#HE WAS 9 AND HE FELL ON PILES OF GLASS WITH NO HESITATION!?!?! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writersrealmbts · 3 years

Text

Clearwater Springs: Part 9

SDescription: ot7 x reader, reader’s choice, fairy/supernatural/soulmate au. The choices you make influence the story! In this world, war-torn and ragged, you’ve been offered a home and a job working as a librarian. Will you meet your soulmates? Will you ever find the shelves behind the piles of books? Who knows.

Warnings: idk

Posted: 08/18/2021

Tags: ot7 x reader, supernatural bts, soulmate au

3,463 words

A/N: Okay! Remember, two free-write and one survey chapter, which means the next survey chapter will be chapter 11 (technically they all are at this point), which means that the survey at the bottom of this post will be on part 10 as well. Sorry for the wait.

Previous ~ Next

You were in a warm cocoon, and you weren’t about to disturb it.

Yoongi was in cat form again, stretched out against your back, purring now and then in his sleep.

Namjoon was snoring, but you didn’t care because he was warm and his heartbeat was strong, and he was well-built. Strong enough to make you feel safe, soft enough to keep you comfortable. He was your haltija.

You lay in a comfortable doze for a while, smiling when Yoongi moved so you could pet him and he fell asleep again.

But then someone was sneaking in and over, fluttering above the ground and peering at you.

You yawned a bit, then turned to reach out both hands to him.

Jimin smiled and took your hands, gently pulling you from between the other two and into the air.

You grinned as he set you down on the floor by the bed, admiring his wings. His feathers looked shinier already, and the colors of his feathers seemed more vibrant. Happiness made such a difference in fairies.

Jimin tugged your hand gently, pulling you out of the room and down to Jin’s room.

The door swung open silently, revealing the most adorable sight of Jin and Jungkook cuddling. Jungkook’s arms wrapped around Jin, and head on Jin’s shoulder but still tucked close to Jin’s neck. Both of them looked so peaceful.

Jimin shared your smile, then tugged your hand again as he carefully closed the door.

Taehyung was being bearhugged from behind by Hoseok, drowsily watching some cartoon show that had the volume down as low as possible without muting it.

Hoseok murmured now and then, and pressed airy little kisses just barely into Taehyung’s hair--probably completely unfelt by the dryad. But he glanced over and smiled contentedly at you before whispering something that got a sleepy smile out of his companion.

You tugged on Jimin’s hand this time, drawing him into the kitchen. “Help me make them breakfast?”

He nodded.

You weren’t an exceptional cook, but you could make basic foods, and the boys didn’t seem to mind basic foods. “Did you sleep well, ma mignonne?”

He nodded emphatically. “Yesterday was tiring.”

Yoongi stalked in, scowling tiredly at you. “You left.”

“Sorry, mon chat minou,” You apologized, leaning over to peck his lips.

His eyes widened.

Jimin huffed, latching onto you again.

You leaned back into his arms and tilted your head back for a kiss.

He hesitated, but did kiss you—softly. As though you were a bubble that would pop at any moment. His lips soft against yours.

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips, keenly away of two more sets of eyes on the three of you.

Hoseok, probably already knowing the outcome, came over and claimed his kiss. “Morning, aluemdaun.”

You hummed happily at his casual compliment, curling your fingers around the neckline of his shirt. “Darling.”

Taehyung’s eyes were wide, and he slowly came forward.

You watched him with a soft smile. “Good morning, Taehyung. Did you sleep well?”

Taehyung nodded slowly.

You kissed his cheek, brushing over the spot where you kissed him with your thumb as you looked over his face. “Good.”

“So...does everyone know...about….” He gestured vaguely to your arm.

You nodded, smiling a little more. “Everyone knows. You can ask them anything about being soulmates that you want. You can touch them, hug them, kiss them, and they’ll have no room to complain because they’re stuck with all of us for the rest of our lives—provided all goes well.”

Taehyung started to get hints of excitement in his eyes. “Hugs?”

“As many as you like. Jimin gives especially good hugs.” You nodded toward the fairy, who was still cooking under your instructions.

Yoongi took Taehyung’s hand. “After we’re out of their way so they can make breakfast.”

Taehyung didn’t seem to accept that, turning and hugging onto Yoongi despite the werecat’s protests—loud as they were.

But Yoongi waddled himself and Taehyung out of the kitchen, and out of your way. And Taehyung forced his hugs on the werecat without avail.

You returned to your fairy, directing his actions with little gestures, happy when the food turned out well—just as Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook joined everyone downstairs.

Jimin greeted them with a chirpy ‘Good Morning!’ while ushering them to the table. “We just finished making breakfast!”

Jungkook looked like he was still half-asleep, movements languid as Jin helped him to a spot at the table.

Yoongi was still trapped by Taehyung. “Stop it. Stop it. Let’s not do this. Stop it.”

Taehyung ignored him, nuzzling the were-cat’s neck until suddenly the were-cat shifted and escaped. Then he pouted, looking hurt and sullen.

Jin chuckled sleepily. “Come here, Taehyungie, we’ll catch him later for you to cuddle. Sit next to hyungie to eat.”

Hoseok easily claimed the seat on the other side of Taehyung. “Yoongi-hyung was probably just hungry, Taehyung. He’s not very forthright, but—” he dropped his glass, eyes glazed and far away. He frowned, hands hovering shakily over his plate.

You glanced at Jin for a moment.

Jin got up and went around to Hoseok’s side.

Hoseok’s gaze cleared slightly, but he looked shaken. “I need my crystal ball. Need to get upstairs.”

“I’ll help you,” Jin whispered softly, helping him up. “Even breaths, Hoseokie. Keep calm.”

Hoseok nodded, leaning into Jin. “Need to look. Need to see.”

You watched them go with a little worry, but you knew Hoseok would be fine as long as Jin was with him.

Today, you had work to do.

After you had made sure that Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin had ingested an adequate amount of food—and helped Yoongi make plates for the two that were absent—you went to your room, silently asking your waters for some good working clothes.

Your waters ignored you and gave you a dress, but at least the dress wouldn’t expose your body every time you moved.

Jimin was waiting with Parsley by the front door. “You’re going to the library, right?”

You smiled and nodded. “I have work to do. Are you coming with me?”

“You can’t go alone,” He said nonchalantly. “Too dangerous. Especially with a dark mage about.”

“True. But I wouldn’t like it if you didn’t want to come with me.”

“I want to,” He answered quickly, looking a little sheepish. “I really like it there. High ceilings. I can fly even though it’s raining.”

You smiled. “Alright, then.”

You peeked into the living room, noticing that Taehyung had ‘captured’ Yoongi again and that both were watching a movie with Jungkook and Namjoon. “I’m off to the library with Jimin. Be back later. Someone check on Jin and Hoseok if they don’t come down in an hour?”

“Mm’kay,” Namjoon answered distractedly, but you saw Yoongi look over at you and nod.

Rain didn’t bother you that much, it was just water after all, but Jimin seemed a little averse to it, so you made sure he had the umbrella. Not that it was much of a rainstorm, the gentle pattering drops far more soothing than harsh. Pleasant and somewhat warm.

There was a truck sitting in front of the library, and Valina was under the overhang of the doors, glaring at another person.

Jimin gently touched your shoulder and took off to watch from a distance, a distance from which he could easily intervene if he needed.

You carried the closed umbrella up to those waiting, wondering what was going on. “Hello Valina, how may I assist you?”

She glanced at you, eyes widening slightly, panicked a little.

“Ah! You must be the librarian, I am Grendel,” The dark mage said, turning toward you and bowing.

You froze, but tried not to display your panic. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”

“Yes, well, you see, as well as conducting my own business, I was asked to convey this load of books to this…charming town’s library.” He eyed you. “I had not realized that this library was run by a xana.”

“I had not realized my species could be of any interest to any being other than my own kind,” You answered evenly. “There is a room around the side of the building for after-hours book deliveries and donations, and the sign is right there, as well. I believe that lettering is large enough for any to read.”

“Ah, but I have…certain donations that need special care, and I wished to convey the instructions in person—as I was telling this…fiery, young woman.”

“That’s witch to you! And I told you I could have given her the instructions.” Valina crossed her arms.

“And I told you, there are certain things that only a librarian can understand. This place has special vaults for…dangerous tomes, does it not?” He turned to you.

“We would have to ask the owner of the library,” You answered vaguely. “I have not been informed of any. If you would be so kind as to deliver the rest to the side room, I will call the owner and have him come and talk with you.”

“I was specifically instructed—”

“I understand,” You cut him off. “However, I have no answers as to security for dangerous tomes, and for that, the owner is required. Once he has answers in regards to the safety of such tomes, then we may further discuss the tomes staying here. Until then, please patiently wait in the delivery room around the side of the building. I shall not ask again.”

“But—”

“You have about five seconds before I start singing: can you bare it, mage?” You asked, eyes narrowing in a challenge.

His mouth clamped shut and he bowed stiffly. “As you have asked, so shall I do.”

You nodded firmly and moved to the front doors, waiting until he was pulling the truck to the side of the building before unlocking the front doors and ushering Valina inside.

“Are you crazy? He’s a dark mage!” She hissed the moment the door closed.

“I am…very…aware…of…that…,” You said in between trying not to hyperventilate in the ensuing panic.

Jimin landed and quickly wrapped his arms and wings around you, forcing Valina to back up. “You’re crazy. You’re absolutely crazy.”

You just hugged him back with all of your might. “Need to call Jin.”

“I’ll do that,” Valina said, regarding you and Jimin and just a tiny bit disconcerted.

“It’s a trick, right? He’s just trying to get to you, right?” Jimin asked, sounding panicked.

Parsley twined around your feet, mewling.

“Where’s his pheonix?” You whispered.

You saw Valina look up sharply.

Jimin let go of you and shrunk, darting off to look.

You went to the desk slowly, sitting down and beginning your work. “He stop at your shop first?”

“Not exactly. Had a feeling.” Valina leaned against the counter, frowning. “A faun pointed him out to me, and my brain worked from there. My coven will ward the town. We’ve already been setting up protection wards on people’s houses, so most people should be safe at night. Except your house. But you have a haltija.”

“And a were-cat, and a djinn, dryad, seer, incubus-fairy mix, and a human that I swear has magic in his blood.”

“Mr. Kim definitely has magic in his blood,” Valina said, eyes flashing pink. “Ancient magic, but it is there. His family tree is made of touched and clearsighted.”

“Touched and clearsighted?” You asked.

“Touched people have a sort of intuition, they get a sense for things quickly—especially in regards to the magical. They tend to become fighters, people who protect others from…less-savory magic. Clearsighted folk can see through all magical protection that would confuse other humans. Why do you think he didn’t become a slobbering fool upon seeing you? Yes, he sees you’re hot as hell, but, because he has clearsight, he is able to resist that pull and instead focus on you as a person. Me? I have special charms to resist folk like yourself and stay a decent witch.” She looked you over and quickly looked away. “Though, I think it’s about time I recharge them.”

“I appreciate the effort,” You murmured, thinking about Jin and grateful for the distraction that she had been trying to give you. “There’s still so much I don’t know about the world and about people. I only knew my people.”

“Might help if you came into town more often.”

You looked at her quietly until she met your gaze with a little regret.

“Nevermind, that would be mass chaos and not pleasant for you. Forget I mentioned town. Let me ward it for your protection first.”

“Don’t go to any extra trouble on my account.”

“I won’t. My coven planned on putting up warding to protect from…unwanted behaviors.”

“You’re the police of the town, aren’t you?”

Valina grinned. “Yup! But don’t worry, we have people we answer to as well. Now, if we could get real town status, then we’d probably elect Mr. Kim as mayor—”

“Never gonna happen,” Jin said firmly, walking quickly over to you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, standing up. “I sent him around the side to the drop-off area and Jimin is looking for the Pheonix, but he’s been gone since Valina called you.”

Yoongi shifted and ran out to see if he could track down the fairy.

Hoseok was looking a little…out of breath.

Jungkook seemed to be visually assessing you.

Namjoon was talking to the doorway.

Taehyung was looking around, awestruck. “Hyung…this place is so beautiful….”

Jin kissed your forehead and then glanced at Valina. “Got any extra protection charms?”

She patted her pockets demonstratively. “I was in a bit of a rush, toots. Apologies. Take the Djinn with you, he can use magic to protect you and it’s stronger than even a dark mage’s. He can protect you if he wishes.”

Hoseok gripped Jungkook’s arm. “No.”

Jungkook looked both surprised and hurt. “I can do it, hyung.”

“No, it has to be…” Hoseok looked desperately at him, then at you. “It has to be you. I…can’t tell you why…but I know….”

You could tell it was killing him to say it, tearing him up inside. “Okay. If you say it must be so, then it must be. Jungkook could protect us from here, correct?”

Hoseok considered for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay, now please sit down. You look so pale,” You pleaded softly, gently, touching his arm.

He relaxed a bit and pliantly let you guide him to your chair.

“Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon; please look out for Hoseok, I have a feeling he’s going to be having a rough day,” You asked, picking up Parsley and setting her in Hoseok’s lap. “Pet the kitty.”

Hoseok let out a small breath of an amused laugh, then did as told.

Then you and Seokjin went outside to meet the dark mage.

Grendel was waiting, looking patient, casually unloading boxes from the truck, but he quickly set aside the box he was carrying as he noticed your approach.

“This is Mr. Kim, the owner of the library. Mr. Grendel had inquiries about secure vaults for…dangerous tomes.”

Jin nodded. “I am only allowed by the government to approve of certain types of tomes. What is the nature of the tomes?” He pulled out some paperwork.

“One is a necromancers guide made with dragon leather,” Grendel said, looking worried.

You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you.

Grendel nodded. “Dark magic that must be locked away and never let out again. And that one…that one should remain off-record if possible.”

Jin was quiet, partially frozen. “Where is that one?”

“Still on the truck. I didn’t want to unload it if it couldn’t stay here.”

Jin nodded slowly. “I know a place where it can go. I’m assuming you don’t want to know it’s final location either.”

“That would be correct.”

“Okay. And the other tomes?”

“A Demon Book, a Crimson portfolio, and the notebook of…Fausto Vilareyo,” Grendel finished, not meeting your gaze.

Your heart seemed to stop.

Jin was looking to you. “Fausto Vilareyo?”

“The first dark mage,” You answered, trembling.

Jin nodded slowly. “All of these fall within what I am able to take in. I will care for the notebook and the necromancer’s guide.”

You nodded. “I….”

“Can you go get me some notecards?” Jin asked, providing you with a brief escape. “And a pen?”

You nodded, turning and fleeing the presence of such an evil book.

The others startled when you hurried in.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asked, pausing in his task of what appeared to be drying Jimin’s wings.

“Yes. Did you find the pheonix?”

“No,” Jimin said, drooping. “No sign of it.”

“That’s fine,” You said hastily, grabbing some things for yourself.

“Slow down,” Valina advised, “before you drop everything you’re trying to pick up.”

You just nodded and raced out again, pausing before the corner and composing yourself.

Grendel conveyed the instructions for the last two books, then bowed. “I thank you for guarding these relics. It has been a long journey to find a safe resting place for them.”

You dipped your head very slightly. “War makes many things difficult, though they be difficult to begin with.”

“Very true. I must be off. Many more false trails to lay,” Grendel said, bowing once more. He hesitated in leaving, though. “I know it may not mean much, but I apologize for the wrongs that have been committed toward your kind. I had never seen one of your kind in person before now and I regret not knowing. I do what I must, though, and for that I know I would never be able to listen to your songs. Thank you for your benevolence toward me, even knowing I am of the kind that is dangerous toward yourself.”

“If you continue to remove dangerous things from those who would abuse them, then I wish you luck,” You said, meaning it. Not just anyone would turn over what they had found to be locked away. And while his dark magic was fresh and potent, perhaps it was because he needed it to get those items. “May I ask, what were you doing in the forest?”

He blinked in surprise. “The forest? Oh…I…I’d actually heard that the forest was quite nice and I have this stupid pheonix that’s bound to me and he goes and gets into all sorts of trouble if I don’t properly exercise him.” He looked around. “Thinking of…you haven’t happened to see a pheonix?”

You shook your head rapidly.

Jin shook his head as well.

He sighed. “He probably went after the dragon magic, the stupid fledgling. Well. Either he gets eaten or he learns a lesson. Thank you for your time.” He bowed again and hopped into the truck.

“Dragon?” Jin asked, eyes wide.

“The river dragon, probably,” You offered.

Jin looked at you like you’d grown a second hand.

“Jungkook and I ran across him when we were passing the time before going to look for you. He’s my river-kin, apparently.”

Jin shook his head, showing you the vaults for the books you would care for, how to access them and such. “Of course he is.”

“Hoseok looked pale.”

“Yeah. He’s not as strong as he likes to convey.”

“Are any of us?”

Jin kissed your cheek. “Probably not.”

You ran your fingers along the mortar between the bricks. “Do you think he had an ulterior motive?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. You want to stay at the library?”

You nodded. “I have work to do. Jimin will probably stay with me.”

He nodded. “I don’t think Taehyung will leave now, either. Is that okay?”

“He’s cute. Jimin and I can keep an eye on him.”

“Okay. I’m going to take the others home, then. Make sure Hoseok gets some water, food, and rest.” Jin kissed your cheek. “Don’t speak a word to the others about what books are hidden in the vaults. Or about the books I will be hiding. It’ll be safer.”

You nodded firmly. “Agreed. It’s for their own well-being. Hoseok knows.”

He nodded. “Probably.”

Yoongi stalked up in his black and grey form—his largest form—and then paused, getting ready to leap into Jin’s arms.

Jin stroked Yoongi’s head. “Hey. We’re okay. Thanks for worrying.”

Yoongi just snorted and rested, acting like he’d intended to fall asleep in Jin’s arms.

You reached over and scratched his head, then went into the library to finally do the work that you hadn’t been able to get done in the past three days.

–

Post-Chapter 9 Survey

Previous. Next.

Masterlist. Clearwater Springs Masterpost.

–

Taglist: @kerikaaria @killcomet @letsreadbts @taestannie @dwaaaaaaaaa @missmoxxiesworld @cheese123344 @insfirebunny @crookedstarlitnight @aphot-c @chim-possible @psiphidragon @i-like-puppy-mg @daddyjoonie @softescapism @amammietje @4evahevah @slytherclawwarrior @kittylovsu @forever-once-gone @unlikelylittlemiss @mailani-annie @daydreambrliever @miss-fawn @jinternational-playboy @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @the-obsessive-fangirl @mysticalpostobject @reinaxans @writtenmemoriesau @sunnysoliculus @mailani-annie @carolinexkpop @kascreation @discombobulatedhuman @londongirl2011 @xyahrinx

PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU CAN BE TAGGED BEFORE ASKING TO BE TAGGED

#clearwater springs fic #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts fanfic #bts ot7 #soulmate au #fairy au #magic au #bts ot7 x reader #Jimin #Jungkook #Hoseok #Seokjin #Yoongi #Namjoon #Taehyung

126 notes · View notes

spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

Who Needs Luck?

A/N: hi! I solely wrote this because of my 3 recent visits to NY (no, I sadly did not meet mgg)... plus i’ve been going there my whole life.. this is becoming the longest authors note, but as i’m writing I just want to say the people who work at food trucks in nyc are the nicest people ever, ask them about their day (AND TIP OMG PLS)

Summary: Reader invites Spencer to go to New York City with her where he finally sees the beauty right in front of him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Content Warnings: reader can’t drive very well (I apologize if this is a callout post), slight road rage, language

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

____

I never considered myself a lucky man. Life had proven time and time again that no matter how many four leaf clovers I set out to search for, how many pennies on the ground faced heads up I stumbled across, luck was never on my side. I’ve learned to live with it, accepted my fate as the world’s smartest punching bag long before I was even in college.

But then I met her, and as cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t need luck that morning.

The second I woke up, the universe seemed to have it out for me specifically. I swung my legs over my bed, and in my half asleep daze stepped on my glasses, successfully breaking them. Unable to see on my short trip to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe… twice. Once I finally finished my morning routine more methodically, I walked out of my apartment only to bump into a stranger, sending the coffee she was holding all the both of us.

I had tried to apologize so many times, cutting my words short when they didn’t feel right. I had gotten through a series of “I’m, uh, oh, I, you,” before her smile interrupted my thought process, leaving me awestruck instead.

“That’s okay, but you owe me a coffee now.” She giggled, actually giggled, even with the scorching liquid causing her shirt to stick to her body. “Maybe… together?”

I didn’t hesitate to agree, taking her up on the offer that weekend and never looking back. Even when a loud crash, followed by a quiet, harsh ‘shit’ woke me up in a startle, there was no regret. Maybe just a little concern for my girlfriend who now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, can be seen holding her knee on the floor of our bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered out, grabbing onto the dresser to stand straight again. Once she was on her feet, she came over to sit on the edge of our bed, immediately running her fingers through my hair. If I wasn’t so worried about her knee, I probably would’ve fell asleep again.

“Are you okay?” She giggled at my scratchy morning voice before nodding her head. It’s then I realized how the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, the room still pitchblack. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready to go to the city, sleepyhead,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer, but truthfully, it left me with more questions.

“At... 5 am?” I sat up, glancing at the alarm clock three times just to make sure I was reading it right. She may have always been a little strange, but usually at a reasonable hour.

At this, she stood up to continue getting ready for the very early morning. Now I notice why she fell, the piles of clothes leading to the closet had to have at least half of her outfits compiled together.

“Well, yeah. I want to get there before noon.” Even in my perplexed state, I rose from the bed and carefully tiptoed around haphazardly thrown clothes to reach her.

While wrapping my arms around her waist still hidden under my t-shirt, I questioned. “It’s right outside? You have 7 hours.”

She turned to look at me funny as if I wasn’t the one digging through clothes and waking up before dawn to walk literally 5 minutes to my desired location. My eyebrows must have subconsciously furrowed at one point, because she brought her hand up to stroke her thumb on my forehead. Immediately, I felt the tension melt, no longer caring to correct my confusion. She still did it anyway.

“Not DC, silly. New York!” I wish it were untrue, but my heart dropped at her words. She was leaving, going to a city I wasn’t familiar with beyond reading about, solving cases, and memorizing subway maps. Is this how she feels every time I board that jet?

“W-what? You’re just going to New York City?” I inwardly cringed at how desperate and sad I sounded, but I really didn’t want her to leave.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, turning back around to return digging in her closet.

“For how long?” Please change your mind. Please change your mind. Please change you-

Realizing that I was fully awake, she let out a boisterous laugh, allowing the way it bounced off our four little walls to return back to us. It was a sound most treasured. “I was hoping to get back around 9.”

“What?” I leaned back to look at her like she was absolutely preposterous. I mean, she was!

“Roadtrip!”

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, no coffee in my hand because I wasn’t allowed until I have “a real cup of coffee.” Whatever the hell that means better happen soon, because as much as I loved watching the way she concentrates on the road in front of her, my eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s going to be another 4 hours. You can sleep, my love.” How she knew me so well, I will never be able to figure out, but I was out before we even made it across state borders.

That however, didn’t last very long. My girlfriend may be short and sweet, but behind the wheel? That’s a different story. The horn to her car is a very familiar sound when I’m jolted awake by a sudden stop.

“Really, asshole? Go!” She yelled, slamming her hand against the top of the steering wheel before looking over at me. “Hey, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I forgot how awful drivers are here.”

“Where is here exactly?” I questioned, sitting up from my slouched position to find cars practically on top of each other on a road not wide enough for two lanes.

“New Jersey. We’re 10 minutes away.” Wow, I didn’t realize I slept for that long, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised I wasn’t woken up sooner.

“How are we 10 minutes away? It’s at least another 30 to get to the tunnel.” Looking at our surroundings didn’t help me determine our exact location. To the left of us, there were dozens of graffiti murals on the side of what I assumed was another elevated highway. To the right, sidestreets with local businesses ranging from auto repair shops to fast food joints to gyms.

“Nuh uh, stop analyzing mister. You’ll know when we get there.” She waved a finger in my directions, putting a pin in my scrutinization. I pouted right back, successfully playing along to the theme of her scolding me like a 5 year old.

“I don’t like surprises you know.” It was the truth, but her contagious laughter that filled the car made me slightly less disinclined to stop asking questions.

“Oh I know, but trust me, you’ll like this one.” She went to go reach over to grab my hand from where it was resting in my lap, but stopped short and retracted in favor of slamming the horn. “Oh, come on!”

***

“So you drove to a train station... in New Jersey?” I asked while she was… attempting to park the car.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been taking this route since I was a little girl.” Once she finally figured out how to evenly space a two door convertible in a very spacious parking spot, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and was quick to grab her bag from the backseat. “Well, come on mister, we’re going to miss the train.”

To be quite honest, I have never been so lost in my life. I could probably pinpoint our exact location on a map if I wanted to, granted I was given any sort of information, but part of me didn’t want to. Scratch that, all of me didn’t want to, because my entire life has been planned out in front of me before, but right now, I get to be spontaneous with the most beautiful girl on the planet.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” she told me, lacing our fingers together and pulling me forward. “Don’t stop to look around, you will get pushed.”

We made it inside, and if I thought the DC transit system was bustling with people constantly, this place was so much worse. There were hallways left and right, all packed with people in a rush. It seems everybody had some place to be and zero time to get there.

“Upstairs.” We walked up two flights before reaching a platform, buying our tickets and making it just in time for a train to arrive. “I know they come every 8 minutes, but thank god we made this one,” she said as she sat down.

The cart we were in wasn’t too crowded, and once I finally found a map on the wall across from us, I saw that it was a direct ride to the World Trade Center.

“You said you took this train when you were little?”

“Yeah, I went to the city a lot as a kid. This was the easiest, and the cheapest way there.” A small smile played at her lips, obviously the product of some childhood memory. “I used to hop it.”

“Of course you did,” I laughed back with her, thinking about how an innocent looking child would be the first person to get away with sneaking onto the train.

***

“I said it before, I will say it again. Do not let go of my hand.” This time it was more stern, and if I were being honest, I would say that it got me the slightest bit nervous. She must have noticed, she always does, because she continued. “Don’t worry, it just gets congested and I don’t want to lose you.”

She was right about that, it indeed was very congested, but that was okay because she was holding my hand, and I would follow her just about anywhere if it meant she kept looking over her shoulder and smiling when she saw me. Once we made it across the way, and in front of heavy looking glass doors, she turned to me and started walking backwards.

“You okay? This is definitely not off to a great start.” She was wrong, it was off to a perfect start.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but you might want to watch where you’re going,” I said before her back hit the door.

“Please I can get here with my eyes closed.” And then we were outside, and all 5 of my senses were hit immediately. The sun was shining down on us, and before I could complain about not bringing my sunglasses, she handed them to me. My heart fluttered at the innocent act, taking the sunglasses with such gratitude even though she had already moved on to retrieve hers. “Do you smell that?” She asked.

“There are a lot of answers to that question,” I told her, not knowing if she was talking about the smell of the construction happening at the corner, the permanent garbage smell or something entirely different.

“The hotdogs, silly. Come on, there’s nothing like ‘em.” This time, I laced our fingers together, not because I was scared of losing her, I was, but I just really wanted to be closer to her. She didn’t mind, in fact, she let out a content hum and leaned her head on my arm as we walked to the stand.

“Can I get four hotdogs with sauerkraut and two grape sodas,” she asked the vendor, who politely nodded before moving on to prepare our food.

“You’re going to have a heart attack by 35,” I said as I nudged her with my shoulder. She gave me a small push back before answering.

“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” She asked as she took our now ready food into her hands, after paying the man before I even had time to blink. I just grabbed the two cans of soda and followed her where she was making a beeline for a park bench. “Watch out for skaters.”

“Yes, it is indeed a doctor's diagnosis.” I unwrapped one of the hotdogs before taking a bite. I closed my eyes and let out a content hum. “It may be a little worth it.”

“Exactly.” We sat there quietly, enjoying the warm weather and sounds of wheels against pavement. At one point, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I am convinced wherever she went would be Heaven.

***

“Are your eyes closed?” We found ourselves with both our hands interlocked, my eyes closed while she walked backwards. I gave an ‘mhm’ before she continued. “We’re here, just keep them closed, and…” her words trailed off. “Okay open.”

I opened my eyes to her holding her arms out in the middle of the largest bookstore I’ve ever seen. “Surprise!” My eyes were bouncing everywhere. It wasn’t too crowded, the large stairwell across the store catching my eye first. There were bookshelves tens of feet high, all loaded with different genres and authors. To the right of us, tiny knick knacks and pins and socks. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” I whispered out, still stuck in my place admiring our surroundings. She was beaming up at me, a hint of pride at her successfulness to drag me 6 hours away to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“The Strand has always been my favorite place in the city. Come on, let’s go explore.” She grabbed my hands again, pulling me deeper into the store towards a shelf labeled adult fiction.

***

Six books, three pairs of socks and a postcard later, we were back on the busy streets of New York, aimlessly walking and admiring the tall buildings and different attractions. Well she was, I was admiring the way she was looking around like it was her first time here. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings, but no amount of skyscrapers or fountains could possibly ever match up to her level of beauty.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I asked randomly, startling her into jumping a tiny bit before giggling. She stopped us, turning to face me fully before reaching up to grab my face in her hands.

“Once or twice.” The kiss we shared on the New York streets were no different than the ones before, but this time, it felt like a silent promise. A passing between two lovers that no matter where we are, our love is the most beautiful thing there is. “I love you too, dork.”

___

Join a taglist here Tell me your thoughts on this fic here Have a request? Send it in here

Taglist: @the-girl-who-writes-fanfiction @haylaansmi @masumiyetimziyanoldu @cielo1984 @rexorangecouny @username2002 @calm-and-doctor @pieceofried @mermaidshmari @missyoumaybank @everythingbutnormal @seasonfivereid @no-honey-no @muffin-cup @90spumkin @spenxerslut

181 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi

Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance

Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 12/14

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

All his accounts went into trash. His books, phone and laptop soon followed.

His weapons – his trusty knife and favorite pistol – laid discarded on a floor. Next he happened upon an old, beaten toy – a monkey with its head almost torn off. It was the only thing that was left from his father, and, just for a moment he hesitated, debating if he really should throw it away.

Zeke looked at it, the edge of his vision swimming, and sighed, letting it join the pile of trash beside him.

In the end, parting with that toy was just as easy as parting with his father.

It was harder to discard another treasure of his – baseball glove, still white and soft even after all these years. If the monkey was a gift from his father, the glove was given to him by a man who had actually raised him.

Mister Xaver… I really fucked this all up, didn’t I?

He cradled the glove to his chest, taking some comfort in the feeling of its familiar texture beneath his fingers. As he held it close to his heart, Zeke knew that he couldn’t get rid of it. He wasn’t a sentimental man but that glove – it was the only thing in this world that he treasured.

Running his fingers all over it, he put it down on a floor and resumed his task.

The pile of trash grew, filling with papers, plans, blueprints. He threw it all away, a sort of satisfaction washing over him as he got rid of everything.

Maybe, it was his start of a new life. Prison was meant to change people, wasn’t it?

A dry, mirthless chuckle made its way past his lips, as he continued shifting through various, now meaningless documents, before a sudden bang that came from the first floor made him pause.

Zeke looked up, straining his hearing. The loud steps sounded on a stairwell. They kept approaching the room he was in, and their heaviness was worrying.

Whoever was looking for him, they were awfully angry.

