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#i’m driving and if she brings this up i will swerve and kill us both
latelyanobsession · 2 years
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Harringrove’s Kindergartner - Vanishing Act
“This is Steve Harrington...” the phone picked up after two rings, Steve wedging the handset between his cheek and shoulder as he flipped between papers on his desk.
“Bills.... Billy? Hey...Hey! Slow down! I can’t understand you like this!” he answered, brow furrowing.
Billy’s voice was ringing loud through the receiver, Steve wincing as the sound reached his ears.
He tensed up.
“What do you mean they can’t find her?” Steve replied, pen falling through his fingers.
Billy’s voice buzzed hurriedly through the line in a panic.
Steve flicked his wrist, pulling the sleeve back to check his watch. “School’s been out for two hours now. They didn’t call until just now?!”
The profanities on the other line were rumbling through as a well-meaning secretary poked her head into the office with a file in hand. Steve waving her away hastily.
“Bills don’t worry. I’m leaving right now! We’ll find her...” he hung up.
Flying into the school parking lot, Steve exited the beamer. Billy already there, yelling loudly with the school’s principal.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Billy wrapped his arms tight around his form in agitation. 
“Tell me again how you lost my child...”
The mousy-looking man in front of him was trembling, fingering his obnoxiously patterned tie in trepidation. 
“Well Sir... Ms. Patterson said she was in a timeout for disrupting Computers instructions. ... And when she returned... she was just...” the man trailed off as Steve approached.
Resting a hand gingerly on Billy’s shoulder Steve regarded the administrator harshly.
“It’s been hours. Why didn’t you call us immediately?” Steve demanded of the man.
The principal grimaced, disliking this bad cop - bad cop situation. 
“We thought we’d find her quickly.... most children don’t wander off very far.” he reasoned.
Steve wasn’t having it and Billy looked fit to kill.
“Well she did...” Billy bit out, “So what the fuck’ve you been doing the past two and a half hours?!”
Squeezing Billy’s shoulder, Steve reeled him in with a subtle look.
The man pulled the cellphone from his belt, dialing a number hastily. “Just one moment please.” he pleaded pathetically.
The man walked some distance away for privacy as he began speaking.
“Oh Stevie... it’s been hours...” Billy’s voice was quivering, his hand shaking as he took Steve’s hand.
“What... what if something’s happened....?” Billy couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, tears brimming his eyes.
“Bills... she can’t have gotten far. We’re gonna find her.” Steve reassured him, placing a soft kiss to Billy’s temple, rubbing his shoulder.
The principal returned, a sullen look on his face. 
“What is it?” Steve asked.
“We’ve swept the whole building and the grounds.... we don’t think she’s here...” he swallowed thickly.
Billy trembled.
The principal regarded them both. “What would you like to do?”
Steve held his partner tight, before he answered. “We’re calling the police...”
A large sob broke from Billy’s throat.
There were dozens of cruisers. K9 units. The whole campus was swarmed in moments.
The search was underway.
Billy was distraught. He couldn’t speak. Steve handling everything.
“You two should head home...” the lead detective urged.
Steve looking at him forlorn, rubbed at his eyes with exhaustion. “We need to be here...” he reasoned.
The officer shook his head. “There’s nothing here you can do. Go home. Get some sleep. We’ll call you if anything comes up.”
He nodded wearily, nudging Billy. 
They took the beamer home. Billy was in no shape to drive.
Steve wanted to tell him they’d find her, but he wasn’t even sure that was a possibility. It was getting dark outside. The temperature was dropping. She didn’t have her coat.
Turning onto their street Steve sighed somberly.
“Steve...” Billy croaked.
“Bills...” Steve answered.
A rushed hand grabbed the steering wheel, swerving the car.
“Steve!” Billy shouted.
“Billy what the hell!” Steve yelled, righting the car nearly jumping the curb in front of their house.
The beams of the car fixed on the front stoop. A small form curled up against the front door.
Billy spilled from the car, running, Steve not far behind. Leaving the keys in the ignition.
Billy was screaming her name. As a the little figure stirred, unfurling. Poking its head up from between its arms.
“Daddy?” a sleepy little voice.
Billy was sobbing, throwing himself around their child and wrapping her in a crushing embrace.
Incoherently babbling he placed hurried kisses in her hair, pulling her in close.
“Daddy you’re gonna suppo-crate me!” she squealed in protest.
Steve coming in hot wrapped himself around them both, “Is this where you ran off to?” he questioned, stressed giggles leaving his throat.
“I wanted to go home Dad” she answered simply.
“Well you’re home...” Steve smiled, kissing her forehead.
“Bills we’ve found her.” he stated.
Billy nodded, sniffling. “Yeah,” he hiccuped.
Leaning up they shared a relieved kiss.
“Ew.... why so many kissies?” she protested.
Resting their foreheads together they looked down at their child, “We’re just...” Steve began, “really happy you’re here.” Billy finished.
She scrunched her nose in thought a moment, before giving them each a kiss in turn. “Me too.”
@eddiebillysteve @every-dayiwakeup
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mick-writes · 9 months
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The Other Side: Draft 1.
A balmy, Florida breeze gently swept through the trees that surrounded the private hotel patio. Leaves rattled, clinging to their branches much like Howard was clinging to the crinkled newspaper in his hand. Heavy black type screamed from the bottom right corner; 
“Knows all. Sees all. Tells all. Call Charlotte 1-800-824-0856 for enlightenment from the beyond.” 
“I don’t know how this is supposed to go. I’ve never done anything like this before.” 
Charlotte shook her head, short blonde curls bouncing around her face. 
“That’s alright. I understand. I believe that every call comes to me with a purpose. My clients find me when they need me.” 
She takes a long sip from her condensating glass of ice water before setting it on the table. 
“Tell me about yourself.” 
He struggled to swallow the lump swelling in his throat as he thought about what brought him to Charlotte.
“Well. I was married for twelve years. One evening my wife and I were headed out to see West Side Story at Richmond High. Our daughter, Emma, had finally gotten a lead role. We were so proud.” 
His voice broke as he continued to fight tears. 
“A drunk driver swerved into our lane, right on Main Street. They were driving way too fast. It should’ve killed us both.” 
Howard paused.
“I can’t remember a thing after that. I woke up in the hospital.” 
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Charlotte said. 
He nodded, running a hand over his clammy face. 
“I wanted to see if there was any way- I mean. We never got to say goodbye.”
Charlotte reached for Howard’s hands. She ran manicured thumb nails over the tops of his fingers. 
“Clear your mind. Close your eyes..” Charlotte said. 
Howard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 
“Now. Let your happiest memories of her- the most vivid ones you can think of- bring those thoughts to the front of your mind. Focus on them.” 
Destin. Last summer. Wefts of soft, tawny brown hair falling onto sun kissed, freckled shoulders. Her full red lips in a smile that left crinkles around her sea green eyes. White and blue pin stripes on soft cotton button downs she’d tied up around the sleeves. The love he could feel in her touch as she held his face between her hands, pressing her forehead to his. Long lashes that cast shadows over her rosy cheekbones. The salty air around them as they sat beside each other in the warm sand and watched the sun sink below the horizon. 
“If you could tell her anything right now. What would you say to her?” Charlotte’s voice pulled him to the present moment.
He hesitated, pausing to consider the thousands of things he’d give anything to tell her. There were so many questions.
“I’d tell her I don’t know how to do this without her. Emma needs her mother.” 
Tears began to stream down his cheeks. 
Charlotte leaned her head back and continued to hold Howard’s hands in hers. 
“Rachel wants you to know that you are far more capable than you think you are.”
Howard jerked, his eyes opening immediately.
“How did you know that? How did you know her name? Is she here now?”
Charlotte continued, “She wants you to know that she loves you and Emma more than anything. But you need to stay strong for each other. Emma needs her father now more than ever.” 
Puffy, tear stained eyes stared at her in disbelief. 
“I. I love her more than anything. And I miss her. We miss her everyday.” 
Charlotte met Howard’s wide eyed gaze. 
“She wants you to go to her. Go to her when you leave here. Hold her close and make sure she knows that you both are always beside her.��� 
He nodded. His eyes darted back and forth between his hands that were clinging to Charlotte’s like a lifeline. As if his tightened grip were strengthening any connection Charlotte had made between this world and Rachel’s. 
Charlotte’s hands relaxed as if to signify a flat, humming dial tone that echoed inside of Howard’s skull. 
He retracted his heavy, shaking hands back onto his own lap.
The pair sat in silence for several moments before Howard cleared his throat. 
“Right. I suppose I should be paying for my services now.” he said. 
She shook her head again and leaned forward slightly. 
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Garner. I’d much prefer my fee to be paid in good faith that you will pay it forward the next time you find someone in a difficult situation." She slid the newspaper on the small table between them toward Howard. 
“Thank You, Charlotte.” he said. 
Her lips turned upward on the edges in a sincere smile.
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fearofahumanplanet · 1 year
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Concrete Riven Excerpt (11/03/2022)
This is a little excerpt of my WIP Predator: Concrete Riven, a long-fic set in Skid Row, Los Angeles, following an Irish mob enforcer, a homeless war veteran, and the Bad Blood that stalks them. You can catch up here!
CW: Blood
Excerpt Word Count: 340
Overall Word Count: 13,295
Clío decides to fistfight a Predator on top of a moving car. Yeah.
Concrete Riven Taglist (ask to be added!):
@aohendo, @athenswrites, @impaledlotus, @bardic-tales, @careful-pyromancer, @marinesocks, @writingpotato07, @hey-its-quill, @dogmomwrites, @andromedatalksaboutstuff, @bpdgotmelike
Please reblog and share your thoughts, it makes my day and motivates me to continue posting :)
Steel shreds with an ear-rending screech, and Henri finally wakes up enough from their haze to let out a string of Spanish swears. The thing’s wristblade tears through the roof, her alien blade just inches from Clío’s already-grazed cheek.
The car swerves onto the street, knocking over some abandoned fire barrel and throwing the blaze across the dirty road. Clío can hear sirens in the distance, but that isn’t gonna do her much good – not with the fucking thing on her ceiling.
The music blares and Clío jerks the wheel back and forth, trying to throw the Dullahan off. Henri starts digging through the glove compartment, clearly on the search for something in particular. Clío prays that the object of her search is useful and not the frenzied results of a nasty concussion.
If only they had a fucking gun.
The wristblade wrenches towards Clío’s head, scraping through steel, sparks kissing her crimson locks. She jerks her head to the side and turns the car once more, seeing the thing’s foot in her rear-view, but it isn’t enough.
“You know how to drive?” Clío shouts, watching the Dullahan widen the gash in the car ceiling.
“Yeah? I have a fucking concussion, chica!”
“You and me both! Take the wheel!”
“What?”
Clío turns onto a long road, letting the empty stretch afford her an opportunity. She kicks out of the driver’s seat and forces herself through the widening hole in the car’s roof, fist flying out to crack against the Dullahan’s chitinous helmet. It probably hurts her hand a lot more than it hurts the creature, but it still recoils, the wind whipping at her hair as she takes purchase of the limited room before her. She crawls upwards, feeling Henri drag themselves into the driver’s seat beneath her.
The Dullahan’s hand whips right back, unfortunately, tearing two lacerations right through her skin, shredding the blazer’s sleeve. For some reason, it is that action that brings Clío to see red.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” she snarls, tackling the thing.
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static-fanatic-1 · 3 years
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Chrollo +PT Part 2 is finally out! I also figured it a name for the son, Akura. Enjoy! 7.7k words and it almost didn’t fit in the post RIP.
| Part 1 | 
~~~
"Eat lead Uvo."
"Already checked off the bucket list (y/n/n)."
God, you hated that nickname. "Don't test me." You growled, glaring back at your little boy with a silent message; 'You're in such deep shit once this is over'. You could see him physically gulp, and it only cemented the fact that despite being a pissy teenager, he was still the same, scared little boy you had taken in after the massacre. You almost teared up.
"Kurapika! Watch the road!" The woman yelped.
The blond swerved off the road, almost knocking you off and onto the dusty path beneath the car. "Kurapika," you began, "watch the road, I'll take care of anyone following us."
You could tell Uvogin wanted to say something, so you quickly dipped out of the passenger window and climbed onto the top of the car. The people in the second car stared at you through the windshield with pure fear in their eyes. You laughed to yourself, they must think you are a Phantom Troupe member. If only they knew.
You stood tall on top of the car roof, spine straight, shoulders back, chin up, you were ready for them to attack. You were ready to fight your old friends. You launched yourself off the roof and onto the second car, landing with your heavy boots and denting the car just as you did before, a little less damage though.
They were chasing you, you could see their forms driving a car with a new found vigor they lacked before. Machi was in front, her pink hair you used to love seemingly a bit darker, like it was drenched in so much blood it stained it darker. You locked eyes with her, and you could see the micro expression of her face. Brows lifting, eyes widening, she couldn't believe it was you. But it was, and you were preparing to take them down.
You flexed your fingers and soaked in the feeling of your terracotta gauntlets, preparing to tear down the entire canyon, but you stopped. A large blanket wrapping around the car they were packed in, though it did little to stop them. You saw them leave before it covered them, it seemed Nobunaga didn't make it in time. You chuckled at that.
Owl, the beast who worked for Jason's father, stood snuggly in front of the Troupe. He and the rest were as good as dead, this you knew, so you took the opportunity and shot out the lion heads on your gauntlets. They snapped as they flew through the crisp night sky and latched onto the sides of the canyon walls. With strength many didn't posses, you pulled harshly onto the chains and pulled down the stone walls. Stone, pieces larger than the car you stood on top of, came crumbling down to the floor, dust flying in the air. Your path was blocked, and hopefully the beasts would distract them long enough for Kurapika and his gang to gain enough distance.
You took a moment to look up, the beautiful night sky full of stars and constellations you couldn't find in the city. The shinning stars reminded you of a time where sitting around a trash fire with the pre-Troupe was normal. It used to be kind, open, and free. Nothing but a blanket of stars above you to lull you to sleep.
And your village, oh how you missed being able to see the night sky as clear as day, untainted by ash and blazing fires. The children playing in the fields and catching fireflies as they tripped on rocks they failed to see. Laughter, warmth, and a sense of homeliness you haven't had in years. You missed it, you craved it, you wanted nothing more than to go back and change something that could have prevented the Kurta massacre.
Your (e/c) orbs soaked in the light of the stars while your hair whipped against your face. As much as you wanted to sit down and cry, letting all the pent up frustration and hatred out, you couldn't show weakness. Not even to the all seeing stars above, or the gentle wind, and especially not to the enemies that will tear you apart.
A ringing knocked you out of your memories, taking you back into a cruel reality you didn't want to partake in. "Yes?" You answered, phone close to your ear as you took one last look at the shinning stars.
It was Jason, his sweet voice filled with worry. "We sent Owl and the rest of the Beasts. What happened?"
You hummed in thought. "A few men caught one of the Troupe members, the most physically powerful. We are on our way back to York New, I would prepare a safe place to store him, if the poison from his body is taken, we are screwed."
"Is he one of the ones you could take down?"
"No, we got lucky. We have to be cautious about this one." You turned back to York New, the shinning city moving closer and closer. "About the Beasts... they are probably all dead by now. The man we are bringing in killed four of them I think, the rest are slowing down about five other members, they don't stand a chance."
"Shit," he breathed through the phone, distant mumbling being heard but nothing being deciphered, "what do you think will happen now?"
"I'm not sure, but the Troupe won't let one of their own be taken like this. They'll be back I'm sure."
"Okay, I trust your judgement. Take care." Jason hung up before you could say anything more.
You hoped nothing bad would happen to him. He was a nice guy.
Soon enough you finally decided to sit down on the roof of the car, the city skyscrapers finally looming above and warning you of the upcoming confrontation you will have to partake in. Uvogin would be a difficult one to deal with, he tended to boast with his headstrong attitude and you were worried about him escaping. And Kurapika... what were you going to do with the boy?
You sighed, the car quickly coming to a stop. Finally, the people under your butt, rushed from inside the car and stared you down. "Who-Who are you?!" Questioned one panicked man, his skin a sun kissed brown and eyes as rich as chocolate.
"A friend." You hopped off the car and in front of the small group. "I am a friend of Kurapika, don't worry, I'm not a Troupe member."
They all seemed to relax a bit, but stayed wary of your strength. Being next to you they could tell you were way beyond their league.
Kurapika emerged from the car and readied himself to contain the one-man-army. One man, with gray hair and markings along his cheeks, scurried over and held the blond back. "Wait, we need to get a room."
"A friend of mine already has one for us, you are to contact your boss and inform him of the situation at hand." You mentioned. "This, surprisingly enough, is the place."
"How can we trust you?" He exclaimed, turning and leaning forward in your face. "You could be one of them! Waiting to kill us!"
"Everybody, please calm down-" began the woman standing beside Kurapika.
"My employer is the son of one of the Ten Dons, Jason Nargal. I contacted him about the situation and I've been staying in touch. Frankly I'm not in the mood to argue with someone of the likes of you, so please, shut your damn mouth before I loose what's left of my temper." You snapped, moving closer to size the man in front of you.
He shrunk back, eyes wide with a fear he has never felt before. "Very well." He turned his attention to Kurapika and the other girl with heavy breathing. "Let's hurry."
~~~
You sat down, your eyes staring at the wall as your mind drifted off. You were worried, pissed, scared, and so much more. Footsteps brought you back to reality, your (e/c) eyes taking in the grey haired man from before. He glanced back before quickly looking away. "You aren't going to interrogate the Troupe member?" He asked.
"No, I have no reason to talk to him, at least not in front of any of you."
He hummed and moved to the desk, taking the phone into his hand and making a call. Time passed before Kurapika and the others emerged from the vaulted room, and your fury returned.
Kurapika could feel it.
"Kurapika, I would like to talk to you. Privately."
He glared at you, his dark eyes gleaming slightly under his contacts, like charcoal in a slow-roasting flame. Was he challenging you? Silently threatening you to let him finish the war he began?
Maybe, but that didn't matter to you. All you wanted was to talk to him about the situation. And the newfound plan you guys would have to make.
Maybe he sensed the lack of hostility you bore. It must have been as he nodded slowly and followed you out into the white hallways. "(Y/n)," he began with caution, "I won't stop. I'm going to finish what I started and you can't do anything about it."
You bit your lip and whipped around, smacking him across his face. "I know that! But warn me next time! I had to leave Akura all alone in a hotel room because you were the only person I could trust! You were reckless when engaging close to so many Troupe members! You could have died if they caught you!" You paused for some breath. "You could have killed everyone!"
Tears began streaming down your cheeks, you hands rubbing your face to help relieve the stress. It didn't help as much as you would have liked it to. "You left Akura alone." You repeated with defeat in your voice. "If they find out where he is... they'll take him from me. I-I can't let-let them take both of you from me."
Finally all the pent up feelings burst through your eyes, fat tears streaming silently down your cheeks. "I ju-just can't. I wouldn't be able-able to live with myself if...."
Kurapika stood frozen, all this new information hitting him at the same time as your cries for help made it all the more confusing. "(Y/n)... it'll be okay." He held you up by your shoulders, leaning down to stare into your tears eyes. "Akura will be okay, you'll be okay, I'll be okay. You and I will take down the Phantom Troupe and we won't have to worry about them anymore."
He stopped for a moment to think about your words. They seemed exact, different than just someone hunting for their eyes. What did you mean by your son would be taken away from you if they knew where he was? Wait, how did you know the name of the Troupe member? And how did he know an old nickname you used to have? "(Y/n). What are you not telling me?"
There was a deafening silence between the two bodies, but enough was said. "Kurapika-"
"Don't lie to me. You know something I don't." A pregnant pause was apparent. "Answer me (y/n), I don't have time to watch you cry."
You looked up, staring into violent eyes gleaming a beautiful blood red. "I'm sorry." You wailed, pulling yourself back into the wall with your hands covering your face. "I'm sorry I never wanted this to happen. I wanted you to run away from this, to have a family, to be happy! I never wanted you to fight my mistakes. I never meant for this to happen.
"I promised myself I would take care of them, I promised myself I would give you the best life you could hope for. I-I promised myself... and-and I failed." You shook your head with your hands hiding your shame, your voice cracking with messy sobs. "I'm sorry for bringing you into this, Kurapika. This wasn't meant to happen...."
He took a step back, you were crying—no—sobbing. Hiccups and sniffles wracked from your hidden face. This has never happened before. You never cried, not even once. He only saw one tear and that was when you found him at the burnt down village.
You were not sad, you were beyond devastated.
"(Y-y/n)... d-don't cry. Just tell me what you know. How did you know his name? How did he know you?"
"I knew them, I met them when I left the village. I would visit. I-I taught them nen because they were struggling out there. I didn't mean for them to attack us, but they did and I tried to stop them, but I was pregnant and-and I killed one. I ran because there was too many. I was selfish, I-I should have fought. I was scared and...." Your strained voice trailed off into a distant whimper.
Kurapika stared at your shriveled form, a look of betrayal etched onto his brows. "You won't stop me. I'm going to kill every single one of them for what they've done and you are going to watch." He stopped his retreat, turning his head to give you one last glance. "I'll take care of everything."
"Kurapika, it's not worth it. Please just leave this to me, let me fix my mistakes! Take Akura and go somewhere safe! Please!"
"Why should I?! You've kept so much from me! You knew them?! You trained them!?! Why should I listen to you— do what you want me to?!"
"They want me! They'll take Akura and kill you! If you're in their way you'll die! I don't want that to happen! Please! Take Akura and get out of here! Let me take care of this so you guys can be safe and happy!
"Let me fix my mistakes... please!"
Kurapika whipped around. "Why would they be after you? Akura?"
You dropped your head in shame, but straightened your back. It was time to regain your lost composure, you couldn't let anyone else see you like this. "The spider is flexible. They-they have a head and legs. Each one can be easily replaced, that is how they work. Their current leader, the spider's head, is-is Akura's father. We-we got along, and-and one thing lead to another and... well, Akura was brought into the world. I tried to hide him, but with him being alone it wouldn't be difficult for them to find him. God, I don't know what I would do if they got their hands on him."
You pathetically gave an airy laugh at your memories. When you gave birth it was loud, like static in your ears, painful, though you barely remember it. Then you heard the beautiful sound of a babies cries. You were beyond happy when you heard his first cries, and it seemed as if all of your problems drifted away for a moment.
But like everything in your life it was short lived, and when you stared up at Kurapika you forced yourself to gather the remaining pieces of your strength and move forward. That is what you had to do, again and again.
"I'm sorry Kurapika, I've failed everyone."
The blond stared at you with bloody eyes, it was your fault? Everything that happened was your fault?! You were supposed to be a guardian, someone to protect the clan, yet you killed everyone?!
"Yeah, you did." He spat, his back now facing you.
"Wait! Kurapika! I-I don't care what happens me! Just please—please take care of Akura!" Your voice was demanding, the first time it had been since you broke down. "He doesn't deserve the life he has, neither do you, please, if anything happens to me, take care of him."
He didn't answer, instead he turned away and marched back to Uvogin's cell.
You prepared yourself for being in front of the wolves, but a ringing from your phone stopped you. "Hello?"
"(Y/n), father wants you to come back, be a body guard since the beasts—are you okay? You seem to be breathing heavily?"
"Don't worry, I'm fine. Just a bit frustrated." You have a long sigh and straightened your back. "Everything seems to be on lockdown over here, they have men coming over in a few minutes. Where do you want me to meet you?"
"Is the Blue Sapphire Hotel good? I can have someone pick you up?"
"No, no, that's not necessary. I'll be there soon."
"Alright, I'll wait in the lobby for you. See you soon."
He hung up and left you to your own devices. You finished fixing yourself up and sauntered over to the last person here, the man with markings under his eyes. "I'm leaving," you started, "my employer wants me to guard them now that the beasts are dead. You'll be fine here right?"
He looked up and nodded. "I'm waiting for another call."
"Alright, call me when they take him and what they look like... just in case." You made sure he understood with another nod before you made your way out of the hotel.
Your dress was slightly dirty, and your feet still bare. You probably looked strange, a woman with disheveled hair, missing shoes, and a dirty formal dress. You received many stares, some because of your intimidating stature, or your exposed cleavage, and some because of your appearance. So you ignored them and kept your head high.
But if you didn't ignore the stares you would have noticed the small group staring at you longer than most. Their suits and wigs might have hidden them from most people, but you would have noticed them right away. Phinks and Nobunaga turned to confront you, but Machi held them back. "Now's not the time, we'll get her after Uvo."
"Tch, fine. Isn't Shal looking into her employer?"
"Mhm." Machi hummed, continuing to their mission at hand; saving Uvogin's reckless ass.
~~~
Uvogin waited for what seemed like a god awful amount of time. Sooner or later they would get him out of this stupid prison. Hopefully sooner rather than later, his ass was beginning to hurt.
As if on que he heard movement, blood splatter, and the creaking of the heavy metal door. "Took you long enough, I'd thought you'd never make it."
Phinks entered with a grin. "Yeah, yeah, had to stop by the vending machine on our way up here."
Uvogin's grin stretched across his face as the rest of them entered and tossed away their disguises. "You wouldn't believe who I met." He chuckled.
Shizuku, with her doe like eyes wondered over to his wound, summoning her Blinky and preparing to take out the venom from his veins. But it was Nobu who spoke up. "(Y/n)." He exclaimed immediately, almost excitedly.
Uvo's grin turned into a playful pout. "Way to ruin it Nobu." 
She simply shrugged and began to remove the poison, as Nubonaga laughed.
Machi 'tsk'ed and moved over to the table's side. "You should hurry up and get out of those cuffs. We're going back to the chapel to figure out a new plan."
Uvo huffed and tore his hands from their bindings. "Fiiiiiine." He groaned, pausing when realizing her words. "A new plan?"
"Yup, Feitan tortured that Owl guy so we already have some of the treasure. Besides, (y/n) could be a problem." Phinks chimed in with a mischievous grin. "You now she's much stronger than before right? You can tell just by passing her."
"Maybe she made a new condition with her nen gauntlets?" Nobunaga chimed in. "Do you think she would do that?"
Phinks hummed. "She never liked the thought of making conditions. She probably just trained to get more powerful, that's more her style."
"Anyway, we should hurry and head out, Chrollo is waiting."
~~~
You marched into the lobby, the crystal chandelier above drenching your body in a warm, ethereal glow. The pearl earrings you wore gleamed like small balls of Fire against the light, it complemented your (h/c) hair.
Jason saw your confident form, his thin lips stretching across his face into a gentle smile. "(Y/n)! I'm glad to see you're alright!" His long legs helped him scale the lobby floor to face you. "We are on the top floor, follow me."
