#ive been sitting here for like. a solid five fucking minutes trying to come up with a good comparison irl and i Cannot

[pencildragons]

still insanely funny to me that ortus nigenad has canonically written 18 volumes of epic poetry about a bodyguard who was, in fact, Just Some Guy, and regularly quotes himself out loud in conversations on the regular. man had to die at the start of gtn because he was too fucking powerful to live

#ive been sitting here for like. a solid five fucking minutes trying to come up with a good comparison irl and i Cannot #like imagine if your bodyguard wrote what is basically a huge love song to your great great x10 grandparent's bodyguard and then #he just kept quoting himself in conversations #and then in the weird heaven afterlife you're using as the backdrop of a hallucinated memory sequence to justify the brain surgery you gave #yourself so you could forget the most important person in your life bc she killed herself for you #and you Cannot Conceive Of A Universe Without Her In It #and the dude the bodyguard wrote love songs about in question turns up and is like 'well i was kinda average actually #but thanks to the power of YOUR love songs i can now bend the rules of this liminal space to my will and beat this eldritch monster' #like dude what the fuck #ortus nigenad #harrowhark nonagesimus #tlt #tlt spoilers #htn spoilers #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #griddlehark #it wasnt in the post but i had griddlehark Feelings in the tags so #words of wyrm

[songmingisthighs]

[21.57] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ nothing's as concerning as wooyoung's 180° change, it's all or nothing for him. And you ? You just became his everything.

⇁ tw : violence, mafia life

⇁ part. 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

Five days went by and you still haven't regained consciousness and Wooyoung had not left your side for even one second.

Neglecting not only his duties but also his own well-being. He wouldn't leave you for a single second, afraid that if he does, someone might come in and finished you off. So he had San be on standby in the guest room, taking his place for when he needs to shower or go for a bathroom break. Said man even attempted to spoon-feed Wooyoung when he found out that his friend had denied the food his house staff brought to him, to which Wooyoung finally gave in and feed himself after San tied him up in his chair and threaten to feed him mother bird style.

When Yeosang came back in the day after you were first found, Wooyoung almost stab one of the nurses when he tried to take you to get checked.

"Seriously? I brought my machines and staff here and literally, within the first 2 minutes here, there are no signs of gratitude and you almost injured one of my staffs? Are you freaking high again?" Yeosang nagged after pulling the petrified nurse to the side.

Honestly, Wooyoung felt bad for scaring the man, but he had to hold onto you no matter what. You have to be within his peripheral vision because the last time he (stupidly) let (drove; shove) you out of his sight (turned all cctvs off which then directly caused you to get kidnapped), he almost didn't get the chance to regret what he did (and said) to you.

But Wooyoung wasn't gonna let other people know that he has remorse. Heck no.

He's the Jung family head mafia and there isn't anyone allowed to know how he's actually like.

Except you.

Right after you wake up.

So instead of letting Yeosang's staffs take you away, Wooyoung swooped you in his deceptively strong arms and put you on the gurney.

Once he's sure that you're secured, he looked at Yeosang and his staffs with narrowed eyes, "no offense, man, but I don't trust any of them," Wooyoung then look to his men who's stationed by his door, "get their details and do thorough background checks on them," he said before pushing the gurney down, forcing Yeosang to personally help him.

He made sure that his men were stationed at every entrance, ran background checks on every staff that entered his place, heck even put out a curfew for everyone including his visiting friends.

"Dude, you gotta get out of here, you look like a zombie," San said as he entered the room, walking towards Wooyoung who had moved his desk closer to the bed where you lied motionless. He slightly cringed when he saw the needles that poked through the skin of your hand.

Without looking up from his work, Wooyoung sighed and shook his head, "she could wake up any second, I wanna be here when she does" he muttered, eyes flitting to your form on the bed for a second.

San approached his friend, leaning both hands on the table, "Wooyoung, you missed 3 important meetings, 2 briefings, and you haven't delegated workloads other than security details for your own place, the organization will be in shambles soon," he said sternly.

Hearing facts behind his words irked Wooyoung, he knew about the current vulnerability in his organization because he's only been taking care of you since you came back to him. He didn't want to be reminded of his previous neglect.

He was about to tell San off when suddenly a voice chimed in.

"You should go do your job, Wooyoung," you called, coughing a little from scratchy throat.

It took him some time to fully realize that you had woken up after five days. He immediately run to your side and help you sit up, ordering San to get you a glass of water.

Once your throat had been soothed by the water, Wooyoung held your hand in his, kissing the back side of it multiple times to express how glad he is, "thank God you woke up, I-I don't know what I'd do if you don't," he choked, feeling tears start to brim on his eyes.

You initially didn't pull away from his touch nor his affection, maybe it's the fact that you had just woken up, maybe you think you're hallucinating, because the Jung Wooyoung you knew would never talk to you or treat you like this.

Though it hurts, you pulled your hand away from his grip, cringing a bit, "F-funny you say that, last time we spoke you said you wanted me dead," you muttered bitterly at him.

Sensing that this is a personal conversation, San slipped away before hearing anything else.

Wooyoung stared at you with sad eyes, "No, baby, I would never," he reached forward, trying to take your hand in his once again. But you scooted further into the bed, your eyes started watering, "liar," you choked out, "you said you've been planning my assassination since the beginning and you wanted to go through with it,"

"I-I did, didn't I? I can't deny I've said that to you, but please, losing you was the hardest thing that ever happened to me-"

"Well what about me!?" You exclaimed, cutting him off, surprising him at the tone you used.

By now tears had streamed down your face, your hands were clutching the blanket on your lap tightly as you began sobbing, "f-for a year, I've been nothing but understanding to you and your actions, I've done nothing but try to stay out of your way, all I asked in return was to be treated like a human being, but you couldn't even do that now, could you ? I even had to get kidnapped by whoever's after you for you to finally give half a fuck about me," you were choking the words out, your raw emotion evident with the way you speak.

Wooyoung never once seen this side of you, the side that is so raw and vulnerable. Sure, he'd occassionally hear your soft sobs through the en suite bathroom or came across your quivering figure in the gardens. But never once did you bore yourself to him like this.

Despite knowing that you might push him away, Wooyoung climbed into bed as quick as he can and enveloped you tightly in his arms.

At first you tried pushing him off with all your strength, not wanting to be comforted by him. But he held on, he knew his way around people's movement so using his knowledge against you was an easy feat.

It took you a while, you still struggled for a bit but you eventually gave in, letting his arms wrap around you and tucking your head under his chin. By now you had somehow situated between his legs, him carefully minding the IV on your right hand as he pulled you in deeper (as if it's possible).

"I know that I don't deserve it, heck, I deserve nothing from you after putting you in hell like that, but I sincerely apopogize and I will do anything and everything I can in order to gain your trust and maybe..." he pulled back slightly and tilt your chin up so he can meet your gaze, "...we can go forth and build a relationship?"

Stranger things had happened in your life but this, by far, is the strangest. Never in a million years would you ever thought that you'd be able to see the great Jung Wooyoung blush like a high school girl. It's honestly cute.

But not as cute as when he bit his lips to prevent his mouth from tearing due to the large grin that bloomed on his face once you gave him a nod, agreeing to him after leaving him nervous for a solid 5 minutes.

#ateez #wooyoung #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #timestamp #ateez timestamp #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #kpop timestamp #au #kpop au #smt timestamp

[king-finnigan]

5 times Geralt failed to ask Jaskier out and 1 time he somehow managed

I.

Yen calls him immediately after he’s sent her the text. “What’s going on? You said it was an emergency?” She sounds slightly worried, and Geralt realizes that ‘Need help. Emergency.’ does sound like something to be worried about.

“I wanna ask Jaskier out.”

She lets out a long-suffering sigh, and he could swear he hears a ‘fucking finally’ muttered away from the receiver. “Cool, sure. So what do you need my help for?”

“Asking him out.”

She laughs softly. “Seriously? You’re a grown-ass man, surely you can ask someone out, right? You’ve done it before.”

He keeps quiet, and blesses all his lucky stars that she isn’t here to see shame rise red to his cheeks.

“Wait-“ He hears her let out a startled laugh. “You’ve never asked someone out before?”

His silence is confirmation enough.

“How the fuck did you manage to go your entire life without asking someone out?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Whatever. Alright, so, here’s what you gotta do-“

---

He’s waiting outside the doors of the cinema, bouncing on his heels a bit. Jaskier’s always a bit late – fashionably late, as Jaskier himself calls it – which is fine under any other circumstances, but the movie won’t wait for them, so it sets Geralt’s nerves on fire.

Finally, Jaskier shows up. With Triss and Sabrina in tow. To what was supposed to be a date.

“Hi!” Jaskier greets him brightly. “Hope it’s alright that I brought Triss and Sabrina. A movie is just much more fun when there are more people, you know? Hope you don’t mind?”

Geralt smiles tightly, and shakes his head. Later, after the movie, he rereads the text he sent Jaskier a few days earlier, and realizes he maybe didn’t really make it clear that he intended it as a date. Great. Something to remember for next time. Though he’s not gonna ask Jaskier on a movie date again. Firstly because Jaskier apparently likes it better when it’s not just the two of them, and also because they stumbled into their seats ten minutes late, and he doesn’t think he’s gonna survive that kind of embarrassment again.

 II.

Okay, so clearly Yennefer’s plan didn’t work out. Maybe he should ask someone else.

It takes a while before Eskel picks up, but Geralt immediately relaxes when he hears his brother’s voice. “Yeah?”

“I wanna ask Jaskier out. I need your advice.”

Eskel breathes out something that sounds suspiciously like ‘finally’. It’s quiet for a while, as Geralt gives his brother time to think.

“Flowers,” Eskel eventually says. “Jaskier likes flowers, right? He seems like a flower kinda guy. So give him flowers.”

“Okay, thanks,” he says.

“By the way, can I borrow your drill? I’m making a shed and mine broke.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, thanks. Bye.” Eskel hangs up, and Geralt drops his phone on his bed, thoughts mulling over how best to handle this.

---

He shuffles from one foot to another as he waits for Jaskier to open the door, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a bouquet of different types of orange flowers. It had caught his eye at the florist, because of its obnoxious colours, and he figured Jaskier would love it.

Finally, the door opens. And immediately slams shut again, Jaskier’s high-pitched shriek muffled from behind the wood. “Fucking shit!”

Geralt frowns, and knocks on the door. “Jaskier? Are you alright?”

A muffled sneeze, followed by: “No! I’m allergic to flowers.” Another three sneezes, in quick succession. “Very.”

Great. Just his fucking luck. “Uh… r-right,” he stammers. “I’ll- I’ll throw them away, then.”

He apologizes for it later, and Jaskier tells him not to worry about it, though he’s hardly able to string the sentence together through several sneezes and wet sniffles, eyes red and swollen.

 III.

Okay, so no movie date, and definitely no flowers. Maybe he should call someone else. He considers calling Lambert for a second, but he knows that would probably be the worst idea of his life – Lambert would either laugh in his face and hang up, or he would suggest something ridiculous like a bungee-jumping proposal or some shit like that.

Instead, he calls his dad. He’s always been able to rely on Vesemir for advice, so he supposes this time won’t be any different.

“What’s wrong?” his dad asks as soon as he picks up the phone.

Geralt frowns. “Nothing. I’m calling for advice.”

It’s quiet for a while. Then: “Alright, but disposing of a body is a lot harder than you think it is. Just take that into consideration before you go through with it. So first you gotta-”

“What? No, I wanna ask Jaskier out.”

Silence. “Oh. Who?”

“Jaskier. You met him last Christmas. Brown hair, blue eyes.”

“That loud-mouth that kept following you at the party?”

“Yes.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and Geralt could swear he hears a muffled ‘thank the gods’, as if Vesemir is holding his hand over the receiver. “Try flowers.”

“Already tried that. Nearly killed him because he’s allergic.”

“Hmm. Take him to a nice restaurant.”

Geralt nods, and he realizes embarrassingly late that Vesemir can’t see him. “Alright. Thank you. But, what you said about disposing of a body, what-“ The line clicks. Vesemir’s hung up.

---

“Hey, there’s this new restaurant, a few blocks away. Di Mare, I think it’s called. Wanna go there, maybe next Saturday?”

Jaskier snorts at him, incredulous expression on his face. “That place? No thanks, way too fancy for me. What do you take me for, a rich person?”

“Jaskier, you’re literally royalty.”

“Nah,” Jaskier continues, ignoring him, “let’s just order take-out. Have a little movie night.”

Geralt nods, hope shining in his chest. “Yeah, sure.”

Jaskier grins at him, pulling his phone out. “Cool! I’ll text Yen and Triss, let them know. Been a while since we all hung out together.” Oh, fucking brilliant.

 IV.

“Triss? I need your help.”

“Sure, what can I do?”

“I wanna ask Jaskier out.”

“Oh, yeah, Yen told me about that. So I figure you still haven’t managed?”

“Clearly.” He doesn’t mention the fact that so far, she’s come between his plans twice. He doesn’t want to hurt her feelings, and she’s obviously not doing it on purpose.