The door to his office was thrown open, and Zeke turned around, catching the whirlwind of motion from the corner of his eyes. That was all the warning he got before he was roughly yanked up and his back met the hard surface of a concrete wall. His glasses tattered to the floor, the back of his head erupted in sharp pain and Zeke groaned, struggling to focus his eyes on the offender.

He didn’t need his vision to recognize him, though. The low, shiver-inducing voice of detective Ackerman was very hard to forget.

“Where is she?”

Despite the burning fire in his narrow grey eyes, despite his trembling fingers that gripped Zeke’s shirt so tightly that it was starting to tear at the seams, Levi’s voice was calm. And despite the burning fire in his narrow grey eyes, despite his trembling fingers that gripped Zeke’s shirt so tightly that it was starting to tear at the seams Zeke felt like it was simply calm before the storm.

The intensity of Levi’s gaze was making his stomach turn unpleasantly. Zeke tried to get out of the chokehold Levi had him in, but Levi merely grunted and further tightened his grasp.

“Where is she?” he repeated, shaking Zeke’s body like it weighted nothing.

What was the meaning of this, Zeke couldn’t even begin to fathom. Hange already asked him the same thing, what was the point of Levi repeating the question? Did he not trust her? Why did he come, and why he did it alone? Were they not in a hurry? Why were they wasting their time like this?

Zeke wanted to joke, wanted to smirk and rile Levi up a little more, but considering the state Levi was in… Perhaps, further riling it up would not end too well.

“I told your partner already, detective. I don’t know where your Petra is.”

For a second, Levi seemed surprised. His eyes widened and his hold on Zeke lessened. But it lasted for no more than a moment. Then his anger returned, more vicious than it was before.

“Don’t try to fuck with me,” he growled, absolutely wild. “Where is Hange? She came to see you, but didn’t come back. If you have done something to her…”

Zeke didn’t need to hear the end of that sentence. He was close to hyperventilating as it was.

“Hange left,” he said simply, hoping that Levi would believe him. If he wouldn’t… Zeke was afraid to think what Levi would do. He knew just how much Hange meant to him. He didn’t wish to know what Levi would do if any harm came her way again. “I don’t know what happened next, but she left this place unharmed. She was hurrying to meet with you.”

Levi let him go, as abruptly as he had grabbed.

“She didn’t come back…” he spoke feverishly, fingers clawing at his nape. “She promised but she didn’t, and if she isn’t with you…”

Zeke’s mouth fell open, as he stared at Levi. The detective he once perceived as cold and uncaring was now breaking in front of his eyes, his desperation so strong and urgent that he let even Zeke see this side of him.

His fingers twitched, the need to placate his enemy almost impossible to ignore. He thought if he should lay a hand on his shoulder, give him at least some semblance of comfort, but would Levi welcome it? Or would he slap his hand away and mock him for his sudden burst of empathy?

The latter was more probable, so Zeke stayed put, watching the unravelling scene with a sense of weak helplessness.

“Petra is missing too,” Levi continued, pacing around. “And it’s my fault, I was supposed to protect her, I have to get her back, but Hange… I can’t—” he took a shuddering breath, his voice wavering. “I can’t—”

“You can’t lose her for the second time,” Zeke finished, his soft tone surprising them both. “I can’t pretend to know how you feel,” he lost people before – first his mother, then his father, although that had been a result of his own choice and mistake, then Mister Xaver... But it didn't happen like this. There was no uncertainty, no what-ifs possible. Only crushing, overwhelming pain. But to have hope and then watch it get destroyed... Zeke could only imagine the agony it brought along. “Detective, I think I can help you in searching for her.”

Zeke didn’t quite know what had possessed him, what had made him say these words and look at Levi with a rare sincerity in his eyes.

Perhaps, he was tired – of always being the bad guy, of causing others pain and misery, of caring for only himself.

For the first time in his life, he longed to do good. To help and be kind to someone, even if that someone was his rival.

“I’ll help you, detective,” Zeke said, more sure this time. He picked up his glasses, put them on, and smirked, reveling in the dumbfounded look that had taken over Levi’s features. “We’ll get your partner back. I promise you.”

***

Petra naively thought that it couldn’t get any worse. She so foolishly thought that getting kidnapped, dragged and then tied up to a chair in some dark, smelly room was the worst of her nightmares.

But it wasn’t.

She realized the horror of it all only now, when she saw the body of unconscious Hange Zoe pushed down on a chair beside her.

If Hange was there, if she was injured and taken, then what had happened to Levi? What had they done to him if he had allowed them to take Hange away?

Just thinking about it made Petra tremble.

She was alone now, the two men had left, but the silence and the horrible, viscous feeling of not knowing what was going to happen next were slowly suffocating her.

Petra didn’t know how much time had passed, but Hange wasn’t waking up. The blood kept flowing down her face and her breathing kept growing more shallow, and Petra kept trying to stop her tears.

She didn’t want to cry, she wanted to be brave and strong, wanted to meet her end with her head held high, but damn it, she didn’t want to die. Not like this, not when— not when everything just started to come together. She had friends, a good job, someone who loved her… She didn’t want to lose it all now.

But she most probably would have to, and the realization finally broke her. Petra sniffled, a quick sob falling from her lips.

“I’m so sorry…” she whispered, not quite knowing what she was apologizing for or whose forgiveness she wanted to have.

She was sorry, though. For everything she was going to lose, for all things she didn’t get to experience. For…

“Oi, Petra…” the deep, husky voice made her jump. Petra turned her head to the side and nearly squealed, when she met the deep brown of Hange’s iris. “Cheer up, we aren’t done yet.”

“Hange!” Petra cried out, relief spilling even more of her tears. If she could, she’d run into Hange’s arms. Then again, if she could move, they wouldn’t be here at all.

“Are you alright?” Hange squinted, failing to take a good look at Petra without her glasses.

“Good, I’m good. And you?”

“Had been worse,” the grin was probably meant to make Petra feel better. But when Hange curled her lips up, she exposed her bloodied teeth, and the sight forced Petra to let out another sob. “Sorry,” Hange winced. “Can you move?”

Petra stared at her, confused. Didn’t Hange see that she was tied up?

“Your chair, can move it closer to mine?” Hange clarified. “Just an inch would be enough.”

Petra braced herself, curling her hands around the back of the chair. She bent her legs as much as she could, and then stretched them out, slightly lifting the chair and bringing it closer to Hange.

“Just a little more,” Hange asked, and Petra nodded, repeating the action.

“Excellent,” Hange praised, her voice kind. “Can you do another thing for me? Try to untie the knot on my hands. I think you’re close enough to do it.”

Again, Petra nodded, and set out to work. Unwrapping the rope proved to be a much harder task than jumping up on a chair, and on top of it all she couldn’t even see what she was doing, but Hange’s soft cheering encouraged her to continue.

She dug her fingers into the rough material, picking apart every thread with her nails. It took more time than Petra expected, but finally the rope fell onto the ground, and Hange chuckled, raising her now free hand to ruffle Petra’s hair.

“Good job,” she smiled so brightly Petra just had to smile back. “Now let me free you, and we can get out of here.”

“Okay.”

Hange’s fingers touched her bound hands, and Petra laughed, feeling incredibly giddy. Here she was crying because she thought that was the end, but Hange helped her, Hange saved her and now they were going to—

Her happy thoughts were interrupted by a sudden appear of loud footsteps. They sounded close, just behind the door.

Hange froze, murmuring a quiet, but vicious curse.

“Sorry,” she whispered to Petra, and then bolted up, returning to her previous position on a chair. She moved her hands behind her, making it look like they were still bound.

The door opened a second later, revealing the red-headed scary man.

“I see you’re awake now, Hange,” Floch smiled, swimming up closer. “I must say I quite enjoy seeing you like this.”

Hange said nothing, just grunted, as she watched the man move, approaching closer and closer. Her gaze grew more intense with every step Floch made, and when he was close, when he stood just beside Hange, looming over her, Hange let her lips pull into a smile. She sent Petra a quick, wicked look, and then launched forward, her fist raised up and ready. It connected with the Floch’s nose with a loud sound that made Petra smile too.

“I must say,” Hange said, holding Floch by his shoulders. “I quite enjoy seeing you like this.”

She didn’t give him the time to recover and dealt another blow, this one aimed at his abdomen. Floch bent over, curling onto himself. Hange raised her leg this time and kicked his knee, forcing him to fall over.

Floch hollered in pain and Hange hit him again, just to make sure he wouldn’t try to get up.

“Now where have we left off?” she turned to Petra with a smile that looked just a little too feral.

Hange crouched down next to her once more, returning to her bindings. Petra wasn’t the one, who was fighting just now, but the speed of her breathing increased, and she couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from Floch, who was still curled up on a floor.

She prayed that Hange would get her out soon, but didn’t dare to actually urge her on. She didn’t wish for Hange to lose her focus, so Petra sat and she watched, picking up the smallest movements from Floch.

But, as it turned out, it wasn’t Floch she had to be afraid of. It was the other man, the one who wasn’t even in the same room with them.

Yet.

***

Oluo fixed the bulletproof vest for the tenth time in the last minute. It was squeezing his chest in an uncomfortable, suffocating manner. And the place, where the gun was resting inside a holster on his hip, burned him even through layers of clothes. The gun was still hidden, unused. For how long would it last?

Oluo cursed and looked up ahead, focusing on a wide back of Captain Erwin Smith.

“Sir?” Oluo approached him. “Should we start the mission?”

They had located the house, they had checked every entrance and exit and circled the whole perimeter. But Erwin still didn’t give an order to start.

“Five minutes,” he said, and Oluo couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Five minutes were dragging on for almost half an hour now.

“Sir…” he cautiously began. At any other day, he would never dare to argue with Captain. He wouldn’t even think about starting a conversation with him, but Petra was in danger, and fear and worry for her was making his head spin.

“I know,” Erwin cut him off. Despite his hard, determined face, his voice was quiet. Unsure. It made Oluo lower his eyes in shame. He was worried about Petra, but Captain didn’t feel much better. His two friends were missing too – detective Hange was first to disappear, and now Levi wasn’t answering his calls as well. “I know, we need to get going,” Erwin said. He glanced at his phone, sighing when he saw no missing calls or texts. “Five minutes,” he declared. “Five minutes and we’re going in. I promise.”

***

All of it was her fault.

If Petra was smart like Hange, if she was experienced like Levi, she would know that watching injured Floch was pointless. It was another man, the one she couldn’t yet see, that was an enemy she had to be wary of.

But she wasn’t wary, she was excited, filled with joy and relief.

And Hange was the one who paid for her mistake.

The man returned, but they didn’t saw him at first. Instead, they heard him.

The thundering gunshot shook the whole room, the bullet flying so close to Hange that only her quick reflexes had saved her.

The man raised his gun then, aiming it at her head. “You won’t get so lucky next time,” he spoke. His voice was deep, but not low, betraying just how young he actually was. “Sit down,” he ordered Hange.

Hange hesitated to comply, determination and anger making her face flush. And in that split second that she was able to observe that subtle change in Hange, Petra remembered what Sannes had once told her.

“She was hot-headed and reckless, and in the end, that’s what had gotten her killed.”

She didn’t believe it before, thought it was bitter words from bitter man, but she could see it now – he wasn’t wrong. After all, Hange really did die once.

She braced herself, moving her leg behind her. Preparing to attack, Petra realized suddenly, a helpless whimper escaping her lips. She wanted to stop her, wanted to beg her to follow the man’s order—

The second gunshot did it for her.

Hange grunted, bent over, pressing a hand to a growing blotch of red on her side, but didn’t scream. She swayed but didn’t fall, grabbing the back of a chair for support.

“I won’t repeat myself,” the man said and pointed his gun at the vacant chair.

Hange threw him a long, sizzling look. She straightened out and walked over to the chair, her steps slow, pained, but steady.

“Floch,” the man turned to his accomplice. “Tie her up again. And make sure you do a thorough job this time.”

Floch eagerly nodded, groaning as he pushed himself upwards. He roughly seized Hange’s hands, eliciting another pained grunt out of her, and pulled them behind her back, tying them up with a discarded rope.

“Seems like your luck has died out,” he mocked with a wide smile.

“We’ll see about that,” Hange spit the blood out of her mouth, just barely missing the tip of Floch’s shoe. She raised her head then, meeting Petra’s eyes. Her lips curled in a reassuring smile. “The help is on their way.”

“We won’t be here when they come,” Floch’s friend said. “And you,” he walked further inside the room, stepping into a light of a single lightbulb that now cast a long, flitting shadow. “You won’t be here either.”

The threat made Petra’s blood turn cold, but Hange didn’t seem just as affected. She tilted her head to the side, curiously studying a man in front of her.

“And who are you?” she asked. “I knew Floch was involved, but what’s your deal? What did Zeke do to you?”

“He ruined my life,” he spoke gravelly. “And now I’m going to ruin his.”

“Ruin your life?” in spite of his dark words and solemn mood, Hange scoffed. “You’ve got to be a little more specific, buddy. You’re not the only member of this club.”

The man came closer, pressing his fist to the fresh wound on Hange’s side. She choked and doubled over. The man grimaced and turned his head to look at Floch. “I thought you were exaggerating when you mentioned just how annoying she was,” he said, before returning his attention back to Hange. His green eyes darkened. “Zeke murdered my family. That’s all you need to know.”

Hange gasped, her remaining eye widening. “Murdered your family?” she stuttered, the gears in her head turning rapidly. “It can’t be… I thought it was but a rumor. But if it’s true… does it mean you’re Eren? Zeke’s little brother?”

“Eren Yeager…” Petra murmured, shocked to remember an old case file Oluo had shown to her. “The boy whose family was murdered. But… I thought that killer’s identity remained unknown?”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Eren hummed. “Yes, you’re right, Zeke wasn’t the one who killed them. But he was the one who gave the order to. And I’ll make him pay for that. I’ll make him suffer. Just as I did with the actual murderers.”

“Why not simply kill him then?” Hange questioned. “What’s the point of this whole mess?”

“Zeke didn’t kill me,” Eren’s curled fists trembled, as his eyes filled with righteous fire. “He simply ruined my whole life. I’m going to give him the same curtesy.”

“Zeke is going to end up in prison anyway,” Hange argued, her lips pursed. “Pinning another crime on him is pointless.”

“You were hunting him down for years, Zoe,” Floch spoke up. “You didn’t have much luck in catching him. Besides…”

“Besides, I want him to know it was me,” Eren said. “I want him to know that it was me who got him in prison.”

Hange’s lips curled up, as she lowly chuckled. “No one is going to believe you. Cops aren’t that dumb, you know.”

“Maybe, they aren’t,” Eren agreed easily. “But after they find two murdered detectives, they’ll be out for blood and they won’t really care who to pin this all on.”

“And Zeke will be their only suspect,” Floch smirked. “He has the motive, he has the means… Even the scene of a crime belongs to him. Or do you still not get it, Zoe? Just look around...”

Hange did, her jaw tensing, as the realization slowly kicked in.

“That’s right,” Floch nodded. “You’ve lost an eye here. Now you’re going to lose your life here too.”

His voice, so falsely sweet and friendly, sent shivers down Petra’s spine. She prayed once more, hoping that someone would listen. Hoping that they would be saved.

“Finish them, Floch,” Eren lazily waved his hand. “I’ll be waiting in a car.”

“With pleasure,” Floch purred, taking out his knife. The edge of it glinted caught the light, showing a brief reflection of Petra’s terrified face. That was the last thing she saw, before promptly shutting her eyes in fear.

***

Erwin stared right ahead, as time continued to mercilessly move on.

One minute passed, then two, three… Soon he’d have to give an order to move out, he couldn’t possibly waste any more time, yet still… Still he hesitated. He kept waiting for Hange and Levi to return, thinking that any moment now he would see Levi appear from out of the corner, a furious scowl on his face, as he dragged Hange along, complaining that she had made him make a detour and get her a cup of coffee.

But there was no sign of his friends, and the point on his wrist watch kept moving, and that meant he couldn’t wait any longer.

Just one minute of the five minutes he had promised to Oluo left, when they heard a loud sound, coming from a safe house.

With a shudder, Erwin recognized the sound of a gunshot.

“Sir?” Oluo looked up at him, his face turning even paler. “Should we—”

Oluo didn’t get to finish. Another gunshot sounded.

“We’re starting,” Erwin announced, his jaw set. “Spread the word, Oluo, and get ready.”

Oluo nodded, saluted and rushed to fulfill the order.

Erwin breathed in deeply, taking out his gun. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use it tonight, but if something went wrong, if someone hurt Petra… he’d have no other choice.

“We are ready, sir!” Oluo came back, panting. “Just say the word.”

“Let’s begin then.”

Another deep breath, and Erwin’s fingers tightened around the gun, as he took his first step forward.

Just as expected, the door to the safe house was locked, so he braced himself, angling his shoulder towards the wooden surface. Next to him, Oluo did the same.

“On a count of three,” Erwin warned. “One… Two…”

He never got to three.

“Wait!”

In the exact second that Erwin meant to finish the count, he heard a familiar voice. Not believing he was really there, Erwin turned around. And saw Levi running up to him.

As he had thought, Levi wasn’t alone, someone following right behind him. However, it wasn’t Hange.

It was Zeke Yeager.

***

The headlights turned on, the engine roared, and the car smoothly drove onto the road.

"So what do you think we should do?" Levi asked, keeping his eyes firmly on a road ahead.

What do you think, not what should we do... Interesting.

It was almost cute how much detective Levi tried to be in control now after he had lost it right in front of Zeke. A lesser person would have mocked him for that, Zeke certainly wanted to... But today he felt gracious enough and so decided to gift Levi with an illusion that his authority and dignity was still intact.

“The girl that went missing first - do you know when she was taken?"

"Her name is Petra,” Levi grunted, shooting him a disgruntled look. “And she went missing last night. It's been almost a day since we lost contact with her."

Zeke nodded, his hand moving to cup his chin. "Then we must hurry.”

“We found a place where they’re holding her,” Levi said. “Let’s head there first. Save Petra and then…” he trailed off, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “And then we’ll take care of everything else.”

There it was again, Zeke realized with confusion. That same irritating feeling, the same urge to give Levi some reassurance.

“Maybe, we’ll find Hange there,” he said. “And even if we won’t, she is smart. Strong too. She can take care of herself.”

Levi didn’t answer him, but his shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched.

“There is no need to worry,” he took another attempt, this time meaning to lighten the mood. “She survived even me after all.”

The chuckle died out somewhere in his throat, when he glanced and Levi, and saw him looking back at him with murderous rage.

“Her eye,” he growled. “You will pay for that, Zeke. After this mess is over,” another furious glare, this time it was dark enough to frighten Zeke. He nervously shifted his eyes to the side, focusing on a sight of bright-lit streets passing by. “I’ll make sure you do pay for that.”

“I believe you,” Zeke murmured hoarsely.

“And I believe you,” Levi blurted out suddenly. “Open the glove compartment.”

Zeke did, albeit carefully. The anger disappeared from Levi’s voice. So did hostility. Now he sounded strangely amicable.

Inside the glove compartment was a gun. Zeke stared at it curiously, not quite knowing what to make of it.

“It’s Hange’s,” Levi mumbled like it explained anything.

“And?”

Levi huffed. “And you should take it. I don’t know what’s waiting for us, and I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to protect you.”

Well, that was certainly… a surprising turn of event.

“You trust me that much?”

Zeke honestly wasn’t sure if he would have trusted himself that much. And yet Levi…

“Hange trusts you,” Levi simply said.

Zeke gawked at him. Was it actually that simple to him? Did he have so much trust and faith in Hange that he was ready to put his own beliefs aside?

Something painful bloomed in his chest as Zeke pondered on it. He wondered what it would feel like – to have someone you could trust as easily as yourself, what it would feel like to know that there was someone you could share your everything with. Must be a truly elating feeling.

“We’re almost there,” Levi announced, taking a turn to the left. “Get ready.”

Zeke nodded and took out the gun, getting familiar with its weight.

“It’s Hange’s,” Levi reminded. “So take care of it.”

He honestly hadn’t expected anything else from Levi, so with a low chuckle Zeke replied, “Will protect it with my life, detective.”

Levi’s answer was a short, but unexpectedly soft grunt that made Zeke let out another laugh.

A horrifying in its simplicity thought came right after. Were the two of them bonding?

It should have disgusted him, but it didn’t. It was actually nice in its own, weird way.

However, Levi took another turn, and Zeke’s joyful feelings disappeared. He knew where they were heading now. His old safe house.

So they really were targeting him? But who these they were? And what exactly did they want?

Either way, he’d be able to unravel this mystery in a matter of minutes. For now, Zeke hoped that he’d stuck for the winning team.

Even if he hadn’t, though, it was good that Levi found him before the police had found the bodies of Hange and that Petra. He could only imagine what cops would do to him if they thought that Zeke killed two of their own.

Levi parked the car next to an old abandoned building. He opened the door, putting one foot on a ground. Before he got out, he turned back and fixed his hard eyes Zeke.

“I trust you,” he said. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Zeke could only nod in reply. He wanted to say something else, but by the time he found his words, Levi was already out of the car.

Zeke took his first step towards Levi, when a loud sound – the unmistakable bang of a shotgun – carried around the empty neighborhood.

Levi froze, tensed and then started running. Zeke cursed and followed after him. To his shame, despite his long legs, he could barely keep up.

The entrance to the safe house was already within their eyesight. The building was surrounded by police from all sides. The best of the best, Zeke had no doubt about it.

The second gunshot rang not long after the first one, forcing Levi to run even faster. Zeke rushed after him, sweating and already out of breath.

When they finally got there, the police was ready to attack, their guns drawn and expressions determined.

“Wait!” Levi shouted as they approached.

As on cue, everyone turned their heads to them.

The blonde man on the front stepped forward, his features simultaneously showing relief and confusion.

“Levi,” he shifted his eyes from Levi to Zeke. “Where is—”

“I don’t know.”

“And him?” the man gestured to Zeke. “Can we—”

“Don’t really have a choice. He promised to help for what it’s worth.”

“Alright. Then let’s go. Ready, Levi?”

“Of course, Erwin.”

Oh, that was Erwin Smith? The myth, the legend of the city’s police? Zeke had to admit he was just as impressive in person as the rumors about him promised he would be. He would have loved to observe more of him, to see for himself if he was truly that charismatic.

Although, if he had people like Levi and Hange following him, then there was no doubt that Erwin too was an exceptional person.

Right now, however, Zeke had no time to dwell on it.

“Follow me,” Levi ordered, dragging Zeke behind him. They entered the building together, but when Levi headed to the first turn on the left, Zeke pulled him away.

“No,” he took his gun out and nodded to the long hallway. “You follow me, Levi.”

For a second, Levi hesitated, his eyes flashing. But then studied Zeke’s face, and whatever he had seen there, it had eased his distrust.

“Then lead the way,” he agreed.

The hallways of safe house were dark and quiet, but not for long. As soon as Erwin and his team had entered, the chaos filled every corner.

Zeke rolled his eyes, why did he even expect anything else from that bunch. Still, he would have preferred to approach it with as much stealth as it was possible. Who knew what their enemies would do if they find out that they’re done for.

If it was Floch who was involved in kidnapping, and he must have, since not many people knew about this place, then Zeke knew the room he would choose to stay. The same room where he had lost his calm and detective Hange had lost an eye. He led Levi there, but as they neared their destination, Zeke saw a shadow that ran to the back door.

He caught just a glimpse of the shadow’s face, but that was enough.

He looked just like his father. His baby brother… Was it really him who was out for his blood?

“Go,” he told Levi, already moving in the direction Eren had disappeared. “If there is someone in this house, they’re right behind next door.”

“And you?” Levi didn’t stop him, but he made him pause. However, his eyes showed no distrust this time. Only concern.

“I need to take care of something first,” Zeke said resolutely. “But I’ll be back.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Levi reminded him, and then let Zeke go.

Zeke watched Levi move forward, and then turned around, heading to the back door.

It was time he had a talk with his brother.

***

Levi didn’t know what he had expected to see behind the door Zeke had pointed him to.

He hoped to see Petra, preferably along with Hange, well and unharmed with their enemies trembling in a corner.

He was afraid to enter and come face to face with Petra, who was bleeding and injured.

He absolutely refused to think about finding Petra and Hange, but realizing that he was already too late.

What he didn’t expect after opening that door was to see Petra trembling and crying. He didn’t expect to see a man standing just a little to her left with a knife raised up in the air. He didn’t expect to see that knife be so close to Hange’s throat.

He didn’t really think before acting, his heart was beating a little too loudly for that.

“Police!” he shouted, raising his gun. “Drop your weapon!”

The man didn’t listen.

Levi’s first shot flew just an inch over the criminal’s head, getting stuck in a wall behind him. The man didn’t even flinch, he turned around just for a moment, long enough to show Levi his bloodthirsty smile.

Levi’s hands trembled, but years of training allowed him to claim a clear shot to the man’s knee all the same.

He yelped and fell down, but Levi wasn’t looking at him anymore. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Erwin and Oluo enter the room. Oluo rushed right to Petra, Erwin met Levi’s eyes and nodded, crouching beside the man Levi just shot.

With everything else taken care of, Levi ran up to Hange. Her face was covered in blood, her shirt too and she was missing her glasses, but when he kneeled down next to her, when their eyes met, she smiled and Levi could finally breathe again.

“You saved me…” her eye was shining so brightly, the edge of it brimming with tears. “I knew you would, Levi.”

The lump in Levi’s throat grew large, too large to swallow, so he simply nodded and went to undo the bindings behind her back, but his fingers kept shaking and the rope refused to give in. He cursed and tried again and again, until Erwin appeared beside him and gently pushed him away.

“Just make sure our Hange is alright,” he whispered with a gentle smile.

He did just as Erwin had told him, but when he looked at Hange again, saw all her injuries and wounds, he was overwhelmed once more. He felt so many things at once – relief, happiness, anger, fear, love. It all swirled around his head, making him dizzy.

What if he wasn’t fast enough? What if he didn’t listen when Zeke told him not to take the first turn or what if he didn’t trust him to go on his own and followed him outside? Just a second more and there would be no Hange. He’d be left alone, without her once again. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive it for the second time.

“I’m fine, Levi,” Erwin must have already dealt with the rope, because Hange’s hands were now free and she outstretched them towards him, grasping at his shoulders to pull him closer. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t, Levi could feel the blood sipping through her shirt and onto his jacket. Hange wasn’t fine, but she was here, with him, still breathing, still warm in his arms. He pressed her to him – desperate, but careful, and took a deep breath, filling himself with her scent. There was almost too much blood and sweat on her, and it was almost enough to mask her true smell, but Levi had still felt it.

He allowed himself another moment to get immersed in it.

“Don’t leave,” he said, not caring that he sounded like he was begging. “Please, don’t leave me again, Hange.”

“I won’t,” there were gentle fingers in hair, then soft lips on his temple. If he wasn’t so out of it, Levi would have been embarrassed. He was the one who was supposed to give Hange comfort right now. She was kidnapped and almost murdered. And yet… the one trembling and panting was him. “And even if I do, I trust you to always get me back home.”

A strong hand on his shoulder forced Levi to look up and pull himself away from Hange.

“We should take her to the hospital,” Erwin said, his face showing the same worry Levi was feeling. “I already called an ambulance. Would you like me to—”

“No,” Levi declined. “I’ll do it myself. C’mon, four-eyes,” he threw her arm around his shoulders and hooked his hand beneath her knees. “Let’s get going.”

Before he lifted Hange up in the air, he glanced back, searching for Petra. She was on the floor with Oluo clinging onto her. The poor sod seemed to be crying, and Petra curled around him, whispering soothing words.

God, and Levi thought he was pathetic.

Tightening his hold on Hange, he gathered her in his arms and slowly stood up.

“Oh no, have I died and gone to heaven?” Hange cackled, throwing her head back. “The great Levi Ackerman is carrying me in his arms…”

Levi rolled his eyes, hiding a smile. Seemed like Hange wasn’t that injured if she was already back to her insufferable self.

“Shut up or I’ll throw you to the ground.”

“Nah,” Hange claimed confidently, ruffling his hair as though to prove her point. “You won’t do that.”

“Absolutely insufferable,” he murmured, shooting Hange a dark look. It was ruined by a smile that he was fruitlessly trying to fight.

Hange smiled back and that’s how Levi knew – they’d be alright.

#look! we're (almost) done!#just two more short chapters and that's it!#levihan

59 notes · View notes

andypantsx3 · 4 years

Text

in cinders | 5 | conversations

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 24,362 words / 9 chapters

summary: You’re just trying to fairy godmother your best friend into a happily ever after. If only the prince would stop hanging around and cooperate.

tags: cinderella AU, prince!Shouto, romance, misunderstandings, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

You were uncharacteristically quiet in the days that followed.

Ochako watched you nervously like a mother with a newborn, sensitive to your every breath. You couldn’t take a step without her at your elbow, and every time you turned a corner it felt like you were bumping into her. You felt smothered, not only by her attentions, but by the thought that you’d failed her. More than that, you’d endangered her, as well as all the other kitchen servants, with your stupid mission to make her a princess.

Of course something in the prince’s food would turn the castle upside down. And of course he’d fixate on the courtier who’d offended him. Of course he’d seen the necklace as a pathway to the Lady Uraraka’s friend, to seek her out and punish her. He was a royal; they were just like that.

You thought sadly of Ochako and her moony-eyed affection for the prince. You’d been so certain he was looking for her. A lady of unusual tastes, Kamiko had said, and quite pretty. He’d certainly been looking for her at that point. Why had he instead questioned the staff about the Lady Ito?

The only person who wasn’t treating you like a porcelain doll in danger of shattering was Kamiko. She seemed convinced that your reticence was an effort to leave her out of the intrigue. She’d spent all her spare time hanging over you suspiciously like an uppity storm cloud.

Your irritation with her was doubled by the fact that you hadn’t been sleeping well, feeling like soldiers would barge into your rooms any moment and march you to the gallows. You’d wake early in the morning hours, sitting up in your bed and feeling the noose tighten around your neck.

It was on one such morning that you awoke in the dark with the thought that you couldn’t stand to go back to bed. You dressed and picked your way through the drafty halls into dark kitchens. Shivering to yourself, you lit the fires and put on milk to warm.

For something to do with your hands, you began to roll out the dough for the day’s bread, cutting it into pieces and weaving them together into thick braids. You shaped others into boules and washed them over with egg and another with a dusting of more flour. When your milk began to bubble, you took the pot off the fire, pouring it into a chipped mug and settling down against the warming stones of the oven.

As you waited for your milk to cool, you became aware of soft footsteps in the corridor. This was the hour that all servants laid abed, exhausted by the prior day’s work. Only the king’s guard patrolled the castle, and none would be in the servant’s halls, padding so quietly towards the kitchens.

Fear quickening your heart, you grabbed a coal iron.

But the broad-shouldered figure who appeared in the kitchens had you dropping the iron and sinking to your knees.

“Your highness!” you choked out, pressing your forehead to the cold stone.

“Apologies,” came a soft murmur. “I did not think anyone would be awake.”

Your brow furrowed against the floor. Did he often creep around the kitchens like a bandit in the dark? What purpose would a prince have for sneaking around his own castle?

“Please rise,” he intoned. “I did not mean to disrupt your work.”

His gaze fixed on the coal iron you’d dropped and a surprised look came into his eyes. His full mouth parted.

“Did you mean to strike me?” he asked.

