890]

Angst Prompt

(Thomas x Amanda) with the request for an alternate look at the Say Goodbye/ I Was On My Way fics.

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) let's pretend this doesn't exist on my blog.

A/N I know I said I wouldn't do anymore with this heartbreaking storyline. And yet here I am. Again. Sigh. I shared the two other possible ideas for the second part I posted a couple of days ago with bff @krsnlove and being the sweetheart she is, she said I needed to post them. So, here is my darkest version of that story for this couple. I think you will soon know why I didn't choose this version initially. Oh, it hurts. I am so sorry. I'm a fairly positive, happy person in life. I have no idea where these thoughts came from. The third and final one that will be posted shortly is nowhere near the heartache of this one. Warning: pure, terrible, horrible angst from here on out.

First part: Say Goodbye

Second part: I Was On My Way

Third alternate ending: Remedy

Song: Somebody You Loved

Masterlist

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @krsnlove  @cora-nova @bella-ca  @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @pixieferry @lolablackwrites @i-bloody-love-drake-walker

She's Gone (2nd alternate storyline to I Was On My Way)

"Tomorrow we will focus on scenes twenty-two through--" Thomas glared at Jessica holding her hand up.

"But the royal wedding is tomorrow." She said.

Thomas gripped his notes a little tighter. Addison and Holly shared a worried glance. He swallowed and tried to keep his anger in check. "That is precisely why we will be filming out in the countryside. Everyone will either be glued to their televisions or at the capital to watch the ceremony."

Jessica frowned. "Aren't we going to take advantage of being in Cordonia and watch it? It is a historical moment when royals marry. Couldn't we--" 

"NO!" Thomas roared. "If you wish to go to that wedding instead of filming your scenes, Ms. Clark, then that is your choice. Don't expect to be in the rest of the movie if you do." He stormed off.

Jessica stood there with her hanging mouth open in surprise. She looked at Chris and the others. "Did...did I say something wrong?"

Holly sighed while gathering the script copies. "Thomas was in a relationship with the bride."

Jessica's eyes widened. "Oh no. I am so sorry. Should I go to him and--"

Addison shook her head. "Just drop it. He...he will be fine."

____________

Thomas made it back to the manor his friends Hakim and Joelle had insisted he use while in Cordonia. He shut the door to his bedroom and tried to calm down.

He hated being here. If Chris had not needed a couple of weeks off for his father-in-law's funeral, he would be back in Hollywood by now. He had pushed his crew to film as fast as they could. It had all been for nothing. He was stuck in the country that the woman he loved lived in.

He set his notes down and sat on the edge of the bed. He lowered his head in his hands. He couldn't believe that in less than twenty-four hours, Amanda would be marrying Liam. How had his decision to walk away from her resulted in this?

He rubbed his hands over his face as he went to the wet bar. He poured himself a drink and turned the television on. Any distraction from his tortured thoughts would be welcomed.

Breaking News: An attack on King Liam and Lady Amanda Bridgerton resulted in another member of the Sons of the Earth being captured. The man attempted to shoot Lady Amanda while she was out with King Liam in the capital this evening. Our heroic King knocked her to the ground, saving her from harm. News 14 has obtained raw footage taken from a bystander.

Thomas stared in horror at the crowd surrounding Amanda and Liam. She had a strained smile on her face as she thanked people congratulating her on her upcoming wedding. Liam was scanning the crowd when a man with blonde hair and glasses stepped forward and raised a gun to Amanda's chest. He yelled out that there was only one rightful king of Cordonia and pulled the trigger.

Amanda let out a muffled scream when Liam knocked her to the ground. A flurry of activity occurred as guards, Drake, and Maxwell chased after the man. Thomas moved closer to the tv and tried to see if she was truly okay when she was helped off the ground. Liam kept his arm around her shoulders while quickly walking her to a car. Her face was stark white with terror as she got in.

Thomas grabbed his phone and didn't pause to think as he dialed the all to familiar number. He paced back and forth in his room, praying she would answer.

"Hello? Thomas?"

He stopped in his tracks. "Amanda."

He heard the slight intake of her breath.

"I..." She struggled to get the words out. "How are you?"

He looked down. "Forget about that. I saw the attempt on your life! Are you alright? You weren't injured in the attack were you?"

"I'm fine." She reassured him in a shaky voice.

Thomas ran his hand through his hair as he struggled with his need to see for himself that she was actually fine. He couldn't though. She isn't mine anymore. He had no right to demand to come to her. Hold her. Promise he would never let anything happen to her.

"Are you still there?" She asked, fear tinging her words. "Thomas?"

"I'm here." He replied.

"I...I have to tell you something. Something I should have said when you appeared at the ball a few months ago." She swallowed and tried not to break into sobs.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "There is nothing that needs to be said. Nothing can be said now." He raised his head and looked out at the moonlit countryside. "We can't--"

"I still love you." She choked out. "When you told me you loved me, I meant to tell you what was in my heart. But..." She sniffed and he could hear her trying to muffle her crying.

He closed his eyes. "But it doesn't change anything."