It’s quiet for a while. “Uh… Flowers are a big no-no, he’s allergic to those.”

“Figured that out by now.”

“The hard way?”

“The hard way.”

“Yikes. Hmm. Restaurant?”

“No.”

“Fuck, then I’m fresh outta ideas, chief. Wait, no. There’s this new coffeeshop just around the corner. Jask loves coffee, no way you can go wrong with this one.” Geralt highly doubts it, but thanks her anyways and hangs up.

---

The barista makes heart-eyes at Jaskier the entire time they’re ordering, and when they go to sit down, Jaskier turns his cup and finds the guy’s phone number written on the side. He immediately pulls out his phone and sends the barista a text. Geralt tries and fails not to sulk.

 V.

“Hey.”

He blinks, then frowns at his five year-old neighbour who’s blocking the exit of the apartment building, looking up at him with a glint in her eyes that she always gets when she’s about to drop snowballs through people’s mailboxes.

“… Hi.”

“Heard you were trying to ask your boyfriend out,” Ciri says.

“He’s not my boyfriend. And how’d you know that?”

“Gran-gran says the walls are thin and you talk loud when you’re on the phone.”

“… Okay.”

It’s quiet for a while, her gaze intent on him the entire time, and he starts to feel uncomfortable, shuffling on his feet. Sure, the effect may be mollified by the fact that she’s missing her front teeth, but she’s still very unnerving.

“… Ciri, can I leave n-“

“You should ask him out.”

“That’s why I’m trying t-“

“Just ask.”

“Ciri-“

“Give him alcohol. Grown-ups like alcohol. Then ask.”

He sighs. “If I promise to do that, can you please let me pass so I can go to work?”

She holds up her hand, pinkie finger extended. “Pinkie promise.”

He hooks his little finger through hers. “Pinkie promise. Now can I please go?”

She nods solemnly, and steps to the side. He’s halfway down the stairs when she calls out to him: “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

He looks back, sees her staring at him, face blank and grave, and he turns back, getting out of there as fast as he can. What the fuck?

---

Geralt’s walking to Jaskier’s door, two cups of coffee in his hands. Sure, the giving-Jaskier-alcohol part of Ciri’s plan wasn’t the greatest, but he couldn’t deny that simply asking Jaskier on a date might be effective and solid, because it’s so simple.

Except, just his luck, as he walks to Jaskier’s door, Jaskier barges out of his apartment, and smashes into Geralt, coffee spilling over both of them.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Jaskier exclaims, throwing his hands in the arms exasperatingly. He sighs, his foul mood evident on his face. “Guys and coffee seems to be a deadly combination for me, lately.”

“I guess it didn’t work out with the barista, then?” He somehow manages to keep his hope out of his voice.

Jaskier sighs and shakes his head, fishing a paper tissue out of his backpack to wipe at the front of his shirt. “Yeah, no. Total hipster, and he couldn’t stop talking about himself. Like, yada-yada-yada, you like old music, we get it, now can we please talk about me?” He sighs, seems to give up on saving his shirt. “Guess I’ll have to go back inside to get a new one,” he mutters. “Anyways, why are you here? Is there something going on?”

Geralt swallows, shakes his head. “No, just wanted to bring you some coffee. Sorry about uh…” he waves his hand a bit “that. Gotta go.”

He rushes out of there, ignoring Jaskier’s inquiring “Geralt?” behind him.

 + I

“So you’ve finally turned to me for council,” Lambert says in lieu of greeting when he answers the phone.

Geralt sighs.

“I want to hear you say it, Ger-Ger. I’ll help you but I need to hear you say it.”

“Don’t call me Ger-Ger.”

“Say it.”

He sighs again, a headache starting to form behind his eyes. “Fine. I need your help.”

He can practically hear Lambert’s self-satisfied smirk. “Lucky for you, I’ve got just the idea…”

For some reason, Geralt doesn’t exactly feel lucky.

---

The first pebble he throws misses its target, and he cringes as it nearly hits Jaskier’s downstairs neighbor’s window. He tries again. This time it hits its mark, but there’s no sign of life from Jaskier’s apartment. He tries again. No response. And again. No response. He throws three pebbles against the window in quick succession.

Finally, a light turns on and Jaskier opens the window, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Geralt? It’s one in the morning, what-“

He looks down at his phone, frantically searching for the song that Lambert recommended- fucking Lambert. He never should’ve agreed to this, and he’s going to kill his brother once this is over. Finally, he finds the right song. It’s the same one as in that one movie Lambert told him about where this guy held a boombox over his head or some shit – ‘something Jaskier will have definitely watched’, his brother had reassured him. Finally, he finds the right song, and holds his phone over his head, volume as loud as possible, and-

“WANT A BREAK FROM THE ADS?-”

Geralt closes his eyes in horror as the ad continues playing, several lights turning on in the windows of the apartment building. Jaskier on the other hand, is- gone.

Geralt frowns, turns the ad off, and looks at Jaskier’s window, painfully empty. Suddenly, the door to the building opens, and Jaskier comes staggering out, wheezing and clutching his stomach as he makes his way towards Geralt.

“That-“ he says between giggles “that was the funniest and most adorable shit I’ve ever seen.” He hiccups, starts laughing uncontrollably again. “What…?”

“Lambert’s idea.”

Jaskier laughs again, desperately holding on to Geralt’s shoulder as to not keel over. “Of- of course it’s his idea, oh gods-“ He hiccups, finally calming down a bit. “Isn’t this from that one movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it a romantic movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you trying to ask me out, Geralt?”

“… Yeah.”

Jaskier smiles softly. “I accept. But please- next time, you can just ask. There’s no need to go through all this trouble.”

Geralt resists the urge to smack his palm against his face. “Alright, I’ll remember that for next time.”

Jaskier looks back, sees multiple lights on in the windows, sees some neighbors frowning down at them angrily. “Better wrap this up or they’re gonna call the cops on us.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against Geralt’s cheek. “Goodnight, Geralt.” He turns around and makes his way back to the apartment complex.

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #drabble #5 + 1 things #fluff #crack #everyone in this is a chaotic bastard #and i regret nothing #literally no one asked for this #but i do what i want babey #feral hours #fuck you spotify ads #modern au #the thing ciri says is shakespeare btw lmao

[dearophelia]

been trying to write this update for two and a half months. fuck it.

i found out mid-october that i have breast cancer. there’s a post a bit back if you missed the original update.

two weeks later i found out that it had metastasized to my lungs. making me officially stage iv. which is not curable. it’s early stage iv, which i suppose is the good kind of incurable.

i think i was too busy back then trying to deal with everything that it never really sunk in. but now that things have stabilized and i’m no longer bouncing from this appointment to that scan to that doctor to that phone call to that paperwork and now to a different doctor and oh hey now there are two surgeons, it’s just...sitting there. staring at me.

i’ve been able to find humor in everything else. i’ve had some extremely traumatic appointments that i’ve been able to retell in a way that has my audience laughing so hard their stomachs hurt.

but my oncologist saying “i can’t cure this” just sits there. on loop. i can’t do anything with that. i can’t fit that into a joke. i can’t twist it around into funny. i can’t leave bits out and embellish others and slide it into the solid standup monologue i’ve otherwise created. 

i’ve been coping with the immense quantity of trauma with humor. i’m a writer, i tell stories. this story’s been written hilariously so far, but i guess this is the part in the book where the writer pulls all the emotional levers they set up six chapters ago, only you didn’t notice because you were laughing too hard at “it’s 8:45am on a Wednesday and five people have seen me topless already. a sixth walks in, finally answering the question i’ve had for the last twenty minutes: who the fuck is this ‘he’ you’ve all been talking about while measuring my tits.”

so. here we are. the part of the book where we sob because we knew it was coming, we just didn’t want to acknowledge it. the funny will come back, i’m sure. “dad, can you pick me up? i’m radioactive again” is always good for a laugh if i’m desperate. 

i’ve been avoiding staring at the abyss for three months. it’s been there this whole time, i’ve just politely averted my gaze. asked it to hang on a bit, i’ll get back to you in a minute (the minute never ends). i think it’s my time to stare into the abyss. stage iv. incurable. i googled survival rates and that sure was a mistake. sit my ass down inside the abyss. get comfortable. strip off the jokes and the humor and the sparkling smile. cast off the upbeat attitude everyone’s always so in awe of. remove the shiny armor and walk into the abyss as myself. “hi, i’m sara. i have stage iv aggressive metastatic breast cancer. let’s talk.”

this is a thing that is happening has never been the complete sentence. this is a thing that is happening to me is the full sentence.

-fin-

[support is welcome, but please leave comments of the “you’re strong, you’ve got this” and “fuck cancer” varieties unwritten. those are not helpful even under normal circumstances. setting up camp in the abyss is not normal circumstances. if you don’t know what to say, please simply hit like on this post so i know people have read it.]

#cancer cw #truthfully i'm working on a book of essays about this experience #debating setting up a patreon for it #oph’s sick

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Part Fifty

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: trigger warnings for child death, mentions of stillborn children, child illness, abusive parents, appearance of Az’ril

Amara shuffled in front of the doors of Biela’s palace. This was not a conversation she wanted to have. But it was a conversation that needed to be had. Not that she really had a choice either way.

With a small breath to steady herself, Amara slipped inside. There were no guards in sight, but there weren’t supposed to be, anyway. In sight, at least. That didn’t mean Amara wasn’t aware she was being watched every step of the way up to Biela’s office.

Halfway there, a familiar face poked out of a nearby room. “Caius,” Amara said in greeting, relaxing some. He looked the image of his sister, Biela. Black hair, blue eyes, and bronze skin. Other than the fact that he was an alpha, and, well, a man, was that he was at least six foot, and Amara didn’t think she’d ever seen Biela smile so openly.

Today his smile was a bit more strained as he said, “If it isn’t the reason my sister’s more prickly than usual.”

Amara grimaced at that. “I know I joke about wanting your sister to step on me, but- not really digging it at the moment.”

“Probably wise, considering she’s dealing with this personally,” Caius said, before adding, “I can’t imagine your cousin’s first interaction with her was all that pleasant.”

That deserved the wince it got. “Probably not,” Amara agreed. “I haven’t been to see him yet. He’s wanted... space.” She swallowed, tried for a smile. “At least he’s not the type to hit on her like Nik? He probably shit himself when he saw her.”

“Oh he’d definitely be dead then,” Caius said.

“Good thing for us all that he’s an anxious gay mess then,” she said.

“Not for you.”

She winced.

“Do you realize the position your actions put us all in?” he said. “My sister went herself to deal with this. There is a reason that I am usually the one to go in her stead, and a good deal of that reason is because I am far more likeable and far more merciful. You made a mistake, Amara.”

“I know,” Amara said softly. “I fucked up.”

“You can’t unring this bell with an apology.”

“I can’t unring it period. Even if Lev dies, and I’ll be the first to admit he’s not out of the woods yet, it’s not going- it’s not going to undo what I made Cyrus do.”

“We’ll see if the witch survives this too,” Caius said, nodding up the hall to Biela’s study. “She’s waiting for you.”

Lovely. She just nodded and eased inside the office.

The office was bright, full of far more color than Amara would have expected if she hadn’t been there before. It was warm and open, but not even that could ease the trepidation in Amara’s chest as she crossed the room to Biela’s desk.

“Sit down,” Biela said, not even looking up from her paperwork.

Amara sat.

The silence stretched long enough Amara shifted uncomfortably in the soft chair. She’d not been stupid enough to bring weapons with her, and the lack of anything to fidget with didn’t help with how antsy she felt.

Eventually Biela looked up, leaning back in her chair. “Well thank you for gracing us with your presence.”

It took Amara a few seconds to pick out her response. “I should have come sooner,” she finally said.

Biela lifted a brow. “Before or after you poisoned my lands?”

“Before,” Amara said quietly.

“Yes.”

As Amara struggled to figure out what to say, Biela started sliding photos across the desk. A cold, sick feeling curdled Amara’s breakfast in her stomach. Those were sick children. Infants. Stillborns. Mortality was high in angels and demons both, but Amara’s magic was screaming that something was wrong with these children beyond the usual difficulties both immortal races had with pregnancy and childbirth, even if she couldn’t see anything beyond the sickly, unnatural thinness. When Amara looked up at Biela, who hadn’t stopped sliding more and more across the desk, there was no forgiveness in her icy stare.

I didn’t know. She choked the words off before they could even rise in her throat, stuffing it back down deep. Biela was a telepath. Likely she’d seen it, but Amara shoved it deeper anyway, and looked back down at the growing pile.

“How many?” She finally croaked.

“How many what?” she asked, venomously. “How many were born dead? How many died shortly after birth or how many are untouched by what you have done?”

“How many dead?” She asked, hating herself more with every word. “How many sick because of what I did?”

“The numbers are still coming in, but they’re in the thousands.”

Amara folded her arms over her stomach to keep from reaching for one of the photos. She had done this. Caius had warned her an apology wouldn’t fix this, but she hadn’t even imagined-

She couldn’t even look Biela in the eye anymore.