You panicked. “No! I mean--well, yes, but not you. I thought you were a bandit.”

That wry curl of his mouth was back, the same as he’d worn that evening at the ball. “I must have really angered you with that show in my chambers. You were that girl, weren’t you?”

The bottom fell out of your stomach. He thought you were avenging yourself for the interrogation? “No! I wouldn’t! I mean, I didn’t! I wouldn’t hit you!”

A soft laugh escaped the prince and you stared in shock. Was he teasing you?

He waved an elegant hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bait you.” He took a breath. “You must have been terrified. Bakugou, he’s--well, he’s a good friend but he can be a lot. It must have been frightening for you.”

You climbed shakily to your feet, biting your lip. He sounded sincerely contrite and you hardly knew what to make of it.

In acknowledgement, you offered, “It must have been scarier finding that necklace in your food and knowing that it could have easily been poisoned. I....I am sorry for that.”

You made no mention of exactly how sorry you were.

He studied you intently. You noticed he was dressed plainly, a soft linen shirt, unadorned, tucked somewhat untidily into simple breeches. He looked as though he had not planned to be seen, none of his usual finery decorating his garments. You tried to ignore the way the fabric of his trousers skimmed closely to his powerful thighs.

He shrugged, drawing your eyes back up to his face. His scar looked fainter in the flickering lights of the oven flames.

“Please do not trouble yourself over it. It was hardly the most frightening thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You looked at him in question.

His grey and blue gaze flicked over your face. He seemed to consider you for a moment, then spoke quietly. “How long have you been at the castle?”

You thought for a minute. “Most of my life - fifteen years perhaps?”

Prince Shouto nodded. “You would not have known of this, then. When I was younger, my father’s enemies sent an operative to kidnap me. They sought to use me as a bargaining chip as they sued for peace.”

You gawped at him, aghast at the thought of anyone using a child as a tool of politics.

He continued, “I was young and did not yet understand my own power. I lost control - half of their fortress was swallowed by a sheet of ice so thick they could not break through. The other half burned.”

You gasped, “It’s true then!”

He stared at you, and you flushed pink.

“They, um--they say that you can bring down a fortress with a wave of your hand. They also say that Captain Bakugou has two heads, claws, and was borne to the castle on a wind from hell. I had thought your power only a rumor such as that.”

The corner of the prince’s mouth twitched. “Would you like to see?”

You leaned towards him in interest, unable to help yourself.

He held out his left hand. A soft flicker lit up the dark around his palm and a sharp breath escaped you as flame filled his open hand, licking over the skin but leaving it completely unblemished.

You smiled. “That’s incredible! It must be so useful.”

Prince Shouto let the flame build in his palm.

You stared, mesmerized, as it burned, wondering on the uses of a power like that. “You’d never have to find the matches in the dark. Your tea would never get cold.”

He laughed and his breath stirred the flames. “I suppose it is rather useful. You can read after hours without having to leave bed to fetch the candles.”

You quieted at that, and his sharp eyes quickly caught it.

“I’ve offended you. I apologize," he said.

You shook your head, stepping back from him. The cold stone of the kitchen floors burned under your thin shoes. “Not at all. It’s just -- I can’t read.”

A glimmer of surprise swam over his handsome face. “I didn’t realize. Forgive me.”

His eyes were bright in the dark of the kitchens and you felt horribly seen. You turned back to the bread on the counter, and an uncomfortable silence settled in the air between you. The flames in his broad hand guttered out.

Finally, you spoke. “Do--do you always sneak around in your own kitchens in the dead of night?”

You heard the fabric of his shirt rustle softly as he shifted. “If I can’t sleep.”

You set about piling the bread onto sheets for baking, not looking at him. “Why can’t you sleep, if I might ask?”

He was quiet for a moment. “I’ve been...looking for something.”

Despite yourself, your heartbeat picked up in your chest. Looking for something. Did he mean the Lady Ito? Or perhaps Ochako? It had been a few days, could he still be searching for her?

You considered what kind of question might lead you to answer without giving yourself away. What would a servant who hadn’t been there know of the situation?

Before you could ask, however, the sound of footsteps in the hall broke the quiet of the kitchens.

Prince Shouto straightened abruptly. “I should go. I’m afraid your reputation would suffer for being found alone with a man.”

You quickly curtsied, inclining your head to hide the blush that dusted your cheeks. Of course no one would think that the prince would deign to--with you--you couldn’t think it.

As you rose, he hesitated. The sound of footsteps drawing nearer, however, finally sent him dashing to the door to the palace courtyards. He sketched a quick bow, and was gone.

As the door shut behind him, Kamiko swept into the kitchens like a hurricane.

“Cinders. What an unfortunate surprise. Where’s your pet?”

You frowned, realizing she meant Ochako.

“Fuck off, Kamiko. It’s too early for me to deal with you.”

Kamiko sneered. “Careful with your tone, wench. Speak to me like that again and the housekeeper will have you crawling in the fireplaces for a week.”

All your anxiety and confusion from the last few days suddenly felt like it was boiling over. The words spilled out before you could stop them. “Try it, you spineless fucking flop.”

Kamiko’s eyes widened and she stepped back. “You disrespectful little bitch. I’ll have you on your knees in the ashes."

You growled, your mind going completely white with anger. Before you knew what you were doing, you found yourself picking up your forgotten glass of milk and heaving it in her direction. The milk arced through the air in a white wave, slapping over her neck and shoulders with a wet thump.

Kamiko screamed and rushed to the doorway, disappearing down the hall. “I will ruin you, cinders! You will regret ever crossing me.”

She sound of her quick steps faded down the hallway. All of a sudden, the reality of what you’d done rushed back to you and you stared at the empty mug in your hand in shock.

What had you done? You stood there, dumbfounded by your own actions.

It wasn’t long before the housekeeper was rushing into the kitchens, Kamiko in tow. You held still as she delivered your punishment, biting your lip to hold in the sounds that her lashings threatened to force from you. You wouldn’t give Kamiko the satisfaction.

Much later, as you scraped the ashes from the deadened hearth, you wondered what had gotten into you. You thought long into the night as you scrubbed the blackened stone of the fireplace, feeling the raw skin of your wounds twinge as your shoulder moved. One conversation with Prince Shouto and you thought you were queen of the kitchens?

You resolved to carry out your punishment and watch yourself carefully after.

After all, you could get through this. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been in this position before. Your wounds would take a couple of weeks to heal, and it would take just as long for your sleep schedule and your sheets to recover, but they would. You’d be back to normal in no time.

But Kamiko...she had threatened to ruin you. You wondered at that. Scrubbing soot out of a fireplace again hardly seemed the ticket for a promise that foreboding.

But as you returned to your rooms that evening, the implications of her threat became clear. Ochako sat wide awake on her straw mattress, finger outstretched towards your pallet. Your heart leapt into your throat as you noticed its state. It had been violently overturned with straw stuffing spilling messily out of the sides to tumble down onto the floor in tufty piles. Underneath it, a notably empty space stared back at you.

Lady Utsushimi’s dress--which you had never had a chance to return to the laundry rooms--was gone.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #boku no hero academia #fanfic

276 notes · View notes

haloud · 3 years

Text

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 9

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Michael and Isobel reckon with the fallout from Michael’s choices; Maria and Max catch up with him post-recovery.

Excerpt:

Maria sat on the steps, an old CD radio of Rosa’s beside her playing a classic Rosa mixtape, a Third Eye Blind track Michael only half-remembered flowing around her, her humming running under it, glittering minerals in a riverbed. She was surrounded by papers, pinned under painted rocks to keep them from being snatched away, her hair tied back by a rainbow scarf, and she bent over to write in a binder propped on her knees.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

She patted the low stair beside her and Michael did as he was told, swiping his hat off his head as he approached her. For her it was wordplay, but Michael cradled to his chest something more true than maybe she’d intended—Maria was a safe harbor, a port in a storm. No matter how bad things got, her warm heart and practical mind were a reminder to never give up. Just sitting beside her was enough to make him smile, even though he sat with a good six inches buffer between them, still unsure what boundaries were appropriate, still navigating the uncertain waters of being friends with an ex who meant something.

(Wednesday, 11:00 am)

Michael flipped Alex’s key over and over in his fingers, running it along his knuckles, pressing his thumb into the teeth until they left a locking-imprint on his skin, then doing it all over again. At some point, maybe it would start to feel real, if he reminded himself of the thing often enough.

The repetition and stimulation of the rough teeth, the cool, smooth metal, soothed him as he waited on Isobel’s porch. She’d called him here in the first place, so eventually she’d open the door. Until then, he waited. And as he waited, he thought of Alex, because what else was there to think about these days?

(A thousand things, like Jones and Project Shepherd, Max and Liz, and all the work piling up at Sanders’s, but Alex had a way of blotting everything else out, and, no matter how much his brain tried to get him to feel stupid or naïve or childish for hoping yet again, he was going to let himself bask in that shade for once in his life.)

He hadn’t left Alex’s house, still, except to go to work and get things from his own place. At Alex’s, he was still sleeping in the guest room, the both of them afraid that they’d fall back into their old patterns too fast if they fell right into bed. But during the day they shared that space, a kitchen, a den, existing alongside each other as they read or cooked or composed, and the routine wasn’t so different from the tense and quiet days right after Michael’s injury, but at the same time they were nothing alike, not when each tiny glance could mean so much, not when fingers on the soft rasp of turning pages were fingers he could touch, that could touch him.

Everything was different. It was terrifying, and exhilarating, brand new and nostalgic. It had only been a day; it had only been half their lifetimes.

“Ew, you’re glowing.”

Isobel’s voice started Michael out of his thoughts, and he jumped, shoving Alex’s key into his pocket. She was glaring at him, but still he relaxed, because Isobel’s snark was a form of love and her turning scorn in his direction was a sign things were getting back to normal between them.

“It’s all natural,” he drawled as she stepped aside to let him inside.

“Right. Did something happen, or is this just some lesser known side effect of being brought back from the brink of death.”

“Uh…”

In a way, sort of, if only because Michael’s own stupidity had driven him and Alex closer together, but that wasn’t exactly a direct correlation or anything admirable.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “Just…”

He fell silent. How was he supposed to talk about being in love? He’d never done it before, and this was a first he hadn’t anticipated facing.

“Alex and I…” he tried again, but found himself only able to smile, still without words, and he raised his arms in a helpless shrug.

Isobel’s eyebrows raised. “Oh my god.”

“Yep.”

“I’m still pissed at you, but if Manes is making you his side chick after everything, I’m going to rip his spine out through his—”

“Isobel, no! It’s not like that,” Michael laughed, shaking his head.

“Well what’s it like, then? I cannot handle him breaking your heart again when we’re already dealing with Max.”

He replied, “My heart is fully intact,” as he headed in and dropped down on her couch, throwing a hand over his heart for dramatic effect. “No, uh, Alex and Forrest had a fight, which sucked, but it led to us getting a chance to talk more about, y’know, us, and what we wanted, and each other, so…”

“So this is rebound,” Isobel snipped.

“Can you stop?” Michael said, half-laughing. Even her pessimism on the subject of love couldn’t pop the bubble around his heart right now. He patted the couch beside him, and she hesitated for a few seconds with her arms crossed, before capitulating and joining him.

“Oh, fine,” she groused, leaning against the arm of the couch farthest away from where he was sitting. “Your funeral.”

The words landed like a lead balloon, and Michael winced as her face grew stormier.

“I’m—”

“Don’t,” Isobel held up a hand in his face. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, what do you want to hear?”

“An explanation, Michael! What the hell were you thinking? Why would you do that? What if he’d just straight up killed you, did you want us to find your body in a cave somewhere or, or never, blown to smithereens by a man who literally breathes fire! You’re so stupid, and selfish, and—” She cut herself off, furious tears welling in her eyes even as the rest of her face didn’t change.

“I know! I know, you’re right, it was stupid. I wasn’t thinking, or, well, I was thinking, but my head was all messed up.” He rested his forehead in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think any explanation is going to make any sense now, out of the moment, but I just…everything was going to shit, and I couldn’t do anything for Max, and I thought Jones might have answers, or could help me unlock new powers like you’ve done on your own. So I could protect everyone.”

Isobel threw her arms up and got to her feet, pacing around the couch; Michael tracked her, anxiety dipping and spiking every time she circled him. Her anger pulsing when she passed behind him made his skin crawl, and he shifted in his seat.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she finally spoke, stopping in front of him.

He kept his head bent forward, staring at his knees.

She continued, “I really don’t. I’ve been trying for twenty-one years, but I still don’t know how to get through to you. How to convince you that you’re not alone, that people want to protect you. To help you. But I’m not Max. I’ve never pushed or pried or fought to cling onto you when you shook us off. I just hung around because I knew you’d always come back.” She took a deep breath. Her voice stayed steady and deliberate. “But Michael, this has gone on for too long, and you went too far this time. You have to let us help you. Otherwise—I don’t know. I just don’t. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Drops of water speckled the tops of Michael’s knees, and he sniffed, swallowed, mouth dry, throat tight and aching. His sister’s gentle hands threaded through his hair, cradling both temples, right hand over Max’s lingering handprint, but no matter how careful that touch was, he flinched.

Isobel tipped his head up so he had to look her in the eye and said, “You’re my brother, Michael. I love you so much. And I would do anything for you, just like you would—and have—do anything for me. But you need to let me! From here on out, I need you to fucking work with me. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Tears trickling down his face and dripping from his chin, Michael nodded, not trusting his voice, and Isobel fell forward, his arms opening up to catch her, and they stayed like that for a long time, Michael rocking her back and forth, her clinging desperately to his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he finally croaked, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Max. I just, I can’t stop myself, sometimes, I know it’s not an excuse, I know it was stupid, I know—”

“I know,” she interrupted his stream of self-loathing, sitting back to look him seriously in the face. “I was in your head, remember?”

She’d found him beneath a vaulted ceiling, stained glass in shifting, alive, alien colors, walled in with his demons. Defining himself inside the devouring maelstrom by the battles he understood. His whole life, he’d sewed himself back whole, and his work wasn’t pretty, but the patterns made sense, and they kept him sane even when the odds demanded otherwise. The image flashed behind his eyes, but that’s all it was, an image. He shook his head.

“Not really.”

“Well. I didn’t really go snooping, no matter how tempting it was,” she said with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes. “But let’s just say…you don’t owe me any explanations you aren’t willing or ready to give. Those belong to you. I know I haven’t always understood that in the past. We both have things to work on, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael rasped, squeezing her tight again. “I…want to work on them with you.”

“Then it sounds like we’re going to be okay,” she softly replied.

(3:00 pm)

Isobel didn’t let him leave the house until both their eyes stopped being red and puffy from crying; It took multiple episodes of some Food Network show he’d never heard of before she agreed to let him out of her sight, and, in deeply un-Isobel-like fashion, she followed him to the door and pulled him into another hug for the road before she let him leave.

The drive from Isobel’s to the Wild Pony wasn’t really long enough to fully ruminate on how bad he must have scared Isobel to warrant this level of reaction. Logically, he’d known, but emotionally it was just beginning to sink in.

Over the past year, he’d been faced with losing Isobel and with losing Max multiple times—had lost Max, in fact. He knew how it felt. Why should the loss of himself be any different to them? In low moments, sure, thoughts shifted beneath the murk of his mind, lurking demons from childhood, that they didn’t need him, they had each other, a more special bond, he was the odd one out, outside, out in the cold. But on the day to day, he didn’t devalue himself like that, not in so many words, did he? But—

To be surprised? That Isobel was afraid, that Max was afraid, that the both of them stood on the precipice of grieving him and had to process the horror of that fall after snatching themselves back at the last minute? It was a slap in the face, a rude awakening. A lesson that for all these years he’d resisted learning.

The first step to protecting those who loved him was to protect himself. He couldn’t keep shelving it as the lowest priority. They were one and the same.

It sounded fake to his own ears, but he’d just have to say it until the lesson sunk in.

With the windows rolled down, the idle breeze tugged Michael’s hair across his face and cooled the late-summer stickiness from his skin. It was just after lunchtime, a little early for Max to be at work, but since he wasn’t at Isobel’s house, it was faster to check for him here than to drive all the way out to his own place.

If there was one positive to his near-death, it was the way Max was invigorated by a purpose. The healing drained him, of course it did; it could have killed him, and that weighed on Michael’s conscience, but afterward, after it worked and he’d pulled Michael back from death, he smiled. He slept. He bustled around Alex’s house babysitting Michael while Alex was at work, and now, with a little distance from fragile death, that didn’t chafe as badly.

Max deserved a better thanks than Michael had thus far been able to render, and with Isobel’s words still ringing in his ears, there was no better time than now.

He pulled up to the Pony, the fairy lights strung across the patio dancing in the wind, the wood of the old building all pale and real in the sunlight. The old, familiar sign above the door was off as long as the bar was closed, but Michael still took a moment to glance at it nice and long, remembering the feel of fixing it under his hands so the whole place felt less liminal, less like a mirror vision of the beating heart that was the Wild Pony glowing under the night sky, lit from within rather than from the sun.

Faint music played as Michael parked and left his truck, so he rounded the corner of the building to suss it out and smiled at what he saw, leaning against one of the trellis supports.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

“What are you working on?” he asked.

“Oh, you know me.” She gestured vaguely to the arrangement of papers and tucked her feet up beside her, leaning toward Michael, cutting the space between them in half like it wasn’t worth noticing. Some of the tension in Michael’s chest unwound at her ease around him.

“Hustling?” he prompted.

“Yep. I’m just organizing the events I have planned for the upcoming season and making sure I have space set out for scheduling, details, budgeting, the works. High school me would die with envy; my system was never this good when I was trying to study.”

“I’m definitely impressed. Let me know if there’s anything I can help with, anything you need built, or an extra set of ‘hands’ for decorating.”

“How is that going?” she asked, brows furrowing.

“I’m still getting my strength back. Just gotta keep pushing through and hope whatever Jones did didn’t mess me up for good.”

“I’m sure he didn’t.”

Her hand extended but stopped before touching him, until he turned his hand palm-up, asking her to take it. She did, squeezing him.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “And the TK aside, have any of the other powers cropped up? The light, the teleporting? Those were the ones Alex told me about.”

“That’s all I remember, really. And no. I haven’t even tried, honestly.” He looked at their joined hands, her wrist bare of the pollen bracelet he’d promised her and wasted, thrown away like trash in a corner of Jones’s cave. This is blasphemy…

“Do you think you will? Try?” Maria asked, head tilted.

“I…hadn’t thought about it. Been focused on getting back to square one with the TK, but…”

Was doing more with his powers still an option? Was he willing to try, and fail, and fail again, without folding and submitting to all the voices in his head that told him every failure was proof positive of the erstwhile adage that he was worthless?

“Well, you have time,” Maria said, squeezing his hand again.

“What about you?” Michael asked. “Any visions?”

Her face shut down. She let go of his hand to smooth both hers down her knees then fold her arms around herself, turning her head away. “No. Still nothing. A few dreams, but it isn’t always easy to tell what’s a normal dream and what’s a vision, and with you out of the woods, the most dire ones are already Jossed.”

“What about Mimi?”

“Huh.” Maria pursed her lips for a second, then said, “I haven’t noticed any change in her? But I’ll have to ask and see what she says. I’m not even completely sure our powers work identically, with the things she’s said about being unstuck in time…I don’t always get that same feeling.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Michael promised her. “Even if it means having to go back to Jones and ask what he knows—”

“No!”

She wheeled on him and smacked his arm lightly.

“Absolutely not! Michael!”

“Not alone, obviously!” He defended.

“Not at all. Jesus Christ. I’ll tell Isobel you said that—I’ll tell Alex—”

“Maria, c’mon,” Michael whined, taking her hand again in an attempt to connect them and calm them both down. “I just don’t want to rule out that he’s meddling in more ways than we know. I still think he’s fucking with Max. You deserve answers, if that’s what’s going on.”

“Not at the cost of your life. Not ever. It could be a hundred other things, too. Stay away from him, Michael, I’m serious.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good,” she said firmly, wrapping her arm around his again and leaning into him. He let out a long, slow breath as she relaxed.

“You know, in Jones’s cave…”

“Mm?”

Michael carefully encircled her wrist with his fingers. “I lost the bracelet I made for you. The backup one I promised.”

“Are you feeling guilty about that? Because please, don’t,” she replied, covering the hand on her wrist with her other. “That is the last thing on my mind.”

“But I—”

“Hush. I’m glad you had it with you, whatever happened to it. It’s good that you opted to protect yourself, even if it didn’t work.”

“I thought your powers were offline.”

“The visions, maybe. But I don’t need to see the future to read you, Guerin.”

“You are something else, DeLuca.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Hey, Maria—oh! Michael!”

The two of them turned toward the backdoor at the sound of Max’s voice.

“Hey, Max,” Maria said. “Is the inventory finished?”

“Yeah, I was just coming to report back.”

“No need to be so formal,” she teased, standing up and brushing dust from the seat of her pants, looking at the papers around her with her hands on her hips. “I was hoping to get your opinion on some plans, Number One, but someone interrupted, so they’re not quite ready yet.”

“Guilty as charged,” Michael drawled.

Max reached out a hand, and Michael took it to humor him, letting him haul him to his feet.

“I’ll let you off the hook this time,” Maria said as she led the way back into the bar, cool and dim in the daylight. “You can sweep up to say you’re sorry.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said, reaching out a hand, hoping he could summon the broom as nonchalantly as he once could. It sat unresponsive until a spike of formless frustration zipped through him, at which point it flew to his hand fast and hard enough to sting his palm when he caught it. Great. Just what he needed right now—puberty flashbacks.

“I need to run,” Maria said, stowing her binder behind the bar. “Late lunch with Rosa. I’ll see you later, Max—Michael, it was so good to see you. Say hi to Alex for me, okay? I know you’re gonna see him before I do.”

She left with a wink while Michael was still pink and stammering. Maybe Alex had told her already—or maybe that was just Maria, putting him so at ease it was easy to forget how much she saw. His chest glowed so warm he couldn’t stop blushing at that casual acknowledgement, that easy validation, that he and Alex—that Alex and he were what they were to each other, now, again.

“Wait, is she talking about you staying over there, or does she mean—dude!” Max grinned ear to ear and bounded out from behind the bar to pull Michael into a back-slapping hug. “Congratulations!”

Old, brotherly habit had Michael squirming out of Max’s affections, but it didn’t dent his exuberance; he retaliated with a swipe through Michael’s hair, making him duck further out of range, huffing and laughing all at once as he tried to fix it again.

“Yeah, um, Forrest and Alex broke up, and then one thing led to another, so.”

“I’m really happy for you, man.”

“I—thanks. I’m…I’m really happy, too.”

The sudden urge to comfort Max gripped him, a strange survivor’s guilt that things would be working out for him and Alex and Max and Liz would still be so far apart. But it wasn’t his place to throw that in Max’s face now, so he bit his tongue and basked in Max’s honest happiness for him.

“Could you feel, uh, any of my emotions through the handprint?” Michael asked. He ran his hand through his hair over the spot on his temple where Jones had held him, erased by Max’s healing hands, then dropped it back to his side abruptly, flexing away the phantom stiffness that still plagued him, that probably always would. He gave it a shake as if to chase away nervous tingling.

“Nah. But it’s not like I’m looking; I respect your privacy, man.”

“’preciate that,” Michael snarked, and Max just shrugged.

“Any particular reason you ask? I don’t need to know what you and Alex are up to,” Max joked.

Michael considered his answer for a little bit as he made his way between the tables. After all, it wasn’t as if this was the first handprint Max had ever given him. The ones on his neck and hand cut off by his death aside, dozens of times over dozens of years, Max had practiced healing on him and they’d explored that connection. Michael was always the guinea pig; he never wanted for injuries to work on, after all.

But there’d been a lot of handprinting over the past year and change. Max felt something from Liz; Liz felt something from Noah; Rosa and Max had a connection strong enough to tether Max to the world of the living. And then there was Michael, with Jones’s voice in his ear, dripping condescending words about his lack of psychic ability being phenomenal, considering.

At various times in his life, Michael had looked up at the stars and wondered in the silence what it was in him that was irreparably broken.

“Just curious. It’s been a while, and all juiced up like I was, I was wondering if anything felt different.”

“Nothing different. Just you.”

Max smiled like that was a good thing, a comforting thing. And you know what? In between the adrenaline of change, good and bad, in between the rock of Project Shepherd and the hard place of Jones, on an afternoon in a closed bar, a home to both of them, alone with his brother, Michael let it be.

He cleared his throat. “Good. So there’s no…interference or anything? Nothing weird lurking around up there?”

“Not that I can tell; Isobel would probably know better than I would. Whatever he did to you was bizarre, man. It wasn’t like the way, uh, the way I’ve killed people before. Or the way Noah killed.”

“I don’t think he was just trying to kill me.”

Michael made his way over to a booth and beckoned Max over; he lingered over his work for a glance at the clock and then came and joined him.

He continued, “He kept going on about teaching and knowledge and this being the wrong way but the most efficient. He knew it would hurt me, but maybe it would have worked better if he did it to someone more, uh, receptive than me.”

“What are you talking about?” Max leaned over the table, brow furrowed. This close up, the dark circles below his eyes were more noticeable. “Michael, what he did to you wasn’t in any way your fault—”

“I know, I know, that’s not what I mean. Just…look, I saw the security footage from Caulfield, from the day of the Valenti incident. The way that alien approached Jim Valenti and put his hands on him was identical to what Jones did to me, and I think maybe that guy was just trying to communicate but it fucked up a human in a way he either couldn’t expect or was too out of it to realize. And, well,” Michael gestured to his own head. “I’m the most human of the three of us up here.”

“I…huh.” Max sat back and drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he processed that. “Well, whatever the case, it proved you and Isobel were right about him. He can’t be trusted. Nobody should have any more contact with him. We’ll start doing our monthly drop offs contactless until we all figure out what should be done with him.”

His voice was firm, businesslike. Traffic Stop Max was Michael’s least favorite version of his brother and he’d hoped that his turn to the civilian would’ve put that guy to rest, but he had a tendency to rear his head in a crisis.

But in this case, he saw through him, and that façade was hiding something.

“How do you feel about that?” Michael asked, leaning back and slouching, reflecting Max’s rigid body language the way he had for a decade, cops and robbers style.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about it. He almost killed you; we’ll do what has to be done.”

“Uh, it definitely does matter. You’re the closest thing to a next of kin he’s got, as far as we know. If anyone gets to decide what happens to him, it’s you.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Is it? ‘Cause, look, I know I fucked up a lot of stuff running off to Jones half-cocked like I did. I don’t want to set off a chain reaction of more bad mistakes that rips us apart again when we’re just startin’ to…” Michael trailed off with a self-conscious shrug. It was realer than he’d intended to get, but it was the root of the issue, wasn’t it?

Max’s face softened, and Michael slumped lower in the booth.

“You’re not. You won’t.”

“You’re just saying that—”

“Michael.”

That tone was always a coin flip if it’d get right under Michael’s skin or if it’d shut him up. It landed on the second one this time, to Michael’s relief.

Max said, “No chain reactions. What we were doing before wasn’t working, okay? I knew I wanted something from Jones, but I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and take it. All you did was force us to make a choice when I would’ve dug my heels in and not been able to for a long time otherwise.”

“The answers you’re looking for, though, you deserve to look for them if it’s what you need,” Michael forged on, battling his clumsy tongue. “I should’ve said that before. You deserve to know who you are and to learn who that is in whatever way you can. Everybody deserves that.”

“Thank you. I mean that. But I was getting so desperate—the things I was thinking of doing—I scared myself, okay? I didn’t think—I don’t think I am that person. And being this person I am right now and who I want to be right now is more important than any answers about the past, if that’s what it means to find them.”

Michael sat with that, looking Max up and down, sitting with his own feelings as much as Max’s words. Parsing his own reactions to Max was something he took steadier, more carefully than most other things in his life. It was a set of muscles he needed to practice with as much as he needed to get power back to his telekinesis.

“Okay, man. I respect that,” he said finally, leaning over the table to punch Max in the shoulder. Max made a face and rubbed that spot.

“Ow, man, thanks, I guess.”

“Damn, did I get you in your writing arm?”

“Try my drink-mixing arm. If I’m off tonight, I’m ratting you out to Maria.”

Michael let out a scandalized noise and slipped out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” Max laughed, dark eyes shining with life in a way Jones’s never could. For all they were identical, Michael barely saw the resemblance.

“To lay low, what do you think? You’re makin’ me a fugitive.”

“Uh huh. Good luck; you know she’s just going to ask Alex.”

“Damn it. The things I do for love.”

A smile on his own face as soon as he turned his back, Michael was almost at the door when Max called his name and he turned to face him again.

“Michael? Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Asking. Listening.”

Those two words held a lifetime of desperate loneliness between them, and Michael would be sitting with that, too, as long as he was holding it in his head, making it a conscious decision, to do right by his brother.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said.

“I wanted to,” Max replied simply.

“Well in that case…I guess you’re welcome.”

Michael’s phone buzzed in his pocket, not the single pulse of a text but the longer jangling of a phone call. He fished it out, smiling when he saw the name, and he didn’t even wait to get privacy from Max before answering.

“Alex—”

“Thank God. Where are you, Michael? Are you okay?”

“Alex? I’m fine, I’m at the Pony, what’s wrong—”

Max hurried to Michael’s side.

Alex repeated, “Thank god. Don’t come home, do you hear me? Do not come back to the house until I give you the all clear. Stay with Max and Maria.”

“What? No!”

But the line cut off midway through his protest, leaving him with nothing but the dial tone.

#my fic #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #malex

18 notes · View notes

coepiteamare · 3 years

Text

you feel like a holiday

pairing: namjoon x female!reader genre: mostly fluff, a tinge of angst, a lot of mishaps, mall workers warnings: language, mentions of mild burns, not using oven mitts, lapslock, a lot of mentions of falling because we’re clumsy word count: 5.8k

summary: floral fantasy is instagram famous, not only for their delectable desserts and drinks, but also the absurdly good looking staff members who’d make celebrities crumble with a mere flicker of a smile. you can’t help but fall for the one temp worker who’s as clumsy as he is good looking.

notes: merry belated holidays ellen @joontella! it’s peppermint, finally delivering your present to you because i am an excellent procrastinator. this was inspired by my friend commenting on how the majority of holiday movie leads seem to be mall elves, so i present to you...a mall elf! in all seriousness, i hope you like it! i also wanted to add your answers to the character (about your favourite and least favourite part of the holidays) so i put those in here. 💕

the moment the clock strikes midnight on december 1st, the mall changes: it shifts from plain decorations and advertisements into a winter wonderland, with fake snow and garlands and tinsel wrapping every square inch of the mall. twinkling snowflakes hang from the ceiling, a cascade of light fragments spinning over the white, mall floor, and the railing are covered in boughs of holly and streams of glitter. it’s absolutely magical. or so every customer thinks.

in reality, all the mall workers are contractually obligated to work after the mall closing hours, to file in through the glass doors and haul decoration after decoration out of the mall storage room, put in elbow grease to transform the mall into something vaguely resembling the north pole and distinctly looking like a christmas catalogue display, only with more glitter and more snowflakes and too much tinsel.

you absolutely despise it.

to be fair, working a graveyard shift to help “build the holiday magic and festive cheer” was written in the job description when you signed on for the job, in fine tiny print you skipped over as you signed your name on the bottom of the paper, forgotten and ignored in the thrill of having a job that pays more than minimum wage. of course there was a catch; there was always a catch.

you kick a plastic reindeer, watch it clatter on to a pile of fake snow from your annoyance. jungkook, the head mall—santa’s elf, you correct yourself—snaps his head in your direction, before running over and propping up the reindeer. “oh no! are you okay, vixen?” he pats the reindeer gently, brushing off glittery cotton fluff from its body before frowning at you. “please be careful with the props! all of these are essential to the holiday magic we provide to the children and mall patrons! what would they think if they came into the mall and we only had 8 reindeers instead of all 9?”

you blink twice, trying to bat away the sleep that’s weighing down your eyelashes and mingling with the glitter from all the ornaments. “that we have 8 reindeers.”

there’s another frown on his face, eyebrows pinching together as he opens his mouth when there’s a loud crash on your right.

there’s a tall, broad man on the floor, tangled in tinsel and lights, next to a ladder, as another tall, broad man and a short, soft looking blonde come rushing out of the floral fantasy cafe doors. the blonde starts cackling immediately—peals of laughter slipping out of his lips as he props himself against the ladder, doubling over at the unfortunate christmas decoration accident—while the tall broad one (the one not tangled up on the floor), sighs and crouches down to try and untangle the other one.