"I'm so sorry, Thomas." She said between sobs. "I wish it were you that I was marrying tomorrow."

He covered his eyes for a moment. "I do too."

"I...I wish I could see you. I miss you. Do you think--"

"We can't." He clinched his fist. "What good would it do, Amanda? It would only add even more pain."

She struggled against the emotions choking her. "I understand."

He sat back down on the bed. "I wish you nothing but happiness." He started to say more but she let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

"You were my happiness." She bitterly confessed.

Thomas froze at her outburst. He wanted to see her. Touch her, even if it was for the very last time. "Amanda, I--" He heard voices in the background, snapping him out of that impulsive frame of mind.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. I am needed downstairs." She quickly said.

Thomas swallowed. "Wait."

"Yes?" She said with a hint of hope.

"I meant every word that night outside of the palace." He said softly. "I will always mean it."

"Thomas." She whispered. Impatient voices could be heard in the background. "I have to go."

"Goodbye." He said.

"I...I'm sorry. I can't say goodbye to you." She quickly ended the call

He lowered his head back into his hands.

______________

The next day, he worked nonstop. If the crew stopped to eat or take a short break, he reviewed what had been filmed so far. After a late dinner alone and demands that no one disturb him the rest of the evening, he returned to his room and reluctantly turned the television on.

He expected to see reports on the wedding and reception. He had not expected to see frantic people scrambling for answers.

Breaking News: Local Authorities are working with INTERPOL and the King's Guard to locate and rescue Queen Amanda and Lady Olivia Nevarkis. Sources from the palace report that King Liam received a ransom note for the two around eight o'clock this evening. The Queen and duchess were kidnapped from the wedding reception. The Sons of the Earth claim responsibility for these disappearances.

Thomas grabbed his phone and tried to call her. When the call went directly to voice mail, he left a message begging her to call him as soon as she could.

He paced around his room. Why didn't he meet with her last night? Why didn't he try and stop this farce of a wedding? Why didn't he say he loved her once more instead of that asinine way of letting her know?

He grabbed a decanter and glass. He sat down in front of the television and drank as he flipped from one news station to the next, hoping one would show something that she was safe.

An hour later, he was summoned to the palace. Holly and Addison wanted to go with him, but he refused their requests. Holly argued with him until he snapped at her.

"I don't have time for this!" He yelled at her. "Stay here and handle things for me with the film." He hurried to the waiting car and left the two friends staring as he was driven away.

When he arrived at the palace, he was surprised to be greeted by the queen mother. Regina escorted him to a private study. Her usual cool demeanor softened. "Mr. Hunt, forgive me if I am being presumptuous, but I thought you might wish to be where you can hear news as it comes in."

He thanked her. She gently patted his shoulder before taking a seat near the fireplace. She explained that Liam, Drake, and Maxwell had snuck off to rescue Amanda and Olivia. The Guards and agents were on their way to an abandoned Nevarkis manor.

Thomas listened quietly while the television flashed images of Amanda in her wedding dress. He tried to sit still as speculations continued to be made as to the ladies' whereabouts. He stood up when the the news immediately cut to a live feed. Cameras focused first on a sobbing Olivia being wheeled out on a stretcher.

Reporters yelled questions as a battered Drake walked out with a bruised and bloody Maxwell. Both men were in states of shock. Anton struggled against his handcuffs while yelling out that he would do it again.

Liam walked next to a stretcher. Blood covered his hands and crisp, white, royal uniform. His blue eyes had tears falling as he stared at the strangely still form next to him.

Thomas zeroed in on Amanda lying there on a stretcher. Her long, dark eyelashes lay against her pale cheeks, looking much like she had the times he had watched her sleep. Her lips were slightly parted. Blood covered her chest that did not rise with a single needed breath. No IV's. No EMT working frantically over her. Nothing except her peaceful, lovely face.

Thomas stepped closer to the tv while Regina cried out in alarm at the image. Liam stopped before the cameras and held up a hand for silence. "I..." He swallowed and tried to get the words out. "It is with a heavy heart that I inform you all that..." He pressed his palms to his eyes and took a deep breath. "Queen Amanda has died at the hands of the leader of the Sons of the Earth, Anton Severus." Tears slipped down his cheeks as he struggled to answer questions.

Thomas fell to his knees as he stared in disbelief. "It can't be true." He shook his head. "She can't be dead. She was fine. She survived yesterday's attack. She survived!" He yelled out.

Regina stood and went to him. He shrugged off her comfort. Tears formed in his eyes as he fought against accepting the news. The Queen mother left him alone to tell those that were still in the ballroom.

Thomas bent forward and covered his ears as Liam's words repeated over and over in his mind. Amanda is dead. Gone. She's gone. She's never coming back. He cried out in anguish.

"No." He whispered into the carpet. "She wanted to see me." Thomas realized that another selfish choice of his cost him everything. "She wanted to see me and I refused her!"

He cried out to God to help him. Bring her back to him. Any merciful relief from this hell he had been thrust in.

He felt someone kneel next to him. He looked at Liam and begged him to tell him it wasn't true. He couldn't believe that it was.