"Who is up there?"
"Everyone from the dinner, they have a lot of questions for you, so be prepared." He lightly chuckled, though it seemed a bit strained.
The both of you entered an elevator with a large mirror on one of the walls. You took out your phone and frowned, still nothing from that grey haired man from earlier, were the people really late? Your mind drifted back to Kurapika, your brows furrowing at his resolution about killing the Troupe.
"You look distracted." Jason commented, his voice heavy with concern.
"Sorry, I just have to make a few calls."
"Oh, with who?"
You glanced over at him with a sly grin. He blushed at it, realizing how nosy he must sound. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"It's fine, I just need to check up on a few people. My son for sure, I need to make sure he's okay."
"Y-you have a son?" His words were confused and surprised. "I-uh-I didn't know you-you had a son. Um, how old is he?" His smile was lopsided, and nervous. He hoped you didn't think he judged you off of your past relationships.
"He's six, going seven later this month. The twenty-third."
"He sounds like a nice kid, huh?"
You lightly chuckled at the thought of his intellectual nature. "Yeah, he really is a sweet kid. He's so smart too, loves puzzles more than anything. Words searches, sudoko, picture puzzles, he loves any and all of them. Loves reading too, his favorite is Father and I...."
"The father?" Jason inquired.
"Oh, he's out of the picture. He's—he wasn't a nice man."
Jason turned back to the mirror, his eyes tracing over your relaxed features. "I'm sorry to hear that. How is, uh, your son fairing?"
"Akura's his name. He never knew his father, it's just been me and a friend I see as a little brother." The elevator stopped, and it's shiny doors opened to a brightly lit hallway. "I guess we're here."
"Yup, there's plenty of rooms to make a call, but you should probably answer some of my dad's questions first. You might not believe it, but he can be quite impatient." His tone shifted to something brighter, a reflection of the whites of his eyes.
You entered the warm hallway and to the door. Before you could even touch the door knob, it swung open to reveal a cheeky grin from a familiar green eyed man. "Hey there sexy," His cheshire grin shifted to one of disgust when he glanced at his brother. "Jason."
"Jackson! Leave them alone." Exclaimed someone from behind the door. If the deep voice was an indicator, it was defiantly the dad.
"Sure thing." Jackson groaned and ran off into the giant hotel room. Well, more like a house, the place was huge!
"(Y/n), sweetheart, come in!"
Sweetheart? Did Jason's dad just call you sweetheart? You peeked behind the door and yes, it must've been the father as his smile was barely covered by his beard. He was sitting next to Manchile, in which looked extremely entertained with your expression.
"Well, come on in." The broad man giggled as he threw his arms over the back of the couch.
You glanced over to Jason, a deep blush spread across his tanned cheeks. "Sorry about that." He whispered and further apologized through his hazel eyes. "He might be going crazy."
"Well, (y/n), we have a few questions to ask if you don't mind." Manchile began. "Like what the hell happened out there?"
You fully entered the room and sat on one of the plush chairs off to the side. "There isn't much to say, by the time I got there most of the men deployed her already dead."
"How many Troupe members? You said seven right? Or was it five?"
You crossed your legs as Jason sat across from you, his green eyes shinning with curiosity. You paused and counted, there was Franklin, Uvo, Machi, Shizuku, Nobu, Phinks, and Feitan. "There were seven, one was caught, and five chased after us. After that the group I was with got away because of the beasts... and now we are here."
"Did the Troupe member say anything?"
"No, he was admit on keeping his mouth shut." You glanced down at your hands, the phone you bought earlier this week blank. Where was that call? "May I make a call?" You blurted. "It has to do with the captured Troupe member."
Jason's dad shrugged and waved his hand. "Go ahead, put it on speaker so we can listen in." You nodded and made the call. It rang. And rang. And rang. And stopped.
You looked at the number you typed, it was correct so why didn't he answer? The entire room was dead silent, so you tried again.And again. And again.
Each missed call brought a disgusting taste to your tongue. Everyone must have been able to taste it, there was a collective shaky breath between everyone in the room.
"So, what do you think happened?" Jared, Jason's younger brother, asked. "Why aren't they calling?"
You stayed silent for a moment, doing your damndest to make up an excuse, but that wouldn't do any good. "He-He's probably dead. They probably found Uvogin and saved him."
"Uvogin?"
"The Phantom Troupe member we caught." You quickly said.
Manchile sighed and fiddled with his shiny watch. "All the beasts are dead, the treasure was taken, and we lost one of our leads. This night has truly gone to shit."
The father hummed and leaned back in his chair. "We can't leave, it would make us look like cowards."
You glanced over at the two and closed your eyes for a moment to breathe. "I need to make some other calls, is there a room I can step into?"
Jason stood up this time with a nod, and motioned to a room off to the right.
"Thank you." You stepped in, shut the door, and locked it. You let out a shaky sigh, your mind running a mile a minute at the thought of Uvogin being saved. "Akura first, I need to check up of him."
The phone rang a deathly chime, but it was picked up unlike before. "Momma?"
"Hey sweetheart, how are you?"
There was a displeased hum on the other side. "I was asleep, it's almost two a.m Momma. You should be asleep too!" Your little boy seemed too excited to have been sleeping, but knowing him he followed your rules.
"I know, I know. I've just been busy with work that's all...."
Jackson listened through the white door, his head pressed firmly against the wood so he could get a good angle. He chuckled to himself, his youngest brother, Jared, leaning in with a scowl. "We shouldn't be doing this."
Jason scoffed. "We have nothing else better to do, besides we are just helping Jason get his lady. Nothing too bad."
They listened harder through the door, and through the muffled speech they could clearly hear the word sweetheart again. Jared glanced up at his older brother whose face was confronted into a suppressed laugh. Quietly they moved away, and back to the seats before Jason came back with bottles of champagnes and wines.
He almost knew by the look on their faces that his younger brothers were up to something. "What are you doing?" He whisper yelled to them, eyes sharp with suspicion.
"Your girl has a boyfriend." He said, point to the door with an evil grin. "You have never had a chance."
Jason glared at his brothers, glanced at his father, and back to his brothers. "It's rude to listen in on other people's calls!" He snapped again, pouting his lips.
"Just saying."
"It was Jason's idea." Jared quickly commented.
"Hey! You didn't stop me, you're at fault here!"
"No!"
"Boys." The dad stated, bringing them to a stop. "Calm down, it was just useless fun."
"Why am I the only responsible one here?" Jason exclaimed, grabbing a small glass and pouring himself some red wine. "I remember when you used to control these rats, dad, now you've become one of them."
"Dirty old rat to you, squirt." He snapped, petting his beard with his free hand. "Dirty old rat king is more accurate, though."
"King?" Jackson yelped. "Yeah right, you're more like a squabbling peasant, dad."
"And you're a filthy stable worker, shoveling manure and getting the shit kicked out of you by my horses!" The father straightened his back, earning an eye roll from his eldest son. "And I'm no peasant! I'm a king!"
"Then at the very least I'm a knight." Chimed Jason, finally loosing up and getting into the skit. "Fighting the mighty dragon and saving the princess."
Jackson snickered. "But the princess is already betrothed off to another it seems."
Jason stopped and glared at his brother's antics. "She doesn't-she never said she had a boyfriend. She's just talking to her son probably." He huffed and pouted, sitting on one of the love seats and crossing his right leg over the other. "She said she had a friend too, but she thinks of him as a little brother."
"She has a son?" Manchile asked, he was listening in on the conversation the entire time for shits and giggles, if he was a rat he would defiantly be an emperor, he thought.
Jason nodded and took a small sip of his blood red wine. "Yup, sounds sweet too. She really care about him. I think his name is Akura if I'm not mistaken."
"That's a cute name." Butted in the Dad, pouring himself some sparkling champagne. "Sounds almost Kurtish, don't you think Manchile?"
He hummed. "Almost? Not quiet sure, there's a lot of strange names out there."
"Guess so."
All eyes stared at the opening door, your figure drenched in the warm lighting of the room and your sleek black dress hugging your curves like a glove. You still haven't gotten your shoes back on, and instead wondered around without any protection. Maybe you just forgot about it? Maybe you simply didn't care, either way when you walked into the room it quieted down.
"Welcome back." Jackson teased. "You have a son huh? Who's the lucky guy?"
You visibly stiffened and eyed the men in the room. Did they know? No, they couldn't know. There's no way they know, right? "There-"
"Behave yourself Jackson, prying into other people's lives is rude." The father scolded. "Don't pay any mind to him, sweetheart, he never knows when to shut his trap."
"No, it's-its fine. There is no lucky guy, he's long gone by now."
The dad gave a gentle smile. "My wife died a long time ago, I know how it feels." He lightly laughed, though a deep sorrow hung heavy in the air. "I had to take care of these brats on my own for what? Fifteen years maybe?"
"I'm sorry for your loss." You empathized with him, a single parent taking care of their kids is something you knew all too well. Loosing someone you loved, was also something you understood. The difference is you hated the person you loved, and you wanted to move on after you served judgement. You doubted he wanted the same thing. "It's hard taking care of a kid on your own, but three? And one of them being Jackson, I'd go insane."
He laughed, Jackson giving a playful glare. "Damn straight. He's the worst."
Jackson moved closer with a hurt expression. "Seriously? Throwing me under the bus in front of a pretty girl?"
"You're not her type!" Argued Manchile with a booming laugh. "There's no way!"
"Oh come on, I'm everyone's type!" He shuffled to your side and threw his arm over your shoulders. "More so than lover boy over there, eh?"
You couldn't help but smile, oddly enough this group of mafia men felt like family. This was always your problem, you always wanted to trust and care for people, but it always ended poorly. If you started to care for these people, you would loos them just like your past family.
But you couldn't help your nature, so you gave a small chuckle and shook your head. "No way. Defiantly not my type."
He whined and put his weight on you, surprised when you held him up like the child he was acting like. "Come on! I'm lonely and I need a girlfriend!"
Jared scoffed. "You're the one who sleeps with so many women you could be the next Genghis Kahn!"
Jackson blushed and let you go. "That sounds horrible."
"Yeah, it is." Jared finalized, sitting down and propping his gin up with his hand. "Besides, I think Jason called dibs."
Jason's face flushed a deep red when you glanced at him and his eyes flashed with embarrassment. He opened his mouth and quickly shut it.
His family laughed at him. "He's embarrassed! Poor boy has fallen hard if he can't admit it!" Cackled the father. "Interested?"
You rolled your eyes with a sly grin. "That wouldn't be wise, I have a lot of enemies you wouldn't want to deal with."
"Enemies? We're part of the mafia, the top of the mafia at that! We can make sure no one will touch you or your son." The dad mentioned, seems he's taken a real liking to you, and when you glanced at Jason, you could see a glint in his eyes. "Seriously, nothing could hurt you."
"You'd be surprised, money and guns are useless against some people."
Manchile decided to speak up. "Like that Uvogin guy? I sent out a lot of my men to take him down, and even more guns, but now they are dead. Are your enemies like him?"
The dad cocked his head to the side, his smile sinking into a slight frown. "Is the Troupe your enemies?"
You tended up, and their eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry?"
"You mentioned before that our best is nothing compared to them, and every time you talk about them there seems to be familiarity in your voice." He leaned forward on his chair, discarding his now empty glass to the side table. "You said you were hunting them down, and your son's name, sounds Kurtish to me. By any chance, are you a Kurta?"
You stayed silent, there was no way you gave him that many hints... right? Did you get so comfortable that they figured it out? Will they kill you? Use you as bait? Your son? "That doesn't matter."
"It does, it means you are probably being hunted. It means you are extremely valuable, your son too if he has your genetics. Besides, if you have information about the Troupe that no one else knows about, your value just increased immensely." He stood up and straightened his open suit jacket. "It's a hobby of mine to research and figure out the value of things, an appraiser if you will. Kurta eyes are an interesting story no doubt, gouged out by the Troupe and resold around the world." He sauntered closer, his bulky form and commanding tone making you feel so small. "What do you want me to with this information?"
"Leave it six feet under where it belongs." You gritted your teeth and took in a deep breath.
"I can arrange that for a price." He paused and you nodded for him to continue. "I want you to tell me what happened, I'm more curious than I am greedy."
You gave a small laugh and crossed your arms against your chest. Your focus shifted to another as you recounted things you wished to forget. "You wouldn't want to hear it."
The dad stared down at you and placed a heavy hand on your shoulder. When you looked into his eyes you saw a stern, yet sympathetic expression. His beard shifted, and his lips curled into a small smile. "Humor me."
You shouldn't trust them as much as you do, but you missed having friends. You missed people... so you spoke forbidden memories. "The Kurta lived on an island away from others, we are usually feared because of our eyes, so we isolated ourselves." You sat down beside Jason and leaned onto your knees. "My father was the leader of the village, and when I took my exam I passed with flying colors."
"Exam?" Jared interrupted.
"Yes, it's something us Kurta's do to get ready for the outside world. I mentioned how people fear our eyes, so the exam is a written test about other places, and a physical type exam. We would leave the village and do a simple task, if we feel strong emotions our eyes would turn red, if it happened once you would fail and have to take it again. It is for safety."
You watched him nod and continued. "I was always good at keeping myself together so when I took the position of guardian, it seemed appropriate that I could leave the village and explore the world. I trained and learned from many people before finding the Troupe... I took pity on them."
You leaned back and sighed. "I taught them nen and befriended them. Years and years of jumping around from my village and the outside world and I found myself falling for one of them."
"Wait," Manchile stopped you. "are you implying your son, Akura, is one of theirs?"
"Their leader... we got close." You let the new information sink in. "They didn't know, I was barely seven weeks pregnant at the time of the attack. My village, my family, slaughtered like lambs. I killed one and ran away. I was terrified and didn't know what else to do.
"I don't know why they did it, but it happened and I've been on the run since. Akura doesn't know, I'm lucky he's never questioned it, but I'm running out of time. If I don't start taking them down I'm worried Akura won't be safe anymore."
"Are they searching for him?" Manchile asked.
"They don't know he exists, but they are crafty."
"Where is he?" The Dad now asked, his brows furrowed in thought.
"A friend was supposed to watch him, he's one of the only people I can trust... but he left to fight the Troupe. Akura is alone in a hotel room not too far from here."
"What do you think we should do?"
"I don't know, whatever you do be careful. I'm not going to stop now either. I'm not quiet sure if you can, but assassins might be your only bet."
Jason worriedly glanced at you, looking for your gaze to share a thought. "Are you okay?" He whispered, you nodded without looking at him.
The dad stepped closer. "What kind of assassins?"
You hummed, Meteor City assassins might be the best. They have similar upbringings so maybe they can garner sympathy? Probably not, but maybe they'll stand a chance. "Assassins from Meteor City are probably your best bet but.... you might need the best of the best if you can afford it."
"You don't mean—?"
You interrupted him with a nod. "They might be strong enough to take some of them out."
Jared yelped and stood up. "Might?! They're the fucking Zoldycks! They can kill anyone!"
"Just to be safe, I genuinely think they are the only ones who stands a chance."
Jason turned back to you with a questioning look. "And you? You can't go out there and fight them! You have a son to take care of!"
Now it was your time to stand, back straight, gaze stern, a look you've dressed yourself in on the regular. "More reason for me to go. I'll meet up with my friend and join you for the next auction. I suggest you stay away from the other mafia dons, if you hire the Zoldycks you can never be too careful."
"Are you sure?"
You nodded with conviction. "Yes... and I'm joining the hunt."
~~~
Chrollo sat down on a large pile of rubble in a broken down church. The moonlight sleeping through the crumbled down ceiling illuminated his pale features and framed his coal black eyes. In his calloused and used hands laid a book that stole his undivided attention, and to his side a small candle with a flickering light.
His ears picked up distant voices, though he didn't care enough to look up. Instead he listened in as the voices neared the building.
"Uvo!" Chimed Shalnark, waving as he covered his playing cards. "How was prison?"
The large man grumbled under his breath and placed his hands on his hips, the few beer cans he had falling to the floor. "Shut it, besides I need you help finding someone."
The blond hummed in question. "Sure."
Pakunoda stopped messing with her nails and stood up. "What happened?" She asked, glancing at the group.
Phinks spoke up before the others could. "(Y/n)'s here. She must be working alongside the mafia."
Shizuku sighed loudly and sat down on a rock. "Who is (y/n) anyway?"
Nobunaga clicked his tongue with a defeated sigh. "We told you on the way here!"
"No you didn't."
"Yes, we did!"
"No you didn't!"
Franklin butted in. "It's not worth it."
Feitan explained. "(Y/n) is Chrollo's old girlfriend."
"Huh?" Exclaimed Shizuku, her doe like eyes gleaming. "You have a girlfriend Boss?"
Chrollo finally decided it was time to look up from the word filled pages of his book. He gave her a smile. "I had one, she ran after the Kurta massacre."
Phinks returned to the conversation. "If she's working with the mafia, she might be a hunter. Shal, you are a hunter right?"
"Yup!" He happily chirped, pulling out his phone and typing away. Uvogin moved over to him and mumbled a few words. Some time passed before Shal exclaimed loudly.
Chrollo glanced at his expectingly, and everyone seemed to hold their breath. "Oh! She's a hunter, and her employer is one of the sons of a don. I was curious so I decided to look into her call history, you know for science, and you wouldn't believe what I found." He paused for dramatic effect. "She made a call to someone in a hotel, not an employer, but a kid!"
"A kid?" Nobu wondered, scathing his mustache with his index finger. He paused, finally realizing what a kid would be doing with a hunter. "Boss, did you and (y/n) ever... uh... you know?"
Chrollo smiled at the thought of you, and he finally closed his book and stood from the rubble. He sauntered over to the entrance of the church, the moonlight bathing him in an ethereal glow. A few minutes passed as he stared at the moon, waiting for Shalnark to give him the location. His other plans could wait, he wanted to meet the kid on the other side of the phone. If that kid is your own, which it seemed likely, he could use it to get you back and keep you with his permanently.
"Found it! Somewhere in the Marina Hotel... the call was sent to room 443 on the fifth floor, west wing."
"Shal, Machi, Paku, I want you to come with me. We are going to collect what is mine." His dark eyes held conviction, and nothing would stop him from getting what is his.
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lilyeholland · 3 years
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Driver’s License
[Luke Patterson x Reader]
Requested: YES! By my bestie @dakotagillespie !!! (go follow her, she makes amazing art♥). 
Based off the song ‘driver’s license’ by Olivia Rodrigo
Summary: After a whole Spring and Summer of Luke teaching Y/N to drive, she’s finally ready to get her license and makes plans to take her boyfriend back to his parent’s after he plays at the Orpheum. 
A/N: Bruh I’m literally making little mini series’ about Sunset Curve’s boo thangs before they died..... sorry for all the angst but also I’m not sorry at all :)
“Pull over, pull over, pull over,” Luke repeats enthusiastically, scared but still giggling at how horrible of a driver you are. 
You quickly turn on your blinker and pull off to the side of the road, feeling your heart beat all the way down your arms. You felt like it was making the whole car shake. 
You look over at Luke, eyes wide, nervous to look into his eyes after almost killing him. ‘Almost killing him’ is an exaggeration. You only swerved into the other lane a little because you thought you saw a squirrel in the middle of the road. Turns out, it was just a leaf. 
“Well that was,” Luke struggles to find the right words, “an adventure.” He looks at your face, sees your on the verge of tears and trying so hard to bottle it up and shifts his position in the passenger’s seat. “Hey, it’s okay. I sucked at driving too when I first started.”
“You think I suck at driving?” You nearly shout at him, only half of you taking offense to that. 
“Wait, no! No, no, no. That’s not what I meant, I mean-” he takes a deep breath and huffs it out in a laugh. 
You give him a tilted look, your pending tears now fading away as a smile crosses her face. “I know what you meant, Luke,” you interrupt his babbling and reach out for his hand. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“Well, don’t do that!” He bats his eyelashes as he looks back up at you, your hand fitting snug in his. “Also, please try not to kill me anymore, okay? I wanna be able to live to play the Orpheum.” 
“AH!” you shout in a teasing-defensive tone, taking the map from off the dashboard and hitting him with it. 
“Hey, hey, hey!” he shouts as he reaches through your hands to tickle your sides, knowing it’s your weakness. Immediately, your hands fly to his to try and get him to stop. Loud laughs and high pitched squeals fill the car as you fight off each other’s loving touches. 
“This probably looks so wrong,” Luke say through a breathless laugh.
“What do you mean?” you get out once you’re able to stop laughing.
“A pulled over, fogged up car that’s rocking back and forth? People are gonna think we’re up to something naughty.” Luke decrescendos his voice so its merely a whisper by the end of his sentence. 
“And what if we were?” You tease, brushing the mess of hair out of his face. 
“Aaah,” he nods his head and smiles. “I like the way you think, Y/N,” he leans up closer to you, his nose brushing against yours until your lips meet. He pushes himself up more so he’s taller than you, continuing to kiss you and hold the side of your face in his hand. 
“I’m never gonna get my license if we keep doing this every time you take me driving,” you say in between kisses, your smile clashing on top of his. 
He groans and pulls himself off of you. “You take your test in what? Like a week?”
“On Wednesday, yeah.”
“So, we’re fiiiiineee,” he sings. “We should still probably take you home so your mom doesn’t flip out on me for having you out too late. One of our mothers already hates me, we don’t need both of them to.”
“Luke, don’t say that. Your mom doesn’t hate you.” You reassure him, looking longingly into his now sad eyes. 
“She sure acts like it,” he looks down at his hands and his voice gets quiet. Noticing the tension in the car he’s created, he quickly perks up and says, “switch me spots, I’ll take you home,” with a smile and a wink. 
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You hadn’t talked to Luke in a while. Every time you went by his house, he wasn’t there because him and his mom were fighting. You hated seeing how estranged he was from his mother and wished you could do something to help. 
Today, you drove by his house to tell him the exciting news that you had passed your driver’s test!! To your luck, he was outside pulling some weeds when you pulled up in the driveway. He gave you a look and wiggled his eyebrows once he realized it was you driving that 92′ Chevy Blazer. You quickly got out of the car and ran into his arms.
You couldn’t decide if he was more cute or more hot with his cut off shirt, gardening gloves and sunhat. 
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you smile as you rub in some of the sunscreen on his cheek. 
“Yeah, mom’s making me do yardwork before band practice.” He rolls his eyes and scoffs. “But look at you! You got your license, and a car?!” He changes his mood so quickly, pointing over to your new ride. “This is sick, Y/N,” he wraps his arm over your shoulders and brings you in for a side hug, kissing the top of your head while doing so. 
“I know! Now I can actually pick you up after the show and we can maybe come back here after?”
Luke groans again. “Do we have to? She doesn’t even know we’re playing there, yet.”
“I think it would be nice for her to see how good you guys actually are. Maybe she’ll be more supportive after that.” You shrug at him, trying to convince him that she just needs some time to come around.
“Speaking of the devil,” Luke starts, “let’s go somewhere before she gets back,” he coos as she pulls you into his body. 
“Don’t you have to do yardwork?”
“I’m basically done,” he bites off his gardening gloves and throws them into the yard. 
“Okay, cowboy,” you tease him as you flick his sunhat off of his head and walk off to the driver’s side of the car. 
“Don’t let Reggie hear you call me that, he’s been trying to get us to sing country music for forever.”
You laugh at the messy-haired boy beside you, soaking in the moment of the two of you together before he makes it big with Sunset Curve and won’t be able to see you as much anymore. 
“You know, I wish you were more comfortable driving so I could hold your hand right now,” he looks over at you, although your eyes are glued to the road ahead of you. You manage to get out a laugh, fighting the temptation to look at his cute face. 
Since he can’t hold your hand, he settles for resting his had on your knee. Which, in your opinion, was much better.
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Text
When the End Comes, III
(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)
________________________________________________
Chapter 3: Bitter Water
Goddamn, her hand hurt. Were his abs made of granite or something?
Kagome flapped her throbbing hand as she ran, as though she could shake off the pain in her knuckles, and made a beeline for her car. She could see it now, the little gray Honda Fit that had essentially become her home. She was maybe a hundred feet away from it.
Willing her legs to move faster in a final burst of speed, Kagome didn’t even try to swerve around the people standing in her path: she clipped several shoulders and nearly shoved a man over without breaking her stride. Seventy feet became thirty feet became fifteen feet… Fumbling with the key fob in the pocket of her jeans, she felt a fluttering hope in the pit of her stomach. She was going to make it!
The headlights flashed twice as the car unlocked. Kagome stretched her arm forward, her fingers wrapping around the handle of the driver’s side door…
Just as the door started to swing open, a clawed hand shot out from behind her and slammed it closed again.
She yelped as she was none-too-gently shoved against the side of her car, her cheek pressed flat against the warm metal. A body pressed in behind her, and warm breath fanned the side of her face.
“Fucking hell,” the man snarled as his hands gripped both her wrists, pulling her arms behind her back. He wrestled the key fob from her clenched fingers, pocketed it in his jeans.
“I was wrong, you are stupid,” he grunted as he started lashing her wrists together with some kind of rope—it felt thick and almost elastic, like a bungee cord.
She tried to shove away from the car, tried to wrench her hands free. But he was so strong, it was like trying to muscle through a brick wall. His body kept her effortlessly pinned as he finished knotting the rope around her wrists.
Frustration and the sour bite of panic rose in her throat. Her stomach clenched hard. Her wrists were tied back-to-back, the knuckles of each hand pressed together, palms facing outward; the position twisted her forearms and elbows at an uncomfortable angle, limiting her arms' range of motion as effectively as the rope itself. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she grit her teeth.
“Right, how stupid of me,” she seethed, “to run away from a kidnapper.”
She felt him step back. His hand gripped her shoulder and he tugged her around to face him.
The silver of his hair nearly glowed in the afternoon light. His ears twitched, shifting atop his head as though analyzing every sound around them. His jaw—sharp and defined—looked tense, like he was trying not to grind his teeth. Those golden eyes were narrowed on her face.
But what struck Kagome instantly was the expression on his face. He didn’t look triumphant or sneering, wasn’t gloating down at her the way she’d expected. The way Naraku’s other hunters had looked at her when they’d caught her in the past. No, he was scowling at her as though he was considering a difficult crossword puzzle, sussing out a complicated riddle for which he was rapidly losing patience.
“Tch,” he snorted, “I’m the least of your problems. And that dumb fucking stunt you just pulled was as good as waving a neon sign at a couple of your bigger problems.”