“i swear, i don’t even know how this happened,” you overhear tinsel boy explaining, “i was up on the ladder trying to unwrap the lights and i guess i pulled too hard? i fell over.”

blondie cackles even louder as both of the boys give him a look: tinsel boy looks confused, a little apologetic like he’s done this before, while the other tall, broad one sends him an exasperated look. “yoongi, come help me, so we can all leave early.”

ah, to leave early. you’d like that.

jungkook lets out a tsk and hands you a box of snowflakes to hang from the roof of santa’s workshop, deeming you high risk to the reindeers, and moves on to the next poor, tired santa’s elf who is—heaven forbid—letting the garland hang an extra inch longer than protocol.

you shift your gaze back to your right and meet eyes with tinsel boy who’s looking right at you. a flicker of heat rushes up to your cheek, as he looks away, back to the tall broad one who’s trying to untangle him.

“namjoon,” the broad one sighs in relief when his hands finally find the right loop, “maybe you should try the stickers.”

“absolutely not,” blondie glares, points to the glass window of the cafe, and even from where you are, 2 stores down and 2 across, you can see the abysmal state of the stickers, air bubbles and stuck together where it’s not haphazardly slapped on to glass. “we are two stickers down and tae is going to have my head when he finds out.” his tone softens, eyes as gentle as his smile, when he sees that namjoon has deflated a little, spirit a little squashed like the tinsel around him. “maybe you can decorate the counter namjoon. i think you’d be good at that.”

namjoon brightens up, dimpled smile illuminated by the string lights dancing across his face, and hands yoongi the lights. he gives a mock salute. “yes, sir.”

you bite down your laughter as he skips into the store, nearly tripping over his shoes. at least you’re not alone in your lack of holiday decorating luck, you think as you reach your hand into the box of snowflakes and cough, a storm of dust and glitter puffing up into the air.

god, you hate your job already.

in all fairness, after a 5 hour shift and glitter congested lungs, the mall looks lovely, a christmas card come to life with enough lights to rival a hallmark christmas movie or those drive through holiday light tunnels. if you were a customer, you’d stand gaping at the front entrance too, breath caught in your throat at the festivities. but instead, you’re rubbing bleary eyes from the lack of sleep, back at the steps of the mall less than 6 hours after the nightmare of the graveyard shift. lethargy clings to the edges of your thoughts, smudging cohesion into a whirlpool of fatigue, so you collect what little of yourself you can and trudge your way to floral fantasy.

floral fantasy is instagram famous, not only for their delectable desserts and drinks, but also the absurdly good looking staff members who’d make celebrities crumble with a mere flicker of a smile. there’s a whisper where you live, small talks through the grapevines, about how the requirement to work there is to look like someone who’d make models cry. rumour has it every single worker has been recruited by a talent agency, only to all be turned down for reasons unknown. you believed it when you first stepped foot into the cafe, mouth agape and words lost at the sight of the pretty workers at the register, but the speculations hit you twice as hard right now, when you’re clutching on to the last bit of your sanity.

tinsel boy is in front of you. you knew he was pretty yesterday, wrapped in twinkle and catching the light, but he’s even prettier up close, skin shimmering in soft pastels, and you wonder for a moment if he’s actually this pretty or if it’s just an optical illusion, a trick of your mind bending the light to create a pretty ringlet around his head. you almost run your mouth, almost let your mouth run without its filter. almost.

instead, there’s a crash, an angry hiss of steam, and the distinct sound of someone yelping in pain that cuts through the fog of your wonder. blondie rushes out from the back (yoongi, you think his name was), door swinging behind him. “goddamnit namjoon, i leave you alone for thirty seconds! thirty seconds!”

namjoon shrugs sheepishly. there’s a grimace on his face as he nurses a palm, red and angry. yoongi rushes over with a wet towel and wraps it around namjoon’s palm, another hiss seeping from namjoon’s lips. “i got-fuck-distracted by something,” he looks at you, cheeks tinged pink, and tries to put on a smile, though it resembles more of a grimace. “welcome to floral fantasy.”

yoongi follows his gaze to you too, blinks twice before a smile spreads on his mouth too. “we’re usually a lot more composed than this.”

“i’ll take your word for it.” you laugh, remembering last night. “the place looks nice. it looks like you’ve done a wonderful job.”

the cafe, normally in theme to its name as an everblooming wonder, is decked with evergreen wreaths and red ribbons, a brilliant fantasy of lights. the wall filled with paper flowers is replaced with white and silver paper snowflakes, just as photo ready as the people inside.

“thank you,” yoongi smirks, looking over at namjoon before pushing him towards the register. “we tried.”

“i’m sure you must be tired from last night,” you smile at namjoon.

“you must be too. i know the mall elves had to stay even longer than we did.” he smiles, dimples blooming. “what can i get you?”

you look at the menu over his head, the words blurring together the longer you look at them, mind too sleep deprived to focus. “i haven’t been here often, so i’m not sure what’s good. what would you recommend?”

he opens his mouth, hesitating for a moment, before letting out a low chuckle, hand rubbing the back of his neck. your eyes follow the movement. “i’m actually new here. my friends own the cafe and i’m just here to help for the holiday rush.” he side eyes yoongi who’s running the coffee machine with precision and ease, grace in each movement as he fixes namjoon’s mistakes. “i feel like more of a nuisance than of help though.”

“i understand that feeling,” you motion towards your attire, a bright splash of green, red, and white that’s as cheerful as you are tired. “i most definitely am not as perky as my job requires.”

he laughs at your statement, a genuine bubbling laughter that tickles one out of you. there’s a sparkle in his eyes—a trick of the light, you tell yourself—as types something on to the screen. “i have just the thing for you.”

you start to fish around your bag, trying to find your card in the mess of old receipts and chewing gum, when he speaks again. “it’s on the house. my treat.”

you furrow your brows, lips quirked. “are you allowed to do that?”

“i get free coffee everyday,” he shrugs, “and i do enough damage without caffeine in my system. consider it a gift from a fellow new mall worker, a comrades in agony.”

you can’t help the worry that spreads across your face. “will you be making it as well?”

“god no.” “absolutely not.” namjoon and yoongi speak at once, twin looks of pain on their faces.

namjoon holds up his palm as the printer makes a whirring noise. “i think it’s safer for all of us that yoongi makes your drink.”

the coffee is good, coats your tongue in mint and just the right amount of bitterness. the caffeine sinks into your bloodstream, wipes the film of sleep from your eyes, and gets you through seven hours at the mall. by the end of it, your cheeks hurt from smiling too hard, voice a little hoarse from the high pitch elf voice, but there’s a warmth from the coffee that lingers, settles into your bones and stays despite the frosty air that blasts a little too hard through the itchy material of your elf dress.

you find yourself back at the doors of floral fantasy the next day, still in your bell hat and jingling shoes, less tired but sleepy nonetheless. it’s a little before the mall opens, but the doors are unlocked when you push, a little bell chime ringing through the empty store. the smell of baked goods fills the air, a cozy warmth juxtaposing the white winter wonderland theme, and you take in a deep breath, let it fill your lungs.

“wow.” you whip around to see namjoon holding a tray of scones and muffins. “you look like you fit right into the store.”

you snort as you twirl, the pom poms twirling as your dress swirls with your turn. “i’m a christmas card come to life, the splitting image of cheer and festivities. though i can’t really say i’m quite into the look.”

he opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a ringing that permeates and breaks the moment. “oh shit,” he drops the tray down on the counter, “seokjin told me to watch the macarons. i’ll be right back” he races off, the back door swinging to the tune of his panic.

you giggle and look at the menu properly this time, at the pretty penmanship curling across the black chalkboards. there’s candy canes and hollies drawn on the borders and tiny wreaths pinned to every corner, ribbon on the bottom, and you try to match the baked goods to the menu names when there’s a muted yelp and crash coming from behind the doors.

“i swear to god, kim namjoon! the oven mitts are not decoration!” you hear, and you grimace, mind already picturing the damage his clumsiness has caused.

namjoon and seokjin, you assume, come out of the backroom a few moments later, another wet towel on namjoon, on both hands instead of one this time.

“oh,” seokjin says. “hello.”

“hi,” you wave awkwardly. “i’m guessing this is bad timing?”

“no, it’s not,” he pulls out a medical kit and starts applying burn cream on namjoon’s hands, sending daggers every time namjoon inhales sharply in pain. “yoongi should be here in a couple of minutes if you want coffee.”

“did you like the coffee yesterday?” namjoon asks, hope sparkling in his eyes.

“i did!” you beam back. “it was good, so i came back to see if you had any recs.” you look at the tray behind the two. “and to try a baked goods. a fellow elf told me they’re quite spectacular.”

seokjin brightens at that, perks up and puffs his chest as he finishes the final touches on the bandages on namjoon’s hands. “you heard correctly! just wait a moment!” he rushes off to the back, and it’s just the two of you again.

“you seem to be catching me at my worst, but i swear, i’m more put together than this,” namjoon chuckles, lifting his palms “how was your first shift?”

you laugh, caressing your elbows to your body. “it was okay. a lot of happy kids, which was nice, but there were also a lot of crying ones. by the end, i was just ready to go home. i did, however, like the coffee from yesterday and figured i would come back to see if you had another recommendation, from a fellow second day-er to another. it was the one thing that got me through the shift.”

he beams again, and it ignites a warmth in you, much like the coffee from yesterday, that spreads gently across your body, on your cheeks, on your mouth. his smile is pretty, like a warm breeze on a spring day, like cherry blossoms fluttering gently in the wind. the coffee is good, but you think the reason for the lines outside the cafe, the loyal customers, is partly due to the way the smiles here feel like love letters.

“i have something in mind for you today,” he smiles at you as yoongi walks in, nodding at you in greeting. “just wait a moment.”

you walk out of the cafe, a coffee in one hand, box of baked goods in another, and a heart that feels a little like a snow globe, glitter and snow gently falling down after being shaken by a cute pair of dimples.

it becomes a routine of sorts: almost every shift begins with a visit to floral fantasy, even on the days namjoon isn’t working, and you build up a small friendship with everyone who works there, though it’s mostly seokjin and yoongi and namjoon you see. there always seems to be some mishap with namjoon when you walk into the store—it’s mostly limited to small things like jammed display doors, smooshed pastries as he reaches for another, and misshapen ice cream swirls—although seokjin and yoongi tell you he’s not as clumsy as he presents himself when you’re around.

“he’s actually quite brilliant,” seokjin tells you as he packs in an extra macaron in your gift box, smiling as you light up in glee. you really shouldn’t be spending your paycheck on pastries, but seokjin’s culinary training at le cordon bleu makes them a little too good, a little too addictive, and has you asking for one (or two) on the days when your shifts are a little too long to bear without coffee and sweets. “he’s double majoring in literature and philosophy, minoring in greek and latin to gain deeper understanding of the classical philosophers, and takes french in his free time. he wears himself a little too thin, if you ask me, but he likes what he does. he’s a sweetheart, even when he’s clinging to the last thread of his sanity, muttering on and on about paradoxes and something about beds.”

“he just needs to get a better understanding of his strength,” yoongi tells you when you come in after your shift one day, over the hiss of the steamer as he makes you a cafe au lait. you don’t have the heart to tell him that you prefer your coffee sweet after remembering how his eyes lit up as he told you about his barista training, raved about coffee done correctly rather than frappes and awful starbucks beans. the resentment on his tongue made you promise yourself to never step foot in a starbucks, lest you find yourself the subject of his bitterness. “sometimes he gets a little too excited and forgets about things, like how fragile objects can be or safety concerns” he and seokjin exchange a knowing glance before he smiles down at the coffee, blank canvas coming to life as he pours in the steamed milk. in the matter of seconds, there’s a cute bear hanging on to the edge of the cup, and you gape in awe at his skills. “he means well though.”

namjoon presents himself a little differently than his friends do when he catches you on your lunch break, keeping you company as you eat your sandwich in the cafeteria. “i don’t really know how these things keep happening, but they do. i’m a magnet for trouble like bella swan.”

you cackle out loud and, in the process, almost spit out your coffee, courtesy of namjoon. “i’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“well, i don’t have a creepy, emotionally unhinged vampire that lusts after me, so yes, my situation is a bit better.”

he looks like a kicked puppy, eyes all sad and tugging at heartstrings. you find yourself reaching a hand out, patting his arm. “there, there. i’m sure santa has you on the nice list despite it all. for not interacting with a god-forsaken, toxic vampire.”

“good. i was awfully worried i was on the naughty list.” he tries to keep a straight face, hold his laughter in, but it seeps and bubbles out and his eyes crinkle into crescents. “do you not like the holidays?” you tilt your head at his question, a silent ask to elaborate. “you seem to not be in the holiday spirit when i ask you about it. unless, i’m reading incorrectly and it’s just your job you despise, which i totally understand. i love kids, but they can be hard to deal with.”

you chew on your sandwich for a little longer than you have to, feel it go down your esophagus while the sorrow sticks in your throat. “i like christmas. it’s just a bit lonely on my own?” you put your sandwich down gingerly on to your tupperware. “i think the best part of christmas—the holidays in general, really—is spending time with family and loved ones, but i don’t get to see them very often. not since i moved for college and everyone is busy with their own lives. i love christmas dinner and celebrating together, watching the clock strike midnight on new year’s. i still send gifts to them, but it’s not the same as watching them open it, watching eyes light up and twinkle in delight as they see the stockings and rip the wrapping paper.” you stick a grin on your face, as cheerful as the one you put on for your job, but your laughter sounds weak, even to your ears, and you shift your gaze on to the sandwich in your tupperware, trying to hide your tears. there’s a comforting hand on top of yours, gently squeezing like he’s trying to pass his strength on to you. “i mean, it’s fine. post-holiday depression can’t really hit if you don’t feel the holiday cheer to begin with.”

he doesn’t say anything as you blink furiously, trying to clear out the fuzziness in your vision: he rubs his thumb against the back of your hand, a gentle reminder that he’s there and listening to what you’ve holed up and deemed too stupid to tell other people.

“maybe this holiday season will be different,” he offers.

there’s a flicker of hope that burns in your chest. “yeah, maybe it will be.”

it’s a couple of days later when you step back into the cafe, having been too tired to come by after your shifts, and you’re nursing the desire to knock down every single reindeer and the stupid gingerbread house just to spite the kids. (and maybe see the look on jeon jungkook’s face, savour it slowly. god, his love for christmas cheer and order drives you mad, though you’re sure you do the same for him, every time you slip out of character when there’s a particularly nasty child in line.) you must look as exhausted as you feel because when namjoon turns around at the sound of the bell twinkling, thirty minutes before the cafe closes, he drops the tray and you watch as the pink coffee cups and pretty plates fall to the floor, shatter into pieces.

“fuck,” namjoon looks at the floor in dismay, crouching down to collect the pieces.

“be care-“ you start, but his voice cuts through before you can finish.

“ow, fuck.” he staring at the rose blooming on his thumb, cut quickly filling with red.

you grab a napkin from the counter and hand it to him, gently pulling him up and aside, out of harms way. “i don’t know if your hands will be okay by the time your stint here ends.”

he snorts at that, heading behind the counter and reaching for the medical kit again. “i’m quite resilient.”

“is it weird that i believe you and don’t at the same time?” you smile at his pout, wincing when it causes your cheeks to twinge in pain. “are you manning the store alone today?”

“i can be responsible! is that so hard to believe?” he laughs and motions to the store. “this is seokjin and yoongi’s baby. seokjin has always wanted to do something with food and yoongi’s always loved coffee, so this is their brainchild. i’m guessing they trust me enough to not burn the place down, or at least try not to.”

he fumbles as puts a bandage on the cut and you can’t help but smile as you remember the stickers he tried to put on the cafe door. you take the broom from him when he makes his way over. “here, let me help.” he tries to protest but you move the broom out of his reach. “consider it my way of saying thank you for the great coffee recommendations.”

namjoon’s dimples are back, shining in full force, and you start sweeping, telling yourself you’re focusing on the pieces of china and not averting the warmth of his smile because it does not feel like a sugar rush, like the warmth of the holidays you haven’t felt in a while. you feel something creep up in your throat—loneliness, sorrow, exhaustion—so you force it down and stare at the tiny pieces on the floor, watch the little fragments twinkle as you push them around with your broom.

“are you okay?” there’s a hand on your arm and pair of warm brown eyes looking at you, concern brimming in the light. you let yourself get lost in them for a moment, let it wash over you before you respond.

“yeah,” you smile, “just tired.”

he gently takes the broom and dustpan from your hands, and gives you his hand instead, leading you to the behind the counter and to the backroom. “i have just the thing for you.”

“am i allowed to be back here?” you quirk your head in amusement, letting him lead. “better yet, what are we doing?”

it’s strange—to the say the least—to be in a place you’re so accustomed to but have it looks so different than what you’re used to: steel and silver replacing marble and white, ovens and storage racks in place of glass displays case and chalkboards. but there’s still the same magic: the same kind of warmth and care you’re greeted with at the entrance lives in the backroom, with the ovens and fires, with the stand mixers and ingredients, with namjoon flitting around the stove. there’s a tick-tick-tick as the stove flares to life, a clang as it meets pan.

“yoongi taught me how to make hot chocolate, back in high school, because he was so fed up with how much i loved it, how much i would ask for it.” you can feel the smile on his face, even as his back is to you as you lean against the counter. “it’s one of the few things i know how to make from scratch, albeit a little labour intensive. once you try it, there’s no going back to instant packets.”

namjoon motions you over, handing you the whisk, and the two of you settle in to a comfortable silence as he scrapes in vanilla, sifts in some spices, adds in heavy cream and milk. it smells heavenly, lingers on the edges of his white shirt. the two of you are so close, you’re scared he can hear the vivace of your heartbeat over the whisking, so you whisk a little faster, let the cream splash on the edges until he gently takes the whisk from you. “wow, maybe you should work here. we could have you as back up if our stand mixers ever break down.”

he pours the mixture into two orange mugs, topping it with something white and fluffy before handing one to you. “hot chocolate a la namjoon.”

you close your eyes and let the mixture settle on your tongue, sweet and warm. it settles in your bones, distilling and coating the exhaustion and loneliness until all that’s left is the warmth of spending the moment with a loved one. the effort and time comes through. “colour me impressed.”

the smile on his face is as warm as the drink in your hands.

the two of you bask in the silence, in the warmth, in the comfort of each other’s presence, as you sip the rest of your hot chocolates.

there’s an unspoken rule: the closer it gets to your last day of work, the slower time moves, like it’s waiting to prolong your misery. the kids aren’t awful—they get nicer as it inches closer to christmas, too well aware their gifts depend on their behavior—but no matter how many kids you entertain, how many photos you snap, how many smiles you pinch out, nothing makes your shift go by today. you’re so close to throwing down your elf hat and walking out the door, freedom so close yet so far.

it’s christmas eve and the mall is busier than usual, packed with folxs trying to get their last minute christmas shopping done. you can’t say the same for the santa’s workshop line: there’s a lull like no other, and while you would be grateful, jeon jungkook has been watching over everyone like a hawk, squawking at every elf to “keep up the magic!” just until 10 minutes ago when he left for lunch. you just want to go back to your apartment and settle under your covers and let yourself enjoy the measly number on your paycheck.

“you look like you’re having the time of your life.”

a voice comes up from behind you and you startle, relief only settling in when you see who it is.

namjoon is holding a tray of cupcakes that looks like christmas trees, dusted in powdered sugar and topped with a fondant star, and you “ooh” over them as he laughs. “seokjin was experimenting with flavours and i figured i would bring some over to the north pole.”

you frown in mock anger as you pluck a cupcake off his tray. “it’s santa’s workshop, not the north pole. i don’t even want to think about how much more fake snow we would have to bring to call this the north pole.” you take a bite into the cupcake, moaning as the sugar hits your tongue. “these are so good.”

namjoon blinks at you, looks down at your lips and laughs with pink tinged cheeks. “you have frosting on your lips.”

“oh,” you lick your lips, “is it gone?”

he brushes his thumb against the corner of your mouth, fingertip lingering a second too long as he drags it down. “all better.”

there’s a long, awkward silence between the two of you, seconds dragging by as you fumble to string a cohesive sentence together.

“do you-“

“it’s my-“

“you can go first,” namjoon offers.

“it’s my last shift today, so i won’t be able to visit as often anymore.” you try to keep the tremble out of your voice, try to dampen the disappointment as you kick at the floor. “so i wanted to say thank you. for everything.”

“oh.” he doesn’t say anything else and anxiety pools in between every beat of the song that’s blasting through the mall speakers. you try to find something to fill in the conversation, anything but what you want to ask him, when you hear your coworker’s voice.

“jeon’s making his way down!”

“i have to go. thank you for the cupcake!” you wave the treat in your hand and start to get back into position.

“wait! y/n!”

as soon as you turn around, there’s a giant weight on top of you, and both you and namjoon come tumbling down, back knocking against the floor. namjoon’s foot, caught on the wire, pulls out the string lights from the socket and brings a snowman to the floor. the poor snowman, in turn, knocks over the reindeers one by one, like a set of dominos, each one falling to the floor with a graceful “thump.”

you let out a groan, crushed by namjoon’s large frame. there’s something wet smudged against your cheek, and the tray that once was in his hands is now uncomfortably sandwiched between your stomachs, digging into your ribcage.

“fuck, i’m so sorry,” namjoon scrambles to get off of you. “this keeps happening around you. are you okay?”

when you prop up your weight on your hands, you see that your elf costume is smeared with dark green frosting, the white trim matted together with pieces of the chocolate cupcake. you can’t help but laugh: it seems awfully fitting that namjoon’s fall, which marked your first shift, would laso be the highlight of your last one.

“i’m alright. you?”

he nods, motioning towards your elf costume. “i don’t think your costume is though.”

“i kind of like it better this way,” you laugh as you start to pick up the reindeers, “it feels much more festive.”

“i feel bad.”

he sends you an apologetic look, puppy eyes and pouty lips, and something in you says fuck it. “you were right about the hot chocolate. i tried to drink instant mix and it didn’t taste the same. you could make it up to me with another cup?”

something flashes in his eyes as he smiles. “i’ll do you one better. what are you doing tomorrow?”

you furrow your brows, trying to figure out what he’s asking. “nothing?”

“i’m off too, if you wanted to go on a date? most of the city is going to be closed, so we could watch a movie, have dinner at my place? and i could make you hot chocolate?” he bites his lip at your silence, at the way your eyes go wide. “or not. i’m sorry; i just thou-”

you press your lips against his and put your hands on his shoulder when he kisses you back. it’s a short kiss, sweet and gentle like he is, and it’s over all too soon (you are in public after all), but it leaves a trail of butterflies in your stomach and a dazed look in his eye.

“a date sounds good.” you tell him as he stands up, tray in hand.

“tomorrow then.”

you nod, the smile on your face as sweet as the frosting on your outfit, as he runs back towards floral fantasy.

“looks like someone has holiday plans after all,” your coworker nudges you.

the smile on your face refuses to dissipate, even as your cheeks feel the tender ache. “i guess so.”

“you know, the first time i saw you, you were wrapped in tinsel because you fell off the ladder trying to decorate the outside of floral fantasy.” you tell him on his couch, over hot chocolate.

he chokes and sputters. “i was distracted.”

the statement sounds vaguely familiar, mind hazy from time. “by what?”

he looks at his mug of hot chocolate intently, like the surface is reflecting his answer to him. “You.”

It’s your turn to choke on your drink. “I’m sorry?”

his ears and cheeks are dusted with pink, a sunset on his face. “You were so pretty that i forgot i was on a ladder, and i fell.”

it takes all of your willpower to iron out the smile that threatens to slip through, but one look at his face--at his pretty, pouting face--and you burst out laughing, laughing even harder when he joins in.

“I’m clumsy when i get nervous,” he continues, when both your laughters simmer into giggles, “and everytime you came into the cafe, i was so nervous that i made silly mistakes like burning my hands and forgetting oven mitts. The one time you came in and i dropped the tray? The light was hitting you at the right angle and—god—it made you look like an angel.”

you hide your grin behind your mug, take a sip before you let him know. “the coffee was good, but i mostly came in to see you.”

his eyes light up at that, brighter than the christmas tree haphazardly wrapped behind him, and you kiss him, mouths moulding together. he tastes like goodness and hot chocolate and the warmth of the holiday season, like the thrill of opening a present that’s been under the tree for so long.

maybe he was right. maybe this holiday season will be different.

#namjoon x reader #namjoon x oc #namjoon fic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #bwcssy2 #bts fic #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts fluff #namjoon fluff

66 notes · View notes

vindicatedvirgil · 4 years

Text

soulmate september / day twenty-five: glowing

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

Day Twenty-Five: At a certain age, an item representing your soulmate appears next to you. When you and your soulmate’s items come together for the first time they glow brightly.

Summary: Patton slowly finds his way towards his soulmates.

Ship: DLAMP

word count: 1115

i uh… went a bit overboard with this one, i think.

@tsshipmonth2020

---

Patton blinked down at the pile of things that had appeared next to him. There were four things he saw, and so he picked each one up gently, inspecting them with care and devotion.

The first item he picked up was a tie; it had a galaxy print on it, and there was a tag sewn into the seam that said LC. Patton felt comfort from the tie, and smiled as he threw it around his neck.

The second item he picked up was a Broadway Playbill. As he flipped through it, he noted the dog-eared pages, and eventually Patton held it close to his chest, a wave of confidence washing over him.

The third item was an eyeshadow palette. When he opened it he saw lots of purples and blacks, and wondered deeply about the soulmate that used these. Patton let his fingers graze alone the well-used black shadows, imagining brushing his fingers over the closed eyes of that soulmate.

The fourth and final item was a bottle of eczema cream. Patton’s first instinct was to worry about his soulmate, because now they were missing the cream that provided them comfort and relief. But Patton still smiled at the near-emptiness of the bottle, and even opened it to rub some on his hands.

Over the next few days, Patton realized that four of his items had gone. His childhood stuffed frog, Hoppy, was missing, and he hoped that whoever had received it got enjoyable cuddles from it. One of his many gray cardigans was gone from his closet, his favorite one, and he pouted when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to wear it again until he met the soulmate who received it. Patton’s glasses repair kit was also missing, which was unfortunate since he had been clumsy and needed to fix his glasses (he had to wear his old ones until he could go and buy a new kit). The last item that was missing was a mug he used frequently for hot chocolate; it had a cat on it and was large enough to include lots of marshmallows and whipped cream whenever he indulged himself in the hot drink.

Whenever Patton went out, he placed the four items he received in his messenger bag; the leading theory behind your soulmate’s items was that the items would glow as you approached your soulmate. As such, many people, including Patton, invested in a clear-case backpack, so that if the items began to glow, you would know. He was lucky that his four items were fairly small; others were not always so lucky.

He met the owner of the tie first; he was walking home from one of his evening classes when he noticed a faint light behind him; he turned his head and only saw a dark blue glow coming from his backpack, so he rushed to get out the glowing item. It was the galaxy print tie; he held it tightly in his hands and looked around to see if there was any glowing around. He spotted a pale blue light a few hundred yards away, so approached it. A man was standing there, staring at the glasses repair kit in his hands.

“Oh! My glasses kit!” Patton chirped happily, bounding up to the man. “You must be LC!” The man looked at him through thick-framed glasses and nodded, then eyed the tie in Patton’s hands. “I’m Patton!”

“Logan,” the man said softly. “Do you also have three other items? I find it rather peculiar that we have a group of five soulmates.” Patton pursed his lips in thought, running his free hand through his curly hair.

“I think it’s great! More love and care to go around,” he said, giggling a bit, and Logan’s face lightened a bit as he smiled softly. “Can I buy you some hot cocoa?”

Logan and Patton quickly fell into a routine with their classes, but found that they were pulled together by a string of emotions. Logan hesitated at first, but Patton assured him that this was all meant to be; the two began dating, going on library dates and walks under the sunsets, their clear backpacks on tightly just in case another one of their soulmates showed up.

One night, they were walking through a park when they heard voices behind them; it almost sounded like arguing, and so the couple peered around the corner to see two men, who looked very much alike (bar one of them having a mustache), wrestling. Patton saw red glows coming from both his and Logan’s backpacks, and a clear backpack not far from the two men began to glow with both dark blue and a light blue. Patton pulled Logan closer, his excitement bubbling over. One of the men noticed the glows (the one without a mustache) and grabbed his bag excitedly.

He pulled out the item glowing with dark blue first, and Patton recalled Logan telling him that one of his favorite science books was one of the items he had lost. Then the man pulled out Patton’s mug.

“It’s you! You’re one of them!” Patton exclaimed happily. “I’m Patton and this is Logan!” The man beamed brightly at them, dropping all of the things in his arms to instead gather the couple with glasses into them.

“Two down, two to go, my gorgeous soulmates!” The man boomed theatrically. “My name is Roman.”

Roman fit into the mix quite easily after that. He was much more affectionate than Logan, so he and Patton would often cuddle, though the three of them still took walks in the evenings, Patton between the other two, swinging their hands as if they were children.

It took a few more years for them to find the final two pieces of their puzzle. The trio was sitting in a coffee shop one day when their backpacks began to glow with both a purple and a yellow light; they glanced up to see two men, startled looks on their faces. Patton noticed that the shorter man with the dark eyeshadow was holding a frog stuffed animal close to him, and the other was wearing his favorite gray cardigan.

Later, Janus would offer Patton his sweater back; but Patton let him keep it, hoping the soft fabric would be kind to Janus’ eczema. Virgil let Patton keep the eyeshadow palette, promising to teach Patton how to do makeup, if he so liked.

The five settled into their lives together, a big house with the biggest bed they could find; each night they’d pile onto it, exchanging kisses and soft words and gentle snuggles. They worked hard, took care of each other, and were happy.

98 notes · View notes

mariamermaid · 3 years

Text

The Heir of Silberstein; schwarzes Schicksal (ch. 4)

“Black Fate”

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: As a new school year approaches in Hogwarts, the students are surprised when Dumbledore introduces a group of German siblings joining the school. The royal family of fortress Silberstein is now sent to Hogwarts to learn the matters of a normal teenager life. …

Words: 5.6k

A/N: There will be one more chapter/ some kind of epilogue coming on next Thursday! In this chapter are a few more mentions of blood and violence. Also, it´s explaining a lot more regarding the war.