Liam took Thomas to the room where each king and queen of Cordonia's was placed at their deaths. The young King watched as the man who truly loved Amanda stumbled toward her and gently touched her cheek. Thomas pressed his lips to her forehead while tears fell.

"I'm so sorry." He repeated to her. "I should have run to you when you said you wanted to see me. Told you every moment I loved you." He pressed her cold hand to his cheek. "I can't make it without you." He continued to plead with her to not leave him without her in this world. He slowly stroked her hair as he spoke of his need for her.

Liam kept his head bowed as he stood guard in the doorway. He glanced up when someone spoke softly to him. He nodded and spoke gently to the one mourning his lost love. "Thomas, we have to let them take her...take her away."

Thomas turned toward the men waiting to prepare her body. He looked back down at the one person he had loved with every fiber of his being. He softly kissed her lips wishing her lashes would flutter open. He wished to see that special smile she always had on her face when he woke her with a kiss. He whispered how much he loved her one last time before letting Liam escort him out.

He leaned against a wall and slid down to the floor. He stared at the closed door to the room where she was being placed in a black bag. He could hear the murmurs and then the zipper close. Wheels squeaked before the door opened. Liam knelt down and placed his hand over his heart as she was rolled past, bowing his head for Cordonia's queen and his closest friend.

Thomas watched it all with tears falling silently. Numbness was setting in. He knew that his heart had been zipped up in that bag. Life as he knew it had ended with her last breath. No hope for happiness remained. Nothing was left for him now.

[yeosang-jpg]

My Treasure [ATEEZ Pirate AU] Chapter Two.

The town was bustling, never mind that it was the ungodly hour of five in the morning. People were walking here and there, to the market, the tanner, the bakery. As everyone went about their morning chores, Sohee Lee entered the bakery to fetch some strawberry pastries, wearing a formal pink dress she'd sewn herself.

"G'morning, Sohee!" exclaimed the baker as she entered. "Here to pick up somethin' o' Master Choi's? I hear he's already hard at work!"

Sohee smiled; she too heard the loud clanging of metal as San worked in the forge. "Indeed he is, but oddly so, in my opinion. He should be getting ready."

The baker laughed and slammed a hand down on the table, his face red and his mood jovial. "That's right!" he recalled, wagging a finger her direction. "Today is the wedding!"

Though Sohee still wore her smile, her gaze became a little sad. "You are correct! Do you like the dress I've made for it?"

"It looks lovely, Miss Lee," answered the baker, his round face red with joy. "By this point, I've gotten used to seeing you create beautiful dresses for many women around Port Royal!"

The woman laughed lightly and waved a dismissive hand. She had only made a couple dresses for others... her sewing skills were nowhere near the caliber she would need to have if she ever wished to open her own shop. Nonetheless, the baker's flattery brought a warm smile to her face. With a heartfelt farewell, Sohee grabbed the pastries and paid the man before waving farewell and exiting.

As she returned to the forge, Sohee had to walk carefully to avoid being bumped into or having her dress stepped on. At last, however, she rounded the corner and arrived at her destination. She knew the place so well—since the age of twelve, Sohee had been the Choi's apprentice. Her friendship with Choi San was a fast one; before long, they would be often found playing with the pigs or cows. She taught him how to snag the freshest, juiciest apple from the apple trees, and he taught her how to forge a sword or temper metal in return.

When she stepped inside, Sohee inhaled deeply and faked the deepest voice she could muster. "Pardon me, Master Choi, but I have a request!"

The hammer San held stopped in midair. "And what would your request be, sir?"

Dropping her pretense, Sohee laughed and said, "That you stop working and eat some breakfast."

San chuckled and turned around, his smock already grimy with smoke and ash. As usual, there was a single streak of gray lining his cheek. "I suppose I could do that," he grinned, laying down the hammer and walking to Sohee.

She held out a pastry as he approached. "Open."

He did; she laughed as he bit the pastry and some of the strawberry jam stained his shirt. But San simply shrugged amiably. "Doesn't matter," he exclaimed, waving off the pink blotch on his white shirt. His brown eyes were cheerful as he added, "I won't be wearing it for long!"

Sohee smiled at his good mood and chastised him, "Speaking of, shouldn't you be preparing? This day only comes once in a man's life, you know."

"That it does, but I have all of daylight until the ceremony. You worry over me too much, Sohee, whether I am battling pirates or my appearance for my wedding." With that, he shook his head, a light smile at the corner of his lips, and returned to the hammer.

"Oh, for goodness sake, put that hammer down," she commanded, hands on her hips. "You work too hard. Do you not deserve a day off?"

"There you go again," laughed San without looking at her.

Though Sohee wanted nothing more than to laugh, she took care to keep her voice stern. "You force me to, Choi San. You are a magnet for trouble."

Sohee felt rather than saw him grin with his next comment. "Aye, I won't argue with you there." Then he resumed pounding the blacksmith hammer upon the sword he was crafting.

With a huff, she set down the basket of pastries and grabbed a hammer herself. "Well, if you insist on working, I might as well ease your workload."