“Nothing to say?” Biela asked in a steely tone.

“I could spend the rest of my life trying to atone and nothing would-” Amara thought she might be sick. “I had no idea- but that is no excuse.” Gods, those were children. Infants.

Biela stood, leaning across the desk enough that Amara finally looked up out of sheer instinct. “I have half a mind to whip you and your cousin bloody.”

Amara would have taken it, and gladly, but that could kill Lev, on a good day. Lev was far enough from a good day to send a chill down her spine. Still, she knew better than to say anything at all, and just pressed her lips into a shaky line.

“Why should your pathetic cousin live, and thousands of children die?” Biela demanded. “He’s had a hundred and thirty seven years to do something with his life, and he’s done nothing but cower.”

The worst part was Amara had no answer for her.

“What, nothing to say to that either?”

“I don’t,” Amara admitted in a small voice. “I don’t have any answers.” She was in so far over her head.

“Well that is indeed a first.” Biela stared her down unflinchingly. “Maybe this time you��ll keep your arrogance in check. Instead of executing you, I’m letting you live with this.”

Amara almost would have preferred an execution. And maybe that was exactly why Biela wasn’t going to give it to her.

“I’m sorry doesn’t begin to cover it,” Amara finally whispered. “But I am. I am so, so sorry.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that along to the thousands of families that are grieving,” Biela said, before giving a final, dismissive, “Get out.”

Amara all but bolted. The guilt chased her down the hall, and would for a good few decades yet.

---

Nik had to admit he was less than pleased with the anxiety curling in his stomach as he waited outside of Cameron’s office door. He had probably been standing outside for a solid five minutes, trying to form exactly what he was going to say to make sure Cameron didn’t hate him, when Cameron’s voice yanked him out of his head.

“Get in here.”

Right.

Nik went inside, not surprised to find the window was already open for Nik’s benefit when Cameron motioned to shut the door. Of course Cameron was working on something; there wasn’t a single minute of the day that wasn’t allotted for something. He did find it interesting, however, to find bedding folded neatly on the couch by the wall.

Nik didn’t comment on it.

He plopped down in the chair across from him, feeling like he somehow got yanked into the principal's office for getting caught smoking in the boy’s room in high school. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the chair, not really sure what else to do.

Cameron finished reading the paper he was on before removing his reading glasses and peered up at Nik. “Nothing has stopped you from speaking before,” Cameron said. “Don’t let it stop you now.”

Nik grimaced at the slight irritability in Cameron’s tone. “Why didn’t you say anything.”

Cameron scratched his face. “Not my place to say anything,” he said, after a moment of thought. “Your body, your choice. Tell me, don’t tell me. I didn’t and don’t care. As long as you were taken care of, I didn’t see why I should have commented on anything.”

“Maybe because you’re my alpha?” Nik retorted, annoyed.

“Again, not my place.” Cameron eyed him carefully. “Have you decided on what you’re going to do with the fetus?”

An excellent wordsmith, Cameron was. It irked him. “I don’t- I don’t know,” Nik said. “Why do you care when it’s clearly not yours.”

Cameron didn’t bother blinking, and just kept watching him. “Is that right?”

It’s your brother’s. “You know it is.”

“As far as I am concerned, it is mine.”

“I-”

“Yes,” Cameron said, leaning forward. “Unless you want to suggest otherwise, or do plan on aborting, I do not care. It is mine, it would have the same protections Eden has because that little cretin is mine as well.”

Nik’s face prickled and he curled back in the chair uncomfortably. “But- why?”

Cameron looked at him as if he were obtuse. “Because I care about you, idiot. If I did not, I would have gone ahead and let you be ripped to shreds when you decided to waltz your way into my house to spy on my family. If I did not, you would not be in my bed. You would not be in my house, and Lev sure as hell would not be alive and in my house, either. Neither of you would be here. Understand? I can live on my own, by myself without you or Lev or anyone decidingly annoying the hell out of me, but I choose to let you both drive me up the wall. So yes, as far as I am concerned the fetus is mine, because you are mine. Do you have a problem with that.”

“....no,” Nik said, in a small voice.

“Good,” Cameron said, with finality. “Then what are we going to do, because I’m sure Ash has hounded you with details about what you need to be doing. So you need to be deciding, and deciding soon, so I can deal with everything that needs to be done.”

Nik watched him blankly, not really sure what to say. “I cheated on you, though.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Nikolas, we have never established anything exclusive. We are also not in a relationship, meaning exclusivity is void to begin with. What you have done while Lev was dead, as far as I am concerned, does not negate anything between you and myself. However, if you decide to overdose again, especially in my house, I will personally take you to Death’s door so do not ever try to do something like that again.”

“You can’t just excuse everything you don’t like, Cameron!” Nik snapped. “I- everything I did was completely out of line.”

“I’m not,” Cameron said, not even raising his voice an octave. “I am telling you, do something like that again, and you won’t live to regret it. Lev’s death was clearly hard on you, and I was willing to work with it- as it was my choice. Just like it will be my choice to not deal with anything else like that again. I’m too busy and tired to deal with any more mental breakdowns that are going to give me another headache. Do I make myself clear.”

Nik sighed sharply. “Why don’t you hate me,” Nik said, voice breaking. “I’ve done nothing more than be a thorn in your side and you’re still being like that.’

“Hate is a useless emotion,” Cameron said, baldly. “And not one I’d waste on you when you’ve done nothing to warrant it. Just because you annoy me doesn’t mean I do not enjoy your company.”

Nik wrinkled his nose. “That sounds suspiciously like affection,” Nik muttered. Cameron only rolled his eyes. Nik was quiet, not sure how to feel about anything Cameron just said, when Cameron didn’t really do fancy speeches regarding anything. “I just…. I don’t want to mess this up. I can’t take any of it back.”

“Then don’t take it back,” Cameron said. “Live with it, like the rest of us, and move forward.”

“Well when you put it like that.”

“I sound reasonable?” Cameron said, dryly. “It’s almost like I have five hundred years on you and know what the hell I’m talking about.”

Nik sniffled and wiped at his face. “I think…”

His voice faltered.

Cameron watched him, expectantly. “You think what?”

“I think I want to keep it- the baby,” he said, in a tiny voice. “I just…”

“Then keep it and we’ll deal with it,” Cameron said. “However, there is the matter of making sure the child is recognized as legitimate.”

Nik blinked at him, confused. “Are you saying you want to get married? Because if so-”

“That is not what I’m saying,” Cameron said, looking vaguely repulsed with the idea.

“Oh. Well. I was going to say that was a shitty proposal.”

“Good thing it wasn’t a proposal, then.”

“Then what were you saying? Because I don’t want the kid to be a bastard. Less likelihood of one of your brethren eating it.”

“Well,” Cameron said. “You’re not wrong.”

That was comforting.

Cameron sighed and scratched his face. “What I was saying, before you rudely interrupted me, was that there is a way to legitimize the child, without marriage. However, that is through a mating bond. I am willing to provide one if it will protect the child.”

Nik stared at him, mouth slightly open. “You what.”

The annoyance returned to Cameorn’s face. “Nikolas, you know I detest repeating myself.”

“Yeah, well, I detest getting punched in the face with that kind of offer, Cameron, so excuse me if I’m a little surprised.”

“Do you or do you not accept.”

Nik fell silent. “Cameron?”

“Hm?”

I love you was on the tip of his tongue, but he knew it would make Cameron uncomfortable, and Nik cared enough about Cameron’s boundaries to not push it. So instead he said, “Thank you.”

The smallest crease appeared between Cameron’s brows. “For?”

“Seeing me.”

----

Lev tried not to let it bother him that Cameron had cleaned up his mess with the plates before he could get to it. And he tried not to let it bother him that Nik was being quiet, and even a little hesitant around him. The unspoken trauma that he knew Nik and Cameron both carried was something that they’d all avoided talking about in the time Lev knew them, but he didn’t like knowing he was the one to trigger Nik’s.

So Lev spent his time napping, as he had for the past month or so, hoping that sleep would magically cure the fact that he’d been dead not too long ago. Or at least make everything hurt a little less. It hadn’t helped anything. Telling them. And maybe that was because of how he’d told them about the pregnancy he’d hidden and lost. The bitter taste of anger still frightened him; it wasn’t natural for him. It felt wrong.

It took Lev a good long while to realize Cameron was leaning against the doorway. Lev tucked his arm under his cheek so he could peer at Cameron a bit more, and gave a quiet, “Hi. Everything okay?”

“Ash will be here in a little bit. You need to get out of bed.”

Lev blinked. Cameron was already gone, so Lev slid out of bed, pausing long enough to slide on one of Nik’s hoodies that he’d stolen several days ago. He figured that and the pair of boxers he’d slept in were good enough. He stuffed his hands in the pockets and shuffled after Cameron. At least he was allowed to nowadays. He nodded awkwardly at the sentries he passed, and found Cameron, as expected, in the kitchen.

Lev settled at the table, watching Cameron make lunch. “Do you want to talk about...” He hesitated, and just left it at that.

Cameron glanced up at him. “Start talking.”

Fair enough. “I never got the chance to decide if I was going to tell you,” Lev admitted quietly. “Before I died. That I was pregnant.”

Cameron was quiet for a minute. “Did you have it confirmed?”

Lev hesitated. “No,” he admitted. “But too many... symptoms lined up. I didn’t get the chance. I just panicked. I couldn’t think.”

“Sounds about right. It was your choice either way, about what to do about it. I’m sure I would have agreed with whatever you wanted.”

“I know,” Lev said. “Just from how you’re handling Nik’s pregnancy.” He watched Cameron for a few minutes, and then said, “He knew. When he killed me.”

Cameron looked his way, for a bit. Lev waited him out patiently, but in the end Cameron said, “That does sound like my brother.”

With a sigh, Lev looked down at the table. “There’s more,” he said eventually. “He said Eden is his.” He mulled over the memories, trying not to flinch at the fresh reminder of pain. “He... implied there might be more than just Eden. But he could have been- by that point I was very confused.”

Cameron gave a forceful sigh, and said, “That also sounds like my brother,” before going back to chopping vegetables.

Lev nodded slowly. “I wanted it,” He finally admitted. “I still do. And it kills me that- I lost it.”

“What would you like me to do?”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Lev replied. “It’s not- I just have to learn how to live with it. And... making sure Nik is healthy and as close to happy as we can get him is more important. But I thought- if it had to come out, you should know, I probably- I would have chosen to keep the baby.”

Cameron put down the knife. He rubbed his eyes, before saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“I left,” Lev replied. “And you said you wouldn’t make me stay. I made that choice. It was a terrible one, and I lost everything because of it. But it was mine.” He tapped his fingers on the table.

“Well.” Cameron said. “Do you want another one?”

Lev blinked. “Eventually,” he admitted after a moment. “But not now. I don’t want to- Nik comes first. He needs us more than I want a child. I waited almost a hundred and fifty years to find someone I felt safe enough to want a child with anyone. I can wait more, if that’s an open ended offer.”

“We’ll see.”

Lev had to smother the instinct to try to take it back, to ask if they could- but he’d meant it. Nik needed him. And Lev had Eden. Would have whatever child Nik did, if Nik decided to keep it. And besides. Things were... messy right now.

“Cameron?” Lev said quietly. “I’m... I’m sorry. And I know words won’t fix what I did. So I’ll do my best to show it. Everything, but especially what happened with Nik.”

“Yes,” Cameron said, icily. “I imagine you would feel sorry for telling a suicidal nineteen year old to stay dead.” Cameron went back to slicing vegetables with careful precision. “I’m sure Nik has forgiven you, though.”

“He’s not the only person I wronged, though,” Lev replied.

“Hm.”

Lev waited, but when nothing else was forthcoming, he nodded at nothing. Rather than continue digging, he settled his chin on his hands and watched Cameron cook in silence. When Cameron put a fancy salad in front of him, Lev mumbled a thank you and poked at it and blinked gratefully at Cameron when he handed Lev some ranch.

While Lev dug in with a little more enthusiasm, Cameron left, presumably to go get Nik. When Nik plopped down beside him, he looked a little sick. Lev patted his knee in comfortingly, but Nik just wrinkled his nose.

“What are we? Rabbits? I thought demons eat people. Why the fuck are we eating salads?”

“There’s chicken in the salad,” Lev offered helpfully. “It’s healthy to eat a vegetable or two, Nik.”

“Yeah, if you’re a rabbit.”

Lev bit his shoulder lightly. “Or in need of some vitamins.”

Nik shot him a dirty glare. “Fine,” he grumbled.

Lev hummed and took another bite.

Ash showed up while Cameronw as cleaning up, before Lev could go back to bed. Probably for the best. Ash hadn’t approved the amount of moping Lev had been doing lately. Lev waved at Ash, giving a small hello.

Ash lifted a brow. “Hi.”

Lev watched Ash for a moment, and then said, “How’s Lucas?”

Ash smiled. “An angel. Compared to Eden.”

“Do you know when we can bring her home?” Lev asked hesitantly. He missed his little monster, and he was quite sure she missed him too.