Masterlist

10th of May, 1933; the local library of Baden-Baden. Queen Clara the second, drifted through the rows in the back of the library on the hunt about another book about specific herbs to heal magical creatures. Among the muggles, she was just another resident coming to visit. Obviously, they were unaware of her origin and especially of the wand pressing against her hip underneath the long coat. Time had flown and evening was coming, it was already dark outside. A little startled, she shivered before packing the two books under her arm and leaving the library. As she stepped out, she pulled the headscarf deeper down to her face, her Pegasus was waiting a few streets down on the roof of the Stiftskirche, the local church. She had to hurry to come home as the nights were still cold, but loud screams made her stop. Quickly, she hid in an alley while lurking towards the yard in front of the library. A couple of men in military uniforms, she counted at least 30 of them, made their way towards the library. Only few people tried to stop them before they eventually entered the library. The men who did try, were thrown to the side, even beaten and punched to make sure they wouldn´t impede again. Clara gasped, pushing her hand over her mouth. The group separated and within only a few minutes, they had created a small pyre and the other half, came outside carrying boxes of books. She peered a little closer until she was able to decipher a few of the titles; all books written by Jewish authors.

Tears started forming in her eyes and she stumbled a little backwards, further into the alley, taken back by the heartbreaking scene. She almost let out a scream, when her back suddenly bumped into someone. Luckily, it was Mr. Landauer, a fellow wizard living in Baden-Baden, and, a Jew.

He nodded with his head as a sign of courtesy, before his eyes wandered towards the fire as well.

“We have to be careful, my Queen. Protect your subjects and warn the king. War is coming.”

His voice was low and barely a whisper, an unusual sight of the polite Mr. Landauer. Goosebumps crawled down her spine and Clara could barely form a nod.

“You should come to the Castle with your family, we can protect you.” The worries in her eyes were clearly written, but Mr. Landauer barely shrugged.

“I thank you for the offer, my Queen. But you have to keep going now.” Biting her lip, Clara nodded before hurrying into the darks of the city towards the church. While she climbed up the bell tower with her heart beating in all of her limbs, a man in uniform stepped outside the library. His short cut hair was pulled back under a cap. In his arms a box of books, which looked awfully boring and innocent. But he knew that at a second glance, they had hidden messages. Messages only wizards could read and his hatred burned bright as he starred into the pile of books on the pyre…

The Night of broken glass had been the starting point in 1938. The annihilation of Jews began and with that, came the slowly but surely assault towards the German wizards. No history books or humans had experienced anything similar.

Oberst (german for colonel) Richter was a highly qualified military leader, but deep beneath the weapons he shouldered in the sight of the coming war, laid something else. Something dark and very surreptitious, no one was aware of what would follow after the 9th of November in 1938. Synagogues and shopping malls were burning. Graveyards, schools and residences of Jews, all burning and being destroyed. It was Hitler´s antisemitism that led to the catastrophe of the minority of the Jews. But Richter, who technically stood beneath Hitler´s commando, followed his very personal goals; the annihilation of wizards.

Driven by deep rooted racism, he declared the wizards as harbingers of the devil. Satan himself sent out his adjutants to bring an end to the world. A world the Nazis fought very hard to make their own. So, the clear conclusion was to exterminate the wizards to make room for the antisemitic ways of new Germany.

March 1944

“We shouldn’t have gotten involved”, Karl sighed, his hand running through his messed up and slightly sweaty hair.

“What does it matter now?” He paused, but then nodded agreeing. It was all useless.

“You´re right, Clara. They´re safe and that´s all that matters now.”

They starred at the blank wall in front of them, the room was completely empty.

They were alone, but their thoughts remained with the train that left the station in the very mean-time, the wagons were filled by Jews or wizards, who feared the Nazis. Kind Karl and Queen Clara had united their powers to bring together a full train for them to flee in.

The cost; their own life.

The royal couple was captured in order to protect and cover more refugees, so they could reach the train in time. A few tears fell from their cheeks as they remembered their own children, who would grow up without parents. But they remained safely within the new protected realm of Silberstein; no muggle was ever to find the castle again.

A loud slam of the door let them shiver and Oberst Richter entered the room. It wasn´t a prison cell, but offered the same purpose. Both of their wands had been destroyed and Clara was shot in the side, where blood stained her clothes. Oberst Richter hair was still pulled back and Clara remembered how she had first seen him in front of the library years ago. He looked even more cold and cruel now. The room was filled with deadly gas, not enough to entirely kill them, but enough to weaken them and more so their magical abilities. They were left defenseless. Richter wore a gas mask, hiding half of his face but his eyes were still showing and they reflected all the hatred that burned on his inside…

King Karl and Queen Clara were killed on that day in march, but they left behind two young children. Those two siblings later had a child each, and the first born; Michael, then became the father of four children…

Silberstein was only minutes away now; you could almost smell the scent of horses and pinecones. Fred and George flew a few feet behind you, letting you lead the way. The forest laid beneath them and high firs offered them cover. Suddenly, the two Weasley brothers felt like flying through a spiderweb, like a veil brushing against their skin and then they saw it;

The fortress of Silberstein.

The high tower was the first thing to make out, even in the dark of the night, it looked light and almost shimmering under the starlight. With a wave of your hand, you signalized them to fly closer to the ground, until you landed at the edge of the forest. The castle sat on a hill and the river separated half of the property from the woodland. “If we fly further, they´ll see us coming”, you explained quietly as the three of you snuck through the thicket.

“You´re the princess, shouldn´t they be on your side?” George asked curiously and you shrugged sadly.

“We don´t know on which side the employees are, they´re muggles, some house elves. Many of them are squibs, descendants of once wizard families but with no ability to control or perform magic.”

You nodded towards the stone wall, which faced towards the river side. “There is a secret passage to enter through the tunnels and dungeons.”

“Great, so we´ll just apparate-“

“You can´t apparate within our realm.”

The twins starred at you; shock clearly written on their faces. “The protection spells were created to keep unknown magic out, I don´t make the rules. Now take my hands.”

Fred eyed you carefully, while his brother grabbed your hand without hesitation. “Are you sure that you can handle this?” You huffed, but a glint of nervousness was seen in your eyes.

“Yes.”

The familiar feeling of your stomach turning and twisting took out your breath, and you stumbled a little backwards, when landing on the ground again. Fred was behind you, his hands grabbing your waist and keeping you from further falling. You shook your head, ignoring his continuous worried stare. “I´m fine.”

The twins eyed the stone tunnel they found themselves in. It was dark, the exit of the tunnel laid to their right and even though a metal grid separated the hallway to the cliffs and the underlying river, they heard the loud rushing and the water crashing against the stone. George had his wand ready in his hand; “Lumos.”

You led the group deeper into the tunnel system, several paths and junctions passing. “Do you remember the way?” George asked whispering. Tension was clearly hanging in the air. None of you knew what to expect. The stone was cold and the air was moist from the river water. But to you, it brought back a nostalgic feeling from your childhood.

“My siblings and I used to play hide and seek in these tunnels. I can tell them apart, even if you´d blindfold me.”

“Where does the tunnel end?” Fred asked, his eyes wandering back and forth in paranoia, making sure no one was following you.

“This one leads the closest into the castle; into the storage room behind the kitchens to be exact. There is also one ending at the well, at the armory and a few others.”

A nervous laughter escaped the twin´s mouth. “Love the emphasis on fortress; it´s not even that big!” You chuckled at their comment, but then you reached the end of the tunnel and silence settled again. With your wand, you tapped against the stone wall, the pattern was memorized in your head. Then the individual stones started turning, until a passage was revealed. The room you entered was equally dark as the tunnel, but you could quickly made out shelves with food and bags of wheat, the smell of fresh bread and pumpkins as big as heads.

“We´ll go through the kitchens and use the back hallways leading up to-.”

The sound of steps approaching made you abruptly stop. “Quick, hide!” You advised the twins, who disappeared behind large shelves on their own. They had snuck through Hogwarts enough, well past curfew, to know how to vanish into nothing but air.

“Nox!”

The steps stopped right in front of the storage room, lingering. You found your hideout closest to the door and watched how a mere light shone from the slot beneath. The door opened, slowly and carefully, you held your breath, the wand steady in your hand. The light fled the room and you lunged out, but stopped in your tracks as you came face to face with an old friend.

“Theresa”, you breathed barely audible. The twins lurked out from their hideouts, not sure if they should show their presence just yet. Your wand was pointed right at her and the lamp in her hand was shaking.

“Ich habe gehofft, dass du kommen würdest”, she admitted quietly and ignored the wand. (I hoped that you would come.)

Your eyebrows furrowed and you felt your jaw tensing.

“Auf welcher Seite stehst du?“ (On which side are you on?)

“Wenn du das fragst, weißt du genug um den Ernst der Lage zu verstehen.“ (If you ask that question, you know how serious the situation is.)

„Das war nicht meine Frage.“ (That wasn´t my question.)

She sighed and lowered the lamp a little to her hip height.

“Ich war immer auf deiner Seite, wir sind aufgewachsen wie Schwestern.“ (I´ve always been on your side, we grew up like sisters.)

Finally, you lowered your wand as well. She was right, she and her mother had been serving the royal family even before your birth and so often, you two had played with dolls together. A sigh of relief escaped your lips and you pushed yourself a step forward, your arms quickly embracing her.

“Merlin sei Dank, bist du endlich hier!” She whispered, hugging you tightly back. (Merlin bless, you´re finally here!)

“Wie schlimm steht es?” (How bad is it?)

„Gerade noch genügend Zeit.“ (Just enough time left.)

The twins slowly stepped out and Theresa gasped in surprise. “I brought reinforcements.” You grinned at her and she nodded at the brothers.

“This is Fred and George, they´re friends from Hogwarts.”

“I´m Theresa, I grew up with Y/N and served her as a maid my entire life”, Theresa introduced herself. Even though she was older, she was small and petite. Mouse-gray hair neatly put together and her maid uniform sitting perfectly. The twins noticed her thick German accent, you barely showed signs of an accent and only few words sounded off, when you spoke. They often forgot that English wasn´t your native language.

“Theresa, I have to see my father.” You turned back towards the girl, a hand on her shoulder.

“I know, but it won´t be easy.”

In the mean-time…

“Why didn´t you tell me earlier?”

August sighed, his brother, five beds across the room was awake and the curtain was pulled back.

“I wasn´t sure at first, like you always say; let´s not act stupid.”

“Does anyone else know? Did someone see him with the ring?”

August shrugged, he found the explanation process tiring and useless. “I don´t know about Paul or Ruben, but I guess that Albrecht doesn´t want anyone to know.”

Paul was head of the guards and Ruben was riding master, both well accomplished and highly ranked at Silberstein. Hendrik groaned slightly as he sat up further, he realized that it was useless asking more questions.

“When will Y/N be back?”

Just as August was about to repeat your words and answer his brother´s questions, the door to the infirmary opened and the youngest of the siblings came running.

“Ruth, what-“, Hendrik worriedly eyed his sister, who was clearly flustered.

“Y/n, she´s gone!”

“WHAT?” All previous pain and warnings to take it slow from Madame Pomfrey, were thrown overboard and both brothers hurried to their sister.

“What do you mean she´s gone?” August asked nervously.

“When did she leave?” Hendrik questioned further.

“Last night after visiting you”, Ruth explained towards August, still a little breathless.

“Did you follow her?” Hendrik wondered, but the youngest shrugged ignoring the stress in his voice. “I first thought that she would play some kind of prank with the twins when they snuck out! She didn´t come back though!”

The brother´s exchanged knowing looks.

“She went home, she went back to Silberstein.” Hendrik voiced what they all already knew.

A short break settled between them until August spoke up again.

“What now?”

Before Hendrik could answer, Ruth cut him off.

“We don´t have a choice, but to go back as well!”

For the first time in a long time, none of them objected.

“So, let´s make it clear again; I sneak past the guards within the royal wing and you go with Theresa to free Paul and Ruben.” You repeated the plan and the twins nodded carefully. With Theresa´s insight view on the current situation, they had quickly figured out a plan.

“I don´t think you should go alone”, Fred finally admitted and George nodded agreeing. You shrugged acknowledging their worries, but at the same time, there was no better option.

“The guards are wearing silver armors, your wands are useless against them, but you can free Paul and Ruben from the dungeon!”

“I really come to hate your protection methods against magic, you know Y/N?” George added rolling his eyes and you offered him an apologetic smile.

“But I agree with Fred, you shouldn´t go alone nevertheless.”

“I´ll come with you”, Fred announced and his brother nodded. You let out a sigh, there was no time to argue.

“Fine, but stay behind me.”

Fred smiled, feeling a lot more comfortable not letting you go on your own and saluted. “Yes, my princess!”

You watched as Theresa disappeared into darkness, followed by George. In order to free the head of the guards, well the old guard order, they had to distract the sentinels, who were ordered by Albrecht.

He completely took over, the guards are following his commando only and he´s starving the horses, so they´re too weak. You shivered even recalling Theresa´s words in your mind. It was much worse than you expected. Quickly, you shook off your worries and nodded towards the hallways leading up to the right wing of the castle; the wing of the royal family.

An old broomstick was held tight by Fred, the fact that his wand was mostly useless, was not only foreign to him, but it scared him deeply.

“We have to be careful; we don´t want any attention on us. No one knows I´m here, it should stay this way for as long as possible.” You explained whispering. Almost inaudible, you moved through the castle, barely any light was left and only the stars and the moon through the windows offered silhouettes to make out. Up to the second floor, where the royal wing was located, you didn´t even saw any guards. But then, in front of the door that led into the wing and the private section of the castle, three guards moved up and down. Two torches were hung next to the door and alarmed by the light, you stopped behind a corner.

“How do we take them out?” Fred asked. He lingered only inches behind you, the two of your lurking from the corner and observing how the three guards, wearing shiny armor, paced up and down. You felt Fred´s breath on the skin of your neck as he spoke and goosebumps crawled down your spin. You swallowed and ignored the increasing heart rhythm. Then your eyes wandered across the gangway to the windows…

“We don´t, we let them believe no one entered the wing! We just need to take their focus off, then we snuck to the other side of the adjoining hallway. We´ll enter the wing from outside!”

Fred didn´t like the idea of climbing from one to another window, at the height of probably 300 feet or so with nothing but a small edge of stone to hold on. But he knew that it was a matter of life or dead.

“Accio mouse!” You took your wand and pointed it towards a wall and within seconds, a small mouse ran out of a small, barely visible hole. The high shrieking alarmed the guards and they all turned to see what exactly caused the sound. It was just enough for Fred and you to rush right across the vantage point of the guards and disappear in the opposite hallway.

You pressed your back against the wall, the guards couldn´t see you now, but they remained close. You had to be quiet.

A small reassuring nod later, you had opened the window and climbed out. The brim to stand on was narrow, barely enough for your feet, but a few holes in the exterior allowed you to use them as handles. You stepped slowly to the side until Fred climbed next to you. His eyes travelled down for a second, nothing but stone, not even a lug to stop you from sliding further.

His hand was holding onto the handle, and carefully, you placed yours onto his.

“Hey, we can do this, I know it.” His eyes found yours and Fred calmed a little.

“I trust you; you know this right?” He answered and you smiled softly.

“I know, anyway we wouldn´t be here.” A chuckle escaped his lips. “This is what you do with the people you trust? I don´t want to know what you do with people you hate!”

Your smile vanished, he´d soon find out.

Step for step, slowly and making sure you had enough grip, you made your way to the window.

“Alohomora!”

The window swung open and you hissed surprised, but luckily, it didn´t crash against the wall. From there on, you found yourself in the private wing and continued to hurry. The interior wasn´t as posh and rather simple, still you noticed the differences. Family portraits gone, paintings missing, plants and flowers left to die and the air was cold.

You grew sad, seeing your home basically abandoned and lifeless. If you had only known sooner.

“The king´s chambers are right across the corner.”

Theresa had mentioned two more guards right in front of the king´s bedroom, but you came face to face with four of them.

“Eindringlinge!” (Intruders!)

Luckily, the royal wing was fairly soundproof, but you sighed as the four guards came running into your direction. It would take more of the anyway precious time you had left.

“For Merlin´s sake!” You muttered sounding surprisingly calm to Fred, who gripped onto the broomstick like his life depended on it. Two of the guards had actual weapons, spears to be exact. The other two only held a shield. On the shield was a blank spot, where once the emblem of Silberstein had remained. It only made you angrier.

You spun the wand in your hand between your fingers and Fred watched, how a silver sheen briefly enlightened like a flash bolt. Then you suddenly held a sword.

You knocked down the first guard by very simple running towards him and using his shield as a landing spot from your lunge. Then you spun to the side, the second guard groaned as the sword slid across an unprotected spot on his leg. With a kick, you maneuvered him to the side onto the floor as well.

Fred was barely able to keep up, he realized what you meant by training now more than ever.

The two remaining guards shielded themselves with their spears. The left one attacked first, but you dodged and rolled across the floor, finding yourself right in between the two guards. A series of attacks and evasion movements followed, until you were able to disarm one of them.

While he stumbled back, you blocked the other one with the spear. Fred decided to step in and with a hard throw, the disarmed guard trembled backwards. The broomstick had harshly slapped against his head, and he fell over unconsciously. The guard with the spear kept you at a distance, due to the length of the spear, but as he spun to reach back, you slid across the floor. When he faced you again, you were only inches away from him and you pushed the sword through his body. The magical weapon was stronger than the armor, and as you pulled the sword back, spinning it again to reveal your wand, the last guard fell down.

Fred was stunned by your fighting abilities and he recalled for future purposes, not to ever mess with you. He knew now, that being a princess meant a lot more than just having good table manners. With your wand back between your fingers, you nodded towards the twin.

“Let´s go!” Your breathing was quicker and the adrenaline from the fight rushed through your veins. Then you laid your hand on the doorhandle, for a split second, you held back. But Fred´s reassuring presence gave you enough strength to pull down the handle.

“Father!” The look of the once strong king looking more ill than ever, broke you down. You hurried to his side, softly grabbing his hand, while Fred stayed a little back. He wanted to give you some privacy as well as watch out for more guards approaching.

He looked thin, not in a healthy way and his skin seemed collapsed down to his bone structure, pale and dehydrated. In the large bed, he was nothing more than a shadow of what he once used to be. A small groan escaped King Michaels lips; the sudden loud sounds had awoken him from a dreamless sleep. It was painful to watch, how slowly his eyes opened.

“Y/N?” His voice was barely a whisper and you felt tears rolling down your cheeks. The entire scene was heartbreaking to even watch.

“What are you doing here? You can´t be here”, your father explained, his voice quiet but also alarming. You furrowed your brows. “I had to come here, father, Albrecht he-“

“I send you away, so he couldn´t hurt you.”

You stumbled back, you thought you had it all figured out, but you hadn´t seen it coming. It wasn´t at all how you expected this go…

A loud shot shattered through the air; Fred spun around to see a man, who had appeared out of nowhere, holding a gun. He had appeared like a shadow and while Fred tried to attack him with magic, you felt hot burning liquid running down your skin.

“Stupor!”

Fred was thrown against a wall, after his spell simple drifted off, a loud crash followed and the nearby furniture broke into pieces. Everything inside his head was spinning, he watched from his laying position, how the man stepped out of the shadows into your direction. Something about the man seemed not only mean, but purely evil. He really hoped that his twin brother was more successful.

“Oh, if it isn´t princess Y/N.”

“Albrecht”, you pressed out between your lips, your hand was already pushing against the wound on your side. You felt a pulsing going through your entire body and a weakening stroke. You could only guess, that the bullet was poisoned.

Albrecht wasn´t as you remembered him, yes technically he had the same features, but it wasn´t the same person at all. His facial features harsher and his eyes glowing in greed. He didn´t wear his uniform, he wore a royal attire with posh details. Your father had managed to sit up on the bed.

“Albrecht, leave her alone!” His voice was still weak, but at least steady now. You leaned against the bed as your strength was draining by the second.

“Oh, I wish I could Michael, but little Y/n was stupid enough to come back on her own. Now she will follow her father´s fate! I need to follow my destiny”, he paused for a dramatic second. “All wizards and witches must die!”

Even though your perceptibility wasn´t at its best, you were sure, that something was off about him. You felt a weird, almost mystical power lingering around his aura.

“Why? Do you want the throne?” Your voice was bitter and your eyes remained on him, you had to be careful, not knowing what he was capable of.

“It could´ve been so much easier, if it wasn´t for you all, but no! Karl and Clara had to make sure their descendants survived without my knowledge.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, what he said didn´t make any sense. “King Karl and Queen Clara were killed by Oberst Richter, but they still lost the war! The commando was extinguished!”

Albrecht chuckled, a sound you didn´t like it at all. “Are you sure of that?”

George had Paul, who was severely injured, thrown over his side and braced him to walk. Luckily, Ruben had only few bruises and he cleared the way together with Theresa.

“Albrecht knows Y/n is here, he´ll kill her with the king altogether!” Paul groaned.

“What about the guards?” George questioned as they reached the entering hall from the staircase that had led down to the dungeons. The guards that had once watched over the head of the guards and the riding master, would soon catch up to the four of them.

“We have to save the princess and the king!” Ruben agreed and Theresa nodded as well. George let out a sigh, the situation seemed more complicated to him, since he wouldn´t risk their lives as well. He wanted to win this fight with as many survivors as possible, hoping not to sacrifice the employees of the royal crown. However, he was sure that Theresa, Paul and Ruben wouldn´t hesitate to do so.

Loud voices coming from the front yard let the group freeze. Were even more guards sent in order to stop them? A loud bang echoed and George felt as the heavy doors trembled beneath the eruption. Then the doors opened, all they could do was watch in fear as the fog lifted.

Hendrik, August and Ruth entered, all of them having their wands or even swords in their hands.

Hendrik was first to approach them, he held the sword steady in his hand and stepped to them with swift motions. He truly looked like a young king leading his kingdom. Ruth was quick to hurry to Paul, inspecting his wound.

“By Merlin´s beard, you all came!” Ruben breathed surprised, but relieved as well.

“Episkey!” Ruth didn´t waste any time and was able to heal a large portion of Paul´s wound. August was able to fetch two further swords for both Paul and Ruben, Hendrik turned towards Theresa and George.

“Where is Y/N?”

“She went with Fred to see your father, but Albrecht knows about her stay here!” George hastily explained.

“I don´t think the king will survive a confrontation with him. He´s not, who he pretends to be!” Theresa added and fear swallowed her voice.

“Let´s not waste more time!”

“Are you sure of that? Are you sure that truly the entire commando was extinguished?” Albrecht repeated and the spite in his voice felt like a thick piton wrapping around your neck.

“No one could´ve survived”, you trailed off, knowing that it was useless at this point. Your calculations had been wrong.

“Are you a descendant of Richter?” Your father, king Michael, spoke up again and he exchanged a precarious look with you. Your eyes searched the room for Fred, he was behind Albrecht and you saw, how he slowly gained back consciousness. Albrecht´s bitter and evil laugh filled the room once again.

“A descendant? I thought you´d be smarter!”

You eyed your opponent closer, remembering the stories about your great-grandparents…

While she climbed up the bell tower with her heart beating in all of her limbs, a man in uniform stepped outside the library. His short cut hair was pulled back under a cap.

“How is it possible? You must easily be over 90 years!”

It had taken you too long to figure it all out; Oberst Richter and Albrecht weren´t relatives, it was the exact same person.

“Actually 102 to be exact”, he grinned and loathing crawled down your spin.

“But how?”

Winning time was number one priority, Fred was almost completely back and he watched the scene unravel, while you tried to figure out a plan.

“You had them all believe that wizards are evil and Satan´s adjutants, didn´t you? But in reality, you´re just like us.” Your eyes wandered back to your father, his explanation was so simple and logical. Yet, it was the first time it crossed your mind and the image imprinted in your mind, had blinded you before.

“You´re just like him, you´re like Voldemort”, you spit out, but immediate regret followed. The sudden movement brought even more pain from your wound and you hissed. Albrecht on the other hand, only chuckled lowly.

“A big name for such a little girl, but as you can tell; I prefer it to operate in a much more considered manner. I like to stay in the shadows. No one should know my name, until it is too late for them!”

For several seconds, all hoped seemed lost. Strength was draining from your body, your father wasn´t even strong enough to hold a sword and Fred´s magic was useless inside the walls.

Oh, Fred.

Your eyes found his, tears rolling down your cheeks. Why did you bring them with you? What if he died, just because of you? He saw the repentance shinning in the dark´s of your orbs. Without any words he shook his head. No, he didn´t regret coming with you at all. If you fate laid here in the fortress or if it was on the other end of the world, he´d always follow you.

“Any last words? Even though they won´t be printed in any books?”

“Let´s not act stupid!” Hendrik´s loud voice echoed through the room and you felt your stomach drop in relieved. Together with August he attacked Albrecht, a battle between swords and magic escaped.

George fell to his knees, helping his brother get up. Ruth slide across the room, ducking away from the fight and finding your side. But you stubbornly shook your head at your sister, gesturing towards the king. “Him first!” You urged.

Ruth nodded, not arguing and inspecting your father´s condition.

Albrecht was taken back by the sudden appearance of the Silberstein siblings and both of your brother´s were excellent fighter. As Albrecht tried to strike forward, luckily you had a good view on his movement pattern.

“Expelliarmus!” You yelled from across the room and disarmed Albrecht, who was then thrown to the ground by Hendrik. August had previous cut him on his leg, which made him wobble to one side.

Ruth had taken a healing potion out of Madame Pomfrey infirmary, and it seemed to be working rather quickly, King Michael lifted himself out of the bed. Paul hurried to his side; the king was still weakened after months of poisoning.

“This time, I´ll make sure you won´t survive Richter!”

Hendrik exchanged looks with his brother, this would take some more explaining at a later point.

King Michael grabbed Richter and fetched his wand from his coat, apparently, he had the wand with him at all times. Then he spun it in his hand just like you had used to, until the king´s sword appeared. Richter let out nothing but a small, pitiful groan, as blood started dripping from his mouth.

The sword had gone right through his torso.

First cheers sounded from Theresa and Ruben, but you barely comprehended them.

Darkness grew in your vision, which became blurrier and you felt your limbs falling asleep. Only seconds after Richter´s dead body fell to the side, you felt yourself fainting.

“Y/n!” At last, it was Fred´s voice, that you heard and his soft eyes staring down to you, before blackness swallowed you whole.

----------

tags: @ britishspidey @ perfectlysane24 @ acoolnight

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #oliver phelps #weasley twins #harry potter #harry potter imagine #mariamermaidimagine

23 notes · View notes

summonerscenarios · 4 years

Note

Hmmm,,, how about somethin fluffy,,,How about Shiro, Kengo, Ryota & Toji reaction hcs to Mc being causally physically affectionate w/friends. With the boys also being on the receiving end of this. Like hugs, head rubs, hand holding, general leaning/relaxing against em etc. I tend to think Mc is touch starved bc of their total lack of prior connections. So they just kinda see their friends and think "oh hell yeah my faves, time for love and appreciation"

IN THIS HOUSE LOVING THE BROS HOURS IS 24/7 365 DAYS A YEAR 👏👏👏 I too hc that the MC is touch starved so all friends are immediately on their affection list ON SIGHT. Kept this a lil short as I’m running on a bit of burnout but I do hope that you enjoy these fluffy love and appreciation hours 💖💖💖

-----

Shiro

Shiro’s used to Ryota usually being the openly affectionate one so he’s used to receiving hugs and general affectionate gestures from him, however getting that kind of affection from you is new and thus frankly leaves him quite flustered about it.

When you first swoop in for a friendly hug he lets out an embarrassingly loud yelp because you just about sweep him off of his feet as you pull him into your arms, squeezing him close just for good measure and laughing by the time you finally put him back down. His glasses are skewed and he’s trying to ignore his reaction as he clears his throat and warns you about being more careful next time you wanna hug him, but honestly it’s hard to take the sentiment seriously when his cheeks are turning red in embarrassment.

Once he gets used to the casual affectionate gestures he really doesn’t mind that you’re so eager to coddle and cuddle up to your friends - he’s also the first of the Summoners to reason that this probably stems as a result of lack of connections prior to coming to Tokyo. So when you sidle up to rest your head against his shoulder to see what he’s doing or wrap your arms around him, Shiro finds himself glad that you guys are so close that you’re comfortable displaying affection and finds himself appreciating these little moments even if he’s more hesitant than you are to initiate them.

Shiro likes when you lay against his side, finding any tension rolling off of his shoulders feeling you relaxed and at ease next to him, and this is especially true whenever he’s reading or working on sorting out the guild’s affairs. Sometimes you’ll coax him to lay his head in your lap while he reads something out to you, giving you the chance to idly run your hands through his hair as he does so - it’s comforting to him and a great way to calm him down if you ever notice that he’s particularly stressed; just be prepared for Ryota and Agyo to slide right in asking for the same treatment the second that Shiro’s head leaves your lap.

Sometimes Shiro’s just not in the mood for affection and needs a little bit of space so when he’s feeling a bit overwhelmed you can be sure that his little D-evils are more than happy to waddle up for you to fuss to your heart's content. A handful drop right down into your lap reaching up to you eagerly awaiting head pats, others clutch your arms with bright eyes vying for your attention, and you’ve even got one perched atop your shoulders at one point to play with your hair. For anyone who loves affection these lil kiddos are always in need of some cuddle and affection! Though they of course want Shiro to get some attention too so the both of you end up getting swarmed.

Kengo

Kengo sees how openly affectionate you are with the Summoners and your other friends and he’s immediately like “Oh it’s loving the bros hours? Aight bet” and then proceeds to just about knock you right back onto your ass with how aggressively he goes in for some good ol’ affection. He’s really rather chill about dishing out affection and takes it in stride way more than Shiro does - plus why wouldn’t he wanna show his appreciation for you and the other Summoners!

His hugs are just a liiiiittle bit too tight so whenever you pull him into one expect him to go all out, returning it with just as much vigor - they’re honestly the best but if you aren’t used to them they can easily knock the wind out of you. Sometimes you’ll have to give him a bit of a nudge to loosen his grip because wow are your poor ribs gonna feel sore by the time he lets you go. When on the receiving end of hugs the first time you pulled him into one he did admittedly freeze up a bit awkwardly, giving you a couple pats on the back until you’d filled your hug quota and let him go. Though Kengo’s a lot more prepared the next time you show his affection now that he knows that you’re cool with it.

His type of casual physical affection is slightly more rough and tumble than Ryota’s and Shiro’s, slinging often slinging an arm around you and ruffling your hair until it’s all kinds of mussed up under his fingers. He only laughs when you playfully try to swat him away but is quick to dive out of your hands’ line of fire when you attempt to pull the same thing on him. There’s plenty of small ways he expressed his affection to you too - high fives, resting his arm over your shoulder, giving you piggybacks (though he’ll outright refuse if you try to do that same to him and threatens to drop you whenever you tease him about it) are all part of the experience when it comes to affection from Kengo.

Most of his affection is saved for when it’s just you guys chilling - while he’s learned not to give a damn about what others think of his whole rough-n-tumble attitude he still gets a bit awkward when you go in for some affectionate gestures surrounded by people. He isn’t sure why but that’s just how it usually goes, but when he sees how happy you get when you’re able to keep physically close to your friends he’ll put his gripes aside and pull you close because of course he wants to see you happy about it.