He was yanking on her arm before she could think to respond, dragging her around to the passenger side of the car. He opened the passenger door and forced her inside, taking an extra spare moment to buckle her into the seat. In the time it took her to blink, he’d slammed the door and was already sliding into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she breathed out, tone curiously flat.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he said, craning his head to look over his shoulder as he backed the car out into the street. In a matter of moments they were zipping down the road.
Sitting there, arms tied behind her back, watching a strange man drive her car—the only thing resembling a safe place left in her life—Kagome struggled to absorb the reality of the situation. She felt strangely detached from herself. The panic and anger she’d felt moments before were peripheral now—still present, but somehow remote, just on the fringes of her awareness—an odd numbness spreading through her in their wake.
So it surprised her—and him, judging by the way his body jolted in his seat—when a bark of laughter erupted from her throat, hollow and bitter. She said with hoarse resignation, “Why don’t you just kill me now?”
His eyes flicked to her, then back to the road in front of him. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. He said nothing.
Her left shoulder slumped against the car door, and she rested her temple on the window, staring listlessly at the passing buildings. “Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor at this point.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” he said, tone clipped and terse.
She laughed again. “Sure, that’s why you threatened to slice my throat.”
She kept her gaze on the window, but it sounded to her like he was scowling again when he replied, “I had to get us both out of there fast, and without drawing attention. Fear is a good motivator.” He paused, then added with unmistakable irritation, “You shot all that to hell, though. We’ll be lucky if we make it to the next town without trouble.”
Kagome lifted her head and turned to stare at him. Anger started bleeding through the numbness smothering her brain. “Oh, a thousand apologies for giving you trouble.”
“You gave yourself trouble, idiot.” A growl rumbled up from his chest, and he glared at the windshield in front of him. “Forget the people on the street—do you know how many goddamn cameras there are in public places? It won’t be hard for the right people to find footage of that spectacle you made. You think it’ll be hard for them to track you once they have it?”
She couldn’t do anything but stare at him in disbelief. “Spectacle I made? You abducted me! You tied me up! You—” She stopped, unable to speak around the anger brewing in her chest. Finally she growled low in her throat, “You’re the trouble! Stop with the damn act now. It’s insulting. I know you’re taking me to Naraku.”
He stiffened, arms noticeably tensing. The look he shot her could’ve pierced steel. “I don’t work for that fucking bastard.”
There came the hollow laugh from her throat again, raw and pained. “Right. Never heard that one before.” She felt a tear slide down her cheek, and couldn’t bring herself to care about the weakness it showed.
A beat passed. His voice was still rough, but it had an almost thoughtful quality when he said, “Been tricked by Naraku’s lackeys one too many times, huh?”
When she didn’t respond, he sighed and then said quietly, “Look, I don’t expect you to believe me. But I’m not taking you to Naraku. I swear it.”
They sat in silence for some time. She watched him carefully. His arms were still stiff, his grip on the steering wheel still tight. His eyes kept flicking up to the rearview mirror, despite the fact that traffic had thinned considerably when they reached the more rural outskirts of the suburbs. He certainly looked like someone expecting to be followed.
Why the hell would a hunter working for Naraku act so on edge? And after he’d already captured his quarry?
She didn’t believe him, not really... but eyeing him thoughtfully, she found herself saying, “Let’s pretend I believe you. If you’re not taking me to Naraku, then where are you taking me?”
Golden eyes met and held hers. “Somewhere safe.”
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chanelsebbie · 3 years
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𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗗𝗼 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗛𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗠𝗲? | 𝗽.𝗽.
➵warnings: Substance use, language, Endgame spoilers, angst. 
➵masterlist
➵summary: Peter just wants to know why you hate him. 
➵a/n: Hee hee, I’m still trying to break in my new blog so feel free to send in requests and follow or reblog :)  ((THIS IS A STARK!READER FIC))
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You never really liked Peter Parker. 
But you didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. Everyone on the Avengers team tolerated him, and some even liked him. And he was talented at what he did. But you still couldn’t bring yourself to like him. 
After the events of Thanos, you were finally brought back, and so was Peter. And Tony was happier than ever to get you home, and in his arms again. You went in and kicked ass. And the good guys won. 
But at the cost of your father’s life. 
Now that he was gone, everyone is asking who the next Ironman would be. You would think people would have been gunning on you, his own daughter, but instead, everybody looked to the boy no older than yourself. 
And jealousy raged through you, feeling put off to the side, along with trying to grieve and mourn your fathers death, all while trying to keep the world at peace. And with the Captain in retirement, along with Natasha gone, that left the team struggling to stay together. Some of the strongest members were gone, and Thor was still trying to lose that weight. 
So it all fell down to you. And sadly, also Peter. You were struggling to finish your studies in high school, as was Peter, the both of you attending the same school. While Peter had all sorts of friends, you preferred to be alone, and get through school, so you could take on more missions and important callings. 
Just like today. But today was going to be slightly different. 
“Come on, y/n, it’s just one party! It won’t kill you,” he protested as you walked into the common area of the Avengers headquarters. 
“Yes it will,” you grunted, plopping down on the couch and telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to turn the TV on.”
“No- F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn the TV off- It’s a big party and I know you’ll have fun! Flash is throwing it but I know you can still enjoy it,”
That made you not want to go even more. Flash was arrogant, snooty, and always took your detesting glares as playing hard to get. All you knew is that he didn’t like the word ‘no’, which set up multiple red flags for you. 
“No. I said no.” you huffed, taking the remote this time and turning the TV back on, flipping through the channels was Peter let out a defeated sigh, sitting right next to you, pulling out his phone. 
But secretly, Peter didn’t want to leave the living room. And even if he was on his phone, he just wanted to be near you. 
◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆
“Come ooonnn, y/n, please??” Peter begged over the phone, pleading with you as he tried to get you to come to the stupid party that he was already at. 
The loud music could be heard in the background, along with some masculine cheering, which you were sure was the captain of the football team. 
“Peter, no, I’m already in bed,” lie “and I’m in the middle of a book. I’ll see you when you get back to the compound,” you tried to negotiate with a clip to your voice, and the truth was you were at the compound, sitting on the couch in a pair of fuzzy socks and you really didn’t wanna get up. 
“Fine. Yeah. Fine, have fun at home, square.” he dramatically replied, obviously also not a fan of the word no.
You hated when he did that, when he tried to guilt trip you, because no matter how cheesy it was, he almost always succeeded in making you feel like shit. 
“Good night, Peter,”
And with that, you hung up. 
◆◆◆◆◆◆◆
You found yourself dozing off to the sound of the movie playing on the screen, the large blanket covering you making you never want to leave for the rest of your life. 
But your blissful state was halted by the sound of your phone ringing, making your eyes shoot open and lazily grabbing your cellular device and mindlessly pressing the answer button without looking at the contact name before letting out a groggy “Hello?”
“Y/n!!! Heeeyyyyy,” Peter’s loopy voice sounded off, and if you weren’t full awake already, you certainly were now. 
“Peter??” you scolded, “Are you...?”
“Having the time of my life?? Abbssolutelyyy!!” 
“Shhhhh, just-” you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to panic, “Where are you?”
“At the party you were too scared to come to,” he chastised, making you let out a silent sigh in annoyance. 
“Just stay there, okay, I’m coming,” you finally spoke, flipping the blanket off of yourself and getting up with get some real clothes on.
“I like it when you say you’re comi-”
And with that, you hung up the phone. 
◆◆◆◆◆◆◆
If there was one thing that your father had good taste in, it was his automobiles. He had many he took pride in. Especially the red ones. And if anything, the memory of your father might keep you sane. 
You punched in the address for Flash’s house, and even brought a pair of your father’s glasses, the only two E.D.I.T.Hs left. Ever. 
The drive there was speedy, and when you pulled into the driveway, your stomach dropped. A flood of teenagers crowded the house, and that was just the outside. You couldn’t imagine trying to find Peter in that mess. 
“E.D.I.T.H., find Peter for me, will you?” you spoke to your glasses. 
“Of course,” the voice responded, pausing a moment before continuing, “He’s in the living room. His alcohol levels are high.”
You groaned. You should’ve known, you shouldn’t have let him go out on his own to a party with Flash, that prick has alcohol up the ying-yang thanks to daddy’s money, shit-
Standing up out of the car, you slam the door, glasses still on, “E.D.I.T.H., show me Parker’s vitals, please,” you continued to storm towards the front door and making your way in. 
“His heartbeat is quick and his blood pressure is high, and as I said before, his alcohol levels are irrate.”
“Peter??” you called out, watching as his head popped up like a weasel’s, eyes bright as he recognized you. 
“[y/n]!!” He gasped, running over to you before wrapping his arms around you, “You came! I knew you would!”
“Yeah,” you pulled him off of you, “I came to get you. You’re drunk, Parker, we’re going home.”
“Aww, come on,” he pushed before hanging on you. 
“Peter. No. Come on, let’s go,” you pushed him off again, obviously more annoyed than before. You hated the way people were starting to look at you. 
“[y/n]! Please, don’t push me away again! Just let loose and have fun,”
Your anger brewed. And this was supposed to be the next Ironman. 
“Peter.” you scolded in the most dominant voice you could muster, making a few people around the two of you look their way, “We. Are going. Home.”
Without another word, you grabbed his hand and dragged him out, Peter protesting like a toddler, trying to pull back, but he was so drunk, he seemed weak, and unable to truly fight back. 
You reached the car, opening the door for him as he sat down, folding his arms and glaring at you as you got into the car, starting it and pulling out of the driveway and back to Queens, where hopefully you could get Peter out of trouble. 
A few good 3 minutes passed, (it felt longer thanks to Peter’s glare), and you finally spoke up. 
“Are you done staring at me like a child?” you breathed like a disappointed parent. Which was worse, acting like a mother or a child?
“I’m waiting for an apology. When I sober up, the guyyss are never going to leave alone about what you did to be back there.” he grumbled, obviously going to hold his grudge. 
“I don’t have to apologize for anything,” you gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, trying to suppress your thoughts that made you quick to anger. 
“Like hell-”
“I wasn’t the one breaking the law and underage drinking,” you growled back.
“I can’t wait till I sober up so I can show you what for. That was mortifying. You’re embarrassing.”
Out of everything you’ve been called, embarrassing was never something you were dubbed. 
Peter paused and held his breath, realizing he was blowing it with you, “Wait, [y/n], I’m sorry, I’m just-”
“It’s fine,” you dismissed, trying to keep tears from welling up in your eyes. 
“No, it can’t be, because I read somewhere that if a woman says she’s fine, she’s really not actually fine, and-”
“Peter! Just shut up, please!!” you scolded, trying not to sob, just wanting this night to go away. 
Soon after you hit a red light, and Peter just stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched, trying to think of something to say. Something to do. Anything at all to try and fix it. But thanks to the alcohol limiting the filter between his brain and his mouth, the next thing that came out of his mouth was:
“Why do you hate me?”
Your world seemed to stop for a second as you tried to compose yourself. This was the last thing you wanted him to think, no matter how vulnerable he made you feel. 
“I don’t hate you, Peter...,”
“Then what is it? Why do you push me away? Can you see that I like you? Like really really like you?”
You swallowed hard at his words. You closed your eyes and swallowed, “Peter, I don’t know what to tell you-”
“Then tell me something, please, anything-”
“I love you, Peter-” your outburst made him wince as he tried to focus and piece together your words in his drunken state, “I love you, Peter. And whenever I look at you... I see him, and I just...,” you took a deep breath to prevent the tears welling in your eyes, making you seem weak in your opinion, “I’m supposed to be the next Ironman, but the press says differently. I’m jealous of you Peter,” you shook in embarrassment as you pressed down on the gas, your cloudy vision making you swerve to stay on the road so you didn’t crash a priceless car. 
“You love me?”
“Y-yeah, I mean, I guess, I wouldn’t...,” you paused, “You aren’t going to remember this in the morning anyway,”
“No. I’m not gonna forget this. Not even if I tried,” he laughed humorlessly, leaning back in his seat. 
“Well... I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” you thought out loud, wanting to take your rant and stuff it back down your throat. 
You didn’t mean for him to find out. Not like this at least. 
◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆
When you two got back to the compound, he gipped onto you like a kid, clinging to you and refusing to let go. At this point there was a mutual understanding between the two of you. That both of you had feelings, but it wouldn’t be discussed until the morning. 
The elevator ride made Peter look sick, the alcohol finally starting to catch up to him, and right as the doors opened, he ran inside, finding the closest bathroom. 
That poor toilet. 
You caught up to him and sat next to a sickly Peter, rubbing his back as he let everything out. He held you the best he could, not wanting you to leave his side. 
You brushed the hair away from his forehead as he leaned over the side of the toilet, groaning in discomfort as he continued to cling to you like you would slip away. After a few more times of the repeated pattern of ejecting bile, he turned to you.
“I’m tired,” he mumbled like a child. 
“Come on, Spidey, let’s get you to bed,” you gave a small smile, picking him up as you dragged him out of the bathroom and into a guest bedroom, getting him an extra shirt and sweatpants from the closet before turning around while he got changed. 
But a wrapping of arms around your waist told you he was done. You waddled him over to the bedside before sitting him down and getting him off your back. He was like a damn koala. 
You finally laid him down, pulling the covers over him snuggly, not failing to notice the longing stare coming from Peter. You gave a smile, and he smiled back. It made your heart flutter in spite of yourself. 
You shook yourself out of it, the only thing on your mind now was getting to sleep, trying to forget the conversation that was supposed to be had the next morning. 
“Goodnight, Peter.” you began to walk away, but before you could get too far away from the bed, you felt someone grab your hand. 
“Please stay,” he begged, unspilled tears in his eyes, the fear of you leaving his side the greatest concern on his mind. 
You paused. You were about to go to sleep with Peter Parker, and yet your hesitation was the only thing that was stopping you from what you had wished you had been doing for as long as you had known the boy. 
Despite the voice screaming in the back of your head to put the wall back up and your foot down, say no, and leave, your body opposed, slipping under the covers with the sniffling teenager. 
He immediately smiled and embraced you, and you knew that you would have to get used to the physical contact. He was behind you, his arms around your waist, his breath gently fanning over the nape of your neck. 
You covered the both of you up, Peter sighing. And as much as you hated to admit it, he looked adorable. 
“Parker, if you barf in my hair, you aren’t gonna wake up with eyebrows,” you were half-joking, half-serious. 
“Will do.” he laughed sluggishly, sniffling before you finally felt his breaths steady and slow, passed out with you in his arms. 
You never really liked Peter Parker. 
You loved him.
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theoswriting · 3 years
Text
fault line [part. i]
summary: To y/n, freedom feels like wind in her hair, sounds like old school rock'n'roll and tastes like Elle's lips. From the fire in front of them comes warmth. With every passing second, bloodied clothes burn beyond the point of recognition.
pairing: elle greenaway x fem!reader
a/n: uhm okay, this totally got out of hand. from that request, my brain went crazy and I ended up having to cut it into two, so this is part 1. Hopefully I'll post part 2 in a couple of days. I feel weird about this story, but I hope you'll enjoy it at least a tiny bit, haha.
warnings: mentions of rape and sexual abuse (nothing graphic), murder but it's pretty lowkey, sociopathy?, bad profiling, 
ao3
Jennifer Jareau's steps are hurried when she walks from her office to Hotchner's. 
She can feel the eyes of Prentiss, Morgan and Reid following her as she crosses the bullpen. She ignores them, the files she's holding in her hands are far more important. She doesn't wait for an answer after she knocks, not caring that she's interrupting Hotchner in the middle of a phone call. 
Hotch doesn't startle at the irruption, and when he sees the urgency in the liaison's eyes, he doesn't hesitate before saying, "I'm afraid I'll have to call later," to whoever was on the other side of the line. 
"We have a bad one."
***
To y/n, freedom feels like wind in her hair, sounds like old school rock'n'roll and tastes like Elle's lips.
Elle's hand rests on y/n's thigh as she drives with the other, sunglasses covering her eyes as she stares at the road straight ahead. There's a strength in the way she holds the steering wheel, getting them to their next destination with nothing but confidence. As she looks her over, y/n feels a familiar spark wake inside her. It makes her lean towards the driver's side to drop a long kiss on the corner of Elle's mouth. 
Elle doesn't hesitate to turn her head and make it a real kiss, the kind that always leaves y/n breathless and wanting more. When Elle leans back to focus on the road again, the car has swerved to the other side of the road and Elle brings it back to the right lane. 
Not that it matters. It's been hours since they had passed another car, not  a lot of traffic in the middle of the Nevada desert. And if they were to drive off the road, what a way to go, y/n thinks. She'd happily die twice if it meant dying with Elle kissing her with all the love and passion in the world. That'd probably be the only way y/n would ever make it to heaven. 
For now, she leans her head on Elle's shoulder and sighs contentedly at the kiss her girlfriend drops on her temple. 
"I think we can stop soon," y/n says after seconds, "We're far out enough, and I really need to stretch my legs."
It's barely fifteen minutes later when y/n finally gets to use her legs after being in the car for so long. As she stretches, Elle stands beside her, drinking from a water bottle. She passes it to her and y/n thanks her. The heat of the desert is heavy around them, but y/n barely feels it. 
The warmth comes from the fire in front of them, small and controlled. 
With every passing second, bloodied clothes burn beyond the point of recognition. 
***
"LAPD called me this morning for a consultation on two cases they suspected might be connected."
Everyone looks at the files as JJ begins presenting the case. 
"First victim, Matthew McGregor, 36, was killed with a single gunshot wound to the head a year ago after he came home from a party," She explains, "Second victim, Eric Laurens, 28, two days ago, same M.O., single GSW to the head coming home from a party."
JJ sees Derek nod slowly as he reads over the information again, "Seems pretty clear to me that they're connected."
Emily hums in agreement, "And both had gotten arrested on rape charges, but weren't convicted, prior to their deaths."
"A vigilante?" Rossi theorises out loud. 
"There's more," JJ sighs as she clicks on the remote. Five more men appear on screen, a picture from their driver's license and one from a crime scene, "LAPD aren't the only ones who called about similar cases."
Spencer frowns at the screen, "Wyoming, Illinois, New York, these are from all over the country," he observes. 
"Yeah" JJ nods, "And the oldest murder goes back to 2007, the most recent being Eric Laurens two days ago."
"That's seven victims over the last 3 years," Derek observes and that's when Hotch gets up to stand next to JJ.
"Seven that we know of," He says, "We might have a transient serial killer in our hands. We'll be flying out to LA to see what we can learn from the most recent crime scene. I've already asked Garcia to look for unsolved murders with a similar M.O. all over the country, we'll debrief more on the jet. Wheels up in 20."
Without another word, all the agents leave the room to gather their belongings and get to the plane that'll take them to their case. 
***
After being together for almost four years, y/n and Elle had settled into a routine. It was inevitable, y/n guessed, that after so much time together. Some things were bound to become repetitive. 
Elle always takes the left side of the bed, while y/n prefers the right. Elle always cooks if they want their food to be edible, and y/n always cleans up. When it comes to coffee, though, y/n always makes it, Elle's always coming out too strong for both their tastes. When it comes to work, Elle excells at planning while y/n handles the social part.
Their routine is rooted in balance though, and y/n loves the way they compliment each other.
y/n lures the men, Elle shoots them. 
She worries sometimes. She worries that their lives are getting boring, that they have settled into this routine too comfortably and forgotten how to surprise each other. 
"Mmmh," y/n feels Elle stretch next to her, "G'morning."
Her worries never last very long. How could they, when all y/n has to do is look at Elle to realize that there is no way she's ever falling out of love with the woman. 
"Good morning," She replies, getting closer to her girlfriend to drop a kiss on her lips. Elle hums contentedly into the kiss and y/n can't help the grin that takes over her features. When Elle leans back, she keeps her eyes closed and settles back into her pillow and y/n bites her lip as she watches her. 
"We need to go soon," Elle mutters.
y/n quickly agrees, even though she's pretty sure no one is on their tails. They can never be too careful. Never stay in a place too long if you don't want to get trapped. They'd stopped in a random motel for the night, paid in cash, left most of their stuff in the car, ready to take off at any time. 
It was the way things always were the days that'd follow one of their… projects.
Some would consider this lifestyle tiresome. y/n, however, thinks she's the luckiest person in the world. In the last four years, she's travelled through the country and seen the most beautiful sights with the woman she loves by her side. Sure, they have a job to do, but it's never really felt like a job to y/n. She's always heard that people weren't supposed to enjoy their jobs, that's always what grownups had complained about when she was a kid. 
And y/n? Well, she enjoys her job very much. 
***
Reid stares at the board in front of him. He's just put up all the information they have so far and it's… a lot. 
Or rather, there's very little useful information, but many, many, victims. Garcia has managed to find an overwhelming number of unsolved cases with a similar modus operandi: men, killed by a single gunshot to the head on their way home from a party, all previously accused of rape or sexual misconduct. 
They are up to 32 possible victims on top of the 7 they started with, from all over the country. That number only keeps going up the longer Garcia keeps looking. 
By now, they are pretty sure all these cases are connected, even though no evidence connects them directly to each other. Even ballistics couldn't link the different shootings. 
They're missing something. Spencer only wishes he knew what that was. 
On the jet, they'd all agreed on a few things concerning the preliminary profile. Their unsub was most likely highly intelligent and had military or law enforcement training. It was most probably a man in his mid-thirties, carrying out his own justice after the system failed him or someone close to him. He was organized, evident by the lack of clues left behind. Whoever the unsub was, he might even have stalked his victims prior to the crimes. 
It sounds right on paper, but something is missing. Spencer knows it. 
Something is missing.
***
y/n's hand is wrapped around a cup of coffee as she sits on the patio of a little shop. Her sunglasses are small, barely protecting her from the rays coming from the sun above. It's almost noon.
The world is an ugly place. 
That statement had made its way into y/n's head years ago, laying roots, unmoving. With every stroke of her father's anger, with every touch of a man's hands, the roots dug deeper and deeper until they found their way to y/n's heart. The world held no justice for people like y/n. They didn't care about the bruises, the touching, the screaming for help, they never listened. 
She had learned a long time ago that if she wants something, she needs to do it herself. 
"How can you be married to someone like that?" Elle suddenly speaks up from next to her. 
When y/n looks at her, Elle's eyes are fixed onto the man they'd followed. He's at the restaurant on the other side of the street, right in front of the coffee shop. He's sitting with his wife, holding her hand and y/n tilts her head.
"Maybe she doesn't know."
Elle's eyes don't leave the couple, her face still contorted in disgust, "Then, we're doing her a favor."
It brings a smile to y/n's face. The way Elle's voice sounds resolute, confident. It's comforting. It reminds her that she's right to trust Elle, that Elle hates the world just as much as she does and that she'd gladly watch it burn with her. It makes her want to lean in and kiss her, but that would attract too much attention. Instead, she reaches out for her hand and brings it up to her lips. Elle shoots her a small smile, and y/n's heart warms.
It's impressive how a smile from Elle offers y/n a reassurance she hadn't even known she craved. It had always been her against the entire world, the only love she knew was the love she was willing to give to herself. That hadn't always been easy.
Then, she'd met Elle and she had shared a story so different from y/n's but the consequences of it felt familiar. It made sense that y/n had been drawn to her, the strength Elle exuded softened by the understanding y/n saw in her eyes each time she talked. 
The world was an ugly place, but Elle Greenaway makes it worth holding on for a little longer. 
***
"The body was found right where you're standing," Derek says as he looks back at Prentiss from a few feet ahead, "Which means our unsub must've been standing right here," He adds, pointing to the ground under his feet. 
He looks around him as Prentiss voices his exact thought, "There's no way he didn't see the unsub coming. There aren't any good hiding spots out here."
They're standing next to a fence, on the outside of a park, "The sidewalk is big, no trees, or parking allowed, so no cars to hide behind," Derek observes, "Which means our unsub is unsuspecting, someone the victims wouldn't consider a threat."
Emily nods and starts looking up, in search of camera surveillance. Two catch her eye, on the other side of the street and she points out to Derek with a raised eyebrow. Local PD hadn't found anything of use but they decide to call Garcia anyway. If anyone could find something, it was her. 
As Morgan talks to their tech analyst, Emily walks past him, then back, retracing the steps their unsub had most likely taken two nights ago. When she stops, she raises her hands, mimicking a gun and aiming at where the victim would've been standing. Whoever it is, they're a good shot which makes her think they were right in saying the unsub had some kind of firearm training. 
She sighs as she drops her hands down and puts them on her hips. As she looks around again, a thought crosses her mind, "Where did Mr. Laurens live?"
Derek who just hung up with Garcia wracks his brain to remember the address he'd read in the file, "He lived… three streets down, that way-" He points out to the direction their victim had supposedly been walking from and it dawns on him, "So why was he walking in the opposite direction to his home."
Emily nods, "And how did the unsub know they'd find him here."
"They followed him."
"Walked past him, turned around and shot him?" Emily asks as she walks back to stand where the body had been found.
"Or, he was lured out here," Derek speaks and Prentiss has to agree with him. 
"It's the perfect killing spot," She says pointing back at the cameras, "Even if Garcia gets anything from them, it'll be grainy at best, impossible to get a clear shot of our unsub."
Derek looks at the empty street, void of any passerbys, "Quiet street in the day, probably even quieter at night. Less risks to run into an unwanted witness."
"So if he was lured out," Emily says, "We need to figure out who he left that party with."
***
y/n stumbles slightly and giggles as a strong arm wraps around her waist and helps her stay upright. 
"Shoot, I'm such a klutz," She adds with a laugh and her companion replies in kind. 
His laughter grates on her nerves. It's too loud, resonating all around them and using up too much oxygen. She only has to walk with him a couple more minutes but even that feels too long. She feels his too big hand squeeze her hip and she feels anger spike inside her chest. She wants to hurt him. 
Deep breath. Clenched fist. One more minute. 
He's started talking again but y/n isn't listening. She's staring straight ahead to the street they're going to walk into where Elle will be waiting for them and the hand will finally fall from her hip. That's when you feel it, that spark you've come to call freedom. It's small but grows as you round the corner with him following you closely.
It starts burning under your skin when you spot Elle's silhouette further down the street.
The man next to you doesn't even take notice of her and isn't that ironic. He spent his life thinking of women as less than and y/n finds it befitting that what'll bring him to his end is the last woman he'll ignore. 
Elle raises her gun and with the sound of the gunshot ringing in her ears, y/n's whole body is set aflame. 
She watches as the hand lays limp next to his lifeless body and a gleeful laugh escapes her. The hole in his head oozes blood and she can't stop laughing. The hand is laying there unmoving and y/n feels the urge to step on it. 
Hurt him, hurt him, hurt him, hurt him like he hurt you. 