“I’m sure Bay would let you take her right now, if you wanted.”

Lev perked up a little, but then settled again. “We can’t until you say I’m healthy enough to handle it,” he said solemnly. “And I don’t want to rush it and get sick again, if you don't think I am.”

“Well. I think one final check up is in place. You seem to be keeping your food down. And, you know, not dying. Maybe then you can bring her home.”

Lev nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Okay,” he said agreeably. “Can we start?”

--

“So it looks like you’re doing pretty good,” Ash confirmed an hour later. “All things considered anyway. But you shouldn’t strain yourself or push your luck. I don’t want you lifting more than thirty pounds until I give the okay.”

Lev nodded vigorously. “I understand,” he promised.

Ash stared him down. “If you lift more than that, I will know.” Coming from Ash, that was more a threat than a promise.

“I know,” Lev promised.

“Good,” Ash said. “Bay also wants to see you.”

If it hadn’t been that tone, Lev might not have paid attention. “See me?” Lev asked slowly. “Or... see me see me?”

“What do you think?”

Right. Lev swallowed. “When?” He finally asked.

“Well,” Ash said, “As soon as I gave the green light. And I just did.”

“O-oh.” Lev looked down at what he was wearing. Still in boxers and Nik’s hoodie. “I should get dressed, then,” he said. “And... ask Cameron to drive me?”

“Probably a good idea. I doubt you can drive.”

Lev shook his head, flushing. He stood, looking to Cameron, who had stuck around. “Is that okay?”

Cameron nodded. “Go get ready.”

Lev nodded. “I’ll get Nik?” he said, backing for the door.

“He’s by the pool.”

Lev scooted down the hall, trotting to the pool. Nik was on the edge of the pool, feet in the water. “Nik,” Lev said. “I gotta go see Bay,” he said, settling beside Nik.

Nik toed the water. “Hm?”

“I don't think this is the sort of talk I can wear just your hoodie and some jeans to,” he said. “You know more about clothes. Can you help me?”

Nik splashed the water a bit with his foot, and then stood. He pulled Lev towards the house again. “I think I got something you can wear.”

Lev nodded, tucking himself into Nik’s side. Nik pulled away only to go digging through Lev’s closet. While he waited, Lev settled on the bed. He pulled off Nik’s hoodie and folded it while he waited for Nik to pull things out.

Eventually Lev found himself dressed in dark jeans and a grey henley. Nik stuck him in a blazer and tried to put him in a pair of white sneakers.

“Aren’t my converse good enough?” Lev protested.

“Considering you came to me for fashion advice, what do you think?”

“That I’m going to be very uncomfortable,” Lev mumbled, reaching for the shoes Nik picked.

“Well it either these or dress shoes,” Nik said, even as Lev put them on. Lev stuck his tongue out at Nik in reply. Nik just lifted an eyebrow. Instead of saying anything, Lev kissed his cheek.

“Are you ready yet?” Cameron asked from the doorway.

Lev pulled away from Nik. “Do I look okay?”

“You look like a gay high school principal,” Nik said solemnly, just as Cameron said, “You look respectable.”

He felt ridiculous, but he supposed that would have to do. He fussed with the blazer and looked at Nik. “Anything else I need?”

Nik pursed his lips. “Spectacles?”

“I can see just fine, Nikolas.”

“I didn’t say you were blind,” Nik said. “I just said you needed glasses.”

Cameron looked annoyed, but Nik’s teasing had eased some of Lev’s anxiety. He took Nik’s hand, and said firmly, “No glasses,” before looking at Cameron. “I think I’m ready to go now?”

Cameron’s answer was to simply leave, so Lev tugged Nik along after. He opened the front seat door for Nik.

Nik made a face. “Is this because I’m pregnant?”

Lev kissed his nose. “It’s because I’m a romantic. And a thank you for helping me figure out what to wear.”

“Uh huh,” Nik said, sliding into his seat.

Lev decided to ignore that, and got in the backseat.

---

It surprised no one that Eden was throwing a fit when they got there. Lev could hear her before Silas even opened the door. The bigger angel stared down at him with wide eyes, like he didn’t really believe Lev was there, but Lev peered around him.

“Is Eden okay?” Lev blurted.

Silas blinked, stepping back automatically. “Uh, yeah. She just- I don’t even know, she’s just angry.”

“Hm,” Lev said, ducking around him. He didn’t have to go far to see Eden tottering down the hallway, screeching around a stuffed giraffe with big black tears rolling down her grey cheeks. She stopped when she saw him so abruptly she fell back on her butt, which really only made her wails get louder.

Lev was quick to scoop her up, murmuring comfort to her as he settled on the floor. When Eden tried to smack him, he caught her little hand easily, and despite that, she settled somewhat.

By the time Eden calmed, Lev realized that Bay and Nate were there. The moment Lev locked eyes with Bay, however, Bay said, “My office.”

Lev pulled himself to his feet and handed Eden off to Cameron, wiping a few tears off her face before following Bay back to his office.

After a moment of hesitation, Lev settled in a chair, trying not to fidget as he waited for Bay to start talking.

“I see that you’re not dead.”

Lev nodded. “I think it was a bit touch and go there for a little bit,” he admitted. After a second, he added, “Once they brought me back. I was definitely dead for a bit there.”

“Ash did seem irritable lately.”

Lev winced at that. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

Bay leaned back in his chair, watching him expectantly. “Ash is always like that,” he eventually said.

“Oh.” Lev considered that. “I didn’t see much of him before I died. I think the last time I saw him for any extended time was the night I left Remiel.” He thought for another second. “He seemed irritable then, too, now that I think about it.”

“Hm,” Bay said.

Lev fiddled with his sleeve.

“I’m assuming that Ash told you I wanted to speak to you now that you’re not in danger of dying again.”

After a second, Lev nodded. “He did,” he finally said.

“I’m assuming you know why.”

Lev stared at him for the longest moment. Eventually he said, trying very hard to not sound unsure, “It’s about Nik. Or- what I did while I was dead, with Nik- and- that.”

“It has nothing to do with Nik, and everything to do with the fact that you ignored and disobeyed a direct order from your king.”

“Oh,” Lev said in a small voice. “I- oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

Lev swallowed. “I don’t have any excuses,” he finally said. “And I’m not going to waste your time trying to think of any.”

“Probably wise. You don’t need to dig yourself a deeper hole.”

Lev watched Bay for several awkward minutes. “I’m assuming there’s consequences,” he finally said.

“Correct.”

“Okay,” Lev said simply. Hadn’t he asked for exactly that, days ago when he’d shattered Cameron’s dishes?

“I’ll even let you choose.”

That got a blink from Lev. “Choose?”

“Well I was thinking nineteen years imprisonment, no contact with outside sources,” Bay said. “All your assets and lands would be seized, all titles forfeit. You would have nothing and be nothing.”

Nineteen years. One for every one that Nik had lived, Lev assumed. “And the other option?” he finally said.

“Exile with the same stipulations, except it’s for fifty-seven years,” Bay said levelly. “I’ll leave the choice to you. Choose now.”

For a few moments, Lev stared blankly, thoughts spinning too fast to catch. After a couple heartbeats, though, he forced himself to focus. “I can’t- I won't - put Eden though losing me again,” he said finally. “I’ll- I’ll go into exile. She needs me.”

“Fine. You’ll have twenty-four hours to say your goodbyes and leave the territory. If you’re still here when your twenty-four hours are up, you’ll spend the fifty-seven years in a cell.”

It took a few seconds to click. “O-oh. Okay.” He stood, and then hesitated. “Thank you. You didn’t have to give me any time at all.”

“I know,” Bay said. “My actions have consequences too.”

Lev backed out of the room, sidestepping sentries until he could lean against a wall and breathe. He wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision, but- he’d missed four months of Eden’s life. He’d missed her first steps. He didn’t want to miss anything else.

To his surprise, no one interrupted him. He had all the time and space he needed to gather himself before he went to find the others.

Nate was the first person he ran into. Guilt twisted Lev’s stomach up in knots, but he blurted out a quick and fierce, “I am so sorry,” before Nate could say anything at all.

Even Nate’s kindness was clearly strained. “You should be,” Nate replied. “You almost cost me my brother.”

“I know,” Lev said in a small voice. “I wasn’t- I was wrong. He’s so young. And I was selfish. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for even a fraction of what I would have cost everyone if he’d stayed dead. He deserves that and so much more.”

Nate cocked his head, but didn’t say anything at all.

“I know Nik forgave me, but he shouldn’t have. I haven’t done anything to deserve it yet.”

“Hm. Of course he did. Nik will forgive anyone he loves.”

The fact that Nate, of all people, was being so abrupt with him hurt. Nate was the kindest person Lev had ever met. But Lev’s betrayal had cut deep, and he knew it. “I’ll take care of him,” Lev promised, forcing some spine in his tone. “I promise.”

“Good. Be sure that you do.”

Lev nodded, and slipped around him. He found them in the kitchen. Cameron was holding Eden, looking annoyed, and Nik was sitting at the counter, chewing anxiously on one of his bracelets. The first thing Nik said when he saw Lev was, “Are you okay?”

At some point Bay had joined the rest of them, and had Lucas in his arms. Lev glanced in his direction as he crossed the room to Nik’s side. Lev leaned into Nik, pressing his nose to Nik’s neck. “I’m okay,” he promised. He looked at Cameron anxiously. “I’m being exiled, for fifty-seven years.”

Cameron didn’t even blink. “I suppose that’s better than the alternative.”

Lev winced. “The other option was being in a cell for nineteen years.” He could feel Nik tensing underneath him.

“That’s bullshit,” Nik said loudly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Eden was getting restless, giving a small cry

“Yes, I did. Bay ordered me to leave you alone. I did not. Technically, disobeying my king is a form of treason,” Lev offered softly.

“Yeah, well, that’s because Bay’s an emotionally constipated dick,” Nik retorted.

Nate gave a small, “Nik, please. There are two infants in the house.”

Lev fisted his hand in Nik’s shirt, biting Nik’s shoulder in warning. “It’s okay,” he said as firmly as he could, before looking at Cam. “I can stay, can't I?” He stopped, and then asked, “I mean, can I stay?” He didn’t add that he didn't have anywhere to go; it would have felt manipulative.

“Of course you can stay, that’s your home,” Nik said sharply.

Lev pulled back, looking at him. “It’s not my house,” he said simply. “It’s why I’m asking Cameron.” He switched his gaze to Cameron. “After everything, you have every right to say no.”

Cameron bounced Eden lightly. “Nik wants you there.” That seemed to be the end of what Cameron wanted to say.

Lev touched Nik’s chest lightly. Before he could figure out what to say, Nik once again tensed underneath him. Lev followed his gaze to the man that stood in the doorway. He looked almost like Nate, with the fine boned features and longer hair. It took several seconds to recognize him as Az’ril.

Nik and Nate’s father.

Out of the corner of Lev’s eye he saw Nate looked at the ground. Nik, on the other hand, glared at his father. “What are you doing here?” Nik demanded hotly. “Scare any children lately?”

Az’ril leveled Nik a look. “Nikolas. I see you’re just as crass as ever.”

Nik pursed his lips, but before he could say anything, Bay said, “Az’ril that’s enough. You’re here to see me.” Bay handed Lucas to Nate. “We’ll take this to my office.”

As Az’ril left, Lev realized Nik was trembling. When he realized Cameron was approaching, he moved so Cameron could hand Eden over.

Lev swallowed. “Can you take me to see Reneé and Amara?” he asked Cameron.

“We should probably get going then. You can’t have long before your sentence goes into effect.”

He wasn’t wrong. Lev caressed Eden’s cheek lightly.

“Do you want to take Eden with you?” Nate offered. “It won’t take long to pack up her stuff.”

Lev looked to Cameron hopefully. “Can we?”

Cameron inclined his head. “Might as well.”

Lev smiled at Nate. “Can I help pack?”

---

Lev tried to stay engaged on the ride to Reneé’s apartment. She seemed happier, with her own place, andfreer, almost. Amara never showed up, even though Lev texted her to let her know what was going on. He tried not to be hurt by that, and spent a lot of time hugging Raziel. Cin lurked, but he ruffled Lev’s hair when he left, though he gave Eden a wide berth.

On the way home though, it was a struggle to keep his attention on Eden. Nik was quiet too, and since Cameron didn’t bother to put on music, Eden’s babbles were the only sounds in the car.

Cameron whisked Eden away, likely to feed her and put her to bed, so Lev wandered to his bedroom and flopped down, kicking off the stupid sneakers as he did. Nik settled beside him, watching him with an unreadable expression.

“You okay?” he finally asked.

Despite his best efforts, Lev’s eyes burned. “I’m fine,” he forced out.

Nik’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you didn’t lie to me.”