Ryota

Ryota himself is also casually affectionate with all of his friends! He’s always giving others hugs, head pats and looping his arm with theirs and other equally sweet gestures because to him it’s just another way to show his friends how much he loves and appreciates them. The only reason that he was hesitant with you at first was because he worries just in case you aren’t comfortable with physical contact and the opportunity to ask you just never came up before. So once he knows that you’re okay with affection and that you’re just as open with expressing it he is absolutely HERE FOR IT.

You guys hold hands all of the time - going between classes or out shopping he loves the casual intimacy which is also a plus so that neither of you get separated in big crowds. He always greets you with some kind of affectionate gesture but his go to is hugs - sometimes the two of you just spot each other when you’re back at the safehouse or leaving the school grounds and it’s a race between the two of you for who can pull the other into a hug first. This on more than one occasion has led to you both nearly toppling over (and actually a couple of times) but you guys are too busy being in absolute stitches about it to even really care. There’s something about hugging your friends and it being reciprocated with just as much enthusiasm that honestly just melts his heart into a puddle of happy feelings - serotonin to the MAX.

TOUCHED STARVED BROS FOR LIFE.Like seriously I feel like sometimes Ryota get’s pretty starved for affection and he finds comfort in reaching out to others for said affection or just as a way to express his appreciation so when he can’t he can get pretty down about it. AND THAT’S WHERE YOU COME IN. Both of you vibe off of each others desire for affectionate gestures so when the other’s lacking in the affection department it doesn’t take long before you gravitate to each other and one of the other Summoners finds Ryota draped across your lap with his head buried in your shoulder as you chat and play games. 9 times out of 10 you end up dragging said Summoner into a cuddle pile too - you two are affectionate forces to be reckoned with.

Ryota always wants to hold people’s hands in some way and it’s a pretty decent way to tell how he’s feeling based on how he holds your hand and how tight his grip is. Sometimes the two of you are walking together and his hand will just gravitate to hook his pinky finger with yours and it’s honestly the cutest thing ever. When he’s feeling more anxious or clingy he’ll interlock fingers and pull your hands right next to him so that you guys can stick close. And you’re not the only one who gets this treatment too - physically feeling that his friends are there is something that Ryota might not even realize keeps him grounded but he enjoys the openness that he can share with you all.

Toji

Toji’s arguably the most awkward in regards to receiving and giving affection. He sees you expressing it so openly with your friends and though he’ll complain that you’re too bold and uncouth he can see the appeal of sharing such a closeness with your allies. (he’s also a lowkey little jealous that you seriously aren’t afraid about being so open with those forms of expression)

The first time you are casually affectionate with him catches him off guard. The two of you were studying together, sat side by side when you put your book down with an exaggerated sigh and then proceeded to lean against him, resting your head atop his shoulder to look down at his own textbook. Toji immediately tensed and jolted so sharply that your head fell off his shoulder and you dropped sideways right into his lap, which only created more of an outburst as you just about keeled over laughing at the absolute shock on his face.

With some time and a couple of warnings however Toji begins gradually warming up to your affectionate gestures though he never quite gets used to how casual you are about pulling him and the other Summoners in for hugs and head pats. It’s gotten to the point where he’s beginning to learn to accept it and anticipate when you come in for the next round of ‘love and appreciation hours’. You know that B99 with the run and leap? Yeah that’s basically your friendship now - the amount of times that you’ve come full pelt at him while he’s busy or holding something probably breaks a record somewhere but you’re confident that he’ll always catch you and he does! The lecture and costs of some of the things you’ve accidentally broke in these endeavors is well worth it.

Don’t expect much from Toji in regards to initiating affection at first, he’s awkward and stiff about it to all hell so just take it a little bit at a time to show him that the occasional head pat or cuddle isn’t going to kill him. Speaking of head pats that’s the most common ones he gives you, it started off as just a quick pat before he turns back to whatever he was doing before but eventually he gets comfortable enough that whenever you’re lying next to/against him his hand will immediately gravitate towards your head, running his fingers through your hair and rubbing your head soft yet just firm enough that you could probably fall asleep if he keeps at it for long enough.

77 notes · View notes

hoboal87 · 4 years

Text

Elastic Heart Chapter Thirteen

Title : Elastic Heart - Crowley

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Crowley, Cordelia Y/L/N

Pairing(s): Sam x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Cordy have started to settle into their new home when an enemy of Sam and Dean knocks on their door.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: cursing, angst, TW: Torture (physical and mental), threats against a child, threats of kidnapping, CROWLEY IS NOT A NICE DUDE

A/N: Series is mostly canon compliant, taking place during season 8/9. For the purposes of this fic Sam was born in ‘84 instead of '83.

A/N 2: Please read the warnings!

A/N 3: This chapter uses dialogue from 8x23 “Sacrifice”

Beta’d by @deanwinchesterswitch

Elastic Heart Masterlist

Read Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen - Crowley

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” His gravelly voice sends shivers down my spine. He doesn’t wait for me to answer, stepping over the threshold into my home. He looks around for a moment, a smug grin creeping across his face. “Moose and Squirrel thought they could hide you from me, but as always, they underestimate me.”

I’m unable to stop him as he moves further into the house. My eyes dart to the kitchen, hoping that Cordy stays in there until I can get this stranger out of the house. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe the rumors aren’t true.” There’s a twinge of disappointment in his voice.

Rumors? “What do you want?”

“Oh, Y/N, I don’t even know where to start.” My heart stops at his use of my name. He lets out a low, breathy chuckle. “Squirrel’s head on a platter, Moose under my command, serving in his rightful place, and you’re going to help me get what I want.”

“Who are you?” I ask, trying to cover the fear in my voice.

“Name’s Crowley.” He walks into my living room, his voice is calm, but underneath I can sense he’s dangerous. “Been watching you for some time now, Y/N, since before you left that godforsaken town in Texas, lucky for you, I’m a patient man.” He’s been watching me? “It’s fate, darling, that you’re in Lawrence. Surely you know this is the same town in which he was born, where his mother died?” I don’t answer. “Now, the only family he has left is in the same place his family fell apart.”

“Y/N,” Cordy comes out from the kitchen. The man’s eyes widen at the sight of her, a look of smugness washes over his face. “Who is it?”

“Cordy,” I try my best to keep all worry out of my voice. I have to get her out of the house, “how about you go over to Ms. Cynthia’s and play with Ava?” I try to keep my voice steady, not wanting to alarm her.

“This must be her.” His eyes narrow on Cordy. “She’s the spitting image of him; how no one put it together sooner is beyond me.” A sly smile creeps over his face. “Hello sweetie, you can call me Uncle Crowley.”

Her eyes dart between the man and me, and she doesn’t move. I move towards Cordy, and I can feel the man’s eyes on me, watching my every step.

“Cordelia Mary, look at me,” I say, pulling her attention back to me. “Go over and play with Ava, I’ll come over to get you in a little while.”

She hesitates, and I keep a fake smile on my face as she makes her way towards the front door. She stops in front of me. “I don’t want to leave you, Y/N,” Cordy whispers, throwing her arms around my waist, holding on to me tightly.

“Yes, Y/N, let her stay,” he taunts, taking another step closer to us. “I do love to play.”

I gently pry her arms off of me and guide her out the front door. She stands on the porch for a moment, watching as I do everything to mask my fear.

He leans in whispering in my ear, “I could snap her neck like a twig.” Panic fills me as he stares into my eyes. I can feel them watering, and I nod slightly.

“Stay at Ava’s until I come and get you. You don’t have to worry about me.” I close the gap between us, lower myself down to meet her eye-level, and wrap my arms tight around her. “Remember what Sam told you? About the angels?” She nods. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

She takes a step back, and I give her a reassuring smile. I can feel Crowley behind me, watching as Cordy walks to Cynthia’s across the street. As soon as I see the door open and she disappears into the house, I let out a strangled breath. When I turn around, he’s only inches away and takes a step to the side; with a flick of his fingers, the door behind me slams shut. My heart drops, and I turn back around, desperately trying to open it. He chuckles at my attempts, before yanking me away.

“Whatever you want, leave her out of it,” I say with all the courage I can muster. “I don’t know who you think we are-”

“You’re exactly who I think you are, darling,” he says sharply. “I didn’t believe my source at first, thought she was sending me on some wild goose chase, but there is no denying it. That is the child of Sam Winchester.”

“She’s not–” I splutter, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There’s no point in lying, darling.” He sighs, rolling his eyes. “There’s been quite enough of that already,“ he laughs snidely. "Angels weren’t the only ones keeping tabs on you.”

“Who are you? What do you want from us?”

“I hate repeating myself,” he growls. “Crowley, King of Hell.” He snaps his fingers, and I’m forced into a chair, unable to move. “You and that little bastard Winchester, are going to help me get what I want.”

“Fuck you.” I spit out. I squirm against the chair, trying with all my strength to move, but as hard as I try, I can’t fight my way out. Castiel, if you can hear me, I’m in trouble, and I need your help.

“Feisty one, aren’t we?” he quips. “I like a girl with a little fight in her.”

I continue to struggle against the invisible force holding me down. He disappears for a moment, and when he returns, he’s holding a bottle of amber liquid and glass.

“In a moment such as this, one needs a drink,” he declares while filling the glass. “You, my dear, are going to be in for such a treat. Nothing brings me more joy than watching the Winchesters suffer.”

“They won’t let you hurt me. They’ll be here any second, and they’ll stop you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, darling.” He leans forward, a smug smile forming on his lips. “My sources tell me that those morons aren’t aware that you’re in Lawrence. They’re under the impression that you’re still in Weldon.” He brings the glass to his lips, taking a sip. “Tsk tsk tsk. I could move you across the country before they even realize you’re gone. Or maybe,” he takes another drink, “I’ll just leave your body for them to find, that is, whatever’s left.”

“Fuck you.”

“Very well then, perhaps I’ll go to your neighbors and have a chat with little Cordelia,” he smirks, and I can feel the blood drain from my face. “You’ll find I can be very persuasive.”

“Don’t.” My heart is thudding in my chest. “You even go near her and I’ll–”

“You’ll what, darling?” He grins slyly and produces a long silver blade, admiring it as he slices through the air. My eyes widen as I suck in a nervous breath. “Now, are you going to do as you’re told?”

Cas, if you can hear me, I need your help.

I clench my jaw and don’t respond, trying to hold my own against him. He’s out of the chair and in front of me instantly, holding the blade against my throat. I whimper as I feel a trickle of blood flow down my neck.

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Are you going to cooperate?” I nod defeatedly. “Good girl. You’re going to convince those idiot Winchesters to hand something over to me, something that belongs to me. Understood?”

“Why me?” I mumble, hoping that I can stall him until Cas answers my prayers. “We don’t– we’re not hunters, we’re not in that life.”

“That’s what makes this even more delicious,” He brings the glass to his lips and takes a sip. “If you were, you’d know how to ward your home, keep things like me out. Moose just left you vulnerable to any sort of attack.” His words sting; I keep telling myself that there isn’t any truth to it. “It’s usually the first thing they teach someone, Devil’s Trap, simple enough for anyone to learn. Would’ve kept me from doing this.” He snaps his fingers, and pain radiates throughout my body. His eyes narrow as I silently struggle. “Interesting.”

He snaps again, and the pain slowly dissipates, before rising again. He repeats this over and over for what feels like hours. I’m a sobbing mess when he finally stops. Please, Cas.

“You know, our boy Sam has been getting his hands very dirty for quite some time now, and you two may be the only things that can keep him in line. You see, darling, you’re what they call leverage.” He finishes the glass and pours himself another drink. “If you’re not enough, little Cordelia may be the exact motivation those piles of flannel need.” His phone rings, pulling his attention away from me; he stares at it for a moment before looking back in my direction. “Do as you’re told, darling.” He taps a button on the phone and lays it down on the arm of his chair. “Moose! I was wondering when you’d finally call.”

“We’re finishing the Trials, Crowley. There’s nothing you can do to stop us.” The sound of Sam’s voice through the small speaker fills me with a temporary sense of relief.

“Are you sure about that? Because I’ve been having quite the lovely chat with someone who may be able to convince you otherwise. Say ‘hello,’ darling.” Crowley walks towards me, holding the phone out until it’s in front of me.

“Whatever you’re trying to pull, it isn’t gonna work.” Crowley’s eyes narrow as he watches me react to Sam’s voice on the phone. “It’s over, you lose.” Crowley arches an eyebrow and smiles at me. He’s enjoying this.

“Cooperate, darling,” Crowley hisses, waiting for me to speak. “Not talking, eh? We can fix that.” He growls, and suddenly a burning sensation spreads from my shoulder to my fingertips, as some invisible force pulls it into an unnatural position. I bite my lip to keep from screaming, doing everything I can not to give him the satisfaction of knowing the pain I’m in. “Oh, I like this one, Moose. She’s tougher than she looks. Let’s see what we can do about that.” Crowley looks at me pointedly for a moment, and his lips curl.

Before I can comprehend what he’s smiling about, the force on my arm increases. Tears fill my eyes, and the taste of copper fills my mouth as I bite the inside of my cheek, desperately trying not to give in to Crowley’s demands.

“I wish you could see the look on her face. She’s trying so hard to be strong. But…” Another pull on my arm, snaps the bone, and I scream, unable to do anything else. “I always get what I want.”

“SAM!” I barely recognize my voice as I shriek out his name.

“Y/N/N?!” His voice is faint through the buzzing in my ears. I let out a sob as the pain radiates through me. “Is that you? Talk to me, baby, let me know you’re okay.”

“It’s her, Sam.” My vision has blurred, but I can still make out the smug smile on Crowley’s face. “Did you really think you could keep Y/N and that little bastard of yours hidden from me?”

“Stay away from them!” Sam’s voice roars through the phone speaker.

“Too late for that one, Moose. I don’t know why I didn’t think of using them sooner. Tommy never stood a chance. Tell me, what was it like staring into Sarah’s face as she took her last breath? Knowing you allowed another child to be raised without their mother? You won’t see Y/N’s, and who knows what’ll happen to little Cordelia.”

“No, no, no,” I whimper. Crowley lets out a low, breathy chuckle as he continues torturing me with his words. Castiel, I need your help.

“I have connections everywhere, boys, you should know that by now. But can you imagine my surprise when Y/N and Cordelia show up at the only place I have one of my plants in a hundred miles? That’s serendipitous.”

“You go anywhere near her, and I swear to God–” Sam threatens, voice full of anger and frustration.

“You’ll what?” Crowley snaps his fingers, and it feels like white-hot pokers are being dragged along my veins. “You think you can stop me from doing this?” I scream out again as his knife slashes across my skin.

“Take your hands off of her!”

“Oh, believe me, Samantha, if my hands were on her, you’d know.”

He snaps again, and I let out a shaky breath as the pain subsides. I know it won’t last long. Crowley’s getting off on torturing me both physically and mentally. I try to prepare myself for whatever he may do or say next. The sudden sound of a dog growling somewhere from behind startles me, and I turn away in disgust as a rancid puff of air wafts across my cheek.

“You know, I’m quite disappointed in you,” sarcasm bleeds from his lips. “Knocking up some small-town girl, then just walking away? That’s not a move I’d expect from you, Samuel. But the pièce de résistance? Walking away without leaving some sort of protection for your whore and the little bastard. You know what’s stopping me from getting Cordelia?” Crowley’s eyes narrow on me, “nothing, except the fact that I want you to listen as I rip Y/N’s last breath from her. Come to think of it, maybe I’ll go to the neighbor’s house and bring Cordelia back here. Let her watch as I slit Y/N’s throat.”

“Y/N/N, don’t listen to him,” Sam’s voice cuts through the air. “Whatever he says, you can’t believe him. Demons lie. We’re– I’m gonna stop him.”

“I’d love to see you try,” Crowley sneers. “Tell me, do you even know where your precious Y/N and Cordelia are?”

“O-of course,” Sam stammers. Suddenly, I’m aware of the fact that I did the one thing I promised Sam I wouldn’t do, I took Cordy and left. Crowley’s baiting him, and he’s falling for it.

“Kansas,” my voice is weak, barely above a whisper, and every logical part of my brain is telling me that Sam can’t hear me, but I try to tell him anyway. “We’re in La-”

I feel a grip around my throat, cutting off my air supply as I try to choke out the words.

“Ah, ah, ah, darling,” Crowley berates me. “Let’s not spoil the surprise, shall we?

“Le- go,” I beg him, “pl- any-”

“What was that? Did you say anything, darling?” Still unable to speak, I nod in response. “That is a poor choice of words.” Crowley sets the phone down, saunters over and pats the air next to my shoulder, “stand down, Juliet.” The growling fades away as he leans in closer and grabs me by the hair, yanking my head back. “I could have you tied down and gagged, begging for death, and while I’d be happy to oblige, it wouldn’t quite scratch the itch.

“Maybe I should have one of my demons possess you,” Crowley eyes the charm hanging around my neck and lowers his voice. “Jolly Green would never suspect such a thing. He’d be so happy to have you back. Then, when the time is just right, I’d have you watch as he dies by your hand. Can you imagine the look on his face, watching the love of his life slice him open? You’d be a captive audience, allowed to watch as he draws his last breath, feel the warmth of his blood as it flows from his wounds, maybe even get a little taste. Squirrel would be devastated. There’s nothing that he wants more than for Moose to get his happy ending. Watching him unravel as he realizes there’s no way to bring back his precious Sammy? Well, that would be simply sublime.” He lets go of me and takes another drink from the glass. “No demon will deal with him, not again. Sam Winchester will be dead, for good this time.”

“This time?” I gasp as the pressure on my throat is released.

“Ah, it seems those flannel-wearing idiots haven’t shared everything with you. Can’t say I blame them, that lumberjack has died so many times, who can keep track?” He lets out a dry laugh, and I close my eyes in a desperate attempt to calm myself. “Surely he told you how he let Lucifer out of his cage in Hell? No? Or how he let Dean rot away in Purgatory for a year?”

The anger in Sam’s voice is almost palpable as it booms through the small phone, and I tilt my head, almost expecting to see him standing next to the chair. He alternates between threatening Crowley and begging me not to listen to the demon. Crowley continues to ramble, and I try not to react to his goading, hoping I can keep him talking until Cas shows up.

“Samantha tried to live a normal life.” Crowley walks over and picks up the phone. “Surely, he told you about the girl he gave up everything for?” I want to scream, tell him to shut up, and I can see the joy spread across his face as he riles me up. “C’mon Sam, tell us all about the girl that made you leave everything you’ve ever known. I’m sure Y/N is just dying to know why you chose another woman over her. Over your daughter.”

“I– I didn’t. Y/N/N, please, you can’t believe him. When all of this is over, I’ll explain everything.”

“I think we’d all love to hear it, Moose. Come now, share with the class,” Crowley intones. “Better yet, explain to Dean just how easy it was for you to walk away. You didn’t even think twice about it, did you? Just left poor Kevin to the wolves, so to speak. Dean was fighting for his life, and you were living in Texas with a girl and a dog.”

Sam’s breaths come hard and fast as he sputters out denials. Dean’s muffled ‘motherfucker’ filters through the discord.

“He was so close, darling, only a few hours away, and yet, he didn’t even bother to contact you, did he? No, Samantha found some other little whore to fill the emptiness. Gave up looking for his brother, for her. Gave up a life of hunting for her.”

I keep repeating Sam’s words in my head, demons lie.

“He didn’t do that for you, did he? No, he ran away.”

“He didn’t– it wasn’t his fault,” I argue feebly, not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself. “He loves me; he wouldn’t have left if he’d known-”

“Are you sure about that, darling?”

“Y/N, don’t listen to him,” the low timbre of Dean’s voice comes through the phone.

“We’d been keeping track of Y/N for years,” Sam and Dean are silent. “Oh, boys, did you think that Feathers and all those other idiot angels were the only ones who knew about Y/N? That’s just naive. You know Lilith was planning on using her next if Ruby couldn’t get the job done?”

“Fuck you,” Sam growls. “Leave her alone, Crowley.”

“Didn’t tell her about Ruby, either? You just love keeping your secrets, don’t you?” Crowley’s lips curl as Sam goes silent. “Got you nice and addicted to-”

“Shut it, Crowley!”

“You had so many chances to track her down. Admit it; you hadn’t thought about Y/N in years. If you had, it wouldn’t have taken ten years and a Shtriga to get you back to that one-horse town. We thought Jessica’s death would’ve sent you running back, but no, your unhealthy, co-dependent relationship with your brother and need for revenge consumed every part of you, didn’t it, Sam? Every choice you made after that took you further away from Y/N.”

I remember Sam saying he dreamt of Jessica’s death. Did he know that this was gonna happen? That Crowley would come after us? I knew he wasn’t telling me something, but I never realized just how dangerous the monsters that Sam fought could be, and apparently, he decided not to warn me. Crowley is making a point that I don’t want to believe: Sam chose to stay away for all those years.

“Alright, Boris, enough with the monologuing.” Dean’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "Y/N, listen to me; whatever Crowley tells you, you can’t believe a word he says.”

“Let her hear it from the source then,” Crowley says with a coy grin. “Tell us, Sam. Tell Y/N why you never came back, why you chose girl after girl instead of her?”

“It wasn’t like that, Y/N.” Sam’s voice is filled with desperation. Crowley’s baiting him, and he’s falling for it. “I always wanted to come back to you-to our family.”

“Your family,” Crowley mocks Sam. “Rumors about a Winchester child went around for years.“ Crowley directs his next comments to me. "But no one could find her; someone went to great lengths to cover up her existence. Had a spell of protection cast over her shortly after she was born. Lucky for me, it was only a matter of time before you crossed paths with that lumbering idiot again.”

“Fuck you,” I mutter.

“Eloquent, aren’t we?” Crowley chuckles. “You know, I’m normally much more patient, but when I heard about the trials, I just knew it was time to act. All I had to do was give Samantha a nudge here, a well-placed article there, et voila, it was like taking candy from a baby,” Crowley refills his glass. “One of my lieutenants was already in place when those two heaping piles of flannel crossed the town’s lines. You still had so much resentment for your parents you didn’t even notice the change in your father’s behavior, did you, Y/N? Would you like to know the real cause of that accident?”

Crowley sneers as I cut him off with a scream. “No!”

“Oh, yes, darling. Sometimes you just have to pull the strings of fate in the right direction,” he snaps his fingers once again, sending lightning bolts of pain coursing through me. “Now let’s talk about the little one, should I bring her back and let her watch you die? Or should I leave your body for her to find?”

Panic replaces the pain coursing through me, and each breath becomes harder to take. “Maybe, I’ll just turn her into one of my loyal followers.”

No, no, no. I can see the pleasure Crowley takes in my fear. Sam’s voice rings out tense and full of condemnation as he continues to yell at Crowley.

“I’d have little Cordelia calling me ‘father’ in no time, it would be the ultimate power.”

My body vibrates with rage as he releases his hold. “You stay away from her. I’ll kill you if you lay a finger on her.”

“There it is.” There’s a smugness in his voice. “I see now exactly why Sam chose you. I didn’t at first, but now, with your mama bear instincts coming out? You are the perfect vessel to carry on the Winchester bloodline. Crowley turns his focus back to the phone in his hand. “What’s it gonna be, boys? You’ve got two minutes to make your decision. Finish the Trials, or save your precious family.”

The tightness around my throat returns, slowly cutting off my air supply. Please, Cas, help.

“We’ll deal. You stop, we’ll stop.” I can practically hear Sam pacing the floor of whatever room he is in. “Now, let her go.”

“First, we must discuss terms, gigantor. I want the Demon Tablet, the whole Demon Tablet. Then we’ll talk about what to do with the girls.” After several moments of strained silence, Crowley grows impatient. “Tick-tock, boys. Little Cordelia could walk in on us at any moment. I’d hate for her to have to watch her mother die. It’s an awful thing, isn’t it, Moose? Watching someone you love die right before your eyes.”

“Fine, then we get the angel tablet,” Dean’s voice fills the air.

“On what grounds?” Crowley argues.

“On the grounds that you’re a douchebag, and no one should have that much power.”

“Fine. Now about Y/N and the little one,” Crowley’s lips curl as I feel my throat closing.

“They’ve got nothing to do with any of this, we’ve agreed to your terms, now let Y/N go.”

“You’re right, Y/N doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t use her in every depraved way I can think of, have a bit of fun with her.”

“Fuck you,” Sam snarls, “if you even think about laying a finger on her, I’ll kill you and every fucking demon that gets in my way.”

“Such a flirt, Samantha. Your dear Y/N is running out of time, and you want foreplay? I’m touched. Once she’s gone, little Cordelia will be mine for the taking. Azazel had the right idea; I could make myself a child-army. I wonder, Sam, did she inherit your predilection for demon blood?”

“Listen here, you son of a bitch.”

“No, you listen. You will stop the Trials and give me the tablet, or Moose’s whore is gonna bite the dust. What’s more important? Completing the trials or letting Y/N die? Will you let her become another innocent casualty in your quest to save the world? It’s up to you, Sasquatch, what’s it going to be?”

“Let me talk to her, Crowley,” Sam’s voice cuts through the haziness of my brain.

“You don’t trust me, Moose? I’m hurt.”

“Prove to me that she’s still alive.” Crowley rolls his eyes, and the grip on my neck loosens. I gasp for air as he brings the phone closer to me. “Y/N/N, talk to me, please, baby.” I choke back a sob. “C’mon Y/N/N, let me know you’re okay.”

“S-m,” I plead, “don- g- Cordy.“ Crowley lets out a deep chuckle.

“Y/N/N, you’re gonna be okay. I’m not gonna let him hurt you or Corie.”

“One minute.”

Tears press against my eyes, and I try to blink them away, not wanting Crowley to see my weakness.

“Maybe I’ll kill the little one first.” He rubs his thumb against my cheek, brushing away the traitorous tear that slipped free. “Let Y/N watch as I slit her throat.” Crowley’s voice is apathetic as it continues to torture me with his words. “Or maybe I’ll just take her with me to Hell; every child needs a father. Start her reprogramming immediately. She’s young enough. I’m sure within a few months, I could make her do anything I want. Now, shall I have her kill you or Squirrel first?”

“Fuck you,” Sam growls.

“Ah, the Winchester Wit, do you think Cordelia has that same mastery of language you have? Keep it up, and you’ll never know. Thirty seconds, Moose.“

Please, Castiel. I continue to pray silently as my vision begins to blur.

"I’ll stop the trials,” Sam mumbles, his voice so low I can barely understand him.

“What was that? Louder, Sam, so that Y/N can hear you.”

“I’ll stop,” Sam huffs, “now let her go.”

“I just need two little words from you,“ Crowley’s lips curve into a sneer, and he narrows his eyes back on the phone. "I surrender.”

Crowley’s fingers curl around nothing, and the pressure around my neck becomes unbearable. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my lungs are burning as my vision tunnels, darkness consuming it, but my only thought is for Cordy. Sam’s voice comes low through the phone, but I can’t make out his words.

Before the darkness completely takes over, the tightness around my neck loosens, and I take in long deep breaths, coughing as I exhale. Crowley is still wearing a smug smile; Sam must’ve told him what he wanted to hear.

"Pleasure doing business with you, boys.” Crowley ends the call and pockets the phone before turning his attention back on me. “This wasn’t personal; you mustn’t believe it was.” He sounds almost remorseful as he brings his attention back to me. “You and the little one were just a means to an end.” With a snap of his fingers, I find myself free from the unseen restraints. “As long as Moose and Squirrel keep up their end, my demons will stay away from you and Cordelia.” Crowley moves to place a hand on my shoulder.

“Touch me, and I’ll kill you,” I growl at him, adrenaline still pumping through me.

“Careful, darling. It may not have been about you, but I meant what I said. I’ll do things to you that will make you wish for death. The boys may have made a deal, but you didn’t. You could be in worse shape.”

“Why?” I mutter. “Why us?”

“I told you, darling, nothing motivates a Winchester better than threatening someone they love. Sam Winchester’s daughter and his former flame? You are the ultimate bargaining chips…”

I tune him out as my mind begins to race. This—this is the very reason why John wanted Sam to stay away. The reason why we could never be together. Dean said it himself, Crowley was using Cordy and me to get to him and Sam. I should’ve never told him the truth. I should’ve let him believe whatever John said to him that night.

“…next generation of Winchesters. Take care, darling.” he disappears before my eyes, leaving me alone in the empty house. My legs wobble as I stand, and I hold on to the furniture to keep myself upright. I make it to the front walkway before my legs give out, and I collapse against the wall, uncontrollable sobs leaving me.

I cradle my arm against my chest, and pain radiates from my shoulder with the slightest movement. I know I need a doctor. I foolishly pray to Cas again. Why would Sam tell me to pray to him if it wasn’t going to work? I should’ve known better than to trust that some angel was going to appear to save me.

Every instinct is telling me to go straight to Cordy and wrap her in my arms. I need to know that she is safe, that Crowley didn’t go after her anyway. Crowley said he had connections everywhere. Could Cynthia or Tom be possessed? Did sending her away do more harm than good? My mind is swimming with worry for her safety.

My legs shake as I stand back up, and I compose myself as best I can. I wrap my arm as carefully in a large ace bandage, wanting to shield Cordy from the aftermath as much as I can. I’m walking towards the door when I hear a light rapping, and panic starts filling my body again. Crowley had just proven to me that anyone or anything could walk into our house, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice fills the air. “It’s Cynthia; Cordy asked me to come check on you.”

I open the door just enough to peer out to confirm it is Cynthia standing there. I pull Sam’s necklace over my head and pass it through the opening, “can you put this on, please?” I say through the small space, Cynthia looks at me curiously but complies. I wait a moment to see if there is any kind of reaction before letting out a relieved sigh and opening the door wider.

“Y/N!” Cynthia exclaims as she takes in my disheveled appearance. “What happened?”

The night of the werewolf attack replays in my head, and how much it pained me to lie about what happened then, how I have to lie again.

“Me and my two left feet,” I lie and let out a weak laugh. “Tried to break my fall, and landed bad,” I shake my head and try to keep my voice as steady as I can.

“Hon,” she takes another step forward, gently grabbing my arm. An involuntary hiss leaves me, and tears fill my eyes. Her eyes land on the dried blood, where Crowley lacerated my shoulder. “A fall wouldn’t cause that.” A choked sob leaves me; I don’t know how to lie my way out of this. “I think you need to let me take you to the hospital.”

“I c-can’t ask you to do t-that, Cynthia.” I shake my head. I hate being this helpless. “Cordy, I need to see Cordy.”

“Cordy’s fine, Y/N,” she walks me over to the couch. “She and Ava are watching a movie.” She looks me over again; concern etched on her face. “Whatever happened, Y/N, you can tell me,” Cynthia softens her voice. “If someone attacked you–”

“No one attacked me,” I lie again, knowing I can’t tell her the truth. Cynthia frowns, doubtful of what I’m telling her. I pick something as close to the truth as I can. “When I was a teenager, I survived an animal attack,” I sigh.

“Oh, hon, I’m sorry.” Cynthia reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I’m mostly okay, but it caused me to start having panic attacks. Most of the time, I can calm myself down before they get really bad,” I gage her reaction. “But, my usual methods weren’t working, and I didn’t want Cordy to see me like that, that’s why I sent her over,” she nods as if she understands. “I was trying to get upstairs so that I could take my medication, and that’s when I fell.”

“That doesn’t explain the cuts on your shoulder and neck, Y/N,” she gently pries.