"Whoa, there, not so fast," protested San, seeing her raise the tool. She stopped in mid-swing and glanced at him questioningly. He shot her a look and forcibly took the hammer from her, smirking as he did. "I forbid you from working in my forge today," he declared. "Though we may almost always work together, today, you are already dressed; I will not have you soil the dress you worked so hard to make. You've spent two months on it. I won't see you ruin it after all your work."

Sohee sighed, but did as he pleaded, if only because it was his wedding day. "Well, San, if you insist on being stubborn, I will go elsewhere so I might actually be useful. Have the decorations for the reception been set up?"

"Governor Kwon is attending to it. I wish you would stay here in the forge for a little while longer. I am not going to be here for another three weeks, and I will miss my best friend while I am gone."

She chuckled softly. "Perhaps, but you deserve the time off with your wife to-be."

"Maybe... but perhaps while I am gone, you might give me the hope of attending your wedding someday soon?"

Sohee laughed and shook her head. "I do not know about that..."

"Come on, Soo," he crooned, setting down the hammer and placing a hand on her shoulder. Sohee smiled at the old nickname. "You degrade yourself. You are beautiful and kind and intelligent. Any man would be lucky to have you as his wife."

"We shall see about that, San," she sighed heavily. Sohee was uncertain about if she would ever find a man she would love more than him. The task was daunting at best—impossible at worst. "I will keep an open eye and heart."

"Excellent. You are turning twenty next year... I hope to see you happy by that time."

Each word was a dagger to her heart, but of course Sohee could not say as much. "I hope so, too, San. But for today, let us focus on you. I will go help Eunseo's father finish the decorations. I shall see you later." She spoke quickly, knowing that if he pleaded her to stay again, she would be unable to decline him.

So she simply kissed his hand and walked out.

For the next six hours, Sohee and Governor Kwonn completed the outdoor preparations. When they were finished, the small clearing overlooking the ocean was almost unrecognizable, bedecked in gorgeous shades of cream and white and gold. Bouquets were set on every table, ribbons of ivory decorated the pews, and buffet tables were placed and ready to be filled. The two exchanged courteous smiles and thanks for the other's help before spending the rest of the day preparing for the ceremony.

Just before sunset, Sohee thought to check on San. When she reached his room, she knocked and asked, "San? Are you in there?"

But the door was not answered by San, Instead, a short man wearing a white powdered wig greeted her. His voice was cold and formal as he stated, "Good evening, miss. Are you looking for Mr. Choi?"

"I am," she confirmed. "Do you know where he is?"

At the mention of his name, San was brought forth. Shackles were on his wrist, and two men surrounded him.

Sohee gasped. "What is the meaning of this?"

"That is none of your concern, miss," said the same man with the hard voice. "If you care for elaboration, feel free to follow us."

Knowing that if she were to speak again, she might get herself or San into trouble, Sohee kept silent and followed the men as they trudged out to where she and Governor Kwon had just finished decorating.

Eunseo was there, kneeling over fallen teacups. When she saw who stood behind her, however, she dropped the bouquet of flowers she was holding and rushed back to San.

"San!" she gasped, fear in her brown eyes. "Why is this happening?"

"I don't know," he replied softly. He looked over her elegant dress and smiled. "You look beautiful."

Eunseo smiled too, though hers was hesitant. "I think it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

Sohee moved forward and forced herself to put a hand on Eunseo's shoulder. Though Eunseo was not Sohee's favorite person, she swore to always be kind and considerate towards her, seeing as she was her best friend's fiancée. "Do not worry, Eunseo. I am sure this gentleman shall explain what is happening."

Said gentlemen smirked and gave Sohee a once-over, though he was silent.

Just then, the Governor's voice rang out. "Make way, let me through! How dare you! Stand your men down at once! Do you hear me?!"

The man turned to face Governor Kwon, the cold formality still lacing his eyes and tone. "Governor Eui Tae Kwon, it's been too long."

"Lee Jae Ho?"

"It's Lord now, actually," corrected Lord Lee coolly.

"Lord or not, you have no reason and no authority to arrest this man," declared Governor Kwon.

"In fact, I do," contested Lord Lee. "Miss, would you come here, please?"

Sohee was startled to realise that he had summoned her—knowing it could be dangerous to disobey, she obeyed the request. Once she stood next to him, he handed her a stack of parchment. "Hold these for me, please." He rummaged through a number of papers before suddenly asking, "What is your name?"

She glanced at San, who looked irritated and frankly, rather murderous. Then, turning back to Lord Lee, she responded, "Lee Sohee."

"Lee Sohee," repeated Lord Lee softly, his gray eyes scanning through the numerous documents she held. "I see. A-ha. Here it is. The warrant for the arrest of one Choi San."

With these words, Lord Lee held out the warrant for the Governor to take. And he did, perusing it before declaring faintly, "This warrant is for the arrest of Kwon Eunseo!"

"Is it? That's annoying, my mistake. Arrest her."

Some of the soldiers grabbed Eunseo as she gasped, "On what charges?!"

Ignoring her, exclaimed Lord Lee, "A-ha! Here is the one for Choi San. And I have another for a Mister Kang Taehyun! Is he present?"