She's vaguely aware of Elle calling out her name but y/n doesn't snap out of it until a hand yanks her away from the body by the shoulders. She steps back, but slaps the hands touching her away. Only then does she realize that it's Elle looking at her, confusion in her eyes and something y/n doesn't want to ever see from her own girlfriend. 
Fear.
"We have to go," Elle announces slowly, like she's explaining it to a child, or a wounded animal. y/n doesn't know which comparison she likes best. She looks back at the body and regretfully nods.
They start walking away, hand in hand, but something inside of y/n doesn't feel quite right. The fire that had roared inside of her is long gone and she feels her body shiver at the cold. Elle notices and wraps an arm around her shoulders, dropping a kiss on her hair as they keep walking side by side.
She wants to smile but she can't manage it. 
He hurt her.
He was going to hurt Elle.
He hurt her.
***
"Laurens' friends say he left the party alone," Emily announces to the team as she sits down next to JJ in the conference room. At the same moment, Derek's phone starts ringing, attracting everyone's attention.
"Baby girl, tell me you have good news," Derek answers, putting his phone on speaker so everyone around the table can hear. 
"I wish, but no. The cameras on the street were of no use, it's a blind spot. I tried the cameras from neighbouring streets but got nothing. Whoever it is your looking for, they're like a ghost."
There's a collective disappointed sigh and shoulders sagging, and Garcia isn't done, "to make a bad day even worse, a body was just found in Twin Falls, same M.O."
Everyone visibly tenses at the news, Rossi speaking first, "Two kills in less than three days."
Hotch looks at JJ and before he can even say anything, she's out of her seat, "I'll call the local PD, tell them we're on our way."
Hotch nods his approval, turning his stoic gaze to the rest of his team, "Get your bags ready, we're flying out as soon as the jet is ready."
***
It is getting boring and y/n had been right to be worried. 
That's the first thing that crosses her mind as she wakes up next to Elle, hours later, in a nameless city in the middle of nowhere. 
Elle lays peacefully next to her, deep into slumber, and a smile stretches y/n's lips. She watches her girlfriend's chest rise and fall, her naked body barely covered by the sheets. It's a hot night, y/n can feel the sweat in her lower back making it uncomfortable for her to fall back asleep. As she gets up from the bed, Elle moves, getting closer to where y/n lay seconds ago, chasing the heat despite the already too high temperature. 
y/n lets herself watch her for a moment before walking to sit on the chair next to the window. There's nothing to look at, the motel they'd chosen is outside of the city and the lights are barely visible. It's dark, except for the slight light of the moon landing on the cars outside. 
She feels empty tonight. The thrill she'd felt hours ago hadn't lasted long and the only thing she could remember about it was the look Elle had thrown her way. 
Fear.
Elle had always looked at her with interest. From the moment they met, y/n had been drawn in by her hazel eyes. Something in her made her feel safe in a way she never had before and days after meeting her, she had told Elle about her unpleasant memories, how the world wasn't a nice place.
Elle had listened and, to y/n's surprise, agreed with the statement. Usually, whenever y/n told people about the ugliness of the world, they tried to make her see the parts that weren't so bad, try to make her see that some things, and some people were worth it. Elle hadn't done any of that, she had scoffed and agreed.
"Only person you can trust is yourself. The rest? Always leads to disappointment."
They had ended up in bed together soon after that, spent the night in each other's arms and imagining a world that'd be worth their time. 
Two days later, they had killed their first man together.
Their routine hasn't changed in nearly four years, and it used to be enough for y/n. She's the bait, easily transforming herself into whoever the men want to see in front of them. She pretends to be too drunk, unstable on her feet, asking for help to walk back to her place or her car, and the men never think twice before following her. 
Elle waits for them and then. She shoots. 
And it used to be enough for y/n to watch the proud look on Elle's face anytime she made a perfect shot. Smoking gun in hand and a confident smirk, y/n had never seen anything sexier in her entire life. 
What followed was always a passionate kiss and hurried hands, trying to touch every inch of skin. 
Earlier, y/n hadn't even kissed Elle, the only contact between them being the arm that Elle had thrown around her shoulder. 
y/n can feel that there's something not quite right. She feels it in her body, in the way her arms itch, in the way her chest feels a bit too empty for her too breath comfortably. 
y/n loves Elle, there's no way that has changed. She's sure of it. When she turns her head to watch Elle sleep, her heart flutters at the sight of her girlfriend curled up on the side of the bed that she had vacated. She couldn't see it, but she could picture her girlfriend's face, mouth slightly open if she were to believe the little snores she could hear. 
She is just bored of the routine. 
When she finally climbs back into bed with Elle, her girlfriend automatically drapes a hand over her waist. 
"Where did you go?" Elle asks sleepily, and y/n lays a kiss on her nose. It makes her scrunch up her face and that's the cutest sight she's ever seen. 
"Couldn't sleep."
Elle hums and goes back to sleep. y/n sighs and follows suit, not long after. 
***
"What's this, on the palm?" Morgan asks the M.E., pointing at the left hand of the victim where the skin seems slightly bruised.
The doctor on the other side of the autopsy table nods at Derek and Spencer, "His hand was broken post-mortem, although I'm having a hard time figuring out what broke it."
Reid leaned closer to the hand and frowned, "It looks like something was pushed from the palm to the other side."
Again, the doctor nods, but before she can say anything else, Reid suddenly stands up straight and looks over at Morgan, "I know what did this."
At that moment, Morgan's phone rings and upon seeing Hotch's name, he excuses himself to reply. When he comes back, his face looks somber.
"A man was killed not far from here, local PD just got the call. Hotch wants us to check it out, just in case."
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sooibian · 4 years
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The Spy Who Loved Me
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gif credits @byunvoyage​
Pairing: Spy!Baekhyun x Assassin!Reader ft. Chen, Chanyeol
Description: It’s an obsessive cat and mouse chase
Themes: Dark comedy, angst, heavily inspired by season one of Killing Eve
Warnings: Violence, strong language
Word Count: ~2.8k
A/N: This one-shot comes during a very busy season for me so if you can make time for feedback, I’d be very grateful. Thanks :)
———————————————————————–
It’s the way light escapes their eyes.
Fear. Despair. Hope. Then…nothing.
They hope to be spared. I have a family…what about my children…please…why are you doing this to me…. The utterly foolish ones even offer you money. This imbecility makes the corners of your mouth curl upwards - especially when they’re out of breath from running or begging or whatever it is that gets their heart rate up. Eh. Factor in some cardio before dissolving into a permanent state of slumber, maybe? Poor things always mistake the twitch of your lips for impending clemency…what they don’t know is that it’s always been the breathy ones that peak your excitement.
There’s not a single hit you’ve regretted.
Mostly because you don’t bother with the futility of why. They give you a name and you jet off. To you, it’s really a fun job involving travel, costumes, languages, a hefty allowance, sticking pointy objects in the right places and theatrics. You’re not one to just do your job and slip away quietly. No arterial air embolisms, no unidentifiable fumes or poisons. No boring and discreet.  Where’s the fun in that? Flamboyant is your middle name. Every assassination is a heroi-comical poem for you - killing an asthamatic nez with a fatal concoction of perfume or a feeble-hearted fetishist with clamps that turned out to be a wee bit too intense for him.
You’re good at this. No, infact, you’re the best there is, the best there was, the best there ever  will be.
“The NIS has deployed a team of four to hunt you down because of the mess you left in Beijing. So you’ll be working with a team now. No more flying solo.” Your handler Chen says nonchalantly. 
Shit.
Beijing. “Make it look like a suicide”, had been the directive. The assignment Kasia had been put under witness protection after you’d murdered her mafia boyfriend. She was in a hospital - injured and deranged from the shock of it all, watched over by armed men. Things obviously didn’t go as planned and the security detail bloodbath was, well, collateral damage.
You saunter towards Chen with an intentional swing in your hips, a pout on your lips. You sit a little too close to the astute man, almost purring with seduction, “NIS, you say. Give me a name." 
“Byun Baekhyun.” His lips curl into a cat-like smile as he stealthily adds a foot long distance between the both of you.
“Never heard of him”, you say neutrally, gliding closer to his stoic form.
“He was a security officer before this. A nobody. In fact, he was fired right after the Kasia debacle in Beijing. She was his responsibility.” Letting out an exasperated sigh, he gets up on the pretext of fetching a glass of water.
“Why the sudden promotion, then?”
“A change of jobs. He’s heading a team…Operation Jinseong, they call themselves. Apparently, he’s the only one who believed that the murders have all been executed by a woman. If they can get to you, they can get to them. The organization. This conjecture has seemed to have impressed a higher up. After firing him, they swept his computer and found hoards of theories and all the intelligence he could gather about the faceless demon that’s actually…you. An insider thinks he’s fascinated. And a little cuckoo.” Chen’s laughter is throaty and taunting. 
He takes a sip of water and places the glass carefully on the counter, eyeing you the entire time. Chen. It’s a nom de plume. He’s a ghost - a shadow of a shadow, if you will. You know nothing about Chen but you know better than to snoop around. He’s always been affable yet distant, but he has this maddening habit of scrutinizing people. The changes in the expression, the dilation of the pupils. The man doesn’t miss a beat. And he stares unapologetically. You wonder what he thinks when he looks at you. You wonder how he feels. Disgusted? Lustful? Terrified?
He wants to know everything that’s behind those vacant eyes. With him, you feel disrobed.
“You’re only as good as your last”, he says finally, in his threateningly soft voice, thrusting a thumb drive into your hand. But you don’t feel threatened. The truth is, you feel nothing at all.
He’s at the door when you exclaim, “You never have sex with me!” Feigning annoyance.
He laughs and states matter -of-factly, “I’m married”, before closing the door behind him.
Like that’s ever stopped a man before.
***
Byun Baekhyun.
You search the thumb drive and a fresh faced man with luminous eyes smiles at you from the screen. His arm is wrapped around a slender, honey-skinned woman with big hair and big teeth. They look like an advertisement for home buyers.
A wave of recognition floods your mind.
He was there. 
He was there at the Beijing scene. The beautiful man who helped you with the coffee maker in the hospital. The very same coffee you doused barista Kasia with. 
There’s an inexplicable swell in your chest.
.
.
.
You’re no team player.
The undertaking with your ex and her boyfriend didn’t go as planned. Chen should’ve known. 
After a disagreement, you instigated her to off him, your shin getting injured in the scuffle. Then you ran her over with the jeep - once, twice. The third time was just to be sure. This commotion affected the escape of the NIS Agent you were after.
The mole that ratted out Baekhyun’s Operation Jinseong. 
The murders of your “colleagues” you could manage to explain - you’d tailored them to look like accidents. However, the assignment’s escape was sure to reflect poorly on you.
You’re only as good as your last.
The Agent scurries across a field of dead grass towards the feeder road, putting considerable distance between him and an injured you, where someone sat waiting anxiously in the driver’s seat.
Oh, Baekhyun…
It’s the first time you look into each other’s eyes, the moment stretching between you. It is like standing on the ledge of a skyscraper. With the wind in your hair, the world at your feet but in this space exists trepidation. A fear of falling.
Your gun wielding arm suddenly feels too heavy and your legs threaten to give up on you. Your heart rate escalates as the hot embers of his gaze gloss over the stretch of your skin. 
The mole slips into the backseat of Baekhyun’s compact Kia Morning as you continue to take aimless shots at his vitals - eyes still intertwined with Baekhyun’s. 
What good was a mole to the NIS?, you wanted to ask. Especially one that looked like a sewer rat.
You were only doing them a favour.
Aiming the gun at Baekhyun, you fire, only to realize he isn’t fearful or panicky. On the contrary, there is a sense of purpose in his eyes as well as something you could only identify as a glimmer. A spark. 
Even from a twenty foot distance you can tell Byun Baekhyun is in awe of you.
This…thing…this electricity surges through your veins and you sprint towards your jeep - as fast as your good leg could carry you. 
Oops. You didn’t mean to run over her for the fourth time.
***
Reverse. Acceleration. A few well thought out turns and your jeep is hardly a hundred meters behind Baekhyun’s car. You continue to fire and he continues to dart, swerve, sidestep. A good driver.
Suddenly, his car comes to a screeching halt.
He steps out of his vehicle amidst shrill cries of protest from the mole in the backseat and you follow suit.
Weaponless, crouched, he inches towards the gun pointed at him. 
“I mean no harm”, despite his scared posture, his voice is confrontational. “Leave the man alone. He has a little girl.”
Oh, Baekhyun…
You smile at him. He smiles back.
A genuine smile. Like the one your father used to give you when he saw you relishing ice-cream as…a little girl.
In a flash, you aim the nozzle at your temple and Baekhyun cries out a loud, pained, “NO!”
Laughing, you lower the gun and fire at his feet. He ducks. 
You vanish.
.
.
.
It was exhilarating to use the alias ``Mrs. Byun ” for your next job especially since the man and his giant partner have been on your tail for three months now. 
But, maybe, you shouldn’t’ve stolen Baekhyun’s luggage as soon as he landed in Tokyo to investigate the mysterious death of a Chinese colonel. He and his team knew perfectly well whodunnit. But one can’t bring faceless demons to book now, can they?
Who knows how this easily distracted giant of a man is supposed to protect Baekhyun if it should ever come to it. He couldn’t even watch his luggage for a measly five minutes.
***
You watch Baekhyun and the giant from your apartment overlooking the crime scene. He looks frazzled and the giant slightly apologetic. ‘You’ll have your bag back soon, baby’, you whisper, sucking on a bubblegum flavoured lollipop.
Thirty minutes roll by and the investigation seems to be heading nowhere. Bored out of your wits, you slump into your bed and toy with the contents of Baekhyun’s bag - shirts, slacks, underwear, toiletries.
Dull, tedious, and soul-destroyingly unimaginative. 
Save for one green scarf. 
In a sea of monotones, the scarf stands out. Demanding attention. Fluttering your eyes shut, you slowly bury your face in it - your senses entirely enveloped in his heady scent. 
***
“Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, where did you get that scarf from?”
Day two in Tokyo. You’ve been following Baekhyun (and, by extension, Chanyeol). Studying him. It was like adopting Chen’s personality. Apart from the occasional loud laughter, his demeanour, you learn, is self-effacing, gracious, and polite. He’s a picky eater who only eats to live and not the other way round. He’s also very observant and intuitive. But not enough to know that he’s being watched. 
Also, he’s thinking. Constantly. He’s thinking about you. 
“Excuse me?”
Chanyeol asks again - large, deep brown eyes focused on your neck trying to stop you from getting onto the same train as Baekhyun. 
Very subtle.
“It’s from my mother’s store. I could give you the address if you like”, smiling, you crane your neck to look into his disturbed eyes as you both pretend not to know each other amidst a swarm of dog-tired people on the platform at six in the evening.
You slip into the crowd but the oaf chooses to follow.
What does he think he’s doing following an assassin through a strange city! Unarmed.
Forty minutes elapse and he continues to chase you through the streets of Tokyo, keeping up with your brisk pace. With your easy charm, you breeze into the club called Camelot and wave Chanyeol goodbye as he’s stopped by the bouncer and sent to the back of the line. His eyes are dark with a murderous rage.
The club is loud, dark…stuffy - the air thick with over-the-counter happiness. Definitely not to your taste but you stay to give Chanyeol a head start. He’s pissed you off and he’ll pay for it later. Not today. 
You really didn’t want to upset a tired Baekhyun. At least not until you feel a beefy hand weigh down your shoulder.
“I didn’t want to do this”, you rise on your tippy toes and whisper into his ear before sticking a short blade into the side of his stomach. He’s heaving as you stare into his round, childlike, startled eyes while supporting his stumbling weight and stabbing him repeatedly until he finally collapses.
You leave him to bleed out on the dance floor and on your way out, you grab the arm of a medium-built man, your blood-dipped, glistening lips stretched into a lascivious smile.
“Let’s put you in a costume first”, you say to the unassuming moron, excitably thinking of Baekhyun’s dull shirts.
.
.
.
Grief draws people closer, your grandmother used to say, every time someone died of sickness in that impoverished little village of yours.
Baekhyun’s grieving the oaf who was slowing him down. He’s looking for company. So..he’s snooping. 
He’s in your apartment.
The “trusting old lady” - your next door neighbour, who actually works for the same organization as you handed him the key exactly as instructed. You’d been expecting him, this meeting was long overdue. But you wait in the cute little French cafe just around the corner - watching him scout out your apartment through your phone, while devouring a Charlotte Russe cake - dressed pretty in a flouncy pink dress.
He’s careful not to make a squeak. Walking on tippy toes, running his beautifully slender fingers along the drapes, the furniture, the walls as he goes. Your skin tingles all over. Oh, how you wish to be a piece of furniture in the moment. Only Baekhyun could make you want to be something muted and inanimate. Furniture, mattress, drapes.
He saunters slowly to your blackwood Georgian cupboard. The one you use for your wigs, costumes, weapons, and his own green scarf. He wears the scarf around his neck, ruffles the costumes but he’s gentle with the wigs. Stroking and caressing. 
From the drawer he picks out a .38 and shoves it in his waistband. Right behind his hip bone.
Oh, Baekhyun…
Pretty boys and their dangerous toys.
He finds himself in the kitchen. The revolver seems to have straightened his spine and suffused his step with a very welcome spring. Mi casa es su casa. 
In the fridge he finds exactly what he’s supposed to. No food. Only a dozen bottles of celebratory champagne of the best kind. What comes next from him is a scornful snicker which fills your mouth with a bitter taste. The Charlotte Russe doesn’t look very appetizing anymore. He draws a bottle out of the fridge, studies it and smashes it onto the floor. Then another, then another until all the bottles are reduced to shattered glass dripping in gold strewn across your kitchen floor.
Playtime is over, Baekhyun.
You make a run for your apartment.
***
He’s exhausted. 
Breathless, air tousled, shirt crumpled, eyes droopy, beads of sweat lined across his forehead and upper lip - standing clueless, smack-dab in the middle of the mess he’s made - clothes torn off their hangers, furniture overturned. You can’t recognize your upscale Seoul apartment anymore. Careful around the glass, you make your way towards his still frame, withdraw the weapon from his light, jaded grasp. 
You take his hand in yours and lead him to your bedroom - which is entirely ransacked just like the rest of your house. Save for the bed.
He lies down on his back and his first words are, “God, I’m tired.”
“Me too”, you say, as you lie facing him, “Are you wearing the cologne I gave you?”
You’d sent him a bottle of cologne along with the bag you had nicked in Tokyo, as a token of appreciation. It was handcrafted to smell like power.
He hums, turning to the side to face you, nestling into the depths of your irises.
“Are you going to kill me?” He asks, eyeing the revolver in your hand.
Your heart falls to pieces at the ache in his voice.
“No”, you say simply, tossing it to the side.
“Really?”
“I promise.”
Relief ripples across his soft, boyish features smoothing the lines of worry as it goes.
“You’re all I think about”, he says, studying your face. And you’re left wondering yet again, about his thoughts. His feelings.
“So you trash my apartment?” You sound as gentle as you can. But if you’re honest, you don’t even have to try that hard.
“I lost my job, my partner, my wife left me, and I even lost my sanity because of you.”
With his dulcet touch, he traces along the edge of your lips.
“Fair enough. I think about you too. I mean, I to you masturbate a lot.” You say as your thumb rubs his cheek lightly.
He lets out a loud, embarrassed giggle that makes him look a decade younger.
“Too much?” You ask, apprehensively.
“No, I just wasn’t expecting that.”
And with that you’re both inching closer to each other, like magnets.
Baekhyun’s soft gaze darkens and simultaneously you feel something sharp poking at your stomach.
“You can’t do it”, you wrap your hand around the blade, almost mocking him. He’s too nice for something this abominable.
“I can”, he whispers, his eyes still nestled in yours, as he plunges the blade deeper, tearing you apart. 
He places a chaste, soft kiss on your forehead.
Fear. Despair. Hope.
“Sorry, baby.” 
Continuation - My Lovable Curse
238 notes · View notes
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Song of the Siren [Part 8]
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Liam Dunbar x Reader | ☁️ + 🌠 + ✨ | 3.2k | Siren!Reader
Based on Season 4, episode 12: Smoke and Mirrors
[ Song of the Siren Masterlist ]
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“You two are not going to Mexico,” Sheriff Stilinski firmly stated. 
“Scott and Kira have been kidnapped and been taken to Mexico, okay, I think that’s a pretty good reason for a trip to Mexico.” Stiles countered.
You stood next to your best friend, nodding in agreement. “Going through the legal processes would take too long. We need to get them back as quickly as possible.”
The Sheriff moved around his office, trying to process all this information. “(Y/N), your parents are still out of town, do you think they want you traveling out of the country in this situation?”
“If it were to save my best friend, then yes, they wouldn’t mind.”
Sheriff Stilinski frowned, he knew that you and Stiles were determined, and it was practically impossible to change your minds. It was clear to him that since Deaton had shared his intel on Scott, there was no holding his son or you back.
“Please, you two, give me a little more time to verify something slightly more concrete than a physic vision from some guy with a third eye.”
You exchanged a look with Stiles, knowing that despite these desperate times, his dad was just trying to be logical about this situation.
Both of you knew you were going regardless of what the Sheriff would decide. 
Your phone buzzed and your heartbeat slightly faster at the sight of the name.
Liam.
Pulling at Stiles’s sleeve, you gestured for him to leave the office with you.
“We should talk to the others,” you explained to Sheriff Stilinski. “Let them know what’s up.”
Sheriff Stilinski nodded. “Don’t do anything reckless. That goes for both of you.”
A slight twinge of guilt went through you, but it wasn’t enough to stop the plan in motion.
“I’ll see you at Scott’s?” Stiles asked.
You nodded, then picked up the call as you exited the police station.
“Hi Liam,” you greeted.
“(Y/N), what is going on?” Liam asked, voice filled with worry. 
“Scott and Kira... Deaton told us that they’ve been kidnapped and taken to Mexico.”
“What?”
You slid into the driver’s seat of your car, thinking about what to tell the young beta. He was part of the Scott’s pack, he deserved to know what was going on.
“I’m going to Scott’s place, where should I pick you up?”
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Listening to the sound of Stiles and Malia’s footsteps upstairs, you leaned against the dining room table with Liam while waiting for them. Having told everything you knew about the situation with Liam, you were now nervously waiting for Stiles.
You were rarely nervous. 
Liam could tell the moment you two had entered the house. In hopes of calming you down, he took your hand in his, squeezing yours to let you know he was there for you.
“You guys have gone through so much together, you’ll get through this too,” Liam reassured you.
His words brought some peace to you. He was right - you all had survived the Benefactor. The situation now couldn’t be worse than that, hopefully.
“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Thanks, Liam.”
The blue eyed boy smiled at the sound of your heart slowing back down to its regular pace.
When Stiles spotted Liam, he frowned. 
“Liam, go home, you’re not coming with us.”
“Why not?” Liam asked, gripping your hand a little tighter as he stood up.  
“Cause it’s a full moon and I don’t feel like driving all the way down to Mexico just to have you rip my throat out.” 
“But (Y/N) will be with me,” Liam responded.  
“What if she’s not enough?” Stiles asked, eyes moving Liam to over to you.
You could practically feel how determined Liam was to be part of what was happening. Giving his hand a squeeze, you looked at Stiles.
“Maybe there’s something else we can do,” you offered thoughtfully.
“Like what?” Malia asked.
Stiles straightened up as he pulled out his phone. 
“I have an idea.”
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Standing in the empty lot with Stiles, Malia and Liam, you watched as Braeden drove in with a van.
“How’d you get a prison transport van?” Stiles asked.
“I’m a US marshal.”
“I thought that was just a cover up.”
Braeden gave Stiles a look, not bothering to correct his assumption.
The sound of another vehicle showing up shifted your attention to Derek and his unexpected companion.
“You’re bringing him?” Derek asked, indicating Liam.
“We’re bringing him?” Stiles asked, pointing at Peter.
“We’re bringing everyone that we can.” Peter responded. “Considering Scott and Kira were taken the night before a full moon, we should probably get going.”
“What’s that mean?” Malia asked, confused.
“If Kate took Scott back to the same temple that she took Derek, how do we know that she won’t do the same thing to him?”
“De-aging Scott?” You frowned. “Kate’s powers need to be pretty unique to get Scott’s powers from when he never had them.”
“We never know,” Peter pointed out. “I think we should all get going.”
“We’re not going without Lydia.” Stiles brought up. He pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll give her a call.”
An ominous feeling passed through you as you stood next to Liam. Deciding not to voice the feeling out loud yet, you turned to Liam.
“Are you okay right now?” you asked.
Liam nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Liam, even if you hurt me in any way tonight with the full moon, I want you to know you shouldn’t feel guilty about it,” you said, getting this out now. You knew the new beta had his share of worries, and this one should be the least of his concerns with everything going on.
“But -”
You shook your head, gently brushing your fingers across his cheek.
“You’re still learning control, things will happen,” you firmly added. “It’s okay. As long as nothing bad happens to you, that’s what most important. I promise I’ll do everything I can.”
Liam raised his hand until he captured your hand in his own, cradling his cheek. “Okay. But if I can control it, I don’t want to hurt you. I’d never want to hurt you.”
“I know,” you softly acknowledged. Liam was such a sweet boy. 
The sound of Stiles’s footsteps caused you both to shift your attention back to the group.
“Nothing.”
“She has a car, she can catch up to us,” Braeden said.
Peter pointed at her. “She has a good point, call from the road.”
“No, what if something happened? What if she’s in trouble?”
“I can call Mason,” Liam offered. “He’s at a study group at school, maybe he could look for her.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. 
Moving towards the van with Liam, you reached out and took his hand. The gesture was enough to reassure the boy as his nerves grew anxious with everything starting to happen.
“Remember what we’re dealing with here,” Peter spoke up. “It’s not just Kate, it’s berserkers. You might see human eyes behind those skulls, do not assume there’s any humanity left.”
Those words made you tilt your head in thought. Beside you, Liam shifted uncomfortably.
“This little one is terrified of them, are you?” 
You immediately lifted your eyes to stare Peter down while everyone shifted their attention onto Liam.
“He’ll be fine,” you stated, challengingly. 
“Of course,” Peter said. “The fear will keep him alive. Remember, everyone we’re not fighting to survive, we fight to kill.”
His words didn’t resonate with you and you turned away. Offering Liam a small smile, you pulled him after you. Something was up with Peter, but you weren’t going to say anything.
Not when he could still hear you.
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In the back of the van with Liam handcuffed securely, you and Stiles both looked at Derek with disbelieving looks when he pulled out his triskelion. 
“This has been with my family for centuries, it’s a very powerful supernatural talisman. We use it to teach betas to control themselves on a full moon.”