“It’s nothing, really,” I mumble, shaking my head. Cynthia’s forehead wrinkles, and her eyebrows furrow, but she doesn’t question me further. I lean my head back, and when I close my eyes, Cordy’s worried face is the only thing I can see. My heart begins to race, and each breath becomes harder to take. “Cordy!”

“She’s at my house, Y/N,” Cynthia attempts to calm me, but I jerk away when she reaches out. “Look at me, Y/N,” she demands softly, “where’s your medicine? Upstairs?”

I nod, mumbling “bathroom, sertraline,” in between ragged breaths. Cynthia returns with the bottle and a glass of water before I even realize that she’d left. She hands me two pills along with the glass, making sure that my trembling hand has a firm grip on it before sitting down. Once I swallow the medicine, Cynthia takes the glass from me and sets it on the coffee table. She squeezes my hand reassuringly and quietly sits next to me until my breathing begins to even out, and tensed muscles start to relax.

“Let me take you to the hospital, Y/N, I insist.”

By the time Cynthia and I are back from the hospital, it’s almost midnight. My arm is wrapped in a cast and perched in a sling. Cynthia walks us into my living room, setting a white bag with pain medicine on the coffee table. She props pillows behind me as I take a seat before her phone rings. She steps away, and I gather she’s talking to her husband, saying she doesn’t know when she’ll be home and that Cordy would be staying over.

“I can go get her,” I stand up from the couch as Cynthia walks back towards me, putting her phone away. “I don’t want to be a bother to you any more than I already have tonight.”

“Y/N, please,” Cynthia gently reaches for my good arm. “You need rest, and Cordy’s sleeping already. Let her stay over; it’s only going to worry her more if you come and get her in the middle of the night.”

“Are you sure? I know we haven’t gotten the chance to really know each other yet–”

“Y/N,” Cynthia lifts her hand to stop me. “You’re a single mom, and new around here, and you’ve already had a rough night. I’ve been there, and believe me, I know how hard it can be. Can I call anyone for you?” She asks as she retrieves a pill from the orange bottle, and I shake my head. “No family?” I shake my head again as she hands me one, and I swallow it dry. “No one at all?”

“It’s just the two of us,” my eyes drift over to a silver picture frame. “I’m an only child. My parents died in a car accident a few months ago. Cordy was in the car with them when it happened.”

“My God,” Cynthia gasps. “Y/N, I– I can’t imagine.”

“Thank you, we’re still adjusting, my parents–” I debate whether telling her the whole story. Maybe another time. “They were my whole support system.”

“What about Cordy’s dad? Is he around?”

“I don’t want to talk about her dad,” I snap back at her unintentionally.

“I’m sorry,” Cynthia’s face pinks up with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Guilt rises in me, it’s an innocent enough question, and I know she doesn’t mean to cause the reaction in me that it does. “No, please don’t apologize, you didn’t know. Cordy’s dad and me, it’s–”

“Complicated?”

“To put it mildly,” I let out a small chuckle, and we both relax. “He wants to be a part of our lives, but his job takes him all over the country, and Cordy needs stability in her life, not a dad who comes and goes.”

She lets out a sigh. “Like I said, Y/N, I’ve been there. If you ever want to talk about it, please don’t hesitate.”

Cynthia stays with me for another hour before going home and promising to send Cordy back first thing in the morning. I’m making my way up to my bedroom when I hear a rustling. My whole body tenses, knowing that just like before, I have no way of stopping another monster or demon from walking into my house. I turn around and see Cas standing in the front walkway, and for a moment, I relax.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have come sooner, Y/N,” Cas’ face remains unreadable as the two times I’d seen him before. As I close the distance between us, my relief is instantly replaced with rage. “But, I was otherwise engaged–” I cut him off with a slap to the face.

“You were ‘otherwise engaged’? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I shout as I ball up my fist and pound it against Cas’ chest. “Sam said you would come if I prayed to you! Why didn’t you come? Didn’t you hear it?”

“Yes,” His face and voice stay emotionless. “The situation seemed to be under control.”

“Under control?” My face hardens, and I clench my jaw. It takes all of my willpower not to hit him again. “You call me being attacked in my own home, mine and my daughter lives being threatened ‘under control’? He tortured me just to get to Sam.”

“We had no reason to believe that Crowley was going to come after you. We were told by higher authorities that the demons weren’t aware of you or Cordelia. Clearly, they were incorrect.”

“Clearly,” I scoff and take a few steps back.

“I understand you’re upset, Y/N,” Cas responds coldly, speaking only in statements of fact. “Sam and Dean will have Crowley in their grasp soon enough; they won’t let him harm you or Cordelia. You must understand, Y/N, this is for the greater good.”

“The greater good is not my concern, Cas. The only thing I care about is my daughter. Do you know what he said to me? What he told me he would do to me? To Cordy?”

“I am sorry, Y/N. The angels assured us you were never in any real danger. If you were, I would have interceded sooner.”

“No real danger?” I gesture to my injured arm, “You call this no danger?”

“I can fix that,” he says and reaches out to touch my forehead.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I slap his hand away. “I can’t believe I ever thought that I could have a normal life with Sam,” I say more to myself than Cas. “He says he wants to protect us, but how is he gonna do that?” I’m rambling, and Cas stands to the side watching.

“Crowley was only using you to get to Sam and Dean,” Cas says as if it should give me some sort of comfort.

“You don’t think I know that, Cas?” I snap back. “He told me. I will not allow my daughter to be used as a way to keep Sam and Dean under control. We will not be pawns in whatever game they are playing at. We’re done. I’m done. Two months ago, Sam scared me enough to think he would hurt me intentionally, and now I find out that they are letting people die, just so what? What is so important that they would let that happen? Tell me, Cas,” I demand.

“Sam,” Cas hesitates. “Sam is completing a series of tests, and when they’re completed, it will seal up the gates of Hell. Crowley doesn’t want that; he needs Earth to fuel his deals and keep his demons satisfied. Ever since he found out about the Trials, Crowley has been doing everything he can to stop Sam from finishing them. I don’t know how he found out about you or Cordelia.“

“It doesn’t matter,” I mumble. “He knows, and I’m done with all of you, angels, demons, fucking werewolves, and soul-eaters. If fate was going to bring Sam and me back together, just for this to happen, then fuck fate.”

“Y/N, if I’d have thought that you were in danger, I would’ve been here with you tonight and not allowed Crowley to step through the door.” There’s a sincerity in his voice that I had yet to hear. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you better.”

“You didn’t protect me at all, Cas.” I throw his words back at him. “None of you did. If I would’ve known something like this would happen, I would’ve lied to Sam.” I let my emotions drive my next words. “I’m done with all of it. All of you. Just leave.”

“I am putting up warding around your house. Neither Crowley nor any other demon will not be able to step inside. I am sorry, Y/N, it was never our intention for any harm to come to you.”

“Sure,” I huff, trying to fight back my tears. “I’m supposed to believe you now? After what happened tonight?”

“I give you my word, Y/N. You and Cordelia will be under my protection from now on.”

“Somehow, I don’t find any comfort in that, Cas,” I grumble. “Please, get out of my house.”

“Y/N,” Cas softens his voice; it’s almost soothing. “I will never ignore another prayer from you or Cordelia.”

“I can’t–” I choke out. “Please, go.”

“You are safe now, Y/N. Both of you are safe.” Cas hesitantly nods and reaches out, gently squeezing my shoulder before vanishing with a rush of air.

Next Chapter

Did you love it? Hate it? Feel free to send me any love (or hate) via ask or reblog!

@manawhaat

@that-one-gay-girl

@awesomesusiebstuff

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

@suckmyapplejacks

@traceyaudette

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #angst #tw: torture #Elastic Heart #Elastic Heart 13

49 notes · View notes

pkg4mumtown · 4 years

Text

Welcome to Hawkins PD (Ch. 4)

Chapter Title: Eyes n’ Thighs

Chapter 4 of 9?

Read Chapter 3 / Masterlist

AN: Would you believe that I did the art before I even wrote this chapter? Lol

Warnings: Cursing, Hopper trying to be a big, strong man, grumpy Hop, awkward touches

Summary: After one too many accidental shower incidents, you’re determined to hang some curtains.

Taglist: @kingphillipblake

Lmk if you want to be removed or added from my taglist

After a couple more shower mishaps over the week, I finally decided it was time to hang some curtains in the bathroom. The mishaps, while humiliating on my end were also exhilarating considering they were all to do with Hopper. One of these included Hopper having to throw me my towel that I’d left on my desk, with me trying to cover myself in the tiny shower. If I saw a glimpse of his eye between his fingers as they covered his face, I saved him the embarrassment and didn’t mention it.

When my shift was over, I just about ran out of the station to get in my car and make it to the hardware store before they closed. I had found a drill and drill bit set that Hopper left in his trailer, so I counted my lucky stars that I didn’t have to buy one. I managed to find some hooks and curtains that should suffice for the bathroom. There was no way this quick job was going to be anything fancy.

I couldn’t have been gone from the station for more than half an hour, but when I pulled up, everyone’s car was gone except for Hopper's. The few days I’d been here, I noticed he tended to leave later than everyone else, but I didn’t bother pressing him about it. I hauled the necessary equipment into the bathroom, trying not to disturb him with too much noise as I did.

I set up the tallest step ladder I could find at the trailer, hoping my height would be enough. I unbuttoned my uniform shirt and shrugged it off, leaving me in my long sleeve undershirt, which would offer more mobility. I did the same with my duty belt and set both items out of harm’s way. I roughly marked, with a pencil, where I was going to drill the holes for the hooks before readying the drill. As I marked, I knew this wasn’t going to be safe as I stood on my tippy toes to touch the ceiling.

I slid on a pair of safety glasses I’d found, so as not to get anything in my eyes and started climbing the wobbly ladder with the drill in hand. I lined up the drill bit with the mark, trying to balance on my tippy toes to get enough pressure to push into the drill. Before I could press the trigger, a deep, surprised voice caught me off guard.

“What in the hell!?” I heard Hopper’s voice echo in the bathroom.

In my state of unbalance on my toes, the step ladder wobbled ominously as I jumped. Hopper leaped forward, grabbing my hips with both hands, and stepping on the bottom step to steady the ladder. I gulped, feeling his firm grip tighten each time the step ladder wobbled. I crouched down to lower my center of gravity, inadvertently pushing my ass towards his face which was confirmed by the grunt he made. As soon as I was steady, he released me and let me step down on to solid ground.

“Hey, Chief,” I stammered, still rattled from almost falling.

I faced him, seeing his arms folded tightly across his chest in annoyance at having to catch me.

“You could have asked for help, you know,” Hopper sighed loudly. “I don’t need you hurting yourself before the end of your first week.”

“I don’t need help, sir, I can do it,” I rolled my eyes.

Hopper quirked his eyebrow at me, having noticed the eye roll, making me look away quickly. I heard him grumble under his breath as his hands began to unbutton his uniform shirt and tossed it on the bench. My eyes were glued to his hands as he pulled his sleeves up to his forearms. Hopper stuck out his hand, looking pointedly at the drill. He took his hat off and tossed it on top of my duty belt before snatching the drill from my hand.

“That stool is in really bad shape, Chief,” I cringed as he climbed to the second step.

“It’s a good thing I don’t have to go as high as you, then, huh?” he grunted, angling his body so he could line the drill up.

“Oh, wait!” I stopped him before he pressed the trigger. I stuck out the safety goggles, which he stared at like I’d just offered him a steaming pile of shit.

“Men don’t wear safety goggles,” he looked at me in disbelief, like I should have known.

“Men who want to keep their eyeballs do,” I rolled my eyes yet again, earning me another warning glare.

“Uh-huh,” he dismissed me, looking back up at the ceiling and readying himself again. He pressed the trigger and squinted, making a hole in the plaster quickly.

Hopper made quick work of the hooks, having almost all of them up within a few minutes. As he drilled the last hole, he had to force the drill bit back out when he felt it get stuck. A frown worked its way onto his features as he yanked down on the drill and finally pulled it from the ceiling. As a result of the thread ripping through the plaster, particles came flying from the hole and flew directly into his face.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelped, his free hand immediately flying to his eyes as he took a hesitant step down the stepladder.

I ran up behind him, immediately helping him down and shoving him toward one of the two showers. He tried to plant himself before we approached the shower head, but I gave him one more shove, so he was under the metal protrusion. I turned the water on, not bothering to check how cold it was before pushing his upper back so his head would be under the spray. He let out a frustrated growl as the icy water hit his face, but let it wash over his eyes anyway.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes slightly.

“Don’t do that,” I batted his hands away, getting my own hands wet in the process. I heard him take in a frustrated breath, clearly unhappy with the entire situation. “Open your eyes,” I murmured, trying to see around the water.

“Gee, I didn’t think of that,” he replied sarcastically through a mouthful of water. “I wish I could.”

I leaned around him, finally able to see his twitching eyelids, so I used a finger to push the skin below his eye down so that at least some water would help wash out the plaster. When he was through with my prying, he slapped the faucet handle and turned the water off abruptly. He yanked himself away from me and started stalking back to where his belongings were.

“Chief, wait! Just sit down,” I called after him.

“I’m fine,” he replied in a terse, annoyed tone, lifting his arm up to wipe his face with his plaster dusted sleeve.

“Jim,” I responded forcefully, gripping his wrist in a vice grip before his arm could touch his face.

His jaw clenched, his cheeks and ears red in what looked like anger but could have just as easily been in embarrassment. His eyes fluttered open slightly, the whites of his eyes turned pink from his not-so-gentle rubbing. His hooded gaze stared me down as he ground his jaw and inhaled loudly but relented and finally sat on the bench. He moved to wipe his face again after sitting, earning a slap on the back of his hand.

I quickly yanked open my locker an grabbed a clean washcloth to dry his face with. I strode back over to him on a mission, purposely bumping my knee against his so he’d spread his legs. I batted his hands away impatiently, feeling too much like I was taking care of temperamental child. I dried the skin around his eyes, then brought my thumbs to his face with the intention to gently pull skin away from his eyes so they’d open wider. He grimaced at the gesture and pulled his head away sharply, making me grab the sides of his face so he’d stop. I moved so fast that I leaned too far forward and nearly fell on him, only stopped by his hands grabbing the tops of my thighs and pushing slightly. I gulped and paused for a second, but when I realized he didn’t plan on moving his hands from me, I took a shaky breath and carried on.

I opened each eye carefully and examined it. “Look up,” I murmured, feeling his fingers tighten around my thighs briefly. “Down,” I instructed, trying to ignore the tingle of his thumb brushing ever so slightly across the material of my trousers. “Good, all good,” I sighed, thankful nothing was damaged but also inadvertently responding to his touch.

“Yea?” he murmured, blinking a few times after I let go of his face.

I placed my hands on his shoulders, knowing I should just back away and hang the curtains, but I didn’t want to move. His eyes bored back into mine for a few tense moments before he realized what he was doing and dropped his hands. He cleared his throat and stood quickly, making me stumble back as his body straightened and pushed me out of his space.

“I’ve gotta go get my kid,” he mumbled, grabbing his belongings, and storming out of the bathroom.

I watched him go and gulped at all these feelings rushing through my head. I did not have feelings for my boss. I repeated this in my head over and over while finishing my task of hanging curtains. There was no way I could have feelings for this grumpy jerk, right?

Chapter 5

#jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fanart #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #stranger things fanfiction #chief hopper fanfiction #chief hopper x you #chief hopper x reader

43 notes · View notes

maatryoshkaa · 5 years

Text

young god | chapter 1

serial killer!han jisung au

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

genre: angst, thriller, romance

pairing: han jisung ( stray kids) x reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: mild language, mature themes + violence

description: when your best friend Felix sets you up on a blind date with adorable medical student Han Jisung, you find yourself falling for his sweet words and dark eyes, and the even darker secrets he hides behind his charming, angelic smile.

watch the trailer here!

1 | blind date

You were beginning to wonder if you’d been stood up.

Mia’s Diner was usually busy, bustling with students and townspeople alike, but today it was nearly deserted: just you, two students studying in a booth across the room, and an old man reading what seemed to be a newspaper upside-down in the corner. A lone waitress was stacking clean milkshake glasses behind the counter.

It was raining hard outside, the drops sounding like impatient fingers tapping at the window beside you. As you peered through the glass, you caught a glimpse of a boy on a rusty bike, waiting to cross the street. Yang Jeongin, you recognized -- the delivery boy. A silver Walkman was tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, his lips mouthing the words to a song, a halo of dripping blonde hair sticking out from underneath his hood. He was smiling, despite the fact that it was pouring buckets, and he’d likely been up doing deliveries since 6 in the morning. Yang Jeongin was always smiling.

The light flashed red, traffic halted, and the delivery boy sped away.

Turning your attention back to the empty seat in front of you, you sighed.

Your date was thirty minutes late.

Your mind was running over all the ways you were going to give Felix hell when you saw him in class tomorrow; how you were going to explain to him that you’d been stood up on the blind date he’d arranged for you.

“You know what they call me? The Matchmaker of Miroh Heights. Has a nice ring to it, huh?”

You’d groaned as your best friend wiggled his eyebrows. Felix loved playing wingman. As the school photographer and a talented journalism major, he was the one who came up with the “Cutest Couples” section in the campus newspaper -- photoshoots and candid shots of pairings, most of which he’d set up. Still, you’d never thought that his...work...would extend to you.

It had been a while since you’d entertained the notion of love. You’d had your fair share of unrequited crushes and relationships that had not-so-pleasant endings, so the moment you’d enrolled into college and the workload had swept up your entire schedule, you’d left love on the backburner. You kept telling yourself that the right person would come at the right time -- but Felix seemed to have other ideas.

“Let’s see...Hyojong? Ah, no, I forgot -- he’s taken by that pretty senior. Lucky bastard.” He huffed. “Or...Seungcheol? Nah, doesn’t seem your type. Ah!” He snapped his fingers, making you jump. “I know!”

“Felix, for the last damn time -- I don’t need a boyfriend right now.”

“Just one date? Please?” The blond boy hung up the last photo, a mischievous glint in his eyes visible even in the dark room. “I know a great guy -- health sciences major and everything. You two are practically made for each other.”

“I’m a psychology major, ‘Lix. I don’t know -- you know I’m no good at blind dates--” you caught sight of his puppy-dog expression, and sighed in defeat. “Fine! Fine. What’s his name, then?”

The school journalist flashed an impish grin. “Han Jisung.”

Han Jisung.

He was the reason why you were here, sat in a near-empty diner on a rainy Sunday afternoon, waiting for a date to show up while a pile of psychology coursework waited for you back at home.

Maybe he couldn’t make it, you told yourself -- it was pouring buckets outside. Maybe it was better to swallow your hopes and head back. Biting your lip, you pulled out your phone, tapping on Jisung’s contact (courtesy of Felix) and typing.

New Message

Hey, I’m y/n! I’m really sorry, but I had to leave.

Your finger hovered over the Send button, hesitating. What if he was on his way? Or got caught in traffic? Still, it had been over thirty minutes…

You were so caught up in your dilemma that you barely registered the sound of the diner door swinging open, and the sound of wet footsteps squeaking until they stopped at your booth.

“Hello!”

You nearly threw your phone into the face of the boy who had spoken, his hand shooting out to catch it before it fell to the floor. Drenched from head to toe from the rain -- cheeks flushed and breathing hard as if he’d been running, dark hair falling in his wide eyes, lips spread in a breathless smile -- was your date.

His other hand was hidden behind his back as he handed your phone back to you, cool fingers grazing yours as your eyes met.

Well, shit.

He was absolutely, devastatingly, adorable.

“O-oh, hi!” You stammered. “You’re…”

“Jisung,” he finished for you. “Han Jisung.” He glanced at the empty seat in front of you. “May I…”

“Yeah, of course!” Your heart rate was steadily increasing, and you wanted to slap yourself. It’s just a blind date, y/n, stop getting your hopes up--

Your gaze fell on the hand he was still hiding behind his back as he slid into the booth. Noticing your stare, Jisung slowly and sheepishly pulled out a small bouquet of roses.They were an unusual colour -- a faint, peachy pink rather than the conventional ruby red.

They were also falling apart, clusters of wrinkled petals dripping and blown askew from the wind and rain, no doubt.

“They’re for you. I mean, I completely understand if you don’t want them, it’s just--I passed a florist’s on the way here, but it started raining, and--”

“I love them,” you blurted, and, seeing Jisung raise an eyebrow, you giggled. “I really do.”

You gingerly took the misshapen bouquet from his hands, bringing the flowers to your face and breathing in softly. They smelled pleasantly of petrichor, and something else faint yet sweet.

Jisung watched you, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re -- really pretty.”

You felt the blood rush to your face, your tongue tying into knots and betraying you oncemore. “O-oh,” you squeaked, “th-thank you?”

He chuckled as the waitress came to take your orders for drinks and food.

As she left, Jisung’s gaze wandered around the vintage movie posters, records, and other retro paraphernalia that decorated the diner’s interior. “This place is something else.”

“Right? Every time I come here, I think I’ve stepped into a movie. Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Dirty Dancing--” you blushed. “Sorry. I probably sound like a nerd.”

Jisung turned back to you. “Don’t apologize. What’s your favourite kind of movie? Rom-coms?”

“Psychological thrillers, actually,” you admitted shyly. Good gosh, that intense stare in Han Jisung’s eyes was making your heart do somersaults in your chest. “But romcoms are not far behind.”

He hummed in approval, an odd glint in his eyes. “So you’re into psychology?”

“Well, I’m majoring in psychology, so I kind of have to be -- although it’s been pretty hard on me as of late.” You sighed, suddenly remembering the mountain of final assignments weighing on your shoulders.

Jisung leaned in closer, resting his chin on his hands. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“It’s just--my final project.They’re testing our ability to communicate with and analyze a patient,” you explained. “Kind of like a therapist simulation. We’re supposed to find someone and, like, apply psychological concepts by giving them mock counselling over the course of a few months. And by the end of it, we have to write a conclusive report on their mental state. I can’t find anyone who’s willing to be my patient, which honestly makes sense -- it’s such an invasive topic.”

Jisung was silent for a long moment, dark eyes unreadable. Finally, he sat up a little straighter, cocking his head to the side. “I could be your patient.”

You blinked, mouth falling open. “Wha--are you sure? I mean, you really don’t have to--and it might take up a lot of your time--”

“I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you,” he replied, eyes glinting, and your heart skipped a beat.

“R-really?” You could already feel an incredulous, relieved smile spreading on your blushing face.

Jisung chuckled. “Just to see you smile like that, trust me -- I’d do anything.”

You were infinitely grateful that at that moment, the waitress arrived with your food. You weren’t sure your face could get any redder. You knew you were a hopeless romantic at heart, and had told yourself time and time again not to be swayed by sweet talk, but this was...different. There was something genuinely sweet in Jisung’s words -- he said them so honestly, with an almost childlike simplicity.

You sipped your drink in a feeble attempt to regain composure. “My turn to ask the questions. What’s your favourite food?”

“Cheesecake,” Jisung replied instinctively. You watched him bite into his burger and giggled at the way his round eyes widened even more before he practically inhaled the rest.

“Favourite season?”

“Winter.”

“Least favourite colour?”

Jisung froze, a weighted silence falling over the table. He swallowed, hard, before replying quietly, “Red.”

When you peered at his face, you felt an icy chill trickle down your spine. His warm brown eyes had darkened and grown impossibly wide, and the colour had drained from his cheeks. Had you said something wrong? You looked down at your clothes -- a soft, oversized beige cardigan and light blue jeans.

“W-well, it’s a good thing I’m not wearing red, then, huh?”

“No.” Jisung shook his head slowly, and his shaky gaze met yours. You felt your mouth go dry at how lost his eyes seemed -- bottomless pools of pitch black. “No, I’m sure you would still look pretty in red.”

As if on cue, your cheeks turned a bright cherry hue.

Deciding to change the topic, you cleared your throat. “What about dogs? Do you like dogs?”

Almost as quickly as it had come, the dark look vanished from his face. “I love dogs!”

By the time the waitress brought the bill, Jisung had you in stitches over a joke he’d made, and you’d long forgotten about the whole ordeal.

The rain had stopped when you two stepped outside. Behind the knitted clouds, the sun was setting, its rays of light seeping through the stormy sky like veins in marble. Jisung’s features were painted a soft gold, warm eyes sparkling as he turned around to face you. His hair was a strange colour, you noted -- under the dim lights of the diner, it had appeared a light brown, but now that you were in the sunlight, it looked more blond. It had also been dripping wet, soaked from sweat or rain or both after running all the way to you, but it had dried off now, the ends curling in his eyes.

Maybe you’d had one dose of sugar too many in your drink, because you suddenly found yourself wanting to touch it. So you did just that, fingers reaching for the soft, fluffy golden locks and ruffling them playfully. Jisung’s eyes held yours the entire time, his gaze questioning.

You huffed. “You’re cute, okay?”

He broke into a smile that made your heart flutter. “Okay.”

Cheeks blazing at your own sudden boldness, you quickly pulled your hand away, fingers lightly grazing the side of his cheek before you stepped back. “I--I’m gonna get going now. Thanks for a great time!”

“Of course. See you next time?” Jisung winked, handing you the bouquet of peach roses.

“S-see you!” With that, you turned and practically ran across the street, heart still threatening to leap out of your chest as you fought the butterflies in your stomach and the smile sneaking onto your face.

Behind you, Jisung’s face darkened, smile slipping from his lips as you disappeared from his sight.

#han jisung #stray kids #han jisung imagine #stray kids imagine #stray kids angst #han jisung angst #stray kids yandere #han jisung yandere #serial killer!AU #stray kids soft #han jisung boyfriend #stray kids boyfriend

3K notes · View notes

russian-romanova · 4 years

Text

enough said

title: enough said

pairing: jack kline

word count: 2K

warnings: adult language, me shaking my head at my life decisions as i write ‘lucifer was stunned’ and thinking about how normal people don’t write sentences like this.

notes: so, i had to repost this one because the text got deleted after i tried to edit a piece on my phone. guess i won’t be doing that again!

request: “Jack is dating the brother’s sister and only cas knew until sam and dean see them kiss and freak out? or lucifer as an actually good father giving jack advice on asking sam and dean’s sister on a date?”

summary: unsure of who to tell about his feelings for y/n, jack goes to his father for some advice. basically it’s a cheesy pile of wonderful shit :)

+ + +

“Hey, can you pass me that book?”

Jack looked up, met with your outstretched hand. You were focused down on the lore book in front of you, eyes gliding over words and pictures. You looked tired, Jack noted, but not in a way that made you look bad or anything. It just… was. “Which one?”

You glanced up, meeting Jack’s eyes briefly before looking down at the pile in front of you. “That one,” You pointed. “The gold and green one.” The Nephilim scanned the books closest to him before picking up what he assumed was the book you were talking about. “Thank you,” You smiled at him as he passed it to you, your hands brushing.

Jack’s gaze remained up as yours fell back to the lore, distracted by the thoughts rushing through your head. The small smile he always wore grew a little bigger as he watched you concentrate, eyes flicking between picture and paragraph, comparing previous knowledge with new information and storing that in your head.

You turned the book from a page about vampires to a page about changelings. Jack didn’t really understand why he wanted to look at you for so long. He didn’t feel this way about Sam or Dean, despite being family and Jack looking up them. Of course, there were somethings he loved watching the brothers do, like when Dean fixed a part on the impala or when Sam got so into telling a story that he would act it out. But with you, Jack would watch you stare at a wall.

He didn’t think he could tell Sam or Dean. Dean would probably laugh, and Sam would give him some sugar-coated explanation of the feeling, which was nice at times, but not when he wanted to get to the bottom of it so badly. Castiel would give him a version with condescending undertones, which was a word Jack wasn’t too familiar with yet but certainly had experience with the feeling.

His mind searched for options as your head looked up at him. Without realizing why Jack looked back down the lore he was looking through as so to avoid eye contact with you. He didn’t understand why he acted the way he did around you, and he knew that he needed a professional opinion.

So of course, Jack excused himself and turned to google.

Deciding what to search was hard. He had to words to put his feelings into, so he ended up searching ‘who do i talk to about a girl’ and clicking the magnifying glass. ‘How to talk to girls: 15 no bullshit tips’, read the first one, which was clearly not what Jack needed. He knew how to talk to girls, that was just dumb. It was just like talking to men, only Dean said you were supposed to be even nicer to women.

The second and third, ‘How to Talk to a Girl: 9 tips to Get Her HOOKED’ and ‘34 Topics To Talk About With A Girl You Like’ weren’t much more helpful, either. By the time he was on page twelve of the google results, a half-hour had passed and Jack was no closer to finding out who to talk to about his unknown feelings.

From behind him, a familiar voice spoke up. “Whatcha lookin’ at, sport?” Jack didn’t even have to turn around to know that it was Lucifer, nor was he surprised by his popping up anymore.

Jack turned around. Perhaps the answer to his question had been in front of him this whole time. He closed his laptop. “Can I… talk to you about something?”

Lucifer was stunned for a moment but quickly regained himself. “Yeah, spill.”

After examining the floor and gathering his thoughts, Jack began to speak. “I… Whenever I’m around Y/N I feel… strange.”

“Like… barf strange or good strange?”

“Good strange. Really good strange. It’s like I’m…” Jack struggled for a moment. “It’s like I can’t breathe, but in a good way. I really want to look at her always, and whenever I’m around her I feel happy.”

The words registered and Lucifer smiled. “Ooh, sounds like Jack’s got a little crush. I should have seen like goo-goo eyes from a mile away.”

“None of those words made sense,” Jack answered honestly.

“Right. Okay,” Lucifer sat down on the side of Jack’s bed, and he realized he felt more like a lecturing father than he probably ever would again. “So when you want to spend a lot of time with someone and just want to look at them and whatnot, usually it’s because you really like them. More than you like a friend, or more than you like Sam and Dean.” He furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of how to continue.

Jack thought this over. “What about… what about the feeling? Is there a word?”

Oh, that kid loved his words. “Yes, um,” Lucifer hesitated for a second. “Love.”

“Love? But I know what love is.”

“Yeah, yeah, but this is a different love. Trust me, kid, alright? This is like, Han Solo and Leia, not Luke and Leia.” A Star Wars reference. Jack could understand that, right?

The Nephilim thankfully nodded. “Okay.”

There was a moment of silence before Lucifer spoke up. “So, are you gonna tell her?”

Jack was silent.

“Do you want my opinion? Just go for it. Tell her how you feel, or maybe don’t. Girls like it when you make the first move.” Lucifer shifted. “Just lean in and kiss her. You do know how to kiss, right?”

Jack hesitated. “I’ve… seen kissing.”

“Good enough,” Lucifer stood up, walking over to Jack. “Just trust your gut. She already likes you, I’m 100% about that. Be confident, be you, and go get ‘em.”

Jack nodded, frankly surprised. He didn’t think he would ever get this from Lucifer, especially not so sincerely. “Thank you,” The Nephilim offered genuinely, and Lucifer felt his heart swell at the words. He never really cared much for being a father, but then there would be moments like this that made it suddenly worth it.

So Jack returned to find you still reading. You had added coffee and an empty plate to your stack of nearby items, so cluttered Jack wasn’t sure how you could even get to the books. “Hey, Jack,” You looked up and smiled, and Jack felt the feeling in his stomach return. “Where’ve you been?”

“In my room,” Jack answered, smiling. Thankfully, all you gave was a strange look before returning to your book. After considering his options for a moment, Jack decided to sit next to you rather than across from you.