"As I understand it, he has resigned his commission and gone missing," explained Sohee, wondering what this man could possibly want to arrest the three people for. "He has not been seen around Port Royal for months."

Lord Lee glanced at her again, then nodded and opened his mouth to say something—but he was interrupted by Eunseo, who exclaimed, "Lord Lee! We are under the jurisdiction of the King's Governor of Port Royal, and you will tell us what we are charged with."

Governor Kwon looked down at the warrant and read aloud, "The charge is 'conspiring to set free a man convicted of crimes against the Crown and Empire and condemned to death, for which the punishment...'" But the governor trailed off in horror.

"For which the punishment, regrettably, is also death," finished Lord Lee, cold eyes calculating their expressions. He stepped towards San and added, "Perhaps you remember a certain pirate named Kim Hongjoon."

"Captain!" snarled both Eunseo and San at the same time.

Sohee put a hand to her head. San might have at least tried to fake innocence.

"Captain. Kim Hongjoon," corrected Eunseo

Lord Lee appeared amused. "Captain Hongjoon... Yes, I thought you might." He walked back to Sohee, who was still holding his papers. He carefully took them from her and said, "Thank you, Miss Lee." His hand lightly brushed the inside of her wrist—his eyes landed upon hers for a second before turning away.

After a moment of quiet, Lord Lee waved San forth. "Come, Master Choi. There are a few things I have to discuss with you. Miss Kwon will go to the cells for now—and Miss Lee, please wait outside my office for me to discuss certain matters with you as well."

Sohee started and exchanged a worried glance with San. They could say nothing as they were gestured towards Lord Lee's quarters... all they could do was wait and see what the man wished their presences for, for surely, it would not simply be for pleasantries.

[seromat]

What We Can Become

We are warned every day about the horrors in our reality. Women have to carry pepper spray or stun guns in fear of masked men in dark parking lots. Children have to stay in their yards because of strangers who claim to have candy in their vans. Men have to stay out of that part of town in order to avoid weapons and ill intentions. Given the modern times, most people choose to believe that all monsters are figments of imagination or symptoms of mental illness. This would be dangerously incorrect. All of the monsters that people encountered in ancient times have not disappeared. They merely have become better at hiding. As with all things, they too can adapt to their surroundings. 

It was a quiet November morning in a small town in Colorado when the lives of its people would be forever changed. Unknown to its inhabitants an ancient evil had taken a new form. This evil was on the prowl, and it wanted to inflict pain and suffering. It would accomplish its mission. 

 It was 5am when Monica Bloom was walking to her nursing job at the local doctors office. It was only a few blocks, and she did it every day. The air was crisper than usual, there was frost on the ground, and winter was fast approaching. Monica would never make it to work that day. Her office called her home phone and tried her cell. When those failed they tried her emergency contact number which was her husband Cameran. He had seen her leave for work, and knew she had not returned home. 

Cameran knew something was wrong, so he called the police. He received the usual response of waiting 24 hours to file a missing persons report for an adult. He argued with them saying that his wife was never late for work a day in her life. He knew she wouldn’t just disappear. It was no use. Cameran wasn’t happy, but he knew protocol was protocol, and if he wanted results, he would be on his own. Cameran left work and started his search at home. He looked throughout their house, and with no results, he grabbed his flashlight and began to trace her path to work. 

Cameran walked down the dark sidewalk he knew his wife took to work every day. He had his flashlight aimed at the ground several feet ahead of him. He cursed under his breath for the town not putting in street lights. He hoped for the best. Maybe his wife had slipped and hit her head. He hoped to find her alive and okay. Those hopes began to fade when his flashlight caught crimson red droplets on the cold pavement ahead of him. They were small and circular, and there was just a small gathering of them at first. He took a few more steps, and there were a few more droplets. Then More steps and even more blood. Camerans pace quickened, and the faster he walked the greater volume of blood he found on the ground. He didn't want to accept what he knew to be the truth. That it was Monica’s blood on the ground. Suddenly, he came to an area where the blood stopped. He knew she had to be close by. Maybe she had been robbed and  hurt by someone. He needed to find her. He shined the flashlight around, and looked left and right, but there was nothing. 

“MONICA!” Cameran shouted. 

He heard nothing

“Honey, where are you?!” He yelled pleading.

He heard nothing.

“Please, Please, let her be okay” He whispered to himself and looked up. 

Cameran felt a warm drop hit between his eyes. He rubbed it with his hand, but another drop fell on his hand as he did so. He shined the flashlight up and saw Monica’s body stuffed 30 feet high between branches in an oak tree. 

He screamed, and took out his cell phone to call the police and an ambulance. He kept the flashlight on his wife hoping to see her move or cry or something, and she did, sort of. Her body began to tremble and shake. Cameran hoped at first that it was her fighting and still alive, but those thoughts were quickly replaced by fear. Cameran saw a creature hunkered on top of his wife's body. He saw its eyes shine bright back at him like a cat when the flashlight reflected off them. The creature had Monica's blood dripping down it’s mouth and down its naked chest. A dog tag necklace swung as it moved. The creature looked almost human, but not. It’s teeth were sharpened to points like needles, and shoulders seemed too jagged as if there were railroad spike under its skin. Clumps of long dark hair clung to its scalp in patches.  The hands clung to Camerans wifes body with bony joints and claws caked in blood. Blood also was coagulating on what appeared to be the remains of hunting camo pants. 