While Liam’s eyes were focused on the talisman, you and Stiles exchanged a silent conversation.
‘Should we say anything?’
‘I don’t want to call out Derek’s lie. You say something if you need to.’
You bit your lip and nodded. 
“I guess we have a back up plan if I’m not around then,” you commented. 
As you all shared quiet conversations as the sun went down and the moon began to rise, you could sense Liam growing worried. Holding his hand, you observed him carefully. 
His heart was starting to pick up a little bit, whether it be from his emotions or the effects of the moon. 
“Are you going to be okay sitting next to Liam, (Y/N)?” Stiles asked.
You nodded. 
Humming softly, you watched as the melody affected not only Liam but the other two who could hear you as well. Your tune was one for calming, and at the moment, it was working in perfectly fine.
Competing with the powers of the moon would be a struggle between power dynamics though. 
As the moon continued to rise in the sky, you could tell Liam was beginning to struggle. His heart rate was increase, his palms felt sweaty and his breathing was becoming labored. He was trying so hard to resist the urges to shift.
“Breathe,” you softly whispered. “You are in control, Liam. I believe in you.”
“(Y/N)…” His voice came back shaky.
All the signs of him being affected by the moon were starting to show. His claws were slowly coming out.
“(Y/N) -” Derek spoke up.
Ignoring him, you grabbed Liam’s face, your (E/C) eyes staring into his glowing yellow ones. You could hear him trying to pull at the handcuffs that were holding him down. Sweating was running down his face and his fangs were now showing, but you ignored it. 
You promised him you would help.
“Liam,” you said, using a stern tone. “You’re okay.”
A low growl came back in response.
“Listen to me, you are okay,” you repeated. 
Liam bared his fangs, jolting forward. His violent motions caused the van to move and it wasn’t long before the sound of metal snapping briefly filled the van. When the van swerved a bit, it caused you to fall forward as well. Derek reached out to catch you and that brought out a loud growl and claws swung his way from Liam.
Recognizing that immediately, you nodded your thanks to Derek before moving back to be in front of Liam. It was clear to everyone that anyone touching you was upsetting to Liam. You gently brushed his cheek with your hand.
“Liam, can you hear my breathing? I want you to follow it, okay?”
He bared his fangs but didn’t growl this time. Good. Your voice was able to reach him. 
“Deep breaths,” you calmly whispered. 
Liam was trembling a bit, but you could tell he was trying. You could hear the others were converse with one another, but your sole attention was on Liam.
“You’re doing great,” you reassured him. Free hand taking his, you could hear his heart slowing down a little. “Hey.” Liam’s yellow eyes look into yours. “I’m yours, Liam. From now on until always, I’ll be yours.”
Your words definitely had an effect on him. When he blinked, the bright yellow had gone back to the soft blue hues. You could feel his claws were no longer out and heartbeat was back to steady rhythm albeit a bit fast.
Despite spending so much time together, your words still made Liam feel an overwhelming sense of happiness. Drawing from that feeling, he focused on the need to protect you to hold onto his human side - just like how you always looked out him.
“I’m yours too,” he whispered, gently squeezing your hand.
The moment the two of you shared was short lived as Stiles made a noise of disgust.
You turned to give your best friend the death stare, which rather quickly stopped him making any further comments. He merely nodded and gestured that he was zipping his mouth shut.
Liam chuckled, both from out of amusement and relief.
“Think you can bring the same level of control and strength in La Iglesia?” Derek asked.
With a flick of his wrists, Liam’s claws came out. Nervous excitement filled his eyes as he looked over at you.
Beaming at him, you bumped his shoulder happily.
“Let’s get those handcuffs off then,” you said, taking the keys from Stiles and removing the handcuff. 
“We might actually be able to do this,” Stiles commented.
As Derek got up and moved towards the door, you heard something outside the van that made you reach out for him.
Being a second to late, the appear of the berserker yanking Derek out startled all of you. 
“Braeden!” you called out, alerting the woman. You moved past Liam and out the van. Knowing your voice didn’t have too much impact on these creatures, you launched yourself at it while it was swinging at Derek. 
The quick reaction of the berserker sent you flying aside as if you were fly, crashing down into the dirt. Having anticipated that, you had braced your arms out in front of you and rolled, just barely missing a large rock.
The sounds of gun shots filled the air and you could see Braeden with her shotgun aimed at the berserker. Hurried footsteps approached you, Liam’s worried expression filled your sight. Offering him a small smile, you let him help you up. A few more rounds were fired off before you heard the berserker leave.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Derek said between labored breaths. “Just get to Scott.”
The smell of blood was in the air, you knew that everyone here with a supernatural side was able to notice right away. Moving to the van, you grabbed a water bottle and move to Derek’s side. Pouring some water over his stab wound, you pressed your hand over it. Your powers to heal began, but at the same time, you knew you couldn’t heal a wound this deep - not this quickly.
Derek shouted at the others, urging them to get going. You looked back to see Liam hesitate but go on ahead without you with everyone else. Turning back, you made eye contact with Derek.
“This is not called fine,” you murmured, looking between him and Braeden. “I can’t do too much, I’m sorry.”  
“It’s fine, go save Scott,” Derek urged. Hearing how determined he was, you frowned but complied. Moving his hand to replace yours to apply pressure to his wound, you pat his arm gently.
“Stay strong, Derek,” you whispered before hurrying after the others. You could faintly sense death still lingering in the air, even though the berserker had gone, and you knew exact who it was coming from.  
Entering the cathedral, you followed the sounds of the footsteps and whispered voices to find the rest of the group. The sight of all the bones made you pause, the amount a bit unsettling.
Pushing the feelings aside, you spotted the group. Just as you were approaching them, you saw Malia grab Liam to duck. A berserker appeared just then, crashing towards them. With a quick maneuverer, you dove and rolled in the direction the group was heading, finally able to rejoin them.
“Let’s go, (Y/N)!” Stiles said, running ahead of you.
“Right behind you!”
 As you all entered all small chamber, Malia shoved Kira’s sword towards Stiles and nodded towards you.
“You two go find Scott and Kira.”
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“Wait - Malia, no!”
As you, Stiles and Kira rushed back, the sight of your other best friend being pinned back by Liam and Peter had you all panicked.
Kira quickly stepped in to stop Malia as you skid to a stop to watch the near death encounter.
“It’s Scott,” Stiles explained, eyeing the berserker.
As everyone stopped to look the unfamiliar leader, the berserker, or Scott as you had now learned, knocked back everyone one at a time despite the protests that filled the air.
As you saw him approaching Liam who was scrambling back, you let out a long high frequency shriek, causing everyone including Scott to freeze in their place.
“Scott, listen!” Liam shouted, looking up at the alpha. From being held immobile from your shriek, the two managed to share eye contact. “You’re not a monster. You’re a werewolf... like me.”
Liam’s words seemed to have some impact on Scott as he looked at the armor on himself confused. As everyone’s eyes were on Scott, the sound of someone’s calm heartbeat threw you off. Turning your head slightly, you noticed the stoic expression by Peter before being hearing the growl from Scott.
Scott’s red eyes were immediately drawn to Peter as well.
“You... The only one who knew as much as Argent about the berserkers... You taught Kate. All for power.”
“For my family’s power.” Peter retorted. “To be rightfully inherited by me.”
Malia who stood by his side began to move away, stunned by this information. 
“Not by you... you don’t deserve your power.”
Peter’s transformation put everyone in a defensive stance. You took a few steps forward, ensuring that if anyone came close enough, you would be able to at least stop them from getting Stiles. 
“You were my beta first, Scott. It was my bite that changed your life, and my bite that can end it.”
“Then end it, Peter,” Scott challenged. “Because you won’t get another chance.”
The two growled before their forces collided. You moved, yanking Stiles back to ensure he’d be safe. This was not your fight, but you were going to make sure that your friends were safe.
It wasn’t until the sound of resounding thud that you exchanged a breath of relief with Stiles. 
Scott had defeated Peter.
It was finally over.
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Holding onto Liam’s hand, you two sat on the bleachers staring at the empty field. 
“Coach didn’t believe in the cover story, did he?” you asked, leaning your head against Liam shoulder.
“Nope,” he replied with an awkward laugh. “So much for trying to be honest.”
You hummed in acknowledgement. Finally things were back to the so called normal of Beacon Hills. 
Which meant that you and Liam could finally enjoy time together without death threats and berserkers ready to jump out around the corner.
“You’re finally under control,” you commented, thinking back to how Liam reacted when Peter threw the wooden crate at him. 
“Yeah, I am...” 
The pride in his voice made you smile. Everyone had come a long way since the start of the deadpool. Despite everything ending over the weekend, you felt as if it had been much longer ago. 
“We should go on a proper date sometime,” you thought out loud.
Liam’s head quickly moved as he moved to make eye contact with you. A rosy hue coloured his cheeks. How cute.
“Are we...?”
You broke into a smile. “Would you like to be my boyfriend?”
Unable to form words, Liam frantically nodded. Laughing at how adorable he was, you pulled him into a hug.
You didn’t know how long you had before the next supernatural trouble would everyone, but you were going to savor every second of peace that you could.
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Tag list:
@muse-sprayberry, @thebookisbtr, @thebeautifulbookworm, @poguestyle17,  @linkpk88​, @maggiecc
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Text
The Witch and The Wolf Pt.37
Word Count: 2.949
Characters: Derek Hale, Cora Hale, Peter Hale, Lydia Martin, Ethan Steiner, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey (mentioned), Aiden Steiner (mentioned), Kali (mentioned), Reader
Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader
Warnings: angst, some fluff, death
A/N: Season 3A is now complete
Masterlist     Series Masterlist
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You wrapped your arms around Derek’s unconscious body, pulling him to the bed as Cora sat up, groaning.
You felt slightly worried, trying your best to ignore it. He was no longer an alpha, but both of them would be okay. If Derek ever woke up.
“How do you feel?” you asked.
“Good… what happened to him?” she asked, motioning to Derek.
“He’s fine. Well, he’s alive. He’ll wake up sooner or later,” you said, walking over to Cora as you wrapped your arms around her tightly.
“He better wake up soon. There's a full moon tonight, which means his time is over, and Kali is on her way,” you looked at the sun setting as Peter paced around.
“Maybe you guys should leave,” you suggested.
“I’m fine,” Derek groaned, sitting up as you tensed slightly.
“You’re not strong enough to take on Kali. You and Cora should get out of town,” you said.
“For once, I agree with (Y/N),” Peter nodded.
“We’re not running away,” Cora ran to get Derek some water as you opened your mouth to speak, getting interrupted by a call from Lydia.
“Hey, what happened?” you asked.
“We found the nemeton. But, me and Ethan are right outside the loft,” she said.
You furrowed your eyebrows, running to the door as you pulled it open.
Ethan stood nervously, Lydia standing next to him.
“What are they doing here?” Peter groaned.
“We’re helping you to find a way to escape.”
---
“No,” Derek started.
“Uhm, yes.” you crossed your arms.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, we’re not running away.”
“Yes, you are,” you clenched your teeth.
“(Y/N), no-”
“Shut your stubborn ass up and get the hell out of here. You are not at full strength, Kali is coming here, right now. She's going to kill you. Peter is taking you and Cora to get another car, and then you’re out of here,” you continued to scold Derek as the rest of them outside the doors of the loft, not wanting to interfere.
“So what? You’re gonna hold her off? You and Ethan?” he scoffed, crossing his arms.
“Yes, we will. You’re leaving and you have no choice,” you pushed past him as he grabbed your arm, pulling you back as you glared.
“Then what if you get hurt? What if she hurts you?” he asked.
“She didn’t last time, she won’t this time,” you rolled your eyes.
You clenched your fist tightly, feeling an aching pain in your head as you tried to ignore it. 
“But now you’re trying to protect me,” he pointed out.
“Look,” you started.
“Will you just listen to me for five seconds?” he raised his voice.
You exhaled sharply, looking up at him. 
“I don’t want you to get hurt (Y/N), please listen to me,” he begged.
You stroked his cheek softly, breathing softly as he looked down at you.
“Somnum,” your eyes turned black, as he gasped softly, closing his eyes as he fell to the ground.
You closed your eyes, taking a breath as you walked to the rest of them.
“So, do we have a plan?”
---
“Isaac just said that Scott’s dad was at Argent’s house. He’s holding them right now,” you sighed, reading your texts from Isaac as you looked up.
“Okay, well, Derek and Cora are heading out of town now. I have no idea where Peter is,” Lydia shrugged.
You heard your phone going off again.
“It’s Stiles,” you said, reading the texts.
“Me and Lydia can hold her up. Aiden’s on our side too. You should go help your friends,” Ethan nodded softly.
You nodded, running off.
---
“What is it?” you looked at Stiles from the passenger seat as he anxiously drove through Beacon Hills.
“I’ve just had this big headache,” he sighed.
You looked outside the window, seeing lighting from the sky.
“Maybe I should drive then,” you offered.
“No, it's fine. I’ve just been feeling weird since we did that thing,” he sighed.
“What thing?” you raised an eyebrow.
“Sort of like what you did, when you lost your powers, the ice bath thingy. We made a sacrifice to the nemeton to try to find it,” Stiles swerved slightly, putting his hands on his head.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You did what?! You guys could've died! Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped!” you immediately scolded him.
“You were trying to help Cora,” he interrupted.
“I can’t believe you… you piece of-” you groaned, frustrated as you took a big breath, clenching your fist.
“Sorry, my head…” he swerved again as you tensed up, putting your hands on the wheel.
“Stiles?” he fell to the side, leaning on your arm as your heart began to race.
You could see the storm getting worse, hearing thunder as you turned the wheel, trying to keep the car in your control.
He laid unconscious on you as you pushed him aside as quickly as you could, trying to keep the car from hitting anything.
You could barely see the view in front of you, blocked out and covered by leaves and twigs. You winced as you heard someone screech, covering your ears with your head. 
“Oh shit!” you turned the wheel quickly, taking a deep breath before seeing the tree in front of you. You quickly moved, trying to shield Stiles as quickly as you could. 
“Stiles!”
---
You opened your eyes, groaning as you felt blood trickling from your wound on your head. Stiles continued to lay unconscious as you tried to push him up. You tried to move, finding a sharp pain shoot up from your leg as you screamed. You could see your eyesight blurring as you yelled out for Stiles.
“Stiles!” you yelled, watching as he jumped up. 
“W-What?! What happened?!” he yelled. 
“We need to get out,” you said.
He pushed open his door, falling out as he gasped for air. 
“H-How did this happen?” he asked, standing up shakily as he reached for your hand.
“Go find the nemeton and save them,” you said.
“I-I can’t leave you here. Y-You’re stuck,” he stuttered.
“Capitulum quintum,” you used your magic, forcing the door open as you fell out.
“I-I,” he stuttered, running his fingers through his hair as you stood up, leaning against the car, breathing heavily. 
“You gotta go to the nemeton on your own… Lydia’s in trouble,” you said.
“What? How do you know?” he asked.
“I heard her scream. Just go. Take your bat in case there’s any trouble,” you said.
He reached for his bat, grabbing it before he gave you a look.
“Your head’s bleeding,” he said.
“Go,” your voice was distorted as you clenched your jaw, pushing yourself up as your eyes went black.
---
You entered Derek's loft, immediately met with the faces of Derek, Jennifer, Lydia, and Cora. 
You noticed Kali’s dead body on the corner, along with Ethan and Aiden’s.
“You’re supposed to be on your way out of here,” you raised an eyebrow.
“You little,” Derek pulled your arm, harshly yanking you to the side.
“What the hell were you thinking?!” he yelled, pushing you against the wall.
“I was trying to save your life!” you yelled back.
“By hurting yourself?!”
“In case you didn't realize, Kali is laying there, dead, and I wasn't even here to begin with!” you yelled.
“Why is your head bleeding?” he asked immediately, scrunching his eyes.
You twisted his arm back, pushing him away from you.
“What the hell are you doing here, Jennifer?” you clenched your jaw.
“I need yours and Derek’s help. To kill Deucalion,” she said.
“Let the sheriff, Melissa and Argent go and maybe we’ll consider it,” you said.
“She said she’ll let them go if we help her,” Derek sighed.
“First, I don’t trust you. Second, we should just kill you right here, right now. Third, Deucalion will be at his lowest right now. The rest of his pack is dead, we don’t need anyone else,” you said.
“Except he’s not alone. He has Scott wrapped around his little finger,” Jeniffer retorted.
“Well, Scott knows what he’s doing,” you crossed your arms.
“You haven't seen Deucalion at his strongest. I have. That’s why I need your help. If we help each other,” she started.
“Forget it,” you shook your head.
“We’re doing it to save them, (Y/N),” Derek said.
“So then what happens when you go fight Deucalion? Kill Scott too? Scott’s on his side,” you scoffed.
“We’re not gonna kill Scott. Look, we have the eclipse in our favor. Deucalion will be powerless, that’s when we strike,” he said.
“She’s worse than Deucalion! How can you not see it?!” you yelled.
“Deucalion was trying to kill me!” he yelled.
“That was Kali! God, you’re so stupid! How can you trust a single thing that comes out of her mouth?! Didn't she abandon you in the hospital? Kidnap Melissa and Argent and Stilinski! Why are you still covering for her?! She killed 9 innocent people, and she’s gonna kill more,” you could feel your head throbbing harshly as you clenched your fists as tight as you could, almost 100 percent sure your palms were bleeding now.
He looked at you silently, crossing his arms. He scratched his forehead twice, giving you a look as you inhaled deeply.
“So, fuck you, Jennifer, and goodbye,” you rolled your eyes, walking out of the loft as you pulled out your phone, texting Derek.
---
Your hands were shaking as you took a deep breath, hiding outside the building, awaiting the eclipse. The plan was fairly simple, wait till they all lose their power and then use a spell to trap both Deucalion and Jennifer. 
Deucalion wasn't a bad person, you couldn't see him as one, for whatever reason. But Jennifer killed innocent people. She was selfish and only cared about power. You tried your hardest not to bring your own feelings into the reasons why you hated her. Derek cheated on you with her. But she did a spell on him, so it wasn't his fault. You kept thinking back to that fact, finding it hard to process that. It wasn't his fault. She manipulated him. 
But he hurt you. He said he never loved you, not her. He said the two of you were a mistake, not her. But he didn't mean it, did he?
His words continued playing through your head on repeat, as you tried to ignore him. You let your emotions overcome your and your powers, now you killed your dad. Now you're always angry and in pain. It takes all your might to not try and kill everyone around you. But it was different with Derek. It was more painful with him. It’s like he was your anchor.
You looked up, seeing the sky turn an orange hue as you jumped up. That was your signal.
You ran into the building, looking around cautiously. Deucalion was nearly unconscious, laying on the floor, Scott staying in the corner. Jennifer stood up, towering over a bloodied Derek as your eyes went black.
“Lignum unum,” you pulled Jennifer away from Derek, using your magic to hold her down on her knees.
“Saepem coici,” you put a small barrier around the two of you, trapping her with you.
“That was a bad idea for you,” she chuckled, strained.
You squeezed your fist tighter, hearing her gasp for breath.
“(Y/N), d-don’t!” Derek yelled.
You ignored him, clenching your jaw as you tried to hold her down.
“She has her powers still! The plan didn't work!” he yelled.
You continued trying to hold her down, taking a deep breath. You could do this. 
You could hear high-pitched ringing in your ears, wincing slightly as you attempted to hold the barrier together, attempting to hold her down.
“A te removere potentiam,” you continued going along with the plans, trying to stay strong as your head began aching from the noise.
“You can’t do that, (Y/N),” Jennifer began to stand up slowly, fighting your magic as you scrunched your eyes, trying to block out the sound.
“Oppilaverunt in perpetuum,” you let out a soft cry, saying one more spell as you fell to your knees. 
“Your little plan backfired. It’s over for you. Stupid move, trapping us both in here. Now you'll die all alone,” she fake pouted.
“Inter duo,” you saw her stumble backward, looking at you.
“If you kill me, you die too. I linked us,” you struggled to speak as blood began falling from your nose, ears, and eyes.
“No, no you didn't!” she screamed.
She turned slowly, blood dripping from her as well.
“W-We…. can both die in here…. or you can stop,” you gasped for air as you laid on the ground.
You let out a cry, feeling pain ebbing throughout your body as blood dripped.
She whispered something softly, as you felt something break inside you as you screamed in pain.
“(Y/N)?!” you heard Derek yell.
“Let go of me. Now,” she yelled.
“If you hurt me, you hurt yourself,” you cried.
“Then I’ll hurt Derek,” she said.
You turned to him, watching as she used her magic to hold him against the wall, struggling for breath.
“N-No,” you whimpered.
“Let me go!” she screamed.
“Confractus link Index!” you screamed, breaking the link between the two of you, along with the barrier.
She kicked you harshly in the stomach, throwing you back as you groaned, Derek immediately falling to his feet, running to you.
“I-I’m sorry… It’s my fault. I-I thought she was going to lose her powers. God, you’re bleeding so much,” he wrapped his arms around you, lifting up your head as he held it in her arms.
“I-It’s not… your…. h-how long left till the eclipse is over?” you asked softly.
“Now,” you heard Scott’s voice.
Derek’s eyes turned blue, growling softly.
Jennifer grabbed a vial filled with mountain ash, throwing it around herself to keep the three of you out.
“Let go of (Y/N),” Scott growled.
“Or what? You can't do anything to me,” she scoffed.
You saw a small blue light shining, from the corner of your eyes as you squinted, watching Scott try and break the barrier.
“S-Scott,” you whispered.
You gasped softly, watching as Jennifer collapsed to the side, backing away from Scott.
“Let (Y/N) go. Stop the storm or I’ll kill you, I don't care what it does to the color of my eyes,” Scott threatened, his eyes flashing red.
“He’s an alpha,” you said.
“Shh, don't speak,” Derek whispered, holding your hand as he took your pain.
“It won't do anything to mine,” you watched as Deucalion stood up, walking past you and Derek as he used his claws to slash Jennifer’s throat, in one quick motion.
You gasped for air as his body fell limp, holding onto Derek.
“She’s dead. She’s dead,” he wiped your cheeks softly, cleaning away some of the blood.
It was done. She was gone. It was over.
---
“So, demon wolf? That’s how you knew so much about me turning into a demon,” you leaned against the door, talking with Deucalion.
“Yes, and also, I do have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he put his fingers on your forehead, as you closed your eyes, feeling a warm sensation pulse throughout your body.
“Thank you,” you replied, slightly shocked.
“Of course,” he nodded.
“Is there any way to stop it from happening?” you asked softly.
“I’m afraid there isn’t. At least not to my knowledge. But I will tell you this, witches don't usually have anchors. Consider yourself lucky for him,” Deucalion motioned to Derek.
You smiled softly, pushing yourself up as you put your hand out.
“Stay good, Duke,” you smiled softly.
“Duke?” he questioned.
“What? It’s short for Deucalion,” you shrugged.
“Very well then. Take care, (Y/N),” he shook your hand, before turning his back, walking off.
You walked to Derek and Scott, both of them turning to you.
“How are you feeling?” Derek asked.
“Good, Deucalion healed me. What about you two?” you replied.
Derek nodded, as the two of you looked at Scott.
“Well, I’m apparently an alpha now. My mom’s safe. So is Argent and Sheriff Stilinski,” he sighed.
“Well then, time to go home?” you suggested.
Both of them nodded, linking arms with the two of them, resting your head on Scott's shoulder as the three of you walked away.
---
“I’m going back to South America,” you turned to face Cora, your eyes watering.
“You’re leaving?” you asked softly.
She nodded, as you wrapped your arms around her tightly.
“I’m gonna miss you so much,” you sniffled.
“Come with me,” she said.
“I can’t,” you shook your head.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Beacon Hills is my home, Cora. I’ve been living here for the past 19 years, I don't want to leave,” you said.
Cora froze for a second, before sniffling softly.
“You stupid bitch. Making me cry and crap,” she scoffed.
You laughed softly, looking at her.
“I’m gonna miss you,” you said.
“Well, you’re coming with me right now. Derek’s taking me to South America. You’re coming too,” she said.
“What?” you replied.
“You’ll be back in, like, a week. Come on,” she pulled you to the window, seeing Derek and Peter arguing about something, leaning on his car.
“Fine. But only if you promise to text me and call me like every day, okay?” you raised an eyebrow.
“Deal” she nodded, yanking your arm as she pulled you to the car, while you rolled your eyes.
“Hey,” you said to Derek and Peter.
Derek smiled at you softly, earning a glare from Peter.
“So, let’s hit the road, shall we?”
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factual-fantasy · 3 years
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I gots 20 more asks for yalls :}
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That’s so something he’d try, but of course everyone around him would stop him because duh, that’s a sure way to lose a finger. XD
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Oh, I’m sorry, but due to my energy levels being through the floor, I’m not really taking requests at this time.. <:{
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Happy new year to you too! I uh.. wish I could say I did heh..
Thank you! However uh.. I don’t think I’m going to be up for drawing anyone's suggestions. My energy has been completely drained lately and I have no energy to draw anything other than things I personally really want to.
I’m not usually one for live action movies, or particularly scary ones for that matter. But I’ll keep that one in mind. :}
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Wh-where you goin?? I didn’t get to say I love you too!
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Hi, thank you, glad to hear that you like my headcannons. :}
Although unfortunately I don’t have much to say about what I think would happen after the incident. :{
Perhaps the crew would be a little shaken after hearing about Pesos broken flipper? Injuries like that are a big deal, Peso is basically completely out of commission until he recovers. And that might stress the crew out a bit, you know, not having their medic firing on all cylinders for a while.
And I feel like Peso would have to teach some of the crew, like Kwazii and the Captain some extended first aid because no one knew what to do with his broken flipper. He would have to teach the crew first aid and some other important things because he cant always be there for them when something goes wrong.
I feel like it would bug the Captain somehow as well that Peso broke his arm. Like, he’s the Captain, how did he let this happen? Even though the situation couldn’t be helped, I feel like he’d still feel guilty over it all somehow.
Kwazii would probably hover around Peso a lot too. He’d be so worried for his little buddy and would want to constantly check up on him. He’d probably play games with him, talk, do puzzles, whatever, just to keep the little guy company and help him feel better. Because despite how calm Peso seemed when it was first broken, I feel like it would freak him out later in. I know I would be too scared to move or even look at my arm if I broke it. Just the knowledge that the bones inside my arm are all screwed up would freak me out too much to do anything.
With Peso, I feel like he was calm because he was on a bit if an adrenalin rush, and after he calmed down I bet it really start to hurt. That could be why Kwazii spent so much time with him, he was just upset and hurting and just wanted someone to hang out with him until he got better.