Lev considered that, and found himself closer to tears. He too a few breaths before reaching for Nik’s hand. Nik let him press it to his heart, feel the steady, if a bit fast, rhythm there. “I- I’m here. I’m home. And I’ll get to be here to raise Eden. I- I consider that just fine.” He licked his lips as he tried to explain why his chest felt so tight. It didn’t help to watch Nik’s lips thin, but Lev made himself go on. “But- even though I never considered angel territory a home- it was just where I lived. I wasn’t happy there, Nik. I didn’t feel- few enough liked me. But I still feel like I lost something today. I don’t regret choosing you and Eden over a shorter sentence. I don’t. I won’t, ever. But- I’m sad. I’m... grieving, and it feels- sounds- stupid to say that.”

“Well, yeah, I imagine being forcefully evicted from your home for the last hundred and forty years and all of your shit taken from you hurts a little bit. Even if you do romanticize it.”

Confusion was strong enough Lev’s tears never made it to his cheeks. “What do you mean romanticize it?”

“Saying that Eden and me are enough,” Nik said, sharply. “That because you love us, that's enough. It was still where you lived. It was where your family is, where you grew up. A hundred and forty years in one place and you’re perfectly ‘fine’ as you put it. That suffocating shithole is still my home, even if I was miserable there, because even if you hated it, it made you, you. So yeah. I’d say you were lying to me.”

Lev blinked. “This is why I forget how young you are,” he mumbled. “You make more sense than I ever did at nineteen.” Closing his eyes felt like a betrayal, so he just squeezed Nik’s fingers where they pressed to his chest. “I spoke the truth as I understood it,” he finally said. “But you’re not wrong. It’s... it’s a lot. And I don’t know how to process it yet. I don’t think I want to.”

Nik yanked his hand back. “Will you stop saying how young I am? I am perfectly aware of how old I am.” There was something hard in his face. “You don’t seem to care how young I am when you suck my dick.”

Now that one hurt. Because Nik was right. Lev watched him warily, unsure of how to respond just yet. It wasn’t like he could apologize. He knew how Nik flinched when someone said sorry around him. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he finally said. “I’m not good at- talking about the important things. I’m trying to be better, and it’s good that you call me out on it. Right now...” Lev trailed off, thinking hard. “Right now, I’m feeling a lot, and I don’t want to. Deflecting was automatic. I didn’t mean to lie.”

Nik watched him long enough Lev wanted to squirm. Eventually, he said, “Sure. We should probably go get Eden settled.”

Lev nodded. “Give me a few minutes?” He asked. “I’ll follow soon?”

“Okay,” Nik said, rolling off the bed.

Lev waited until it was quiet, tucking his arm under his cheek. “Darius?” he whispered. There was no answer, but Lev hadn’t expected one. “Did I make the right decision?” he asked anyway. A lump was forming, and he hated it. Hated how quick he was to cry. It made him feel weak. Childish. “Should I have come back at all? I keep making things worse.”

Something cold touched his cheek, and a shiver went down his spine. It felt like it was leeching all the feeble warmth he’d produced, especially as that cold traced down his throat.

Lev was out of the bed before he could think about it. Whatever he was supposed to understand from that didn’t matter. He took off his blazer and threw it on the bed before he followed Nik to the kitchen. He’d think about it later. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

---

Amara was exhausted by the time she made it to Biela’s palace. She’d flown the whole way there. Hadn’t even bothered to take her motorcycle. She made her way past the gates, trying to get her panting under control.

After searching the halls for a bit, Amara had herself a little more under control. Somewhere along the fifth corridor she wandered, haf hoping she didn’t find Biela, she ran into Dacia.

The plump, blonde angel sized her up with a knowing eye. “You look a little lost.” Despite those words, Dacia had a kindness to her. It reminded Amara a little of Nate, whose sheer goodness made Amara feel... a little guilty sometimes.

“I’m looking for Biela,” Amara admitted.

“I assumed. Would you like me to take you to her? Or would you like to stay a little lost for a while longer?”

Amara managed a small smile. “I have a bit of a time sensitive conversation,” she said. “As much as I’d like to be a little lost a while longer, I think I should... probably bite the bullet.”

This time Dacia looked a little grim. “Fair enough. She’s in her dance studio. I’ll take you to her.”

Amara looked down at the floor as she followed. She only looked up when they approached a pair of double doors Amara recognized. She waited until Dacia had stepped inside to poke her head in. Biela was not in her usual outfit, and she looked sweaty. If she was tired, it didn’t show.

The music Amara had barely noticed stopped the moment Biela looked her way. “What do you want?”

“Bay exiled Lev,” Amara said before she could stop herself.

“I’m aware,” Biela said. “I’m failing to see your point.”

“I made the poor choice of not keeping you informed once. I won’t do it again.” Amara fought to keep her voice steady. “I came to ask you to consider mercy. If you’ve not decided whether or not he can stay in your lands, I- he has nowhere else to go. I just- please.”

“Stop groveling. You sound pathetic.”

Amara straightened - stiffened.

Biela reached for a towel, patting her face. “Him not having anywhere else to go sounds like a poor choice on his part.”

“He made that choice because Eden needs him.”

“What is one child to thousands?” Biela asked. “That child is not your cousin’s. He has no right to her, or to be in my lands. He offers me nothing. I have to make the right decision for my people. Not an angel.”

“Then I don’t have any argument for you,” Amara replied quietly, her heart cracking just a little. “All I can do is ask for your mercy.”

Biela gave her a little smile. It wasn’t one bit friendly.

“Biela,” Dacia said softly.

Biela flicked Dacia a sharp look. “Don’t call me that.”

This time Dacia smiled, the expression small, and maybe a little fond. “Bea,” she corrected herself.

This time Biela looked a bit satisfied. “What will you give me? How much is your cousin’s life worth to you?”

“Anything,” Amara breathed. “I did all of this so he could be happy. I’ll do anything to give him that chance again.”

Biela lifted her chin ever so slightly. “Fine. I’ll restrict him to Cameron’s house. You will not see him again.” Dacia made a small noise. Biela looked a little annoyed, but added, “Until I feel otherwise. Any contact and he’s back in the ground.”

Amara swallowed the lump in her throat. “Okay,” she whispered. “Thank you, Majesty” she added, more clearly, flicking a look to Dacia to let her know she was included in Amara’s feverish gratitude.

“Anything else you came to beg me for?” Biela asked, drawing Amara’s attention back to her.

“If there’s anything I can do to- to at least- ease the effects of what I did- even if it costs me my life- I’ll do it,” Amara said, even though she knew it was stupid.

“Do not tempt me,” Biela said, turning away in a dismissal even before she clipped out a curt, “Leave.”

Tagging:  @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #angels and demons #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: eden #ch: ash #ch: bay #ch: nate #cameron and nik and lev

[silverhandy]

House call - chapter 2

Chapter 1 I ao3

    Through his career, he’s been to a lot of places of varying degrees of decay, from the long-abandoned hotels subjected to evergoing gang disputes to the city’s garbage dump stretching miles upon miles outside of the city, a sea of trash and metal, often twisted into unrecognizable shapes, piling up into mountains, where every step meant a very real risk of slipping and impaling himself on a rust-bitten shard. Hidden in between were those unfortunate enough to end their journey in a place like this, abandoned by their rivals or hitmen too lazy to attempt hiding a body within the guts of the city. If they had a working car, and almost all of them did, it was way easier to just drive whatever was left of their target and dump it to be devoured by rats and whatever else evolved enough to survive in a place like this. Sometimes they wouldn’t even bother to check if the person they were leaving there was actually dead, hence the reason why he’d sometimes get calls begging him to fish a guy (or lady) down on their luck out. He found himself digging through trash more often than not, futile in his attempts to pinpoint his awaiting patient’s location. When he was starting out, the thought of giving up his search wouldn’t even cross his mind, he’d spend hours looking, even dragging along metal cutters with him, figuring they’d come in handy. They probably would’ve if not for the fact that he often wasn’t even able to find the person who called him, localization data too patchy to give him a solid lead on where he should even start.

    After a while, when he established himself and lost some of his rookie idealism, he put in a disclaimer that he wouldn’t go trash diving anymore, no matter the pay. A small step, but even at the beginning he tried to have standards.

    V’s apartment was far from Night City’s biggest trash dump, but something about the chaos within it reminded him of that when he switched on the lights. As if the hurricane had swept through the place, some of the furniture was tilted over, a pile of clothes, dangerously balanced on an overfilled laundry basket, threatened to collapse and spill over at any moment. A half-finished box of noodles laid abandoned on the counter, accompanied by a mosaic of pills from a knocked over bottle.

    Viktor found V curled up on the floor next to her bed, wearing a washed-out Samurai t-shirt and sweatpants, covers dragged along with her halfway between the linoleum and the mattress. He could barely see her face from the way she was bundled up. V didn’t move upon hearing his footsteps, didn’t even flinch when he kneeled next to her and reached out a hand to touch her shoulder.

    The ripper dropped the heavy bag at his side and gently cupped V’s face in his hands, wincing at how burned up the woman’s skin was, and turned it so he could take a quick glance. V’s eyes were rolled far back into her skull. Viktor started to have an idea of what he was dealing with here, has seen the wreckage that offensive hacking can cause many times before. They usually started out slow, identical to a bad case of flu but then, if dismissed, proceeded to stir fry one’s brain until not much was left.

    Viktor opened his bag and pulled out a small, remote biomonitor. It took a few seconds to fully calibrate, but eventually, the screen lit up.

    ‘V, can you hear me?’ he asked, not counting on her to answer. 'I’m going to connect your personal link now and see what’s going on in there, okay?' he reached for her wrist, already feeling her racing pulse, and connected it to the device. While it was loading, Viktor propped it up on the wall and grabbed V to lay her on her back to make the job easier for himself, and pulled out a few small gel-filled Ice-Pax. He knew she probably needed more, but those will have to do for now.

    Just as Viktor placed two under her arms and another on her groin, the monitor beeped. He reached over her to grab it and swiftly ran a basic diagnostics program, but save for the things he already knew, it didn’t spew out anything interesting. She was vastly overheated and her blood pressure shot up to a point where an angrily red window kept popping up to inform him of a 72% percent chance of an incoming cardiac event, but he dismissed it for now. Instead, Viktor chose a different angle and ran a more advanced version of the program, letting it comb through V’s frontal cortex and RAM.

    ‘There’s the rub’ he hummed to himself as the program kindly highlighted the results. He let out a long sigh. If V had come to see him a day earlier, he’d fix it in five minutes and she wouldn’t even notice, but now she’ll be out of commission for at least a week before she can even get out of bed. He’ll have to tell her a thing or two about responsibility, not that she’d listen to him anyway. Patients never did, but it still might be worth a shot.

    Viktor typed a few commands to enclose the scrambled code from her RAM and before pulling out V’s personal link, copied her real-time vitals chart onto his interface. After it appeared within his field of vision, he pulled out a worn-out connecting cord that he’s been promising himself he’d replace for ages now and inserted it into the neural port at V’s nape to get a better working field, now that he knew what the problem was. RAM damages were problematic in their very nature but pretty easy to fix once caught, not much of his medical knowledge needed. Viktor simply fired up what ripperdocs tended to call a “palate cleanser” and let it do the work, putting back together what the bug has managed to break.

    While the program was fixing up V’s tech, Viktor got to work on her body. Flipping the ice packs, he took a quick glance at her temperature and was glad to see that it had started to slowly go down, followed by her pulse and blood pressure, all three leaving the life-threatening territory. None of them were quite to his liking just yet, but at least now Viktor was sure V would pull through. Reaching into his bag, he eventually found an IV set, but decided it’d be better to move her onto the bed first, sparing himself all the gymnastics with the tubing and cables. Minding the biomonitor still plugged into her, Viktor leaned down to lift V and put her on the bed. She was quite heavy, the dead weight of her limp body adding to the feeling, but he didn’t even break a sweat carrying her. Taking the covers from the floor, he put them on her, straightening the wrinkled material intuitively.

    Having done that, Viktor grabbed her arm and carefully inserted the needle. To his relief, it went in on the first try. Glad he didn’t need to poke her any more than necessary, Viktor looked around and realized that V didn’t have anything even remotely resembling an IV stand, but when he looked up, he noticed a small hook, probably remains of a poster frame, conveniently placed over the bed. Stepping up on the edge of the bed frame, he placed the bag there, and after making sure that everything was in place, let it drip. That should do the job, maybe paired up with a shot of dopabenzamine if she won’t improve in the next few hours.

    Viktor let out a deep sigh of relief, feeling as if he’s been holding his breath ever since V called. Biomonitor’s estimated time kept shifting but eventually settled on six hours and twenty-three minutes. Viktor nodded to himself and turned around to take another look at the mess that V’s apartment has turned into. He leaned down and reached under the covers to grab the unpleasantly warm ice packs, and throw them in the freezer, wondering if he should clean up, just a little bit. Would V get mad at him for snooping around? Then again, she’ll need a few days to recover and this ever-growing mess around her surely won’t help. Or should he ask Misty? They were closer, he was pretty sure that she’s been over at V’s place at some point.