This was the last image Cameran would ever see. He was full of terror, but also despair at the same time. Moments of grief for his wife's death, and fear for his life. His last moments were full of greater horror than most people will ever know in their life. Cameran screamed, but it was no use.

The paramedics and police traced a phone call to the location of the Blooms last location. They soon realized there would be no ambulance rides. No one had answered the dispatcher when the call was placed. The operator only heard some muffled screams and grunting. They had no idea what they were walking into. 

“This ones not for the faint of heart” An investigator told the Officer arriving on scene. 

“Thanks” Officer Victoria Stark said ducking under the cation tape. 

“I’ve never seen so much blood” One of the other officers said

“What the hell happened here” 

“It doesn't look like an accident” another officer said

“I thought there were two bodies” Stark commented looking at the corpse of Cameran Bloom

“They have to bring it down” The other officer said

“Down?” Stark questioned.

The other officer pointed up to a nearby tree. There, Stark saw what was left of Monica Bloom’s body. It was covered in drying blood. 

“How the hell did she get up there?” Stark said

“No person could do that” The other officer said.

Stark agreed.

“Maybe it was an animal” The officer suggested.

“I’ve never seen an animal do that. Especially not in the middle of town” Stark said.

“This is going to be a tough case” The officer scoffed.

The cherry picker arrived to bring the body down for investigation. They loaded her onto a stretcher and brought her down slowly. Once the body was down investigators took forensic photographs, and Stark headed over to get a look. The body was worse up close. It didn't seem   that there was much of a body left. You could see there were hunks of flesh, muscle, and even bone just missing. 

Three weeks later, and six more gruesome deaths, Officer Stark was at her wits end with the case. These last few deaths in town had been the worst scenes she had ever seen. The wounds were inconsistent with any predators in the area, and they couldn’t match any weapons to the murder. She decided to head outside of town to speak with a man named Kevin Rane. It was a long shot, but he was the only convicted criminal in the next three towns who hadn't been questioned. He was convicted when he was twenty, but this was ten years ago now. Stark figured questioning him wouldn’t hurt. She was out of leads.

She had the case file on the passenger seat beside her, and she glanced over to its manilla envelope. She decided to pull over and re-read it before confronting Rane. She pulled the paperwork out and set it on her lap. The first page was his criminal record. It had the usual stuff some traffic violations, one DUI, but also some dropped assault and sexual harassment charges. The final charge on the page is what he was convicted of. It was the rape and kidnap of a young girl. The police report on this case was next; it contained details and photographs from the crime. The girl was grabbed while on a hike through the woods. She was dragged into a cellar beneath Rane’s cabin. She was then raped, and in the process Rane bit and swallowed a chunk of flesh out of the girls shoulder. The bite was so deep, it took out chunks of muscle. There were photographs of the injury which made Stark sick to her stomach. It reminded her of the crime scene of the Blooms. There was just missing flesh and missing hunks of organs. No human could bite another human that deeply. There had to be another explanation. She couldn't shake off an eerie feeling it gave her.

She approached The cabin prepared for him to refuse to talk. His last crime was a decade ago, and there was no real connection between Rane and the recent deaths. She couldn’t make him talk is he didn’t want to, and she didn’t have a warrant. She was only hoping to get a feel for the guy. She knocked on the cabin door, and he didn’t answer. Stark was not surprised, but she knocked again anyway. This time she announced herself. She still didn’t get a response. She peered through his front window. The inside of the cabin looked a mess. More of a mess than a usual bachelor. Furniture was overturned and there were papers all over the floors. It didn’t look good. She wanted to enter, but she knew she didn't have permission, and she could lose her job. She decided to go back to her car and head back to the station

“Is there a missing persons report on Kevin Rane?” Stark 

“I’ll take a look at the records” The records keeper looked through some files.

“Nope, I don't see any” The keeper said.

“Well, is there a phone number or anything on him” Stark asked

“There's an address for his niece Willow, but that's it” The records lady said.

“Alright give it to me, I want to speak with her” Stark said.

She wrote down the address, and it was easy enough to find in town. It was only about a mile away from the police station. Stark wanted information on Kevin, and Willow Rane was looking like her only option.

Stark walked up to the small white house and knocked on the door.

“Hello” Willow said from behind a screen door.

“Hi, Willow Rane? I’m Officer Stark, if you don’t mind I have a few questions about your uncle” Stark said.

“Oh, of course, come in” Willow opened the door. 

“When’s the last time you heard from Kevin” She said

“Oh I don't know years ago; is he in trouble again” Willow said

“I don't know about that, I just can’t find him” Stark said

“He probably doesn’t want to be found” Willow said

“What makes you say that” Stark questioned

“He wasn’t a good person” Willow said

“You know about the crimes?” Stark asked

“I probably know more than you know” Willow said, “my dad lived with him a few years back before he went missing”.