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A lot of artists seem to like fanart for some reason. I personally don’t..
It feels kind’a like you stole my character or idea and decided that you were going to do what ever you wanted with it. Which I know isn’t the case but that’s just how it feels.
It doesn't feel like a gift, it just feels like you stole something from me you know?
Fanart just doesn’t feel good to me, I cant understand why some artists like it. And I don’t understand why I don’t like it either, it just feels bad for some reason. Me not liking fanart is why I urge people to make sure the artist is okay with fanart before you draw something for them. <:}
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Thank you, its nice to hear that you actually wanted to get all caught up heh.. Yeah I guess I started drawing a bunch of Octonauts stuff out of no where huh? When times get this low you just kind’a slink away into your comfort shows right? S’all normal.
As for going through a rough time? I sure am, we all are. I thought it was rough a few weeks ago, but now things have just come crashing down on me, and I cant even talk about it on here.
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Thank you very much for all the kind words and encouragement! I really appreciate it, that’s just what I needed to hear. <:} ❤
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I watched it, and man I cant wait to see what they do with that new gup! 
I was going to leave a link to the video here, but when I tried to go to the link you sent me the video had been removed..
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As someone who is terrified of bees and other bugs, they better not come back.
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Aww thank you! I’m very glad you like what I make! :}
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I use FireAlpaca. Its a free art program that is simple enough that beginners can get the hang of digital art pretty easily, but has enough features to make some really complicated pieces. I’ve seen that you can even animate with it although I’ve never really gotten the hang of it..
Its got its weird quirks and there are a few annoying buggy things here and there that take some getting used to, but overall 8/10 would recommend. :}
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Its interesting, although I don’t personally hold it as one of my headcannons, I have no issue with anyone that does. :}
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Aww thank you, so far its been.. well terrible, but uh. hoping for a brighter future.. 
As for how they’d react to rain? Hmm..
I had this idea that the first time Bulkhead experienced rain he was out somewhere with Miko goofing around. It started to rain and at first Miko was just annoyed, thinking she’d have to go back to the base.
But then Bulkhead out of no where starts to flip out, he scoops up Miko, transforms and speeds away, all the while clearly having some kind of panic attack. He races to a nearby cliff and rushes into a little cave for cover. He’s rattling and is asking Miko questions like, “A-Are you okay? Did it get you?- W-We’re you burned??” Miko gets him to chill out a little and he manages explain why he’s freaking out.
Even after Miko comes out of cover and dances in the rain to show him that its safe, Bulkhead is still too frightened to go out there. He’s spent his whole life being afraid of rain because he knows that it burns you and can even kill you if you’re in it for too long.. So even though he’s being shown right before his optics that, clearly, its safe. That primal fear of rain is too much for him and he doesn’t move. 
They eventually called for a ground bridge and Bulkhead bolted through the rain and raced through it. He told the other bots about rain and how Miko claims that its safe on this planet, but that still didn’t stop them from experiencing that same primal fear when they came into contact with rain themselves.
There was supposed to be another time when Ratchet and Arcee were taking the kids home from the Base. Arcee had Jack and Ratchet had Miko and Raf.
They were almost into town when It started to trickle. Jack was surprised that it was going to rain in Jasper of all places, but he was also annoyed because he was going to get wet. But then Arcee and Ratchet both hit the brakes and freeze up. “Did you feel that?” Jacks about to ask “feel what?” when Ratchet says “Yeah, yeah I did..” Raf asked Ratchet what is wrong, but then the rain really picked up. Out of no where Ratchet starts freaking out, “RAIN!! GET TO COVER!!” Arcee and Ratchet Floor it for town. 
They rush into town and find cover in a run down gas station that’s on the edge of town. Ratchet’s alt form is literally shaking and Arcee is really freaking out. Both of their primal fears making them forget that rain is safe on this planet.
“Are you okay? Jack? Ratchet? How bad are your burns?“ Jacks just like “huh??” But Ratchet goes “I-I don’t know, I don’t feel anything yet, were you burned?” Jack tries to say something but Arcee goes, “No I don’t think so, Jack gave me cover, are you alright Jack? Were you burned?” Finally Jack gets a moment to talk and asks what the heck is going on. They explain that on their planet rain is acidic, Jack then stands in the rain to prove that its okay, but just like Bulkhead they’re still scared.
Miko gets out and jumps around in the rain to show that its safe while Raf tries to explain to them that its really only water. They’re both not convinced and stay put. Raf gets out, cups his hands together and collects some rain water. He brings the water up to Arcee and Ratchet to show them that its just water. He even drinks some of it to prove that its really okay and not acid.
This convinces Arcee and she slowly inches out into the rain, eventually managing to get into it. Although she’s still nervous, after realizing that its safe she encourages Ratchet to follow suit,
Ratchet manages to inch his way out too and they both shakily take the kids back home. They come back to base and tell everyone their story, but again, that fear of the rain cant be reasoned with right away. It takes a bot to experience it personally to help them realize that this planets rain is harmless.
With Bumblebee and Smokescreen it could’ve been just like Bulkhead. Out with one of the kids, it starts to rain, the bot panics and the kid calms them down and explains that its just water. With Optimus, I feel like a human wouldn’t have been around to explain it to him. There could have been a time where he was out on a solo mission and it began to rain.
Like every other bot, Optimus has this instinct to hide from the rain, so he does and finds cover. He contacts Ratchet and tells him the situation, Ratchet tells him that he’s been in the rain before and it shouldn’t hurt him. Optimus is still nervous but he steps out from undercover, sees that its okay and moves on without really mentioning it to anyone back at base. The very same thing could’ve happened to Ultra Magnus later on now that I think about it..
With Wheeljack? Imagine him, Bulkhead and Miko were out driving somewhere, Miko is with Bulk and Jackie is following behind them. It starts to rain and it freaks Bulkhead out a little but he’s mostly okay, Miko reminding him that its harmless. Meanwhile Jackie slams on the gas and swerves off the road into the forest. Clearly no one told him that Earths rain isn’t acidic.
Bulkhead follows him and finds him in his alt form rattling and tucked really tightly underneath a big tree. They’re trying to talk to him and get him to relax but he’s clearly stressed out. Miko climbs out, goes up to him and manages to talk him down. Explaining that Earth is different than Cybertron, and that their rain is not toxic or acidic. Its just water. He calms down enough to come out of hiding but he’s still clearly on edge. He sticks close to Bulkhead and doesn’t talk much for the rest of their trip.
I feel like all transformers, con or bot, had a freaking out over rain moment at some point. Except for soundwave probably, I think he’d feel a liquid falling on him from the sky and not react because it doesn't hurt.
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“The Octonauts is a British children's television series, produced by Silvergate Media for the BBC channel CBeebies, and based on the children's books written by Vicki Wong and Michael C. Murphy.
The show follows an underwater exploring crew made up of stylized anthropomorphic animals, a team of eight adventurers who live in an undersea base, the Octopod, from which they go on undersea adventures with the help of a fleet of aquatic vehicles.
Although its technology is fictional, the exotic creatures and locations that the crew encounter are based on real marine animals in their natural habitats. The show's subject matter has been compared to that of Star Trek and Thunderbirds blended with Jacques Cousteau. The show was animated in Ireland by Brown Bag Films for its first four series. The show was renewed for a fifth series in 2018, with Canada's Mainframe Studios taking over animation work.
Two new "movies" have been available on Netflix only since October 2020: The Octonauts and the Caves of Sac Actun (which takes place in a cenote in Mexico) and Octonauts and the Great Barrier Reef (a musical)”
I feel like this quote from the Octonauts wiki does a better job of explaining it than I ever could. :}
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I feel sorry for the poor thing. <:{
It was a Gup destined for greatness someday, but because of unfortunate circumstances it was converted into an artificial reef.
Its just like the old Octopod. Destined for greatness, just imagine all the adventures that ship could’ve had with the crew.. But because sea creatures got to it before they could, it was doomed to a life of darkness at the bottom of the ocean. 
I feel bad for those poor Gups and other mechs that just didn’t make it.. 😔
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No I still have some bread left over, here  (╯°▽°)╯🍞 Sorry, it might be a wee bit stale.
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Oh I bet he gets hurt all the time and tries to play it of a bit so he can keep running around. Usually he does something stupid and gets hurt and he’s too embarrassed to really go to Peso about it. Or sometimes the injury would seem insignificant to him or the pain is tolerable enough that he thinks it’ll just go away eventually.
Maybe Kwazii doesn’t really avoid Peso’s care on purpose? Maybe he could have a high pain tolerance? Like, imagine he does something kind’a dumb and as a result gets his arm got stick under the Gup-B or something. When he frees himself his arm does hurt a bit, but it looks fine to him so he just thinks “eh”. He figures that the Gup-B isn’t very big or heavy, his arm wasn’t stuck for very long, what could possibly be wrong with it?
He comes back to the Octopod and casually tells the Captain what happened. The Captain seeing Kwazii gritting his teeth and holding his bent out of shape arm like that instantly made him turn right around and go get Peso. Peso wants to examine his arm but Kwazii’s all like, “Nah its fine me hearty, Its probably just some bruising.”
Well, put his arm through an X-ray and turns out what do you know he broke his arm in three places.
And Kwazii’s just as surprised as everyone else that his arm is broken. He’s like, “It was only the Gub-B! Is it really heavy enough to crush my arm??” And the Captains like, “The gup was ON your arm?? Of course that can break it!”
XD I bet Kwazii gives everyone a headache.
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Thank you! :} And well, its more innocent than you might think. People have wondered if they were self harm hints or something more dark like that, but really its not that at all.
You see, I’m a bit of a clean freak. I usually wash my hands up to 40 times a day, no exaggeration. I would usually wash my hands with dish soap, which really does a number on your skin.
So, washing my hands 40 times a day with dish soap, plus drawing on paper for several hours a day meant that my hands were so utterly dry that they’d bleed. My hands were always bleeding and covered in Band-Aids like 24/7.
All of this was going on around the time I made my blog and designed my little avatar character. I wanted to give my character something unique, like an accessory of some kind. Like gloves, a watch, a scarf, a bag, something. 
Then I looked at my hands and thought you know? What if this strange aspect of myself was added to my character? Its ominous, its unique, it looks cool.. I think I’ll do that.
So now my avatar has bloodied banged all over its hands. Later on down the road today I try to wash my hands a wee bit less and I lather my hands in lotion religiously now. So my hands are much better and don’t bleed anymore. But those bloodied hands are now like a trademark of my character, so I haven’t removed them,
Although with this new uh, “playful” cat I have, I suppose the Bandages now resemble my real hands once again haha.
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I looked it up and I didn’t find any info saying that its common or even normal for cats to have just one baby. So its safe to assume that Kwazii must have had at least a few siblings. As to where they are or what happened to them?. Well..
The life of a pirate is a dangerous one. And I find it odd that with how often he’s mentioned his Grandfather, he’s never mentioned any siblings..
Perhaps... they’re.. you know.. dead? Kwazii’s Grandfather could be the last living member of his family. Which is why if he ever mentions his family or his pirate days, he only ever talks about his Grandpa. Maybe talking about his siblings would be too much for him?..
Man, I gotta polish that into a headcannon or something, that stuff is angsty as crap. Imagine if he was attached to the Octonauts in a way no body really understood? What if his old crew was like his mom, dad, siblings etc, and he mostly became an Octonaut because he had no where else to go after loosing them? Now that his family are all gone and his Grandpa is missing, all he has is this new crew. He would become hyper attached to his new crew and all of his care and tenderness comes from a fear of losing them just like he did his real family. 
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jeongyunhoed · 3 years
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Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia
Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.
Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy
Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol
Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.
Author’s Note: SuperM hello. Also, sexc car chase scene with Yeosang driving. This hasn’t been proofread much, so sorry for the errors you might see.
Listen to: Dark - Hans Zimmer 
Masterlist
Chapter 4
Yeosang glanced over at Mirae, who was still blankly staring out the window. She had been that way in the first few hours of the drive. He wouldn’t admit it, at least right away, but with the silence coming from her, Yeosang was even more convinced that she was that sad. Dare he say it, he was beginning to feel a little concerned yet knew that sometimes the polite thing to do was not to say anything about it. The music playing on the radio acted as white noise between them, and Yeosang was hardly even listening to the songs. 
Mirae looked down at her hands, feeling the deck of playing cards in her jean pocket. She barely had time to think about how expensive the clothes she was wearing were - Yeosang’s excuse was that the Dior boutique was the nearest. Mirae wanted to scoff right then and there, but she was impressed at how he got her clothes that fit her. 
Her thoughts were going back to how she left Yunho. How she left him unconscious in Yeosang’s apartment while hoping San got to him, or anyone at least. A feeling of guilt was setting inside even in the midst of the overwhelming feelings of sadness and rage. Was it even possible to feel like this? She wasn’t sure. “How did you meet them?” She suddenly asked. 
“Who, my dear?” 
“The one you’re taking me to.” 
“It’s not just one person. They’re a small group of people, people like us,” Yeosang replied, glancing at her from time to time as they entered a flyover, cars intersecting above and below them. “They felt they were above the place we lived in, so they uh, how should I say it? Created their own little world.” 
“So how did you meet them?” 
“I met them through another immortal. His name is Mark Lee. I’ve known him for centuries. We were rivals for the affections of Emperor Octavian’s daughter, Julia. Amazing woman in every way possible,” A smirk crept up on Yeosang’s lips as he remembered. “I nearly became an emperor if Mark hadn’t intruded that one night.” 
“To this day, I still don’t know how old you actually are.” 
Yeosang chuckled. “My dear Mirae, age is not important, especially my age. When I met Mark again, in recent… shall we day, decades? Or at least some few years ago, he introduced me to a group of mutants he was friends with. Some of them are quite powerful, one of them, I think, is an omega-level mutant like you.” 
“I guessed as much, if they thought they were so superior,” Mirae looked out the window. 
“We’ll see about that. Sometimes, mutants only intimidate others just by mentioning their powers, empty threats even though they could deliver on it, lessens the dirty work but it gets into their heads,” Yeosang said. Glancing at the rearview mirrors, he noticed three black cars in a formation behind them. “My dear, if you could assist me a little bit, I think we are being followed.” 
Mirae looked over her seat at the three cars that seemed to move closer while Yeosang kept his foot on the gas to drive faster. “I wonder who they could be,” She watched for any signs of movement from the driver’s seats. Mirae saw a set of small rockets come out from the lights on the bumper. “They plan to kill us. Do you know them?” 
“No I don’t, I promise you,” Yeosang swerved a few times past several cars only for the three black sedans to be able to keep up. 
Mirae shook her head at the sight of the sedans keeping up, one of which was already across from them. There were spikes that extended from the rims of the wheels. The car bumped into them, Mirae clutching the armrest. “They plan on destroying your car while they’re at it,” She said, her eyes glowing red as she stared at the car next to them. The tires exploded, sending the car skidding, the rear hitting their vehicle. 
“Damn,” Yeosang kept the car in its lane. “Very good, my dear Mirae. Perhaps you can do something about the other two?” He said, swerving several times so as not to bump into the cars surrounding them to get ahead. 
Mirae took out one card from her pocket and threw it as hard as she could at the other sedan that caught up to them. The sedan exploded, the impact of the explosion moving them forward. “If they’re your friend’s bodyguards, then I think they don’t want us coming,” She said, her eyes still glowing. “Not that I care.” 
She eyed the remaining black sedan that was following them that launched a rocket. Mirae looked at both the rocket and the car, both exploding in the middle of the road. The remaining cars began to cluster towards them. “Apparently, they were everywhere all along. The way must be heavily guarded, or that they don’t want us going,” Yeosang glanced at the rearview mirrors. 
Mirae stayed still, staring at all the cars in front of them. Her eyes were glowing brighter than ever as she kept her gaze on them, the vehicles exploding one by one. She glanced at the rearview mirror on her side, the cars behind them exploding one by one as well, the smoke from the explosions blocking their view of the road. 
“Thank you, my dear,” Yeosang drove on through the thick smoke in the air. “All this smoke means we’re getting close.” 
The color of the smoke changed from the usual gray and black to white as he moved forward. The glow in Mirae’s eyes faded just as the smoke began to fade, only to see that their surroundings had changed. 
Past the wide roads of the highway, they were at the entrance of a dreary lakeside village. “This is where they live?” Mirae glanced at him. 
Yeosang chuckled. “No, they live up there,” He pointed to the nearby cliff. There was a white mansion molded in the usual 1930s art deco style that Mirae noticed in the immortal mutant’s apartment. 
Mirae noticed that the residents in the village seemed to dress differently, as if wearing different variations of the hanbok. The anger seeped in again, knowing that they were approaching the home of who may have been behind the explosion of the Danger Room, behind the deaths of Chanyeol and Hyuk. Yeosang drove on, down the route of the mansion’s driveway, the sight of the house growing bigger and bigger until they finally approached the gate. 
Two guards were standing by and stopped them. “Name?” They asked. 
“Kang Yeosang and Lee Mirae. One of them is expecting me by now,” Yeosang replied. 
The gates opened on its own and the guards stood by for their vehicle to enter the grounds. As soon as they pulled up, they saw someone standing by the front doors, dressed undoubtedly like he owned the place, but also that he was strikingly handsome. One half of his coiffed hair was blonde, the other side was red. His eye on the blonde side was also blue, the other a dark brown. He was smiling as they pulled up, opening Mirae’s door. 
“Hello,” He said as she got out, taking her hand and kissing it. 
“Taeyong, quite a greeting you’ve got there,” Yeosang pointed out, tossing the key to the valet. 
The male with the name turned to Mirae again. “Forgive my manners, or lack of. I’m Lee Taeyong and I own this house. It’s nice to meet you at last.” 
Lee Taeyong was an omega-level mutant like Mirae. Taeyong was an omega-level psychic that could not only read minds, but could also control a person’s mind and manipulate their memories. Taeyong also had the extraordinary gift of turning into organic diamond, making him almost invulnerable to harm and giving him added strength and a psychic shield. However, Taeyong’s limitation was the fact that he could not use his telepathy while he was in his diamond form.
Mirae glanced at Yeosang and before she could speak, he shook his head. “It’s not him you’re going to see,” He advised. 
Taeyong smirked. “You must be jumping for joy now that you’re on a drive with the apple of your eye,” He glanced at Yeosang. Turning back to Mirae, he let go of her hand. “That’s what he was thinking. He thinks very loudly.” 
“My thoughts are not for you to read, Taeyongie, as I’m sure your brother has taught you that much. Taemin, where is he?” Yeosang asked. 
“He’s attending a business meeting. He won’t be here until tonight. But Mark is here, I guess you haven’t seen him in a while,” Taeyong replied. “Come in, come in, I can’t read your thoughts but I can read his and I know who you plan on seeing. Don’t bother taking off your shoes in the main area.” 
He turned around to lead them inside. The interiors were decorated in shades of black, gold, and white on marble similar to Yeosang’s home. Mirae and Yeosang followed him further down the hall and they stopped in front of two mahogany doors. “At least one of us couldn’t be read,” She muttered to him. 
Taeyong opened the doors, leading into what looked like a parlor, with red velvet couches and chintz chairs, mahogany chests of drawers in the same art deco style, and a crystal chandelier in the ceiling. They saw two people by the fireplace drinking champagne in crystal flutes, watching a drama on a tv that was placed above the mantle. Mirae felt her heart drop as the two figures, whose backs were turned, looked familiar.
“They’re here,” Taeyong announced, making the two people turn around. 
Mirae’s eyes widened, looking like a deer caught in the headlights upon seeing their faces. “...Baekhyun? … Jongin?” 
The shorter and paler of the two, Baekhyun, smiled. “Mirae, Mirae, Mirae, long time no see,” He said.
Byun Baekhyun was skilled in manipulating and creating light and light energy. Baekhyun was also skilled in hand-to-hand combat, specializing in hapkido. Kim Jongin had the ability to teleport, leaving a wisp of black smoke in his wake.
“It’s been years, hasn’t it?” Jongin spoke this time, approaching her. “You look like you’ve been through a lot.” 
Mirae still couldn’t speak. She was too stunned to utter a word. All this time, Baekhyun and Jongin survived the Seoul attack but had never made themselves known. “Hello to you too, Yeosang,” He glanced at the vampiric-looking mutant, who nodded. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” He said to Mirae. 
“I couldn’t blame her, we haven’t exactly seen her since that day,” Jongin patted her shoulder. “Do you like our new place? It’s not underground like the Center, but it’s here in this little village, it’s cozy,” He gestured for her to sit down while they did the same. “Mark’s here too, by the way, he’s probably off playing tennis or something.” 
“So, what brings both of you here? I doubt it’s because the weather’s nice in this place,” Baekhyun poured her a glass of champagne. Mirae quietly accepted the drink, staring at the bubbles. 
“Don’t act clueless, you know why they’re here,” Taeyong chimed in, giving the elder a look.
“Taeyong, it’s rude to read other people’s minds without their permission,” Baekhyun chided. “Even if I already know, it doesn’t hurt to ask to make sure. They might be misleading you, even in that respect.” 
“I don’t have the capability to be paranoid when I can read everything like an open book,” Taeyong rolled his eyes. “Dinner is already prepared, by the way, I’ll call Mark-” 
He stepped back when out of thin air appeared Mark himself. Unlike Baekhyun, Jongin, and Taeyong, Mark was dressed in a pinstripe suit. Yeosang’s expression stiffened upon seeing him. Mark Lee was, like Yeosang, an immortal mutant whose fortune over the centuries led him to own a business empire that had bases in both South Korea and Canada. Mark had the ability to teleport anywhere and everywhere he chose while also possessing a strong telepathic ability. Mark was also considered a doctor among his peers who studied Languages though he barely put that knowledge of his to the test as he usually tackled his businesses. 
“No need,” Mark said, stopping at the sight of Mirae and Yeosang. “Brought her here to meet them, ‘Sang?” He asked. 
“As a matter of fact, I did. Ruined anyone’s pursuits lately, Mark?” Yeosang shot at him, watching him take Mirae’s hand and gently kiss the back of it in greeting. 
“As long as it’s your pursuits, which I can tell is this lovely woman in front of me,” Mark said. 
“I’m taken,” Mirae pointed out.
Mark glanced at Yeosang. “Oh? You have pursued her? This is going to be fun.” 
Mirae pulled her hand back, seeing Baekhyun and Jongin’s amused expressions. “I’m guessing you’ve been living your lives here all this time,” She said. 
“Well, yeah, since the Seoul attack,” Baekhyun nodded. “Before you two arrived, we were all discussing a business venture we were looking to carry out in the capital. Maybe you could help us out, Yeosang?”
“Me?” 
“Yeah, Mark and Taeyong have the capital to build it on, maybe some added manpower would help make the project solid. Let’s talk about this over dinner,” Baekhyun said, gesturing to the doors. Mark disappeared in an instant. 
The dining room of the mansion had a view of what was outside. Yeosang and Mirae noticed that it had gotten much darker, realizing how late it was getting. Mirae still couldn’t believe that Baekhyun and Jongin were alive all this time, that they actually survived the explosion from the Seoul attack, the impact caused by her own powers. She was still trying to process this new situation. 
Could they have been the ones who tampered with the Danger Room? The question reminded her of why she was there, having dinner with them, with other mutants who were also quite powerful, especially psychics as powerful as them. Mirae could only hope that Yunho would be able to read her mind at the moment, so he would know where they were. 
“So, as I was saying earlier, Jongin, Taeyong, Mark, and I are looking into setting up a new business venture and Yeosang may be able to give it the added credibility it needs,” Baekhyun broke the momentary lull when everyone else tucked into the food. Mirae poked around the courses on her plate as she listened. 
“Is that what you’ve been up to since the Seoul attack?” Mirae asked, glancing at him from time to time. 
“Yeah, killing monsters and aliens wasn’t fun for me anymore, I’m sure you understand that,” Baekhyun smiled. “Knowing that Taeyong, his brother Taemin, and Mark are businessmen, when Jongin and I found each other and in turn found them, the business world seemed a little more interesting.” 
“What kind of venture is it?” Yeosang asked. “I’d like to know what it is before I make any deal.” 
“It’s called Project Apocalypse,” Baekhyun said with a grin on his face. “Project Apocalypse is going to be the next big thing among mutants and non-mutants.”
“It’s more of a think-tank. People come to us for answers, we give them the answers,” Jongin added. 
“What kind of answers would those be?” Yeosang asked in between a sip of wine. 
“Political answers, mostly, economic answers, diplomatic answers, you name it,” Mark replied. “You and I both have the experience for that. Didn’t you meet the adviser to Chun Doohwan during the uprising?” 
“I have. I killed her,” Yeosang replied, both Baekhyun and Jongin looking surprised at how nonchalant he was about it. 
“She could’ve been useful to us, you know,” Mark said. “Oh right, I see. You killed her because she was trying to get to Mirae over here,” He added, having read his thoughts. 
Mirae sighed and ate a forkful of her salad instead. “You know, Mark and I can read everyone’s minds here, except for her. Why is that?” Taeyong raised a brow. 
“Psychic shield, Taeyongie. I remember Junhong telling us about it when we first started training,” Baekhyun chuckled, glancing at her. “If you can’t read her mind, her psychic shield must be that strong.” 
“We can’t read everyone after all, it would be too easy if we could,” Mark chimed in. 
“How is Junhong, by the way? Has he been well? He’s alive, isn’t he?” Jongin asked her. 
“Very well. Fixed my staff the first time we met again. He’s fixed a lot of other things, sometimes without me knowing,” Mirae replied. 
“The three of you go a long while back and yet you’re acting like you don’t know each other,” Taeyong chuckled in his place. 
“It has been a while since we last saw each other. We did, however, spend a few years together in the Center for Paranormal Research,” Baekhyun nodded, finishing the food on his plate. “I remember it was me, you, Minseok hyung, and Tao that were put forward because of our fighting skills.” 
“Do you have any idea what happened to them?” Mirae asked. 
“No idea. I thought I was the only one left, until I saw Jongin from the corner of the street, teleporting out of that place in time,” Baekhyun glanced at her. “I guess the same could be said of you.” 
“Yeah, and Hyuk, and Chanyeol. Remember them?” 
He smiled. “Why don’t we go take a walk? Just us, you can play catch up with Jongin after,” Baekhyun suggested. 
“Yeah, I’ll tell you more about Project Apocalypse after we pitch the idea to Yeosang over here,” Jongin nodded eagerly, exchanging knowing looks with the older male. 