    Maybe he shouldn’t be overthinking this. Just a little bit, he told himself as he gathered the pills spilled on the counter, inspecting the label while he was at it. Strong shit, impossible to get by simply waltzing into a pharmacy. Viktor made a mental note to ask about it later, just to make sure that V doesn’t swallow these like candy. Of course she doesn’t, he reprimanded himself. She’s an adult, a stupid, reckless one, but an adult nevertheless. It still won’t hurt to bring it up, though.

    He put it back into the medicine cabinet and returned to the kitchen to deal with the noodles, and since they were on the verge of no longer being edible, he just tossed them into the trash can, along with other unfinished takeout he found in various places around the apartment. He didn’t want to snoop through V’s things, so he just folded the clothes that were sprawled all over the floor and couch and put them in a neat pile. When he was done, the place looked somehow presentable, so he settled on the couch opposite V’s bed.

    She appeared to be sleeping, although far from soundly. No longer completely unconscious, she kept tossing and turning, her face grimacing as her recovering brain no doubt served her a concoction of fever dreams.

    Just as Viktor leaned down to relax a little, he heard a ping of an incoming text message. He pulled it up

Misty

>that lady from Biotechnica is here to see you again, but you don’t seem to be in, what should I tell her?

                                                                                              >Tell her to fuck off

                                                        >I’m at V’s and have to stay for a few more                                                              hours, she screwed herself up real bad this                                                            time

>oh no what happened>

>?

                                                         >I’ll tell you all about it later, I got it covered                                                             for now

    He fully expected Misty to call him, alarmed, but apparently, he managed to reassure her just enough. He leaned back and closed his eyes, just for a second, but must’ve dozed off at some point, exhausted after over twenty hours without a chance for a shuteye. When he woke, a groan escaped his lips as the stiffness of his neck hit him with full force.

    That’s what you get for sleeping sitting up, old man, he told himself as he reached to grab his glasses off the floor. They must’ve slipped off at some point during his nap. Viktor stood up and stretched until he heard his joints crack. Still tired, he rubbed his eyes in a futile attempt to wake himself up and walked up to V’s bed to check on her. When he reached for the biomonitor to check the progress bar and see how long he’s been sleeping, V moved slightly. She opened her eyes and scanned the room, looking right over him, and furrowed her eyebrows. Finally, she looked up and saw Vik standing next to the bed and her expression went from blank to confused.

    ‘Vik? What…’ V cleared her throat. ‘What are you doin’ here?’

    ‘You don’t remember calling me?

    ‘Not quite’ she bit her lip, trying to gather her thoughts. ‘It’s a bit of a blur. I was feeling like absolute shit after that last job, thought I could just sleep it off.’ she said quietly, propping her head upon her elbow. ‘I didn’t expect it to grow into...whatever that was.’

    “A neurogenic cybervirus is what that is. Invisible until it starts to fry your brain. You gave me quite a fright.’

    “Fuck. I knew something was off about that netrunner, after she...eh, nevermind. Vik..how long have you been here anyway?

    ‘Uh,’ Viktor took a quick glance at the biomonitor ‘seven hours, give or take?

    ‘Fucking hell. I’m..’ she looked at him apologetically. ‘I’m gonna pay you back. What’s your house call fee again? I don't remember it being listed…’

    ‘Nah, it’s okay. I usually don’t do house calls, so consider that a favor. Just promise me that when you feel something’s off after a job, you’ll come to see me right away. There’s a lot of real vile stuff out there and you won’t even know until it gets you. That’s what you have me for.’

    ‘Sure, dad. You can spare me the lecture' she chuckled. ‘But for real, Vik. Thank you.’

    ‘No problem, really.’ he grabbed the biomonitor. Four minutes left. ‘You’re gonna feel like you were hit by a truck for the next few days, but there shouldn’t be any lasting damage. I’ll check up on you in a few days and send in Misty or Jackie in the meantime to help you out since I’d rather you didn’t get out of bed more often than necessary. Next time you see me, consider getting that new set of optics and a gun grip. Might save your ass next time someone attempts to do you dirty like his.’

    Something akin to a smile appeared on her face. ‘Doctor’s orders?’

    ‘Doctor’s orders.’

#viktor vector #female v #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk fic #victor vector #my writing

[atmilliways]

And if you'd like another one, Charles & Melmord - 22(drunk) !

Okie, here it is. Warnings for, let’s see... Mature rating, Questionable employer/employee relationship, references to extensive scarring, and a Pity Handjob. 

At the first opportunity after he’d been weaned off the pain medication and was no longer under quite so much surveillance, Melmord tracked down some booze and got drunk. He hadn’t found much, but after an interminable stay in the hospital, living on IVs and hospital food, it didn’t take much either and hit him a lot harder and a lot faster than he’d expected. 

How Charles knew to find him in the communal employee kitchen—one of hundreds, probably, but the closest to his new, starkly furnished room—he would never know. By that point he was already swaying in his chair and didn’t think to ask. 

“Having a, ah, little nightcap there, hm?” the man said as he took a seat directly across the table. 

“Fuck you,” Melmord muttered into his bottle. 

Charles shrugged, blank expression unchanging. “Suit yourself. But if you end up putting yourself back in urgent care with alcohol poisoning, any time off is coming directly out of your salary.”

“You don’ give a shit.” 

“Not really, no. But you’re an investment of Dethklok Inc. now, and it’s my job to protect the band’s assets.” 

Melmord took another drink, trying to forget all the stupid choices he’d made to end up here . . . up to and including everything that had happened on that rooftop. Signing that contract didn’t even make the list; by the time it came to that, his course had already been irrevocably locked in. He hadn’t bothered to read the fine print. Hell, fuck reading—on the first attempt he’d signed the bit of bare hospital tray next to it. But it was a contract drawn up by Charles Offdensen, the man who had stabbed him and thrown him off a roof mid-blowjob, and that didn’t bode well. 

He found that he didn’t much care. The booze was definitely helping with that, so he downed another mouthful. As numb as he was becoming, it still burned pleasantly on the way down. 

“Why’re you here?” he mumbled, and heard that his voice was tougher than usual from the drink and whatever emotions his body was going through that he was too drunk to feel. The disconnect reminded him of being in the hospital. 

Instead of answering, Charles just shrugged. Melmord stared at his blank face and wondered if he even fucking knew. If anyone fucking knew anything. Of course they didn’t—life was one big hustle and the universe was in charge of the game, which was always fixed. 

“Why’re you here,” Melmord mumbled again, more to himself this time. The next swig from his bottle missed his mouth and slopped down his chin, leaving him staring stupidly down and wondering how his shirt had gotten so wet. He pawed at it, then rose swaying to his feet. “I gotta . . . go laundry. Go do laundry. Only have the one shirt.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been issued a week’s worth of work shirts, Fjordslorn.”

“They ain’t mine,” Melmord spat back. His hands latched onto the back of the chair he’d just vacated—probably that chair. He didn’t know anymore. He wasn’t sure where his room was anymore or how to get back to it. All the hallways looked the same; all of Mordhaus was a fucking murder labyrinth, the innards of a beast that had swallowed him whole and now had only to sit back and digest. 

He let do of the chair and took a first wobbly step, only to stumble and fall into a very solid chest. Blinking, trying to focus, a suit and bright red tie swam into his field of vision. 

“It’s this way,” Charles said in his usual, flat, carefully removed voice. Not trying to blunt the edges of anything. (Good, Melmord thought. Maybe by falling on those edges he could kill himself for good this time, and not have to come back to all this.) The man seemed to have a knack for guiding drunkards though, because they were in his room with minimal delays or arguments in no time. 

Melmord started haphazardly undoing his shirt buttons as soon as they stepped inside, not wanting to spend another second than necessary in his wet, wasted smelling only real shirt. Charles continued holding him upright while he did so, without comment. 

But halfway through unbuttoning, a thought hit Melmord like a bolt of lightning. He paused and asked, “You wanna fuck me?”

“Not particularly,” Charles replied dryly. 

“Why not? Y’already fucked me over, why not get your rocks off too. Inn’t that my job now?” Melmord gave up on the shirt buttons and started pawing to get his own pants open. 

When he succeeded, all he got was another raised eyebrow. “You’re freeballing?”

“What can I say, I live as I died,” Melmord declared, shoving his pants down towards his ankles. It was difficult; they kept wanting to bunch up around his knees, and pulling the top of the pants down over the bunched up material wasn’t helping. He tried to stand on one foot and tug everything off, but all it did was unbalance and pitch him against Offdensen’s chest again. 

“You’ve still got your shoes on,” Charles observed with a sigh. “Just get on the bed.”

Next thing he knew, Melmord was on his bed staring up at the ceiling while his mortal enemy and boss got his shoes and pants off. Right, he thought, I did offer. Might as well get ready. He palmed himself clumsily, trying to see if his cock was too drunk to wake up. 

“Stop that,” Charles told him firmly. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Why fuck not?” Melmord rasped, incredulous. “That’s the job, isn’t it? That’s. What I said I’d do. Isn’t that in my contract?”

Charles rolled his eyes and started working on undoing the buttons of Melmord’s shirt. “I’m not in the habit of fucking people who are about thirty seconds away from being unconscious.”

“How long did it take me to fall off the roof?” Melmord shot back. He heard the whine in his voice—fuck it, he didn’t care. Of all the things he wanted, Charles fucking Offdensen definitely wasn’t one of them, but everything had felt wrong ever since he’d woken up at the hospital and wasn’t allowed booze, weed, or to look under his bandages (which he’d done anyway and ended up screaming until they’d sedated him), and the room was spinning like a broken compass, and he needed something to get the needle to settle. Even if ‘something’ ended up being a smack across the face. 

From the tightening of Charles’ mouth and the deep lines around it, that was probably a definite possibility. And then—

Charles’ hand closed around his mostly limp cock, the other pushing the now opened shirt aside as his eyes fixed on the network of scar tissue that was Melmord’s upper body. “You have five minutes.”

Melmord grunted and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at himself. Not yet. Too new. “Gimme an even seven, man, I’m not a fucking teenager.”

“If it’s an even number you want, then six,” Charles retorted with a warning squeeze, making him groan. “And you don’t finish, before then, do it on your own time.”

It was the most clinically expert handjob Melmord had ever experienced, and he already knew that he was way too fucked up to get even a weak orgasm out of this. Charles was completely in control of the situation the entire time regardless of who was getting jacked off. Melmord felt like a kite on a string, and Charles was flying him . . . except not quite. 

No, he decided hazily, it felt like he was a puppet and Charles his master, and there wasn’t one string but many. Charles pulled at them all, even the ones that made his lungs draw in and expel air, even the ones that made his muscles twitch around the metal ‘bones’ in his right shoulder and ribcage and parts of his spine. The very fact that he was alive and the very fact that he shouldn’t be were both in the puppet master’s grasp.

He kept his eyes squeezed closed, but he could feel the scars. Felt Charles’ free hand running over them, tracing, exploring the topography like a dedicated map maker. Felt drunken tears dribbling out from between his own eyelids and down the sides of his face because fuck, fuck, he’d screwed up so badly and now this was going to be the rest of his life: just another cog in the machine, with the occasional pity handjob thrown his way the same as one might toss scraps to a dog. That Charles was showing him some amount of charity here was irrelevant; it was a calculated mercy. 

Even through all that, Melmord arched his back and laughed. Despite the fact that Charles had undoubtedly won, they were still sparring. Back and forth, push pull, verbal blow for verbal blow, and now this—it was funny. 

It was like Charles didn’t know how to stop fighting, and Melmord, to his credit, at least knew the same about himself. They would continue scrapping like this forever, and that—even as his consciousness did indeed begin to fade into a deep, dark blackout—almost gave continuing to live some sort of meaning.

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #my fanfiction #charles/melmord #melmord fjordslorn #charles foster offdensen

[artificialqueens]

Heart of Glass, Mind of Stone, 1/? (Jiji, Methydoll) - Ella

summary - When Crystal envisioned her life as a law student, she daydreamed of topping her classes and the inevitable sleepless nights that it would come with. What she didn’t expect was to be so tied up to a high-profile murder case that it was next to impossible to get herself out of it.

a/n - welcome to my first ever multichap! ive been planning this for almost a month now, so glad that it’s finally out here! thank you so much to the amazing and talented @imalwaysaslutfordrag for beta-ing! thank you to v as well for helping me sort out some concerns, she’s really really cool :>

feel free to hmu here on tumblr @dawningofdrag or maybe, if you have the time, give this a read on ao3 as well! enjoy some lawyer gays, folks

-

There was a dead body lying on the floor and nobody. dared. to move.

“We killed her,” Crystal spoke, voice so hoarse from the screaming just moments ago that her throat ached.

Her eyes were blown wide- just like everyone else’s -as she stared at the corpse lying lifeless on the dark herringbone floorboards. The bright fluorescent light of the lamp posts that stood outside the property peeked through the sheer curtains of the living room they stood in, almost perfectly framing the bleak expression of the cadaver resting in the middle of the circle the Latina and the rest of the group had created.

A breathy scream broke the silence and Crystal traced the sound back to Gigi, who dropped to the floor in sheer terror. Her green eyes barely broke contact with the body, short erratic breaths escaping her bare pink lips through the pale hand that covered it. Crystal instinctively ran over to where the blonde now sat on the floor, wrapping her arms around her lean frame in an attempt to calm her down.