“Your dad is missing?” Stark asked

“Officially missing, but he’s not missing, he’s dead” Willow said

“You couldn’t know that” Stark said

“Kevin Rane killed his brother because he knew too much” Willow said

“What did he know?” Stark asked

“Kevin was hurting people again. That celler of his was a one man tourture dungeon. My dad found out about it. He called me and told me, but I never heard from him again.”

“The police were never told of this” Stark said

“It’s hearsay. I didn't see it. It was reported, but when it was searched, the cellar was empty” Willow said.

“What exactly did your dad say?” Stark asked.

“He said Kevin had gotten into bad stuff. My dad found a womans head in the freezer with what looked like a bitten hunk out of her cheek” Willow said.

“A bitten hunk? He was biting them?” Stark asked

“Or eating them, who knows” Willow said, “he loved to hunt, maybe deer got too boring for him”.

“Was he always like that?” Stark asked.

“No, as a child, he was a very loving and caring uncle. He changed after his rape conviction” Willow said.

Stark Thanked Willow for her time and left. This new information made her want to question Rane even more. She felt that Willow was telling her at least what she believed to be the truth. This did not explain the recent crime activity though. No human could do that to another human. Stark knew this had to be something worse. She just didn’t know what.

Stark called in to the precinct to get a go ahead to perform a wellness check on Kevin Rane. It was a false claim, but her office didn’t need to know that. She drove back out to Rane’s Cabin. This Time she didn't knock on the front door. She went around to the side back of the house to find the cellar. The door was wide open, so she yelled down.

Kevin Rane, Police department, I need to speak with you” She said

There wasn’t a response

She pulled out her gun and flashlight and started to descend the stairs. It was cold in the cellar, and it smelt very damp. 

“Mr. Rane, This is the Police department” Stark yelled again.

She still didn't get a response, and she reached the bottom of the stairs. The cellar smelt horribly of rotten decay. Starks flashlight caught A pool of blood on the cement cellar floor, and she followed the light up to see a dead body dangling from the ceiling on a meat hook. She panned the flashlight around and saw several more bodies. It looked like pigs strung up in a butcher shop. The bodies were bloody and all were missing chunks of flesh. 

“Shit” Stark cursed under her breath and grabbed her radio to call for backup.

She turned to leave the cellar to wait for backup.

She heard a very low gurgling growl. She turned back to see a creature just a foot away from her. It stared down with reflective eyes and needle pointed teeth. Drool dripped from its blood covered mouth that was curled almost into a smile. The last thing Stark saw was the dog tag necklace around its neck that identified it as Being Kevin Rane. It was never apprehended or put down. Mysterious Deaths continue to occur. Kevin Rane transformed from a human that did terrible things into a real monster

People who do horrible acts can, and will always, become monstrous things.

[mrs-hatake]

Stubborn

@truerubberacorn said: Could I request something for Madara Uchiha? :)

Perhaps a gradual fall for Izuna's female best friend? Madara himself never got along with her because of her personality. Stubborn, outgoing, and goofy. They'd butt heads over their shared stubbornness, he finds her obnoxious and immature. The relationship was only there because they both cared for Izuna.

And then came the day that she saved his life from what would've been Tobirama's fatal strike.

Madara finds himself experiencing different kinds of emotions..?

I was thinking fluffy/Angsty/steamy, but whatever you got out of the description works for me!! <3

Requests: OPEN

A/N: hiii!! First of all, thank you so much for requesting! Second, I’m so sorry this took so along. I was busy traveling back home now that I’m done with college and it took me awhile to get over jet lag. Lastly, I’m sorry for the typos or wrong info. It’s been 3 weeks since I’ve finished naruto so my mind’s a bit hazy. Hope you enjoy tho!!

Y/L/N = Your Last Name

Y/F/N = your first name

—————————————————————

“I wouldn’t go if I were you.”

Madara was walking towards the exit road of their small village when he heard that all knowing voice. Looking up, he spotted a smirking girl sitting on a tree bench.

“Y/L/N Y/F/N.” He said your name, “And why shouldn’t I go?” He crossed his arms while looking at You challengingly.

You jumped down and landed gracefully on your feet, “because we’re not meant to interact with the outsiders. We don’t know who they could be.”

The long black haired teen tsked at you. Annoyed that you were right but there’s no way he’s going to let you know that.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He said in faux innocence.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I want to join you.”

“I do mind, actually.”

But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears as you began to march towards the dirt road that led to Madara’s not-so-secret secret hideout. The river.

“I said I do mind!!” He shouted as he ran after you.

“Y/N!” He grabbed onto your shoulder as he turned you around to face him.

“What?” Your eyes widened in mock surprise, “if you’re not meeting anyone, then there’s no reason for me not to join you?”

Madara groaned at you. Not in the mood to start arguing with you. Because once one of you start, you’ll never finish. The both of you were extremely hot headed and once you started arguing, you never stopped. One time, you argued about the animal tracks that were spotted near the woods of the village. He claimed that it was a bear while you claimed it was a wolf. The argument had lasted for three days before both your father’s yelled at you to stop.