Baekhyun and Mirae got up from their seats. Mirae eyed Yeosang, who had a look of concern all over his face at the suggestion. She followed him towards the patio doors and out into the well-manicured backyard of the mansion that had a swimming pool with a diving board and several patio chairs. The question was still nagging at Mirae as a silence came between them while they walked along the cemented areas of the estate. “To answer your question, I do remember them. Vividly, actually,” He said. “The tall dope and the guy I remember you used to like but is also your best friend.” 
“Years have gone by since the Seoul attack,” Mirae said. 
“I know. It changed everything. It changed everyone. You with that streak in your hair, still playing with the same stick you always used to lug around. It’s almost like a part of you, isn’t it? That staff of yours?” Baekhyun said. 
“I never leave without it. Even when I go to work, it’s with me,” She pointed out. 
Baekhyun nodded. “I see. No matter how much has changed, you still seem to be the same person. It didn’t help that when Professor Jang died, Ino took charge and started to play favorites.” 
“You were one of them, Baek,” She said carefully, remembering the nickname he would often go by. 
“That I am, Tao too. Minseok hyung too. We were like, how should I say it? Like the four horsemen of the apocalypse. We led the fighting for the rest of them,” Baekhyun grinned as he remembered. “Too bad things went the way it did, otherwise we’d all still be there, cooped up underground with all of those simulations.” 
“That’s a memorial now. A lot of things happened since then, at least to me,” Mirae recalled everything, feeling her heart sink further upon remembering Jihoon, then Hyuk and Chanyeol. 
They stopped in front of a ceramic bust perched on top of a small pillar. Baekhyun looked up. “What brings you here, then? You didn’t know I was alive, much less Jongin.” 
“I came here because Yeosang told me I’d find answers here,” Mirae replied. “Chanyeol and Hyuk are dead now, and I find out that the Danger Room was tampered with leading to them dying. I’m trying to find out who did it and why.” 
Baekhyun smiled. “I knew you were going to say that. Actually, Taeyong knew just by reading Yeosang’s thoughts over there. He was thinking of what you were going to find out upon coming here. I can hear him telling me now. Yeosang’s looking out for you, he’s kind of worried about what you will know, and how you’ll react when it’s all revealed.” 
“You know who did it, didn’t you?” Mirae stared at him. “All this time, you were alive and you never meant to make contact? Not even with Junhong? You didn’t even bother to look for us in the places you figured we’d be?”
The male chuckled. “For a trained assassin like yourself, you’re getting pretty bad at stealth, aren’t you? I’ve come across you quite a few times since then, but you never saw me, much less took notice of me.” 
She raised a brow. “Well I never got any message from you. Not even a hi or a hello.” 
Baekhyun shook his head. He leaned closer with a satisfied look on his face. “No, no, no. My way of making contact with you was through the tragedies you have experienced. Jihoon, and now Chanyeol and Hyuk. To be honest, I was surprised at how I managed to hit two birds with one stone with both of them. The tall dope and the music producer.” 
“What do you mean?” Mirae had a feeling she knew what he was about to say. 
“It was all me, Mirae. Jihoon’s death, Chanyeol’s death, and Hyuk’s death? It was all me,” Baekhyun revealed calmly. “I am the author of all your pain, of all the grieving you were and still are doing.”
Mirae stared at him, feeling a chill down her spine at the revelation. “Jihoon was killed by those Utopian cult thugs.” 
He shook his head. “I had a little help. I met Mark around that time, and when I told him what I wanted to do, he gladly possessed the body of the man who pulled the trigger on your dear friend, the friend you thought of as a brother,” He explained. 
Mirae was still staring at him, as if prompting him to continue explaining. “Jongin, you know, of course, teleported me there once Taeyong found out the location of the so-called safehouse you put up, saw that Junhong was creating a simulation room like the one we used to have. With his help as well, I was able to make a few adjustments like rerouting some circuits to overload,” 
“I was actually thinking of getting Chanyeol first, out of sentimental reasons. I knew him longer than Hyuk, so naturally I thought he should get the first strike. Little did I know,” Baekhyun smirked. “It would get Hyuk too. I doubt Junhong had a clue that the systems were hacked. Taeyong and his brother run a tech empire.” 
She could feel her eyes well with tears at the explanations, the tension she was feeling slowly getting replaced by sadness and rage. “It was you all this time. Why? Why are you doing it?” She asked. 
“Because I wanted you to know the pain and grief I felt after that attack happened,” Baekhyun replied, looking her in the eye. “My family thought I was dead when that came in. I was thrown into the ocean from the explosion you caused. They had given up on searching for me, in turn, they gave my brother all the money that was meant for me. Knowing you made the final blow to those goblins, all of the trouble I experienced, I knew I had to make you pay.” 
Mirae looked away, fighting back the urge to break down the more Baekhyun talked. He sounded so satisfied. “And now you’re all alone, Lee Mirae. And you know the best part?” He tilted his head as he looked at her. “Ino knew all this time. Ino knew it was me. Yet he allowed it to happen anyway.”
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C A L L  M E  C A T, chapter nine
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January 2017
We had time off near the holidays, space for all of us was good. The rush of our record deal and newfound fame was suffocating in moments, exhilarating in others. 
Niall journeyed back to Ireland and Miles back up north to Massachusetts. Jules’ parents were only in Connecticut, and Harry had already made the trip back to the UK to see his family. 
By the time the New Year came, I was sick of being in Florida with no friends and minimal interaction from my parents. Our last night together as a band was the night of my drunken exit, something that we all knew was awkward and tense but didn’t dare to mention the next morning. 
Being around my parents made me drink less just because I feared becoming them. Which was probably good for both my liver and my mind, but bad for my emotional state. It had been a few weeks since I’d spoken to Miles or Harry. Jules would check in just to make sure I hadn’t murdered my parents yet, Niall sent pictures of his nephew and the pints he was drinking back home. 
I sat on the back patio a few days into 2017, sunglasses on to block the sun and hoping to get a bit of a glow on the unseasonably warm day. My phone buzzed beside me and pulled my attention back to the pool in front of me, my parents were both at work and I finally had a minute without them to gather my thoughts. 
Nothing about the sunshine state made me want to stay, especially not the locked door down the hall that had been untouched since 2011. The bed was likely unmade and I was sure dust had collected on the trophies that lined his shelves. 
I picked up my phone and read the message that had just come through, one that made me want to abandon my home state more than I already did. 
Harry Styles (1:03pm): Random question, are you still in Florida?
I looked around the backyard, boats buzzed by on the water and the waves glimmered in the sun.
Cat Fonder (1:04pm): Unfortunately
Harry Styles (1:04pm): Me too.
I pulled up the phone and read it twice before I pressed the phone icon near his name. It rang once before he answered. 
“Hi!”
“What are you doing in Florida?”
“Well--bit of an airline issue, so I ended up on a flight here instead of New York. I’m stuck here overnight.”
“That sucks,” I admitted, turning on my side on the pool lounge chair. “What are you going to do?”
“Well,” he took a pause, but I could tell he’d already decided. “You’re going to come get me at the airport.”
“What makes you think that?”
He laughed on the other end of the phone. “I mean, you wouldn’t let me sleep overnight in the Miami airport would you?” I let out a groan for him to hear, laughed a little when he threw in: “I know you have enough bedrooms at your parents house.”
Marta, our longtime housekeeper and an adopted member of our family, slid open the door to the living room. “Do you want lunch?”
“In a few!” I called back to her. “Harry--you can Uber here if you want.”
“Oh just come pick me up--how far do you live from the airport?”
“From Miami? Like an hour and a half!”
“Which is exactly why I’m not paying for an Uber, Catherine.”
I exhaled through my nose, licked at my lips, already regretting the decision to take one of my dad’s cars into a Miami afternoon. The air was sticky and the climb in my heartbeat made me feel stupid and childish. Harry’s chastising on the other end didn’t help. 
“Did you hang up on me? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“Cause I’m trying to think of a plan to be in a car with you and not kill you.”
He let out a belly laugh at this, noise from the busy airport terminal was seeping through the speaker and into my ears. “I’ll make sure we don’t lay any hands on each other.”
Goosebumps rose on my skin, his voice almost melodic when he said see you soon!
I grabbed the keys and took a sandwich for the road from Marta, prayed to some type of higher power that I didn’t rear end someone or fuck up my dad’s Mercedes. He drove the Tesla to work, which was good, honestly, because I wouldn’t even know how to turn that one on. 
It took me only an hour and fifteen, which didn’t seem like a result of my timid driving but more the lack of traffic and time of day. When I rolled up to the baggage claim and saw him standing on the curb with sunglasses pushed up and a hood over his head, I rolled the window down. 
“How’s the disguise working?”
He made a face at me, stuffed his suitcase in the backseat and climbed in front. “You joke, but there were girls who literally cried when they saw me. And a few photographers, I think--which is really weird.”
“Really?” I looked over my shoulder and put on my blinker, hoping to merge effortlessly over three lanes to get out of the hellhole that was Miami International. 
“Yeah--don’t know why but people apparently like our band in Florida. Hometown pride, maybe.”
He had a point--apparently my name had been one of the most searched google phrases in the state at the end of 2016. But we weren’t really paparazzi level yet, once or twice in New York or LA when we’d do shows, but they’d yet to really follow us around.
“Okay, well you might have to be silent the rest of the ride if you want to get to Palm Beach in one piece.”
He turned towards me with an amused look. “Do you suck at driving?”
“No,” I said, looking over at him quickly, a car merged in front of me and made me swerve to the side a little bit when I took my eyes off the road. 
“Jesus fuck!” He laughed, “oh god--you would be absolutely rubbish at driving. This is actually extremely on brand for you.”
“I’m not rubbish at driving,” I twisted my face. “I’m just out of practice.”
We made it four miles away from the airport before he demanded that I get out and let him drive, arguing that even if the steering wheel was on the other side and we drove on the wrong side of the road, he’d be a safer bet. 
He got a coffee at a gas station and took a picture of me with the girl behind the register, more pleasant than I’d ever seen him be. He put the windows down and played me the songs he’d been listening to over the holidays and laughed when he pointed at my hands. “You got a manicure!”
I hid my face, embarrassed at the sellout I’d become. Thirteen whole days in town and my mother had convinced me to sit beside her, watch daytime talk shows while the spa ladies buffed and snipped our cuticles. 
She made me, I laughed. You might end up with one too before you leave.
We rolled up to Island Drive right before my parents got home from work and Harry leaned towards the window to get a better view of the house. His mouth hung open when we turned into the shrub-lined driveway. “Jesus, Cat. What do your parents do again?”
“Work too much,” I told him. “Mom’s a dentist and my dad’s a financial advisor. They’re super obnoxious so please try to interact with them at a minimum like Marta and I do.”
“Marta?”
“Housekeeper, my old nanny--she’s part of the family.”
He nodded, still taking in the fountain and manicured lawn when I pulled his suitcase from the backseat. Harry had known that my parents were wealthy--mainly from the time that Miles made me sound like an obnoxious rich kid when we wrote at their apartment. But Harry was apparently surprised by the level of wealth that was held in Palm Beach. His lips parted when I brought him in the front door, views of the water over the crest of the lawn and the pool, eyes landing on mine after a few seconds. 
“And you moved to New York, why?”
I kept my voice quiet, didn’t want Marta to hear my bluntness from the other room. “To get out of here.”
But soon she smiled and rushed over, eager to take Harry’s suitcase and bring it to the guest room. She offered him tea and coffee and all of the snacks that he joked he would have held out for if he knew she was here and waiting.
I brought him upstairs to show him the room he could sleep in, around the corner from mine, a view of the side yard and the gardens that a landscaping company tended to every Saturday morning. I laid the ground rules: no mentioning our partying, no mentioning times when I’ve been too drunk. If he wanted a free place to sleep with good food and a king-sized bed, he needed to keep his mouth shut about that stuff. 
He saluted me and stifled a laugh. “Yes ma’am.”
“I’m serious,” I told him. “Just be quiet, don’t give them a reason to ask you any questions.”
“Alright--I mean, come on, they can’t be that bad.”
As if on cue--as if Harry showing up in Florida wasn’t enough bad karma for one day--the alarm beeped downstairs letting me know one of them was home. Lorna first, she came in with big sunglasses and greeted Harry with a smile, her hand outstretched for her afternoon glass of Chardonnay before Marta could even hang her keys up by the door. 
Frank strolled in a little after six pm, dinner was almost ready when Harry excused himself to the bathroom and I took it as my opportunity to corner my mother before she was too drunk to remember it. 
I knocked on her office door twice, waited for her to look up from her computer before I took a few steps inside. “Hi, dear,” she said, a small smile before she looked back to the papers on her desk. 
“Hi--I just wanted to uh, ask you a favor, actually.” I approached her with my hands on my hips, unsure if I’d get her full attention or if I’d have to snap my fingers to get her eyes back on me. I sat down in the chair across from her, a formal chess move to let her know I was serious.
“What’s that?” She leaned back in her chair and waited for me to spit it out. Her direct eye contact made me nervous, I stammered over my words and tried to sway her by bringing my dad into it. 
“I, uh, just asked dad the same thing--he said it was fine.”
“Just spit it out, Catherine.”
“Can we not talk about Cameron in front of Harry?”
She set down her glasses at this, watched me for a second before she tilted her head to the side. “Okay.”
“Like, at all. Okay? Not even once.”
She sighed, almost as if my request was painful for her to consider. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”
Maybe she’d tone it down with a stranger in the house. Maybe not talking about Cameron for someone else’s benefit would make her respect the limit more than she had in the past. 
I had hoped for so long that one day it’d stop, one day she’d forget his name or leave it out of conversation even if just for my sake. But my mother was too selfish for that--always forgetting that while she was grieving a son, I was grieving my other half. 
I should have known she couldn’t help herself--she had to relive the moment over and over, desperate to keep herself alive in the past as if it was safer than the present. His name slipped  out of her mouth like she didn’t even realize it, I nearly choked on my asparagus at the dinner table when she said it.
Harry was busy making small talk about our upcoming album, the studio sessions we’d be heading into once we flew back to the city. “Our manager said it’ll be good timing to release an album, makes us eligible for award season the following year.”
She pretended to be interested, pretended to care for a second about our careers, but then she did it. “Reminds me of the time Cameron won that award--”
“Mom,” I said it quick, my hands falling to the table with a thud, fork and knife in my grasp when I cut her off. “Don’t.”
The noise startled Harry, but the genuine smile on his face only faltered a little. “No, I’d love to hear the story,” he didn’t even have a clue to the fire he was igniting.
“We talked about it mom,” I gave her a death glare--which I could tell threw her off. She was frozen, torn between pleasing her dinner guest and pissing off her daughter, two of her favorite past times. 
She gestured at Harry. “Well I don’t want to be rude, Catherine.”
“Dad,” I looked over to see him on his phone, my voice pleading for him to intervene. 
“Lorna, leave it alone,” he said, disinterested, phone screen still lit up like he was begging for a distraction. 
“Oh,” she sighed, sarcasm threaded in her words. “Right--we don’t go there.”
Harry was across from me, mid-bite of his steak. He looked from me and to my mom, then back, while he chewed. He had no clue what was happening but he could tell he’d said the wrong thing. 
My mom picked up her wine glass, brought it to her lips and offered a sweet smile in Harry’s direction. “Nevermind, dear--don’t want to upset Catherine.” 
I rolled my eyes and stood from the table, “Harry, do you want to go for a walk?” 
He was caught off guard, still uncomfortably in the middle when he nodded quickly, stood from the table and thanked both of my parents for letting him stay the night as I headed for the front door. He hurried out behind me, his voice barely a whisper in the hallway. “Did I do that? Did I fuck up?”
“No,” I said, calling to Marta over my shoulder. “Dinner was delicious, Marta! We’ll be back!”
“What even happened in there?” He asked, still a few steps behind me once we walked out onto the moonlit driveway. 
I stopped short and turned around, the anger in my chest was threatening to spill out and onto the concrete. “Nothing--my mother is just fucking stupid and selfish.”
“So the intimidating level of rage coming off of you is not my fault?”
“What? No.”
I spun around again and headed for the street, a left turn towards the familiar route that I’d escape to when something like this happened. He walked beside me on the tree-line street, silent and steady until the neighborhood opened up. The same empty field at the end of the road that gave access to the lagoon, the same location I’d come to so many times after storming away from dinner as a kid. Doing it at 22 felt no different than at 15.
He shoved his hands in his pockets when we stepped onto the grass. “What is this place?”
“I don’t know--an empty field at the end of my street.”
“Is this your ponder spot?”
I looked over my shoulder, his face was lit up by the glow of the streetlights. “Ponder spot?”
He nodded and offered a shrug, “you know, the place you run off to when you need space.”
I bit back a laugh, embarrassed that his words couldn’t have been more accurate. He took my silence as confirmation, followed me over to a picnic table that sat close to the end of the water.
I threw a leg over the bench and let my head rest on top, a groan escaping my lips once I felt his weight shift the structure. 
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head but didn’t lift it, so he let me sit in silence for a little while. A breeze blew my hair around and after a few minutes, he sighed, like he already knew the answer but wanted to ask anyway. “Do you want to tell me who Cameron is?”
That got me to raise my head. “Definitely not.”
He smirked a little, a tiny nod as if to tell me he wouldn’t push it. He reached a hand over and patted my thigh, chin in his hand as he watched people cruise by on their boats. 
For the first time I felt comfortable with him--not pressured or panicked. He brought his eyes over to me and then fished into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small joint, a dimple appeared on his cheek when he said: “I found this in the guest room.”
“Shut up,” I laughed, pulling it from him and sniffing it to inspect. “Did you really?”
He nodded, “which one of your parents is the stoner?”
“Well my mom is too high strung, so--must be Frank.”
He pulled out a lighter and held it up, watched when I placed it between my lips and then inhaled. I passed it over to him, thankful for a buffer between us now aside from the moon and the breeze. 
Smoke escaped my lips and floated towards the stars, he drummed his fingers on the table before I passed it to him. “Do you feel overwhelmed ever?”
“Ever?” He laughed at my question, licked his lips and then looked out over the water. 
“I mean by the music stuff lately.”
He shrugged. “Excited mostly. Why? Do you?”
I nodded, unafraid to admit that being home brought a different layer of complexity to life. “My parents will just never get it.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not successful.”
I looked down at the faded wood and the fresh coat of polish on my nails. “It kind of feels that way, though--you know, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did it really happen?”
He stared at me for a second, sure that I was joking. “You’re mental,” he said. “The tree is down on the ground, of course it fell. Who fucking cares if they were around to hear it or not?”
I nodded, took the joint back from him and took another inhale, reminded of the first time we did this type of thing. 
He passed it to me, watched as I let smoke dance through the chilly air before he asked: “Why do you go by Cat?”
Another shrug, how I answered most questions these days. Do you have nightmares about it? Do you think about him all the time? Do you feel easily agitated? 
“Just don’t like Catherine. Too formal.”
I didn’t want to get into it. My mother calls me that, my brother called me that, all good reasons to pack up and leave behind in the childhood bedroom that held bad memories.
“I like Catherine,” he admitted. “S’pretty.”
I let my eyes sweep over to him, the moon reflected in his eyes, curls of hair poked out from the beanie on his head. “Just--don’t call me that, please.”
He laughed, completely unaware of the way it made my chest heave in the shower or the way it sent a shiver down my spine when my mom had to cut herself off--Catherine and Cameron--no, just Catherine. 
I had to correct her now too. Catherine felt like it needed to be followed by something, another name, the one that had been linked to mine since birth, born two minutes apart. 
“I think you’re pretty fucking successful, you know.”
I glanced over at him. “Yeah?”
A single nod. His short hair was still something to get used to, it bent in the wind and blocked his eyes when he turned to look at me. “I will never admit I said this, but, we’d be nothing without you.”
“Well, we only got big once you came along.”
He smirked, “so you’re aware of that?”
I gave him a shove, shaking my head at his stupid ego. His eyes lingered on mine for a second, his knee knocked against mine when he flicked the joint and then he let out a sigh. 
I wanted to lean in and kiss him, and I probably would have if it weren’t for Lila. As far as I knew she was home in New York, maybe in Jersey with her parents or siblings, but certainly an obstacle to whatever kind of intoxicated hook up could have happened between us.
I cleared my throat and looked up at the sky. “Do you want to go write a song?”
He smiled, a soft one, nodded a few times and patted me on the thigh again before he stood up and offered me a hand. “I’d love to.”
He followed me back to the house, up the stairs to my bedroom and stared at the ceiling while I plucked at the guitar. 
I don’t know where I wanna go,
But it’s far away from here
Don’t know what I’m running from
If it’s you or me, my dear
He watched, listened, nodded along while it poured out of me, more of a witness than a participant. 
It’s good, Cat, he said, keep going.
Everybody’s talking now
But no one seems to say  a thing
I do my best to drown them out
I just wish that I could be
Somewhere far away from here
Back to myself, back where I could see clear
Somewhere far away from here
Won’t somebody take me far away from here?
Sleep was heavy on my eyelids, Harry down the hall and a rough version already sent off in an email to Niall before I realized he’d said it. Four and a half years of begging him to say it, call me Cat, hoping one day he’d just give in and go along with it. All this time I thought fighting him and pushing him away would make it happen. 
It was fitting, I guess, that it was the exact opposite that finally got me what I wanted. 
**
Niall was excited that Harry had accidentally landed himself in Miami, and he was even more excited when he learned that I told him he could stay with me an extra few days before I was due to return to Manhattan and the responsibilities of work. 
He was eager to see my town, made me drive him by the high school and the parking lot where I learned--or failed, according to him--to parallel park. He swam in the pool and spit water in my face, completely deconstructing the wall I had managed to build over the last few years with a single glance in my direction. 
He promised he stayed because he was having fun, not just because flying home with me meant a first class seat.
It was rare, these days, too, that I found myself on a boat. A few times since the accident, maybe three or four. But his excitement and delight was contagious when he learned my parents still had one--the same one--and it was down on a dock off the backyard. 
I let the motor hum to life, pinks and purples splashed over the sky on our last night when he popped a bottle of champagne. I wondered if Lila knew he was here--he seemed undisturbed by his phone and altogether disconnected and unplugged. 
I drove us out to the middle of the lagoon, dropped anchor and told him about the time I learned to swim off the back. I was three or four, always in a life vest and completely unaware of the irony that my life was accumulating. 
Cam would jump off first, his floaties on his arms as he swam over to my dad who’d be in the water already. My mom would clap and snap pictures, throw us a noodle or two and then wrap us in towels back on board the boat. 
Harry was treading water beside me, though, hair dripping wet after he’d pulled off his shirt and shorts. 
I laughed when he dared me to jump in after him, said he hoped my swimming skills were better than they were back then. He splashed enough water at me on the boat before I gave in, promised he wouldn’t watch me undress and wouldn’t tell a soul that we’d been this cliché, swimming in our underwear and conversation laced with champagne giggles. So I tossed my shirt to the side and shimmied out of my shorts before I let myself sink under the surface. 
When I came up, he was watching me. 
“What?”
“Nothing--just--s’been nice to hang out with you.”
I twisted my face at his kindness, crinkled my nose at the friendship that had suddenly blossomed in the cool Florida weather.
The laughter from another boat floated over the waves, a big splash is what did it. 
I looked over, searched for the person only a hundred yards away, desperate for their head to emerge from the water, unlike his. My heartbeat was in my ears, throat tight and shoulders tense.
“Where are they?” I asked, my head turning frantically. “Do you see them? Did they come up?”
“What?” Harry followed my gaze and the smile faded from his lips. “What are you talking about?”
A man popped back up, a group of people on the boat cheered for him and sang along the music that hummed from their speakers. Harry could tell something was wrong, I tried my best to slow my breathing when I realized what was happening.
I swam over to the boat, hands clutching the ladder as I pulled myself up. My breathing was sporadic, the images flashing through my head with no option to pause. Allie’s voice, Will’s voice, the feeling in my chest when I knew he was dead and we couldn’t do anything about it. 
But I was acutely aware of the moment around me, Harry climbed up to the boat behind me and had a terrified look on his face, green eyes searching the floor for a towel before he draped it over my shoulders. 
“You’re alright--Cat, you’re alright, it’s okay,” his arms were around me when a sob slipped out, eyes stung from a mix of salt water and tears. I couldn’t do this, it couldn’t happen here and now. 
The waves from that day couldn’t show up, drag me under until I couldn’t breathe like he couldn’t. Not in front of Harry. 
“Hey,” he said, moving my shoulders to force me to sit down, his knees across from mine when he looked me in the eyes. “You’re alright, nothing’s happening.”
I nodded, licked at my lips and wiped at my eyes with the towel when I blinked a few times. Feet on the boat, hands around the towel, I could see blue and white and the keys in the ignition. “Okay,” I said, more grounded. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeated, hands on my knees now to keep them from shaking. 
Silence for a minute when I looked back at the other boat. They were fine. No one was drowning. I wasn’t drowning. I was on the boat and Harry was on the boat. 
The sun had sunk lower now, almost meeting the horizon when I met his eyes again.
“When did he die?”
“What?”
“Your brother.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He plucked at his lower lip, he dropped my gaze for a second and then sighed. “It’s okay, Cat.”
I felt the water in my eyes at that, let my head swivel side to side to argue his claim. “No,” I said. “It’s not okay. This is why I don’t talk about it.”
“Maybe that’s why this is happening, then. Maybe you get like this because you refuse to talk about it.”
I pulled away from him, angry at his accusation and the way he sounded like he knew me better than he did. 
“Unless the two ten-year-olds in the frame above the guest bath are just random people,” he shrugged. “That’s Cameron, right?”
I was caught--unsure where to go and stuck on a boat with him. I didn’t look at him, kept my eyes on the floor and nodded slowly. 
He repeated his original question. “When did he die?”
“The summer before senior year of high school. He drowned.”
A breath of air escaped from his lips, like he’d expected a different answer. Cancer, maybe. A terminal illness or something less violent and avoidable. 
“Were you--with him when it happened?”
I wiped at my eyes, wishing the tears would stop and the memories would, too. “In the boat--we were drunk.”
He nodded, his focus solely on me when he leaned forward. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“You weren’t there,” I said quickly, defensively. “You have no clue what happened.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t. But I know it’s not your fault.”
I cried harder at that, vision blurred when I nodded. “It was, Harry--I didn’t realize how long he’d been underwater. I was too drunk.”
“It’s called an accident for a reason.”
“You’re not supposed to know any of this,” I reminded, eyeing him skeptically when I pulled the towel up to cover myself more. “Niall doesn’t know. Miles doesn’t know. No one knows.”
“Does Jules?”
I nodded. “Cause I’m a fucking moron and got too drunk one night.”