“She’s dead,” Gigi gasped out, bloodshot eyes still refusing to tear away from the body laid out in front of her. The Latina grasped the blonde’s hand, squeezing it to offer some sense of comfort despite the horrifying circumstances.

The room fell silent, a thick, heavy air resting on their shoulders as they all collectively just stood there, allowing their actions and its repercussions to settle into their conscience.

“We’re murderers,” Gigi whispered through her hiccups, and all Crystal could do was nod. They killed her. They committed murder, and all of a sudden it felt like it was much, much harder to breathe.

- three months before -

Crystal shot the rest of her now lukewarm coffee down her throat in a quick motion, slamming the warm thermos down on her incredibly small desk with a loud thud. She exhaled, setting her bag on the floor next to her chair before inserting herself in it. Her hands grazed the chipped wood that made up her armrests, a soft smile appearing on her painted lips.

First day of law school, totally not the scariest thing in the whole world. Not like she dreamt of this day since she was a little girl, you know?

Crystal could now proudly declare to the world (and her extremely judgemental tia’s and tio’s) that she was studying law at the best law school in the country, sitting in a lecture hall ready to attend a class spearheaded by the sole individual who made her realize she wanted to pursue a law career in the first place. How she wasn’t fully freaking out right now was just as much of a mystery to her as it was to everyone else.

She set her laptop on the desk attached to her assigned chair, flipping through the thin folder of her academic roster with curious eyes. She quickly glanced over her classes, the professors teaching them, taking into account the buildings they were held in and when they started.

The sound of a cough diverted the Latina’s attention, bright green eyes meeting hers.

The woman was clad in an olive green pantsuit and a plain black blouse that seemed to fit her like a glove. It seemed perfectly tailored, almost as if the suit was custom-made. Her short blonde hair was styled to be pin straight, meticulously tucked behind one ear to show off her strong jawline. Her green eyes were narrowed, staring into the Latina’s eyes as if she was guilty of a crime she didn’t commit.

Crystal almost laughed at how hard the woman tried her best to look intimidating.

“Can I help you?” She questioned in a sing-song tone, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in confusion. The blonde rolled her eyes.

Crystal narrowed her own. Okay, Elle Woods.

“You’re sitting in my seat.” The woman tapped the sole of her black Louboutin on the tiled floor repeatedly, impatiently waiting for a response.

“Pretty sure I sit here, Ms. Woods.”

“How original.” The blonde scoffed, pulling out a digital image of the assigned seating from her phone to show the Latina who still sat comfortably in her seat, showing no willingness to move whatsoever.

“I sit in the sixth chair from the right.” She stated matter-of-factly. Crystal didn’t even bother hiding her amusement.

She chuckled, turning her body to point at the vacant seat next to her. “I sit in the fifth seat from the right.” Crystal grinned a mischievous smile. “You’re one off, Woods.”

She watched as the blonde woman’s cheeks flared up in embarrassment, quickly taking a seat next to her while keeping her head hung low.

“You’re a law student and you can’t even like, count correctly?” The brunette mocked the woman next to her, nudging her side softly to lighten the mood.

“I’m smart in other ways.” The blonde rolled her eyes once more, but her cold facade faded away just moments after doing so, and a grin started to creep up on the edges of her glossed lips.

“Georgina Goode, Columbia.” She greeted Crystal’s lighthearted gaze with an extension of her arm, hand out for her to shake. “Guess I should master the art of counting before I try to act like I know my shit.”

“Well, you learn new things everyday.” The brunette grinned. Of course she was a Georgina. She reeked of water polo lessons and summers in a beach house in Miami. It further supported Crystal’s initial hypothesis that Ms. Goode, she was definitely an Elle Woods type. You know, the privileged but woke white kid who believed they deserved a medal for recognizing their privilege. She met a couple of them back in pre-law, and they were all so incredibly annoying.

Gigi seemed slightly less annoying though, so she’ll reserve the need to have an opinion until she actually got to know her.

“Just call me Gigi, though.”

Crystal nodded at the information, extending her arm out to receive the open hand.

“Crystal Harness, Yale.”

Their hands collided, a firm couple of shakes and soft smiles before they both pulled away, shifting away from each other to set up their table (seriously though, why were they so small? She wasn’t paying forty grand a semester for her lecture desk to support the weight of half her laptop).

“So, what brings you here?” Crystal couldn’t help but question, starting a conversation between the two and sparking the interest of the woman next to her. It never hurt to make friends in law school.

“I mean, if you were already in Columbia. Don’t they like, top the bars all the time?”

“Oh, easy.��� Gigi scoffed at the question as if her answer was so painfully obvious, briefly pointing to the professor’s desk situated just a couple of rows in front of them. “Her.”

I mean, that reason was fair enough. Crystal would be lying if she told you she didn’t also take the attorney into mind when choosing a law school. If she really had to tell the truth, then yes, Attorney Jaida Essence Hall’s teaching position was the sole reason she chose Middleton for law.

Could you blame her though? She was Black, gay, female, and an absolute fucking legend. Harvard Law Valedictorian, record-breaking LSAT score, and built her whole reputation from the ground up. She was a whole ass celebrity in Crystal’s eyes, and hearing that Jaida had a teaching position in Middleton was all the information she needed to choose the university.

“I get it.” Crystal replied after a brief moment, finally relaxing against the back of her chair’s deflated cushions. “I kind of wanna be her.”

“You and every other woman in this class, Crystal.” The blonde mumbled, smirking at her snide remark. “You’re not special.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

The booming sound of high heels clicking against the tiled floor almost startled Crystal, immediately turning her attention towards the woman who just entered the room.

“Good morning class, my name is Jaida Essence Hall-”

She set her black Hermes bag on top of the wooden professor’s table with a loud thud, flipping her long dark hair past her shoulder so effortlessly that she had Crystal, Gigi, and the rest of the class absolutely mesmerized.

Professor Hall turned to face the class in one swift motion, sporting a welcoming grin before continuing her entrancing introduction.

“- and welcome to Criminal Law 100.”

Crystal swore under her breath, taking everything in. The reason she wanted to pursue law was standing twelve feet away from her, leaning against the table with her arms crossed around her chest.

The Latina couldn’t even force herself to focus on the rest of Jaida’s probably really inspiring opening monologue, mind still busy trying to wrap about the idea of breathing the same air as Jaida Essence Hall. Was she overreacting? Probably. Did she care? Absolutely the fuck not. Let her have this.

“If you have been keeping yourselves updated on local news, I’m certain that you have crossed the ongoing case regarding the murder of Brianna Heller.”

That sentence pulled Crystal out of the trance she found herself in, the wording of her statement incorrect in her honest opinion. You didn’t need to watch the local news to know about it. If you lived in Philadelphia for a solid five minutes you’d know about the case of Brianna Heller. She was a Middleton undergrad who went missing for a whole month before her body was found two days ago in the basement of an abandoned warehouse, a spot frequented by undergrads looking for their dose of illegal thrill. Each and every aspect of the case felt like it was pulled right out of a murder mystery book, down to the alleged suspects and their relationships with each other. The press was having a field day milking the case dry for any information they could publish.  

Jaida went back and forth across the platform, one hand on her hip as she continued. “Just this morning, I was asked to represent one of the main suspects, Jamie McKenna.”

The woman clicked on her remote, displaying a photo of the woman on the projector screen.

I mean if you were gonna ask Crystal, she thought Jamie did it. After quickly scanning the case a couple of nights ago when she had absolutely nothing better to do, she had a gut feeling the blonde committed the murder. They both had rather large online followings due to their theater backgrounds, but Brianna had much bigger numbers in comparison to Jamie, even though in Crystal’s opinion, Jamie was a much better singer.

There was a very clear motive and intent. All they needed was to find the murder weapon and the case was closed.

The class erupted in loud whispers once the photo displayed itself on screen, Gigi visibly unfazed next to her. Everyone has had a conversation about the case with friends, family, strangers. Talking about it felt redundant and unnecessary, and if you were going to ask Crystal, the conversation was getting really boring.

Jaida paused for a brief moment, allowing the murmurs to die on their own before speaking further. “And although both my associates are very capable individuals, the publicity surrounding the case is unbearable, which means I cannot make one single mistake.”

Crystal narrowed her eyes, confused as to the relevancy of her announcement until it hit her.

Oh my fucking God.

Jaida’s gonna need a team.

“Which means I’m gonna need a team.”

Holy shit.

“For the next week, I will be paying close attention to how you all work during my lectures. My associates will be in attendance, watching from the sidelines, and observing each and every one of you. We need the best of the best so that those chosen will be more of an asset rather than a burden.”

Crystal’s eyes were blown wide at Jaida’s words, her head still spinning as she tried to grasp how big of a deal this actually was. Her eyes met Gigi’s, who was equally as taken back as the Latina, jaw slacked open in shock.

“You will be meeting my associates tomorrow, but make a lasting first impression on me and you might find yourself in the list of people I consider. Am I clear?”

Crystal nodded absent-mindedly, her mind sprinting a million miles a minute as she automatically started to come up with ways to stand out of a class of sixty people.

“Alright, now that that’s all cleared up,” Jaida turned on her heel to fiddle with her laptop, displaying the assigned reading on screen before turning to face the class once more.

“Does anyone want to summarize the case of Commonwealth v. Polachek for me?”

Crystal had never raised her hand quicker in her entire life. It was game on, I guess.

-

Crystal fumbled to pull out the keys of her front door from the pocket of her cross-body bag, feeling the contents with her fingers until she felt the metal touch her skin. She walked past her neighbor, flashing a nervous smile the woman’s way before she stopped just in front of her apartment.

“Weren’t you in Professor Hall’s class today?”

Crystal’s head whipped around to face the woman who stood a couple of feet away from where she stood, leaning against the doorway of the apartment just next to hers.

The Latina’s eyes met the other girl’s equally dark ones, wavy dark hair framing the woman’s face perfectly. She was clad in a tight-fitting black turtleneck tucked into a high waist black pant, dark plaid blazer and gold jewelry breaking the monochromatic fabrics and causing her jet-black hair to stand out against the blazer’s tweed fabric.  

“Yeah. ” Crystal stumbled over her words, running her free hand through her thick curls. How was every single woman in her Criminal Law class so fucking pretty? “Middleton Law too?”

“Mhmm.” Her neighbor smiled, taking a couple of steps forward to close the rather large distance between them both.

She reached out her hand. “Jackie Cox. Harvard Medicine.”

Crystal has never shaken so many hands in such a small period of time. The second they all entered law school everyone became so pathetically professional that it almost humored her.

“Crystal! NYU.” She grinned, shaking her hand before catching onto the words that filled Jackie’s introduction.  

“Wait, medicine?” Crystal questioned, pulling her arm back and tucking it into her jean pocket.

“Yeah.” Jackie shrugged the question off with a rather confused tone, acting as if her circumstances were a normal occurrence. “Medicine got really boring, so did Harvard, so I thought I’d give law a shot.”

The Latina didn’t know how to respond. “Woah that’s uh, really cool.”

Crystal wanted to wince at herself for sounding like a fucking four-year-old. She stepped back, shifted her body away, and lifted her key to the lock. Her mind ran in circles, deciding whether or not to invite Jackie to the dinner she and her roommate planned to have later that night. Making friends in law school had many more benefits than it had consequences, and having an incredibly smart medical student-turned-law student on your side sounded like an incredible asset to have in future study groups. Plus, Jackie just seemed really fucking cool.

“Well, uh, my roommate Heidi is coming tonight and we were planning to get to know each other over dinner at 8 o’clock.” The Latina smiled, meeting Jackie’s eyes once more. “Do you maybe wanna join?”

As if on cue, Crystal’s front door burst open to reveal her roommate, who greeted her and Jackie’s startled dispositions with a toothy grin and bare arms spread wide, ready to envelop the Latina in a warm hug.

“Oh my god, Crystal it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Heidi ran a couple of steps to tackle the smaller woman into a tight hug, rocking from side to side as if they were long lost sisters who had finally been reunited. “I can’t believe we’re here!”

A laugh escaped from deep in Crystal’s chest after her new roommate knocked the wind out of her with an overexcited hug. She paused for a quick moment, still taken back by the sudden action, before wrapping her arms around the shorter woman. “Hi!”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Crystal pulled back a couple of inches, reciprocating the infectious energy her new roommate put out for her to receive.

Crystal had never met Heidi before, they’ve only been exchanging a handful of texts and semi-professional emails just to get their living situation all sorted out before they moved in. The brunette never would have thought that the woman behind the meticulously worded emails she was receiving over the week was an extrovert who would rather give out hugs over a professional handshake. The duality of man, I guess.

She and Heidi exchange introductions, Jackie joining in on the conversation after a while as they talk about their dinner plans together.

“That sounds great!” Jackie grinned at the invitation, beamed almost, unlocking her door with a twist of a key, pushing it open with force. “I’ll bring some baklava for dessert.”