“Gosh! You’re so stubborn!!!” Madara grumbled as he watched you grin then turn around and walk along the road that lead to the river.

When you both arrived, the area was vacant save for some birds and bees. The sound of the river flowing was like music to your ears and you walked to the edge with a soft smile playing on your lips.

You didn’t notice Madara’s eyes carefully scanning the area for someone.

“Come, join me. The water is nice.” You called out to the older boy as you removed your sandals and dipped your feet into the clear and slightly cold water, “Ahhh.”

Madara sighed in relief once he noticed that his new friend wasn’t there before he joined you.

Neither of you said anything for quiet a while. The atmosphere was calm, an atmosphere you rarely had the privilege to experience.

“Madara,” you called out softly to the teen.

“Hmmm?” His eyes were focusing on the small koi fish that were swimming around his feet, not noticing the smile that formed on his lips.

“Why do we always fight?”

That question made him bring his head up and look at you.

“What do you mean?”

You shrugged while looking up to the sky, eyes blinded by the bright sun.

“I don’t know. We never got along.”

It was Madara’s turn to shrug before saying, “That’s because you’re not my friend. You’re Izuna’s friend.”

“Then, shouldn’t we get along for Izuna’s sake?”

Madara opened his mouth to retort but closed it because he didn’t know what to say. It’s true. You were Izuna’s childhood best friend. Madara, being his older brother, didn’t spend much time with you. And every time one of you tried to get along, you always clashed and ended up arguing.

Madara supposes that it was because the both of you were passionate yet stubborn who wouldn’t give up because of their pride. Despite not meeting eye to eye, Madara had to admit that the both of you were very similar. Especially with how the both of you cared for Izuna deeply and would die for the boy.

“Yeah, I suppose we should.”

Years later, during the battle between the Uchihas and Senjus, you suddenly heard a chocked cry and when you turned after fatally stabbing a Senju soldier, you were horrified to see Izuna falling down to his knees.

You wanted to rush over to him but couldn’t because you were suddenly surrounded by the other clan members of Senju. Cursing, you took on your enemies with blood streaked cheeks.

In the distance, you could hear Madara screaming his brother’s name.

“Izuna!!!”

You couldn’t see clearly due to the large number of Shinobis that you were fighting, but you could tell that Madara began a fight with Tobirama.

You don’t know how, but, throughout the years. Throughout the many wars and battles, you and Madara had gotten closer. You still argued, but it was mostly out of good fun.

The both of you frequented the river a lot and you were so happy when you’ve met Hashirama. The three of you built a beautiful friendship. But it made you feel guilty lying to Izuna and had to come clean to him after months of lying. The boy had forgiven you but he had also led his father and his men to the river. You were angry at first but were thankful later when you learned that Hashirama was a Senju, the clan who killed your older brother.

You didn’t feel sad when you found about Hashirama’s true identity. But you felt sympathetic towards Madara for he had finally found a true friend of his own.

Madara’s screams of pain brought you back to reality. Stealing a quick glance at the falling man, you quickly finished off the remaining men. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Tobirama walking slowly towards the long haired man.

Your body, without the command of your mind, moved forward. Slow at first before picking up speed until you were running. You closed your eyes as you tried to make it to the two men.

“Y/N!” You heard Madara’s fearful voice.

Opening your eyes, you were standing face to face with Tobirama and inches away from his blade. It was a frightening sight but you held your ground.

“Move.” The white haired man boomed.

“No.” You said firmly.

“Y/N! Go! Save yourself!” Madara said through clenched teeth as the stab wound increased the pain.

“Madara, no!” You turned your head sideways, “I’m not letting this monster kill you!”

“If you won’t move, then I’ll have to kill you both!”

“Y/N, no!”

Madara screamed as he watched Tobirama bring his arm up, ready to strike when a commanding voice halted his movements.

“Enough!!” Everyone turned to face Hashirama, “there shall be no more killing!!”

“Oi, Hashirama!” Tobirama cursed at his older brother.

But the man didn’t care as he made his way towards you.

“Y/N,” he called out to you, eyes gentle and soft, “I’m sorry.” He held out his hand.

You didn’t take it, but your muscles slightly relaxed.

Smiling in understanding, he lowered his hand and turned to face his brother.

“That’s enough, Tobirama.”

“Hashirama! Did you forget who they are?”

Hashirama didn’t, but he was done fighting.

Not being able to win against his brother, the white haired man lowered his blade.

Seeing this, you slowly lowered down and helped Madara up.

Satisfied with the situation, Hashirama faced both clans, “Today is the new day,” he said loudly, “today was the last day of our battles from now on, we unite!”

There were small murmurs of agreements before one by one, everyone lowered down their weapons.

Madara hissed in pain as you dropped your weapon.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” You asked in concern.

Madara shook his head weakly, “No. You saved me.”

You smiled at him brightly once you saw his lips turning upwards.

And just as Hashirama had announced, today was a new day. A day of unity between two clans. And a unity between friends. Madara was confident that he wanted to marry the stubborn childhood friend that saved his life.