He laughed a little. “Why’ve you been hiding it?”
“Cause college was the first time I was just me. Not Catherine and Cameron, not one of two. I was just me for the first time and it was okay--it wasn’t sad or tragic that I was just me. I wanted it to be normal.”
He nodded in understanding, offered to drive us back to the dock if I showed him how. My parents were upstairs for the night, enough space for us to sit at the counter and heat up leftovers that Marta had made while we were out. He listened when I talked about the nightmares and the flashbacks, followed me up the stairs and nodded solemnly when I made him promise to not tell the others. 
He echoed his sentiment on the boat: it’s not your fault. He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear before he leaned in and kissed me outside my bedroom door, softer than before, and most importantly, sober. 
He followed me over to the bed, his touch gentle and warm when we slipped under the sheets. It was easy--slow and careful, not like the time before. He made me feel grounded, actually in the moment for the first time in a long time. He didn’t know it, but he made me feel seen.
Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
It felt different to wake up beside him, knowing he knew and knowing he still thought I was a decent human. I looked over to see him, eyelids fluttered against his cheek when I stirred. 
A buzzing on the nightstand grabbed my attention, though, his phone vibrating with an incoming call when the morning sun crept in. A stomach dropping worse than ever, a shiver down my spine when I saw her name, a picture of the two of them side by side. 
Incoming call: Lila DiPretto
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author’s note: wowowowowowoooooww! A doozy of a chapter I hope none of you hate me too much for all of the emotion in this one! Things are heating up and now Harry knows Cat’s secret.....shit can only get weirder from here!
taglist: @mellamolayla @meganlikesfandoms @afterstylesmadeit @sing-me-a-song-harry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfics-xx @shawnsblue @avipshamitra @a-secretyoucankeep @groovybaybee @nearbyou @blueviiolence @kiwicherryharry @thurhomish @bopbopstyles @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @mleestiles @ashbabao @anssu-amry @odetostep @bemib @caritocp @ursogoldenshan @rainbowbutterflyboy @bubblegumstyles7 @1142590m @winter-soldier-007 @beingsolonely​ @sloanferg​ @ivanacats​ @mumplans​ @wastedsweetcreature​ @harryssugarhigh​ @wanderlustiing​ @sunflowers-styles​ @g0bl1nqueen​ @stepping-into-the-light​ @kara-246 @stilljosiegrossie​ @harrys-cherrry​
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ofstarsandfireflies · 3 years
Text
This is what Finding Dory should have been.
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Their marriage might have fallen through, but even though there were regrets whidh they hadn’t worked out, Stephen still wanted to be a part of Tony’s and Peter’s life, he still believed he and Tony could get back together, despite his ex getting back into dating other men.
Especially since Peter had been abducted little under a month ago by fish bowl head.
He wasn’t about to let either of them out of his sight.
Now Peter was trying to live a normal life like all teenagers, getting a girlfriend by the name of MJ and trying for his driving lisence, and even though Tony had offered, Stephen was adamant that he would be the one to take Peter for his driving lessons.
Of course, he wasn’t the calmest as he probably once would have been in a car, and he just manages to agitate Peter about driving, but they make it back to Tony’s house in one piece.
But while Tony is trying to date again and Peter is trying to act as normal as he can despite what happened to him and Stephen tries to be there for them as often as he can and getting shit about it from Mordo and Wong, Adrian Toomes is creating a suit to avenge his son.
He’s not after Tony, like he had initially been, no, no, Tony didn’t kill his son.
Stephen Strange did.
But he’ll kill the both of them and Peter too.
A son for a son.
Stephen has the day free from his Sorcerer duties so he tries to spend time with Peter and Tony, Peter being a little too crafty for his own good and allowing the two adults to enjoy some time alone together.
Tony sees right through this, but he won’t complain, he’s missed Stephen.
But when they’re heading out to lunch, both of them see people watching them, following them, and they know not only are they in danger, but Peter could be as well.
And both are ill equipped to deal with them because Stephen never brought his sling ring and Tony had left his housing unit back at the lab.
Sure, Stephen still had his magic, but that doesn’t mean he wants to draw attention to them and make it easier to find them.
So, they split up, Tony heading back to Peter and Stephen heading for the Sanctum where he can get what he needs to teach these guys to stop messing with his family.
And he makes it, but so does Adrian with Tony, holding a gun to his head.
And while Stephen raises his hands, and stalls for time, Tony manages to send a distress call to Peter, who immediately heads to the lab.
With a nod from Tony telling him Peter’s safe, Stephen lowers and unclenches his fists, the last thing he sees before he’s knocked out is Tony having a bag thrown over his head.
And all Stephen can think about is Tony’s state of mind from being kidnapped again, and hoping that Peter is safe.
Peter is safe.
He’s in the lab tracking Tony through the distress signal and waiting for it to stop so he can get there and help his parents out while he searches for what he needs, keeping an eye on whoever took them’s idiots running around in a frenzy searching for him on the monitors, kicking in locked doors to empty rooms.
He knows he’ll be found eventually, but he’s already made up his mind to help by the time he gets a call from Tony, who wanted to make sure he was safe and wasn’t planning on finding them because they’re from the same group who took him just a few months ago.
But Tony’s worried voice sounds proud when Peter’s resolve won’t be swayed, but doesn’t get a chance to tell him what to do before the door of their cell is opening and he has to cut the call short.
With their location set into Karen’s GPS, Peter gets out of the lab just as the ones who had come to grab him find it empty.
He’s got everything that Tony told him to grab if this ever happened, and he’s got their location.
But getting there will take time, time which Tony doesn’t have.
When the door had opened and Adrian Toomes walked in, his mechanic wings folding back into the device on his back, he ignores Tony for Stephen.
He wants to know where Peter is.
And Stephen doesnt tell him, Tony has a knife at his throat.
But Stephen still won’t tell, and winces when the knife slices into him deep, blood continuously oozing into Tony’s clothes amd dripping onto the floor beneath him.
Stephen knows how long Tony has if it’s not stitched, and he knows they have nothing to stitch him up with.
Once Adrian leaves again, promising to return in the thirty minutes Tony has left with Peter, Stephen is trying to cut through his bonds to get to Tony to help him, counting down the seconds in his mind and becoming more angry and frustrated the longer it takes to free himself, calling to an unresponsive Tony, who has fallen limp in his restraints.
Finally, finally Stephen is free, ripping off his shirt to apply pressure to the wound as Tony manages to tell him to take his watch and call Peter.
He does so, Peter answering straight away and telling him he’s at their location.
Stephen wastes no time in blasting a hole above them, Peter just managing to drop what he’d brought with him before a pair of mechanical claws grab him by the arms and lift him up into the air.
Stephen is up after him, promising Tony he’ll be back.
Tony grabs the sealing agent first and patches himself up, shakily pressing his housing unit to his chest when he hears the commotion of armed men running to their cell, alerted by Stephen’s destructive renovating.
Clearing his head, he stands up, swaying a little under the weight of his sleek armour, and kills anyone who has the misfortune of walking through that door.
Stephen chases after Peter, summoning the mirror dimension and locking the three of them within it, using the turning and separating buildings to catch up to Peter and grab hold of him, freeing him from the villain when a car comes out of nowhere and runs straight into him.
But Toomes isn’t going down that easily, and Stephen keeps getting interrupted by attacks.
Seeing no other alternative, Peter apologetically hijacks a car and they speed away, Stephen trying not to have a panic attack with how fast Peter is driving and how he’s swerving in and out of traffic coming and going in every direction, almost rolling the car more than once when he feels it balancing on two wheels.
Toomes is right behind them, not giving up as Peter tries to keep them alive long enough for Stephen to get them out of here.
But without a sling ring, they can’t exit how they normally would.
He needs to get to the Sanctum and get one, or at least keep Toomes occupied so Wong or Mordo can get them out of here.
Peter likes the second option, stressing Stephen out even more now he’s driving with one hand and calling Wong’s phone with the other, Stephen grabbing the phone from him before he gets them both killed.
Almost as soon as Stephen tells Wong what’s happening, a portal opens right in front of them, Peter, Stephen, and the car they’re in sailing over Wong’s head and crashing straight into the staircase.
Wong closes the portal just as Toomes reaches it, one of Vulture’s wings snapping off as he just makes it through, heading back to Tony.
Leaving Peter in Wong’s care, Stephen takes the sling ring and walks into the room where he’d left Tony, finding it abandoned.
He makes his way past all the bodies, hoping to find Tony somewhere close by.
And he does.
Tony’s suit is torn to shreds, all the power he’d had charged in it now all used up.
But he’s alive.
He’s shaking but alive and when he sees Stephen, the first words out of his mouth are concerning Peter.
But Stephen reassures him that Peter is safe at the Sanctum with Wong, and the wave of relief over the man he still loves almost brings him to tears.
It would be touching and damn near romantic if Toomes wasn’t there watching them, the last one alive out of the group of men he’d had with him.
Both Stephen and Tony hold up their hands, Tony’s more on instinct even without any more power left.
Looking over at Toomes, Stephen offers him a way out of this.
A way to live.
But Toomes doesn’t take it.
So focused on revenge, he aims for Tony, knowing it won’t be satiated if he’d aimed for Stephen, but his hand suddenly jerks behind his back, dropping his gun as a thick web ties him up, and Peter drops down with a proud look on his face.
The three are safe, and together again.
Not long after things settle down, life begins to move on.
Peter passes his driving lesson, which Stephen had no doubt in his mind he wouldn’t succeed at.
Stephen and Tony are trying their relationship again.
And Peter is giving this thing with MJ a real chance, asking her on a double date with his parents.
Yeah.
Maybe things will finally go back to normal now.
Quotes -
“The man who took our loved ones from us. The man who has brought us such pain and sorrow. We will find him. We will bring him here. We will not rest until his blood flows into this very ground. We will have our revenge.”
Adrian Toomes addressing his men
“Oh! I didn’t know you guys were still so cozy that she shares her marriage issues with you.”
“Wait a minute, I know you guys were close, obviously, but are you close again? Close like...”
“I’ll lay money she’s still got something for him.”
“Don’t go there, friend.”
“Maybe he still has something for her!”
“Can we talk about basketball? For God’s sake, come on!”
Wong and Mordo teasing Stephen about Tony
“So, this Jaime...is it...serious?”
That was a really smooth transition. I don’t know, it’s only been a few months.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“I guess I’m not sure yet.”
“Have you ever been in love before?”
“Not the way that mom talks about it.”
“How does she describe it?”
“She said that when you guys met...that it was super special.”
“Super special? She said that?”
“I think the exact word she used was...‘ magical.”
“Magical, huh?”
Stephen and Peter bonding.
“I have nothing against you. You didn’t kill my son. But your husband did. Now, he betrayed you by choosing to save your daughter instead of you. He left you here like a dog.”
“At least my daughter is still alive.”
Tony being the snarky bastard we all love
Anything part 2
There’s a new enemy with his sights set on not just Peter, but his parents too.
January, February
Missed a Day? Catch up here!
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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years
Text
Won’t You Stay (Part 14)
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Summary: The reader and Jensen go out to eat with her family with everyone having a good time until the drive home turns into a nightmare...
Masterlist
Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader
Word Count: 3,500ish
Warnings: language, car accident, near-death experience
A/N: Please enjoy! 
_____
Saturday Afternoon
“Fuck,” groaned Jensen as you stood up, Jensen still laid back on your bed. You laughed and bent over, kissing him quickly. “Y/N, I mean this in the best possible way but your blowjobs may kill me someday.”
“That was your first one!” you laughed, walking into your bathroom to clean your mouth.
“Like I said, may kill me,” he said, throwing an arm over his face. “Come here, your turn.”
“If you recall, you woke me up in a very, very pleasant way,” you teased. “Although, I’m all for ordering some food and curling up on the couch to watch something the rest of the night.”
“That sounds pretty good to me,” he said. He slipped into the bathroom and washed up for a moment while you finished and headed out to the kitchen. You opened your drawer full of takeout menus and started to flip through them, Jensen popping out a minute later and sitting up on the counter, glancing through them when your phone rang. Jensen swiped it off the far end of the counter and handed it over, watching you answer and press it up to your ear.
“Hey El. What’s up?” you asked.
“Dad just went to thaw out the chicken for dinner and it looks super funky or something so we’re going to go out to eat instead. He wanted to know if you wanted us to pick you up or you wanted to drive yourself? He and mom were thinking Brennen’s,” she said. 
“Uh, what?” you asked.
“Family dinner...you know...that thing we’re doing now…your idea...” she said.
“Oh shit,” you said, smacking yourself in the forehead. “I thought that was Sundays.”
“Yeah but mom has that special teacher conference thing next week so she has to catch a flight tomorrow night,” she said. “You busy or something?”
“Jensen and I were planning on having our own…” you said, Jensen holding out his hand. You handed over the phone and he hit it on speaker. 
“Hi Ella,” said Jensen. “Y/N would love to go to family dinner.”
“See? He gets it,” she said. You cocked your head and put a hand on your hip.
“Well I was planning on having a little date night at home with him,” you said.
“Ew. I don’t need to hear about your sex life,” she said. Jensen laughed and you rolled your eyes.
“Excuse me but I have a very good sex life and second-”
“Ew,” you heard Anthony say in the background. “Like seriously, Y/N.”
“Am I on speaker? You know what? Screw both ya’ll. You two can buy your own damn condoms and birth control from now on,” you said. Jensen had a hand over his face, laughing quietly to himself. “Go find mom or dad.”
“What?” you heard your dad shout. You dropped your head to the counter and Jensen burst out laughing. “Hi Jensen.”
“Hey Ethan,” he laughed. You groaned and ran your hands over your face. “I think Y/N wanted to see if I could come to dinner with you guys, right honey?”
“No one bring this up ever again,” you said. “Also, yes.”
“I assumed he would be coming anyways. You want us to pick you up?” he asked.
“No, we’ll drive,” you said. “Brennen’s you said?”
“Mhm. We were thinking six thirty. It’ll be under my name,” he said.
“Sounds good,” you said as you hung up. 
“Hey, you did better than I would have in that situation,” he laughed. “Going out to eat will be fun.”
“But now we have to put on like, actual clothes,” you said.
“I promise that the moment we get home, you won’t have to wear a shred of clothing,” he smirked. “In fact I encourage it.”
“Well when you put it like that,” you said. “What are we waiting for?”
“He screamed like a little girl,” said Jensen, your mom cracking up as you walked through the parking lot after dinner. “He did!”
“We may have to permanently delete that footage,” said your dad, Ella and Anthony making faces behind him as he walked. “Keep it up you two and I won’t invite you to your sister’s movie premiere. Gonna be a lot of hot young Hollywood boys there too.”
“Hey!” they both said, your dad chuckling as you grabbed Jensen’s arm and started to head towards your car. 
“Drive safe,” said your mom. “Text when you get home.”
“We will,” you said, giggling when you were getting into your own car. “It’s almost scary how easily you fit in.”
“You are all insane,” he laughed. “It’s pretty easy. Oh and I think we had something fun planned for after dinner, didn’t we?”
“Oh, yes, we did,” you said. You backed out and saw your parents car in front of you, watching them head out on the street. You went left after them, Jensen turning on your radio and starting to talk about the band playing, mentioning they were in town a few weeks and maybe you’d want to check it out. “That sounds-”
You both stopped talking as you hit the brakes hard, the car behind you nearly slamming into you. The light had been green, it still was, as your dad drove through the intersection. A car had come speeding from the left out of nowhere and ran straight through, ramming right into the side of their SUV, causing them to swerve and flip over. 
“Y/N, get out of the car now,” said Jensen when you realized you were just sitting there. You stared at the flipped vehicle, no one crawling out. You heard a door open and he yanked you out of the car, pulling it over to the side of the road before he ran back and grabbed your hand, dragging you over to the sidewalk. “Stay and call 911. Now.”
“What…” you said, Jensen pulling out his own phone and calling as you kept staring at the overturned vehicle. 
“Stay here,” he said as he jogged over to the car. You heard him say something before he got too far away. You finally followed him, spotting some movement in the back.
“Ow,” said Anthony, crawling out the side window as Jensen helped your mom out who looked like she was waking up.
“Anthony,” you said as you snapped out of it and helped him to the curb. “Are you okay?”
“Not a fucking clue,” he said, putting his head in his hands. 
“Just sit,” you said, Jensen pulling your mom over, giving her his overshirt to press against her head. “Mom?”
“I’m fine,” she mumbled. All four of you heard a whiff and turned your heads, spotting a small fire on the underside of the vehicle.
“Anthony, move your mom away, now,” said Jensen as you and him jogged around to the other side. Your dad was groaning and covered in something red, still strapped in his seat. “Y/N get Ella. I got him.”
You could hear him grunt as Jensen forced him out through the smashed window.
“Shit,” he said, Jensen getting covered in blood. He squeezed your dad’s arm and your dad shouted. 
“Get El,” said your dad. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding out, idiot,” said Jensen. He undid his belt with one hand and got it around your dad’s arm, pulling it tight as you finally found your way into the car. Ella was unconscious and upside down, trapped in her seat from what you could tell.
“No, get the girls,” he grunted as you tried to get Ella out of her seatbelt.
“Y/N, move it,” said Jensen. “That fire is getting bigger.”
“She’s stuck,” you said, yanking on it but the thing was jammed. “For fucks sake.”
“Get them out, now!” shouted your dad, his voice going off in the distance and you knew Jensen was pulling him away from the car.
“Y/N! That’s a big fucking fire! Get out of there now!” shouted Jensen.
“I almost got it,” you said, Ella waking up, jerking in her seat when she saw she was upside down. “Hey. You’re okay.”
“Y/N!” you heard more than one person shout. You could smell the smoke, Ella trying to rip her seatbelt off along with you. 
“Y/N,” she said, starting to panic as she looked around, smoke filling up the space.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, looking around and grabbing a shard of glass. It sliced open your hand but you were able to cut through part of the belt. She whined and you knew something else was keeping her pinned in her seat. Suddenly a hand yanked hard on your leg and you were dragged out of the car in one go, Jensen pushing you backwards and diving into the car.
“Sorry, El. This is gonna hurt,” he said. You heard Ella shout but soon he was trying to crawl back out. You pulled on his leg, surprised how much you were able to get them both to move. He dragged her out, her shoulder looking dislocated. You helped him to his feet with her and got a little bit away before a large boom happened behind you. Jensen hit the ground and covered you both as heat filled the air for a moment. You looked back over you shoulder to see the car was overtaken by flames. You scrambled to your feet and pulled them both up and far over to the sidewalk, your mom and brother both taking turns putting pressure on your dad’s arm.
“Fuck,” said Jensen as he fell back, Ella going back with him and whimpering. “You’re okay, Ella. They’ll pop that right back in no problem.”
“Hey,” said your dad, grabbing Jensen’s shirt collar with his good hand, Jensen panting as he looked down at him. “Thank you.”
Your dad looked up at you and nodded.
“Both of you,” he said.
“Next time, let’s order takeout?” you said, getting a laugh from everyone. 
“Y/N,” said Ella, resting her head back against Jensen’s chest. “You better marry this fucking guy someday.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” you said, looking at your bloody hand, Jensen staring at it. “I’m fine.”
“Go team,” he said. He held up his hand for a high five and you let out a dry laugh, returning it with your other hand.
“How’s dad doing?” asked Ella.
“I think he’s okay,” said your mom, putting her hand on her head again.
“Mom, I got it. Rest,” said Anthony. She nodded and pressed her own hand to her head again, your dad using his free hand to reach for you. You sat down closer and he grabbed your arm. 
“When I say get out of the fucking car, get out of the fucking car,” he said.
“Make me,” you smiled. He shut his eyes and laughed. “You okay?”
“Super light headed and you know, possibility of dying or losing function of my hand and arm is still in the air but you guys are okay so I’m okay,” he said.
“Stay awake, dad,” said Anthony when he started to relax. “An ambulance will be here really soon I bet.”
“Keep it bandaged and cleaned and you most likely won’t scar,” said the doctor that cleaned up your hand at the hospital an hour later.
“Thanks,” you said. You hopped up and walked over a few stalls where Jensen was hanging out. “They clean up that cut on your back?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Anthony got bumps and bruises and your mom just got a mild concussion and superficial head wound,” he said, pointing further down the line of stalls.
“I’ll check on Ella and my dad,” you said, wandering to the front desk. Ten minutes later you found an enraged Ella sitting in the bone reset room. “Hey El.”
“I can’t play volleyball anymore this year!” she said.
“I thought you just dislocated your shoulder,” you said. 
“She has a grade three concussion, the shoulder, two sprained ankles and a two inch gash on her calf. This girl is lucky considering the severity of the accident,” said the nurse in there.
“At least you’re not burnt to a crisp,” you said as the nurse popped out. 
“I should have been,” she said, glancing down at her lap.
“Nah. We like soft squishy Ella,” teased Jensen as he walked in, getting a smile out of her.
“Thank you,” she said quietly to him before she looked at you. “I know he made you leave the car.”
“Yeah well, I like you runt,” he said to her, ruffling her head. “You get my back next time, alright?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Everyone okay?”
“Seems like it. Dad was still in surgery last I knew but he should be out soon,” you said. “You guys got the worst of it.”
“Do you know about the guy who hit us?” she asked.
“He’s fine,” you said. “Drunk asshole had just a few scratches.”
“Dad’s gonna make that guy’s life hell,” she said.
“Almost makes me feel sorry for the poor bastard,” you said, closing your eyes. 
“Your father is not the one to fear in this situation,” said your mom as she walked in, Anthony on her heels.
“I’m gonna check on dad,” you said, Jensen following you out. You walked over to the elevator to head up to surgery, Jensen holding your hand as the doors shut after you. You turned around and hugged him, letting out a shaky breath.
“S’okay,” he quietly. He ran his hand over your head, kissing your temple. “It’s okay, honey.”
“I could have been in that car,” you said. “You might not have been there and there wouldn’t have been time to-”
“Shh,” he said, holding onto you tight. “Forget all that. What happened sucked but everyone is okay and I’m sure your dad will be just fine. Only person I’ve met that was literally yelling at me for saving his life.”
“He wanted you to save us,” you said.
“You had it,” he said. 
“Why’d you pull me out then?”
“Ella was stuck I figured and hey, better me than you if that fire did go,” he said.
“Don’t say that,” you said.
“Make me,” he smirked. 
“You should really put saving people from car accidents on your resume,” you said. He chuckled and the doors opened, the two of you popping out into the hall.
“The other one was not that bad. I’m gonna wrap you all in bubble wrap so you stay put,” he said. “Let’s go find your dad, Y/N.”
Ten minutes later you were allowed into his room, your dad still groggy from the surgery.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said quietly, a smile on his face. 
“Hey,” you said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Jensen hanging back by the door. You leaned down and gave him a careful hug.
“How’s everyone? I think I passed out at some point,” he said.
“Anthony’s been hurt worse in football and Mom got a small cut on the head. Ella’s banged up but she’s more pissed about missing the rest of volleyball. They’re good, mostly worried about you,” you said.
“How’s your hand?” he asked. “Jensen cut up his back didn’t he?”
“It’s fine,” you said. “He’s fine. Stop worrying. Let us take care of you, okay? You lost a lot of blood.”
“The doctor mentioned a transfusion,” he mumbled.
“I’m sure you got some in surgery and will probably get another before we go home,” you said. “Just rest.”
“I was gonna eat my brownie for dessert at home,” he grumbled. “No chance that survived, hm?”
“No, dad. The leftovers weren’t a priority,” you laughed.
“Like I said, you guys are all nuts,” said Jensen. 
“Hey, kid,” said your dad, nodding for Jensen to come over. “Y/N, go find mom for me. Oh, and see if there’s any chocolate down in that hospital cafeteria,” he said.
“Alright, alright. I’ll get you your sweet tooth fix,” you said, waiting for Jensen to follow but your dad shook his head.
“I gotta talk to this one on our own,” he said. 
“You can say whatever you want to in front of Y/N, Ethan,” said Jensen, looking over at you. 
“Fine. Something like that ever happens again, I don’t care the situation or how bad, you get the kids first, not me,” he said. 
“Dad. If we got Ella out first, you might-” you said before he held up his hand.
“I’m not asking,” he said.
“Well tough shit,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. “You can’t force me or him to do that. Whoever is worst gets taken care of first, got it? We didn’t even know. There was no way to know.”
“Y/N-”
“You will not win this hypothetical argument so stop,” you said. “I know you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“I remember scared dad when I was little,” you said. “I know the look on your face when you are. Let me get mom and the dorks and some sugar for you and you can feel better, okay?”
“Go with her,” said your dad to Jensen. He nodded and you both heard your dad grunt. “Jensen. Call your folks. I’m sure this is all over the news by now. Let them know you’re okay.”
“I wasn’t even in the car,” he said.
“Just call, kid,” he said. “Parents like that.”
“I will,” he said. He followed you out to the hall where you leaned against the wall by the elevators. You sighed and leaned your head back, Jensen giving you a smile. “Hang with your dad, I’ll get the other guys and his snack.”
“You sure?” you asked.
“I’m sure,” he said. You turned to head back to your dad’s room, Jensen hitting the button to go back down.
“Jensen,” you said, his body turning towards you. “Why haven’t you run off on me yet?”
“Because I love you,” he said. You smiled softly, Jensen returning it. “I didn’t rip you out of that car because I thought I could get your sister out faster, Y/N. I did it because I needed you safe and I’ve never been that terrified in my life. I didn’t know it was possible to be that afraid until two hours ago.”
“You realize we’ve been dating like three weeks,” you said.
“Who gives a fuck?” he smiled.
“I don’t,” you said. You stepped over and grabbed his shirt, pulling him into a deep kiss, Jensen smashing his lips against yours. “Hey fanboy.”
“Yes, honey?” he laughed.
“Lyle Sullivan’s got nothing on you,” you said, Jensen chuckling before he kissed you again. 
“I thought he was a dreamboat,” he said when he pulled back.
“He is. But on a bad day, I’d rather have you on my side. Every time.”
“When things slow down tomorrow, I’m gonna tell you some stuff. Stuff no one knows,” he said.
“Okay. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out,” you said. 
“I’ll be back in a minute, Y/N,” he said, slipping into the elevator as he bit his bottom lip to keep down his grin. You spun around and went back to your dad’s room, taking a seat in the chair by the bed. You rested your head on his leg and felt his hand run over top of it.
“Really good choice in boyfriend this time, kiddo,” he said. You laughed and felt a rumble in his body. 
“Don’t go anywhere yet, dad,” you said.
“I won’t if I can help it,” he said. “Promise.”
______
A/N: Read Part 15 here!
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