And then the need to stare returned and Jack felt his face grow warm. Your eyes moved slower now, taking in information that was entirely new and trying your hardest to remember it. You were concentrating, he knew because he recognized the look on your face. He had seen it a hundred times before, but it was evidently much lighter than before because you looked up to meet his gaze.

“What?” You chuckled, your own face blushing a little.

Nerves took over Jack’s stomach, but he pushed through them and kept looking at you. Lucifer’s advice echoed in his ears, and he felt himself moving before he realized it.

Gracefully and curiously, Jack leaned in towards you. Without having to even think, you met him halfway, your lips touching as if you had done it a million times before. It was short and sweet, but not at all awkward as you thought it might have been.

You pulled yourself away to find Jack smiling even wider than you were. He was beaming like you had never seen him before. It was freeing and refreshing, and you almost felt like hugging him out of joy.

“What the hell just happened?” A man’s voice came from out of your vision, and you jerked your head around to see Dean, holding two grocery bags and looking flabbergasted, and Sam, smiling and looking smug.

“Dean! Hello,” Jack began, holding his hand up in a wave.

“Um, we can explain-” You interrupted, stumbling over your words and trying to speak above Jack’s voice.

Sam chuckled a little. “You don’t have to explain. It took you two long enough.”

You blinked once, twice, then looked to Dean. “Wait, really?”

Dean hesitated, still looking a little like he had walked in on his grandmother changing. “Yeah. Just- just keep it PG, okay?”

Jack gave Dean a strange look. “Like… the movies?”

“Yeah, no, we’re not gross,” You answered Dean quickly, waving your hands in denial. “Also, we have basic human decency.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Congrats, kids.” He muttered in remaining confusion, raised a grocery bag to toast the two of you, and walked through the room to the kitchen.

“How’d either of you get up the guts?” Sam asked, crossing his arms.

Jack smiled. “I asked my father.”

Sam hesitated. “You asked… Lucifer for dating advice?”

“Yes.” Jack nodded a little. “I wasn’t sure what to think at first, but I guess he was right.”

“I guess.” You shrugged.

Sam looked between the two of you, smiling a little. “Okay. I’ll let you two get back to it.” This was something rare in the hunting life, something pure and meaningful. He never really had that, and he was beyond happy that the two of you had a shot at something like that, something normal. But now Jack and you did, and Sam was glad to know it was a chance going to the right people.

#jack kline x reader #jack kline #jack #jack winchester #jack kline x y/n #jack kline x you #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #Sam Winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam and dean #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #lucifer #lucifer x reader #:)

263 notes · View notes

falseroar · 3 years

Text

Dog Days Part 10: Limited Supply

((After finally getting some sleep, Abe learns a little more about the lack of silver bullets in the city and where someone might go to get a Google of their own, or four.

This one is back to being on the long side, but I think the next few are going to level out and not be jumping between long Abe sections and shorter Y/N ones.

Warning: reference to using alcohol as a bad coping mechanism.

Links to Part 9 and to the whole series here.))

Abe didn’t remember the walk back to his car, but he did at least remember that this hospital charged for parking by the hour before he gave in to the impulse to try and get a nap right there in the driver’s seat. It felt like a minor miracle when he managed to reach his office/apartment without causing an accident, and a major one when he was finally, finally able to pull off his shoes and little else before crashing on top of his unmade futon bed.

It was a hard sleep, the kind that left Abe feeling somehow vaguely worse when he woke up than when he fell asleep. Might have had something to do with the puddle of drool he woke up in, or the vague confusion about when and where he was when he opened his crusty eyes to a dark room with the only light coming from the streetlights outside.

He sat up with a groan and a slightly worrying crack from his back. How long had it been since he slept here and not in some random hotel room or in his car or those couple of nights spent out in the woods that probably didn’t actually count as sleeping, now that he thought about it? He checked his watch, realized it had fallen off somewhere in the sheets, and stumbled his way to the bathroom to try and make an effort to clean himself up.

One shower later he felt slightly more human and awake enough to realize that despite feeling like he had barely closed his eyes, he had somehow managed to sleep for over 12 hours there. Which meant he was a bit late on the ball for another night at the doctor’s clinic, again.

Then again, Abe told himself as he checked the coffeemaker and grimaced at what he found there, chances were high that other doctor clued Schneeplestein in on a hunter coming around asking about vampires. Wasn’t like he had been super subtle, and he doubted Dr. Iplier had enough vampire patients to not be able to narrow down who might need to be worried. Keeping some distance for one night couldn’t hurt, not when he had a few other things to look into.

He dug out the envelope that Google guy gave him and leaned against his desk as he checked the contents again. Pictures of the doc, those could have been taken by anyone, and addresses were easy to get, but the copy of the certificate was another question. Abe had seen a couple of these before, battered smaller versions carried by various non humans to prove that they were registered and, theoretically, as harmless as anyone else walking on the street.

This one though, or at least the copy of it, was the larger version kept on file. The seals looked genuine enough, and there was no sign of blurring or any other kind of alteration even when Abe checked with a magnifying glass. If it was a fake, then it was the best one he had ever seen, but the only place to find this version was either in the city’s official records (and even then you had to jump through enough hoops to make you feel like a prized poodle at the dog show) or theoretically in the Bronson Institute’s files, although Abe had never managed to wrangle permission to get to those.

Either way, not an easy piece of paper to get your hands on without the right connections, which could give him a leg up on narrowing down who was so invested in finding out more about this doctor. Abe didn’t believe that bull about not wanting to accidentally accuse an innocent person, not from someone who had to send a magic doohickey made to look like a person instead of showing their own face.

Google. That guy had to be a lead of his own too, even if there was apparently more than one of him walking around. There weren’t too many people who could be capable of making magitek that could pass for human, considering Abe didn’t know of anyone who could pull that off.

But he did know someone who always knew how to pull off the next best thing if there was even a hint of money to be made.

The rest of the night passed quickly, as Abe made a few notes and tried (and failed) to connect a few more dots before heading out just before dawn.

A drive by the clinic proved the doctor had already headed out, and despite driving the way he saw him walk off yesterday Abe failed to see any sign of the vampire before he pulled up to his favorite coffee stop.

“Look at that, he came back,” Carla greeted him as he walked in. “How do you look even worse than yesterday?”

“It’s called getting old,” Abe answered, but she just clucked her tongue and reached for an empty cup. “Your musician not here today?”

“The Host? Guess not, if you didn’t see him. Not like he has a set time to be here,” Carla said. She poured the coffee and paused to look at him. “Feeling brave enough to try something different today?”

“Maybe later,” Abe answered, same as he did every other time she bothered to ask. Black coffee as strong as it came had served him well this long, after all. When she shrugged and slid the cup of coffee toward him, he hesitated and asked, “You still make those sandwiches here?”

Despite the fact that the coffee shop was completely empty except for him and Carla, the hunter took one of the far corner booths by the front windows so that he could keep an eye on the people walking outside while he ate and drank his coffee. Carla would throw him a question or make a comment out into the air every now and then, but otherwise she let him sit there in a silence that was only broken by the occasional other customer.

Even when the number of customers started to pick up and more and more people took empty tables and booths and filled the coffee shop with talking and laughter and general noise, Abe just sat there in his own bubble of silence, watching the street without really seeing it.

The house. Why had Google told him to go there, what was he supposed to see? Someone had performed a ritual there, or at least tried to, and Abe could only hope there was enough of whatever poor fool thought that was a good idea to walk out of there. No body to be found anyways, but sometimes that just made things worse.

He swallowed, hard, and tried to focus.

What was the connection to the Colonel? Celine had been into that stuff, but Abe somehow doubted the Colonel was the type to have a head or the patience for magic. Then again, neither was he, because when he looked at the symbols he had copied into his notebook, they still looked half a step away from scribbles.

And the next page was a copy of the doctor’s list of weapon shop owners.

Abe chewed on his thumbnail as he stared at that page, his thoughts of that used silver bullet in the doctor’s office shifting to the memory of small, twin piles of gleaming silver bullets in his and the Colonel’s palms. One of which ended up in his own chest, and the other…

Next thing he knew, he was shoving the notebook back into the pocket it came from and hurriedly gathering all of his trash together to throw away.

“Heading out?” Carla asked, like she had been keeping an eye on him.

“Yeah, I’ve got—I’ve got some things I need to look into,” Abe said, avoiding her knowing stare. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Abe,” she said, so sharply that he had to stop and look back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just working on a case. You know how it is,” Abe answered. He had maybe camped out here in the coffee shop for an hour or six before, going through cup after cup of coffee while working through a particularly difficult problem.

So it was a little surprising to hear the genuine concern in Carla’s voice when she said, “Don’t let it get to you. You can always turn down a case if it’s not sitting with you, right?”

“Of course I can,” Abe answered, mostly out of reflex.

Because as he stepped outside into the crisp but quickly warming up air, he knew that as true as that was in theory, he really couldn’t. Not when he could feel the edge of a thread, of something connecting all of this that he couldn’t see yet.

The hunter glanced at the bench outside of the shop, but there was still no sign of the Host. Not that Abe was sure he wanted to talk to that guy again anytime soon, but he felt an itch in the back of his mind whenever he spared him a thought, like there was something he was forgetting.

Abe paused at the door of his car and looked back, then all around, but there was no one there out of the ordinary, nothing to explain the fleeting sense of being watched that he quickly put out of his mind.

---

Every weapon shop on the doctor’s list, and a couple more that Abe knew of from his own shopping, had the same response when the hunter asked: no one was buying silver bullets, at least not anytime recently.

“No market for them,” one shop owner explained. “If you want, I can put an order in, but it’ll take a few weeks unless it’s an emergency.”

“Haven’t kept them in stock in three years,” a clerk at another store said after checking their computer. “And that was after not selling them for even longer. Wound up selling our last batch back to the smith who made them.”

Guy at another store outright laughed at Abe when he asked, and he had enough clues to tell he wasn’t the first to ask long before one manager Abe had dealt with before joked, “We had a guy in asking about silver bullets yesterday. You two know something we don’t?”

“That depends. What’d the other guy look like?” Abe asked.

“I don’t know, white guy, brown hair. Wore a red hoodie and didn’t look much like your typical hunter, but that’s about all I noticed,” the manager said with a shrug as she went back to wiping down her glass counter. “Told him I could order him some if he had an ID, but he didn’t care about that. Sounded more like he was interested in telling where a particular bullet came from, and I had to explain to him that you can’t really do that just by looking, you know?”

Abe nodded. If you knew what to look for, you could tell what kind of gun had fired a bullet, but narrowing it down to a particular weapon would require an expert. There were forensics guys with the police and the Institute who could do that, both of which would have a lot of questions for a doctor who showed up with a used silver bullet, starting with just who he pulled that bullet out of.

Werewolves were always the first thing to come to mind whenever silver bullets came into the conversation, although Abe knew they weren’t the only ones to have a weakness for silver. Vampires had a problem with the stuff too, if not as much, but most people were more familiar with the holy symbols and wooden stakes. Really, the only debate among hunters was whether silver crucifixes or wooden ones were better, and even then it usually boiled down to cost and the fact that one version could just as easily become a stake if you were desperate enough. No hunter would bother using a silver bullet on a vampire, since it wasn’t even a guaranteed kill like it was with a werewolf; do it wrong, and you really just ticked off someone who was probably already angling to take a bite out of you.

So, probably only one reason any reasonable person would be packing silver bullets. The problem was, there hadn’t been a werewolf within the bounds of the city in years, as everyone seemed keen to remind Abe today. The District Attorney hadn’t been the last one, with the odd one or two that supposedly ran afoul of the Institute and then were never seen again. From what Abe heard among other hunters and his not quite human contacts, the rumors about what happened to them were enough to keep any sane were from taking that risk.

“You looking to buy some?” the manager asked, in a tone that suggested she already knew the answer before Abe shook his head.

“Still got a few of my own rattling around,” he answered.

Five bullets, to be exact. The five bullets that remained in his gun after that party, the five he had been left with when all was said and done.

Well, that and the bullet the Colonel put in his chest, bit hard to forget about that one.

Abe walked out of the weapons shop and rubbed his face, hand audibly scratching against the stubble on his chin. According to the manager, the guy in the hoodie had come in to that particular shop during the day yesterday, so unless the doctor was topping up on blood and using the hood to keep out of direct sunlight, he had friends to do his day work for him.

Was it one of those friends who had a silver bullet put in them, or one of his patients? Couldn’t be a real werewolf, even a shot that a regular human would be able to survive could kill a were if the bullet was silver. When just the touch of the stuff burned, having it suddenly in your system generally didn’t do a body good. So probably a case of mistaken identity, or just using whatever weapon happened to be at hand, although that second one didn’t sound likely considering the general lack of silver ammunition lying around.

Really, the only ones who would have silver bullets these days would be hunters like him who kept a supply of just about anything that might be useful on hand. Which gave Abe’s mind fuel for his next theory of who might want to send Google to get him to keep an eye on the doctor: a hunter who mistakenly shot someone they believed was a werewolf would have a reason to get rid of the doctor who both treated and possibly saved said victim and possessed the evidence that could track the shooting back to them. Hiring another hunter to dig up dirt on said doctor and discredit him before that could happen would be one way of dealing with the problem.

Or, alternatively, someone really was worried about the doctor and wanted to have someone else on standby and ready to prove his innocence, but for some reason Abe just wasn’t ready to believe his client had the best motives at heart here.

There was also the problem that if someone did survive that bullet, why would they need to risk asking around town about it? Either the victim didn’t know or see their shooter and had another reason not to go to the police without some solid evidence to back them up first, or the victim wasn’t in a position to tell anyone about it afterward.

So, possibly a victim out there, who was just as possibly dead or alive at this point, and a doctor who was possibly trying to solve their attempted and/or actual murder, and then there was the hunter who was possibly being setup to do something possibly very stupid and regrettable. Or, possibly, Abe was barking up the wrong tree entirely, which was also something he considered while he groaned into his steering wheel and questioned all of his life choices for a solid five minutes at least.

No matter how many theories he could come up with, they all came back to the same idea: he needed to figure out just who was so interested in this doctor and why, and at least Abe had an idea on where to start there.

---

The next time he parked his car, it was on the seedier side of town. This had less to do with the people living in this area and more the businesses that thought these few blocks were prime real estate, or at least within the range they were willing to shell out for. The kind of places where the abundance of signs about “genuine” and “high quality” merchandise for prices that were low enough to make any reasonable person tilt their head, but it was the stuff that wasn’t advertised that tended to lead the owners to make “charitable contributions” to the local police and to the campaign funds of certain officials. In exchange, the powers that be were willing to look the other way on the sale of the occasional fake designer handbag or charm of questionable origin.

For example, there was a while where this was the place to go for dragon eggs, back when there was a craze going around that the eggs supposedly had all kinds of miracle properties when properly prepared. The government actually had to step in on that one when it turned out the eggs were really coming from an enchanted goose grown to giant size and hidden away in one of the warehouses around here. And even that was only after the gander got out and surprised no one by causing general mayhem and havoc across the city with the simple vindictiveness of a goose with nothing better to do. Took an entire team of hunters and a bread van to lure the fowl out of the city and to a nearby lake, and that was after they figured out how to return it to normal size.

Today though, Abe went into the bargain bin store whose name changed every time he passed through here, same as the strange array of items on sale in bulk. The owner, however, never changed, and it didn’t take the hunter long to find him slapping a box that according to its label contained one hundred rubber ducks and talking to a customer in an exaggerated southern drawl.

“Tell you what, you take these and I’ll give you a 10% discount on that there drowning charm you were checking out. Guaranteed to keep you afloat, in the bath or out on the open seas, your choice.”

“…Do you mean the ducks or the charm?” the customer asked.

“Both!”

Abe took a walk around the warehouse-like store at that, but he didn’t have long to snort at the rack of labeled potion bottles that claimed to cure everything from rheumatism to bad breath before the bell over the door rang and the customer walked out awkwardly holding the massive box of rubber ducks.

“You’re kidding me,” Abe muttered, but the salesman who was already bearing down on him heard him and grinned.

“I know what people need, and I can see you’re checking out our excellent selection of potions. The one to treat baldness is right there on the—” Ed Edgar stopped short and visibly swallowed when he found the muzzle of a gun pressing up against his jaw. “Top row, next to the other jokes, of course. Good to see you again, Abe.”

“Sure it is,” Abe said, lowering his gun but not putting it away in case Ed started the salesman routine again. “What do you know about magitek?”

“Yeah, that’s what I like about you, never a man to beat around the bush,” Ed said, switching gears once again. It was hard to see his eyes behind those sunglasses that he always wore, even inside, but that grin said he hadn’t given up on finally selling the hunter on something. “What are you in for, I’m sure I’ve got it! We’ve got tablets, we’ve got mice—the kind that’ll clean up your place while you sleep, I mean—and we’ve got word-activated lights that never need a battery, boxes that’ll follow you wherever you go—”

“What about magitek that can pass for human?” Abe interrupted. “You ever hear anything about that?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ed hummed, nodding his head like he was just waiting for Abe to ask. “Should have known you’d be up on what I expect will be the next big thing, soon as we can get the kinks knocked out.”

“Kinks?” Abe repeated, even though he immediately wished he hadn’t.

“There’s that whole ‘uncanny valley’ thing that bothers some people whenever you get something lookin’ a little too human that ain’t,” Ed admitted. “Especially if you maybe make one that forgets which way their limbs are supposed to go, but we’ve mostly worked that out at the warehouse. Got a prototype right here in the back, if you wanna see it. Gotta warn you, you might be tempted to put in an order of your own, and you’ll want to do it fast before everyone else catches on.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Abe said, but his sarcasm couldn’t hide his interest.

Ed nodded and immediately yelled toward the back of the store, “Get out here, you bucket of bolts! We’ve got a customer!”

Not exactly the most stellar introduction, but it didn’t seem to bother the man who skateboarded out of the back and came to a slightly uneven stop near them. Said man tried, and failed, to kick his skateboard up and catch it, but he quickly picked it up and tucked it under his arm like that didn’t just happen before flashing them a surfer gesture with his free hand.

“Suh, dudes! How’s it hangin’?” asked the man, who like Ed was wearing a pair of sunglasses inside but otherwise couldn’t look anymore different than the salesman. While Ed was dressed like a wannabe cowboy from his boots to the ten gallon hat on top of his unkempt mullet, this guy seemed to be going more for the sanitized LA skater boy look. “Name’s Bing. Whatcha need to know?”

“You’re magitek?” Abe asked, even though after Google he was quicker to notice the obvious signs. No breathing, not exactly blinking behind those sunglasses, and something a bit plasticky about that grin were the big ones.

“That I am, dude! Perfect blending of that dope magic and some seriously sick technology to create the perfect blend of family-friendly information searching and sweet tricks.”

Bing started to put his board down as if to demonstrate, but Ed shot out a hand with a quick clear of his throat.

“Still working on that last bit, but my guys in the shop are sure the young people today will love this guy,” Ed said. “Nothing else like him.”

“Nothing?” Abe asked. “Funny, cause I’ve run into two magitek men that both called themselves ‘Google.’”

“Well, nothing like Bing on the market,” Ed said. He flicked the brim of his cowboy hat and cockily said, “That ship sailed, and me and Bing-a-boy here are going to be the first to pick up the slack, ain’t that right?”

“Yeah, that old fart Google has nothing on me,” Bing said, his grin growing wider and somehow more unsettling. Abe suspected someone may have added a few too many teeth to that mouth.

“Why did Google never make it to market?” Abe asked, even though he could think of many, many reasons why this whole concept bothered him.

Ed shrugged. “Lab that made ‘em was bought out by the Bronson Institute, and apparently, they’re not interested in making any more for some reason. Not into printing that money, I guess! Rumor is they only made four of those Google units before the Institute got involved.”

“I saw one at the hospital yesterday,” Abe said.

“Yeah, that one was a charitable donation, bit of a pilot project to see about how they’d do in a healthcare environment. Can’t get sick of course, so you can see why that’d be tempting,” Ed answered, although considering that Google had been running the receptionist’s desk, Abe suspected his bedside manner hadn’t matched up there. Or maybe it had something to do with the “incidents” that doctor mentioned. “Scientist who made them kept one to help in the lab, and I hear that big studio downtown managed to snatch one up. The institute probably took the last one, if I had to guess, cause I ain’t heard anything else about it.”

“Impressive that you were able to make your own version so soon,” Abe said, fishing.

But it was Bing who took the bait and said, “One of my creators used to work in the lab, until that bogus institute let him go. But I’m not just a copy of that defective Google, I’m an improvement.”

“Yeah you are,” Ed said, slapping him on the shoulder and then wincing. “Remind me to have a talk about that extra padding on your frame.”

A bright tone came from Bing’s chest and he straightened slightly as he said, “I will remind you to have a talk about the extra padding. Is 2 AM an acceptable time for this reminder?”

“No, why would I—” Ed, remembering that there was someone else there, stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Just remind me next time I’m in the warehouse.”

“Understood,” Bing said, a second tone coming before he “relaxed” into his standard posture.

“Could I meet this creator?” Abe asked, and almost immediately Ed tried to change the subject.

It took a bit more questioning, and managing to get Bing on his own while Ed ran to the other side of the store to grab some gadget he had convinced himself the hunter would love to buy, but Abe gradually gathered that when Bing said his creator used to work in the lab, he actually meant said guy used to take out the trash and may have “acquired” a few copies of Google’s design before he was “let go at ultimate speed,” which meant that he knew pretty much nothing that could help Abe.

Disappointing, but at least Abe was walking out with more info than when he walked in, and with the same amount of money in his pockets despite Ed Edgar’s best efforts. He even had an address for the lab the Google quartet came out of, but considering it was technically Institute property now he somehow doubted he could just walk up and start asking questions without getting more attention than he’d want right now.

It was something to consider at least, as Abe once again parked his car just far enough away from the clinic to not draw suspicion while he kept watch on the entrance. By the time he got there, it was already growing darker by the second despite the early hour, and despite the fact that a full moon tonight meant he should have been looking forward to a bright night to work with. Something that Abe should have noticed, but he was too focused on the settings of his camera to pay attention to the clouds gathering overhead until the first raindrops began to patter against his windshield.

The hunter swore under his breath and hastily moved his car a few spots closer to the clinic to make sure he would still have a clear line of sight through the rain that quickly escalated from a drizzle to a downpour. He turned off his headlights just in time, as a car pulled up in front of the clinic and sat there just long enough for him to roll down his window and get a good shot.

His camera clicked multiple times, catching the license plate of the car and the three men who jumped out and huddled around the front door while the doctor hastily fumbled with his keys. The light came on in the clinic and Abe managed to catch one or two more shots before the door shut behind them and blocked his view.

He sighed and rolled up his window, left arm soaked but hoping that the ambient streetlight plus the light from inside the building would be enough to get at least a couple of them to turn out okay despite the lack of flash.

Before he could take a look, a different kind of flash lit the street.

Seven seconds later, the boom of thunder followed and, despite the warning flash of lightning, Abe still flinched, the familiar pain in his chest a dragging weight against his pounding heart.

Maybe the storm would pass soon, if he could just wait it out—

There was a second flash of lightning, and Abe’s car started in the space between it and the following rumble of thunder.

Not like he could hope to get close enough to see anything tonight, Abe lied to himself as he drove back to his office, accelerating just that much faster with each new round of thunder and lightning. There would always be other chances.

Whether that was true or not was something he could care less about in the moment, as he hurried into his office mere minutes later and immediately shut his blinds to the rain hitting his windows. Never one to bother much with music, he still found a familiar album and turned on his record player loud enough to drown out the noise outside. If anyone was trying to get work done in the neighboring offices, they apparently knew better than to come by and complain, or just weren’t loud enough to make themselves heard.

At least he had plenty of practice in drowning out painful memories, Abe thought to himself as he pulled an emergency drink out of one of his desk drawers and poured the first glass of many. Not as much in actually dealing with them, but taking care of the person who caused them in the first place seemed like as good a place to start as any.

If he could just find a way to get to him.

((End of Part 10. Thanks again for reading, and sorry if this one felt all over the place. I may have written that whole “possibly” bit when I realized I had Abe going down way too many rabbit holes on something the reader knows the answer to already, and I seriously can’t wait until everyone’s finally on the same page and confused together. XD

Link to Part 11: First Moon.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox ))

#markiplier #fanfiction #detective abe #monster hunter au #ed edgar #bing iplier #silver bullets #abe didn't expect this case to throw up so many unwanted memories #it's almost like there's some kind of connection to what happened at the house #but that would just be ridiculous right?

12 notes · View notes

cam798 · 3 years

Text

Decided to give story writing a go. Hope someone likes it. It's based on a fantasy of mine.

I was on a late drive back from a weekend with friends. It was coming up to midnight and a busy day was taking its toll. Thankfully the next junction had a service station.

The seating area was still open so I took the opportunity to have a longer break from the road. A few lone people, most likely truckers were also in there. I took a seat and immediately felt eyes upon me. I glanced to see a man staring at me. I gave a quick smile and refocused on my coffee. I could still feel his gaze.

Coffee gone, I decided it was time to get back on the road. The older man followed shortly after. As I was about to get into my car I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see the man there,

'Heya, I don't mean to bother you but you don't plan on driving much longer do ya?'

I stumbled over the sudden question, but managed to reply

'yeah, still got about 4 hours to go'

The man responded

'well, you looked like you were ready to curl up on the chair in there and sleep. I live on a farm about 20 minutes away. There's a spare bed you can have'

Initially I was a bit shocked at the up front offer, and the thought of going with someone I'd know for 30 seconds. But the thought of falling asleep at the wheel left made me consider the offer more.

The man sensed my hesitation 'look, I know we've just met, but it's a lot better than you causing a pile up'

As if to add to it, I felt rain drops beginning to fall.

'okay, yes, that would be great, thank you'

I grabbed my bag and headed to his truck. The man introduced himself as Ben. On the trip to the farm, we made general small talk and it allowed me to better see what he looked like. He was in his 50s, well built, with a head of short grey hair. His face was classically handsome, with a bit of stubble. He wore boots, beige bib overalls and a plaid shirt. His voice was deep and his whole demeanour was comforting. A typical farmer.

The farm was no more than 20 minutes away, in the distance the lights of the motorway could be seen. We went into the old farm house, straight into the kitchen.

Ben showed me upstairs to the spare room, a simple space with a single bed, chest of drawers, and small chair. The small window looked at the back of the house away from the drive. I turned to see him there with a glass of water for me. After some more small talk and good nights, I went to bed. The room was oddly hot, so I gulped the whole glass of water.

Almost instantly, the room began spinning. I tried to grab onto the sheets, but my arms wouldn't seem to move. I tried calling out for help, but no sound came out. Everything went dark.

I woke up groggy and sore, vision still slightly blurred. The events of the night came into focus. I immediately went to ask Ben about it. Well, tried to. I found myself straddling a wooden trestle. Hands and feet tied to each leg. I tried pulling at my bonds, but the knots were too tight and the rope too strong. I tried arching my back to get some momentum, but my chest and stomach were bound to the trestle as well.

Still struggling hopelessly, a faint cough brought my attention up. Ben was stood over me, grinning from ear to ear. Still in his boots and overalls, just a different top and the addition of a straw cowboy hat.

'a tad stuck are we'

I immediately began begging t be released, but Ben just laughed it off. He kneeled in front of me

'see, when I saw you and that perky bum of yours, I knew I had to have it. I figured someone like you wasn't for guys, so I put a little sleeping aid in your water, and kept the heat up in your room. Oh, and thanks for making it so easy to get you here'

Panic really set in, and Ben could see, and loved it

'now, if you're good, I'll take you back to your car later'

Nope, I needed to get out of this. I began screaming for help. Ben just stood there. I realised early on there was no one for miles around. Plus, Ben worked his farm alone. Not that it mattered. I continued calling for help. Next thing I knew, Ben was pulling a knotted bandana from his pocket. He quickly had it between my teeth, and was double knotting it round the back of my head.

Now reduced to a few small grunts and wiggling my fingers, I began accepting my fate. Ben laughed and began to leave, explaining he had work to do and would be back shortly. I tried shouting for him, but the gag stopped any words coming out. Ben stopped in his tracks and came back, only the produce another bandana. This one completely covered my mouth and once again, was double knotted.

Silence fell as Ben shut the door to what can best be described as a shed. A few tools and parts here and there, and a simple cement floor. I tried to rock the trestle over and hopefully break it, but it wouldn't budge. To my dismay, I found it had been bolted to the floor. I was completely stuck. And to make matters worse, my weight plus the ropes pulling my down was making my balls ache.

After at least 2 hours in this position, the door opened and Ben strode in. He didn't say a word, and instead began rubbing his hands up and down me, before settling on squeezing my butt. He made a few low groans, he was horny. Suddenly he straddled me, crushing my balls further. I felt his hard cock through both my jeans and his overall, begin rubbing against my bum. One hand held my own, the other feeling for my cock.

'I'm going to enjoy this' he said in a deep voice.

He was quick to stand in front of me and unzip to reveal a thick, 9 inch cock, solid as a rock. My eyes widened, and I began to plead no. But my moaning only seemed to make him harder. I felt my gags removed, only to be replaced by his cock. It quickly reached the back of my throat, and I tried not to choke. One hand grabbed my hair while the other slipped into my jeans and play with my hole. I began sobbing.

It was only 5 minutes, but felt like an eternity when he pulled it out. My gag quickly found its place again, once again limiting me to a few groans. Suddenly I felt the back of my jeans being ripped open, followed by my underwear. Ben stuck a lubricated finger up and played a bit. He quickly withdrew, and I could feel the head of his cock at my hole.

Slowly he entered, I bit and cried into my gag. I felt like I was being split in two. After an agonising age I felt his overalls against my bare butt check. He sighed monetarily, before wrapping his arm round my neck and beging to pound my hole to oblivion. The pain was beyond, but also, oddly enjoyable. He kept a steady rhythm and would occasionally push as far as he could, sending a new wave of pain up my body.

In retrospect it was impressive that he was able to go for about half an hour. Towards the end, his grip on my neck tightened, and breathing was next to impossible. His pace slowed and he went deep to finally put his load in me. Breathing heavily, he stayed where he was, his cock didn't seem to go down.

'you know boy, I haven't done this in a while. I think I've got another load or two to go'

With that, the cycle began again. 3 more loads later, he finally took himself out of my. My arse was sore and wide open. His load settled deep within. Ben sat in front of me, and began to kiss my gagged lips.

'cheers for that boy, that's the best fuck I've ever had'

There was a sinister undertone to his statement, and tight on cue,

'so, you mentioned you're pretty much alone when you get back. And I can't help but thing that's quite a waste of a good ass if you ask me'

This wasn't going to be good

'I said if you were good, I'd take you back. But, unfortunately, you're too good. So you're going to be my little bitch. You're going to remain here, as my little toy. I will do with you as I please. Just off my bedroom is a small room. That is where I will keep you for now. Tied up, gagged and totally at my will. If you prove yourself worthwhile, I will let you out to help me on the farm. But that's quite a while away. I have taken the liberty to collect your car, which is ready to be bought by a friend of mine. Your clothes and possessions will be burnt later'

He said a few more words, but my mind went blank. Stuck here, for the rest of my life. I had to escape.

My thoughts were interrupted by Ben

'now, I'll be back in a while, I've got to get some more things ready for you'

And with that, he left me here once again, screaming and crying into my gag, desperately pulling at my bonds. This really was about to happen.

18 notes · View notes