“I have never heard of baklava! Is it like a Middle Eastern thing or sum’n?” Heidi questioned, her fingernails mindlessly picking on the lint of her wool sweater.

Jackie nodded, a soft laugh coming out of her mouth as she did so. “Yes it is, you hit the nail on the head.”

“Well, it sounds delightful.” The Black woman smiled, arm wrapped around Crystal’s waist like they were all of a sudden the bestest of friends. She honestly didn’t mind having someone like Heidi as a roommate, the loving and positive energy just radiating off of her warm skin was a great juxtaposition from the cold and professional people she was probably going to encounter throughout her law student experience.

They bid their goodbye’s, setting up their final dinner plans before they entered their respective apartments, Heidi already chatting up a storm as they turned to leave.

Crystal waved as Jackie disappeared into her apartment, a small grin resting on her painted lips as she turned to swing her front door open. “See ya, Doc.”

-

“Gigi, if you fucking scream one more time I swear to god-” Jackie spoke through gritted teeth, knuckles turning white at how tight she gripped the metal bat in her hand.

Her dark eyes scanned the room, pausing at the surrounding windows to check if anyone was peeking through them. Jackie dropped the bat with caution, afraid that the collision of metal on wood would startle anyone that was currently inside the house. She crouched down to inspect the lifeless corpse that separated her from the rest of the group, delicately grazing the pale skin and dead blue eyes with her trembling fingers. She closed the body’s eyes before meeting Crystal’s brown, much more alive ones.

“We have to get rid of the body.”

“Are you fucking insane?” Crystal scoffed, guiding a very distraught Gigi to sit against the armrest of a lounge chair not far by. She made sure the blonde was much calmer than she was just moments ago before shifting her gaze to the Persian across the room.

“You want us to go out on a Friday night? after finals week?” The brunette spat out, her uncontrollable fear turning itself into annoyance and frustration at the sound of her friend’s suggestion.

“Are you dumb?” Jackie hissed, the heels of her boots clicking against the wood as she looked around for a way to clean up the blood slowly pooling around the corpse’s body. “Our DNA is on her skin, Crystal. Under her nails, on her clothes, on the fucking gun.”

“We go to an incinerator and burn the body.” Jackie reasoned, pulling a handkerchief from her bag and getting on her knees as she soaked up the blood from the floor like it was nothing serious. “We’ll classify the remains as animal carcass.”

Crystal stood in place, jaw slacked open in awe of Jackie’s lack of disgust towards the corpse as she dragged the previously clean fabric across the wooden floorboards. “Get rid of any evidence. We can say she ran away. They’ll believe it, her case was a clear loss anyway.”

The Latina groaned in defeat, pulling a handkerchief from her winter coat as she crouched down to join Jackie in cleaning up the mess they had made together. “Fuck you, Doc.”

“Can’t help that I know my shit, Mistress.”

#rpdr fanfiction #ella #heart of glass mind of stone #htgawm au #angst #lesbian au #law school au #lawyers au #college au #crystal methyd #gigi goode #jackie cox #nicky doll #crystal x nicky #gigi x jackie #heidi n closet #jaida essence hall #widow von du #rock m sakura #s12 #tw blood #tw death #tw mentions of violence #tw mentions of gun violence #tw minor character death

[knybits]

A Murder of One

Chapter: 

15

Summary: 

A literal train wreck. Miyuki confesses, and Akiko’s eyes are blessed again. 

Previous Chapter | Origin | Next Chapter

Okay.

So pause scene.

Imagine this. 

A buff old man (we’ll say he’s old because he has white hair) suddenly snatches up you and your friends for an unexplainable reason. 

But your other friends that didn’t get snatched are being the absolute angels that they are and run down the old wack job to try and avenge you. 

And then your fiance since birth (different story) walks into the scene, and he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. 

Okay. 

Resume scene. 

“He’s kidnapping us!!” Akiko yells out, her face red with either anger or embarrassment she can’t tell. 

Tanjirou acts instantly, launching himself at Uzui with full intent on headbutting the hell out of him. But Uzui is too fast, and Akiko tries her best to kick the hems of her dress down to make sure she isn’t flashing anything. She kicks her feet wildly when she finds that the three of them are on the roof of the estate. 

“UZUI TENGEN YOU BETTER COVER MY ASS RIGHT NOW!!” 

“I am the ‘former shinobi’ Uzui Tengen-sama-” 

“DON’T IGNORE ME! AND DON’T ADD -SAMA TO YOUR NAME YOU CREEP!!” 

“Dear lord SHUT UP! Here, you brat, jeez!” Uzui brushes her skirt over, pauses, then gives Akiko’s butt a slap before laughing, claiming it to be rather flamboyant. 

Akiko nearly goes mental at the harassment, and Tanjirou looks like he’s about to shoot himself up to the roof and give Uzui more than just a headbutt. 

“You’re a pervert!” Kiyo yells from the ground. 

“Who do you think you’re mouthing off here!! I have superiority! I’m a pillar you jackasses!” 

“I don’t accept you as a pillar! Hmph!!” 

“DON’T YOU ‘HMPPH’ MEEE!! DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T ACCEPT ME?! YOU LOWLY BRAT!! IS YOUR BRAIN COMPLETELY DEAD!? I NEED A GIRL MEMBER ON THE MISSION, SO I’M BRINGING THEM ALONG!! I DON’T NEED KOCHOU’S PERMISSION IF THEY AREN’T TSUGUKO!” 

“Akiko-san can’t fight! She’s a member but she doesn’t have a uniform! She’s a doctor!” 

“Don’t need her then.” 

Akiko screams as she’s flung off the roof and she roughly lands in Tanjirou’s arms. Any other person would flush, but Akiko’s far too mad to even think about her cute situation. 

She shoves herself out of Tanjirou’s arms, jumping up and down and yelling at Uzui to come down from the roof so that she can deck him in the face. Kanon stares in bewilderment, wondering why Akiko is so prone to abandoning ‘Do no harm.’ 

Even Tanjirou doesn’t know what to do, staring at his fiance with wide eyes as she unleashes another side of her that he’s never seen before. Sure, she’s had her small temper tantrums when they were kids, but this is much more justified. 

“Shut up you nerd! I’m taking this one on my mission. She’s a hunter regardless.” 

Akiko can see the look of panic and fear on Aoi’s face, so she takes a few deep breaths to calm herself and approach the situation differently. She has no time to yell at Uzui, and despite the fact that he’s an adult, he acts like a child. 

“People have their own circumstances, Uzui. Let the girl go.” 

Uzui blinks owlishly at her sudden change in behavior, her eyes slanted up at him with long lashes barely brushing her cheeks. Mouth a fine line and her hair disheveled, but it makes Akiko look all the more dangerous. 

Tanjirou can smell the withheld fury from Akiko, and the fact that she’s harnessed enough control to reign her emotions back in frightens him. This anger is much more dangerous than her lashed out one, and everyone feels as if they’re seeing Akiko reach a new peak of anger. 

“We’ll go in Aoi’s stead!” Tanjirou interjects, just as Zenitsu and Inosuke hop onto the gates. 

They aren’t in any way injured, and she sees that Zenitsu killed three demons and Inosuke five. She can’t help but tilt her head in confusion at the new piece of information her mind is filled with, but Akiko can’t take that time to care as she watches Aoi rush into Kanao’s arms. 

Akiko quietly asks Kanon to make some lunch for the girls to calm everyone’s nerves, and Kanon nods her head in understanding before hurrying off. She then sighs, walking over to her dropped umbrella before picking it up, when she sees Tanjirou out of the corner of her eyes. 

“Are you okay Akiko? He dropped you rather harshly…” 

Akiko looks at Uzui, who waits impatiently outside the gates, before rolling her eyes at him. 

“I’ll live. It’s no big deal. I’m just afraid that the girls are mentally scarred or something along the lines… What? What’s wrong?” Tanjirou is staring at her, and Akiko can’t help but wonder why. 

He wakes up from his spaced out state, blushing a bit and kicking some rocks on the ground as he looks away. 

“Sorry it’s just.... You look really nice today!” 

Akiko can’t help but flush, immediately opening her parasol in front of herself to hide her face. Kiyo, Sumi and Naho giggle nearby, and Akiko nearly turns around to glare at them but she’s far too busy hiding herself. 

And as if some higher being grants Tanjirou with all the courage in the world, he pulls the umbrella down a bit to see her red face, smiling softly before saying, “It’d be a shame if I didn’t get to see my fiance’s face before I left.” 

Now Akiko can hear Kiyo, Sumi and Naho squeal with delight as her eyes widen and she’s nearly brought to tears with embarrassment. Tanjirou starts to laugh, finding that her red face compliments her amber eyes nicely, and he cups Akiko’s face into his hands before placing a soft kiss on her forehead. 

“I’ll be off!” He gives her one last smile, waving at Akiko and running out of the front gates. 

Akiko’s holding her forehead, staring off into space as her brain slowly but surely processes everything that’s just happened. And once everything loads in, her heart ascends. 

Akiko smiles.

---

“Himi Miyuki is on her way! Deep laceration on her lower left quadrant!” 

Akiko’s eyes snap open, her back aching from accidentally passing out on the wooden engawa. She quickly tries to rub the sleep from her eyes, stumbling to her room to change out of the light green dress she still dons. 

It’s only been a couple hours since Tanjirou’s departure, and she’s back to work. But what else is there to do? 

So Akiko yanks on another poet’s shirt, ties her hakama around her waist, and allows for Kiyo to help her with her robe and gloves. Sumi and Naho rush to gather towels upon seeing how severe the wound is. 

Shinobu stands by the entrance, waiting to welcome the house’s newest patient. Everyone is surprised to see Sanemi helping the injured girl up, and Shinobu decides to poke a little fun. 

Embarrassed, Sanemi leaves Miyuki in the hands of a more than capable lady to help fix her up, and she orders the girls to help drag Miyuki’s pale body to the table. 

Akiko’s eyes do a quick once over, and information she’s never picked up before flood her senses. 

Miyuki has just killed four demons before one caught her by surprise. She’s lost about 1200mL of blood, and Akiko orders the girls to elevate her legs once she’s on the table. Miyuki’s blood pressure is 90/70, and her breathing is so shallow it’s worrisome. Her heart beat per minute is 60, and her skin looks ashy and waxen. 

Akiko knows that Miyuki’s body temperature is naturally low, but that doesn’t mean she likes how Miyuki’s body is at a solid 90 degrees. 

So the girls are instructed to place a blanket over her feet and arms too, and Akiko cuts away the cloth surrounding the large gash. Aoi ties a mask around Akiko’s face, unrolls the sleeve of scalpels lined up in the bamboo sheet, and Akiko gets to work. 

Miyuki stays silent, dazed by the anesthesia, but still conscious. 

Akiko works diligently as always, hands moving swiftly to stop the bleed and making sure there isn’t any debris left in the wound. It’s a simple procedure, though trickier thanks to Miyuki’s naturally cold body. 

But once she’s done, Miyuki is able to form phrases and sentences, the anesthesia wearing off. 

“I wonder if Sanemi has ever been in love?” 

Not even a thank you… 

Miyuki flinches slightly under the glare Akiko casts her way, the scalpel glinting menacingly under the bright light, but Akiko throws her a bone, asking what she means. 

Their conversations dips into the topic of love in general, albeit Akiko is in no way an expert, but she entertains the idea with Miyuki. Shinobu, ever so quiet in the corner of the room, even steps in to offer her two piece on the subject. 

Aoi cleans the blood on the floor while Shinobu checks the IV of blood and medicine she finished making in her corner, and Miyuki finally throws her hands up into the air. 

“Well then fine! Maybe I do love Sanemi! Fuck whatever my step monster has to say!” 

Shinobu laughs, “What a surprise!” 

Akiko can see the lie. 

At any rate, she sighs, glancing at the clock in the room to take note of the time. She blinks owlishly at it as the date comes to mind. 

If she’s right, Genya should be coming in today. 

Akiko peels her gloves off her hands, removing her mask as well while the girls untie the robe off her from behind before she says, “Well, congrats on the realization, but I gotta go have my monthly appointment with-” 

Genya. 

He’s standing by the doorway. 

Sumi and Kiyo are right behind him, some newly washed rags in their hands before they step into the room again to keep cleaning the blood, and realization dawns on Akiko. 

“Uh, gotta go!” Akiko shoves a startled Genya out of the room and down the hall, quickly bombarding him with questions to try and make him forget about Miyuki’s feelings for his older brother. 

Genya is shoved into her office and she scrambles to find his documents. It’s an organized mess, and she knows that she should clean it up, but between 20 minute naps every hour or so and working for a whole 12 “shift” sometimes, it’s nearly impossible for her. 

Akiko sits Genya down on a chair, eyes brisking over his figure as statistics fill her mind. It’s overwhelming for her, and she shuts her eyes for a few seconds to clear her head. It continues to race with the adrenaline, and she starts to count her breathing to reign it back in. 

“What was that before? And are you- Are you okay?” Genya asks, blushing when she offers him a polite smile. Her usual business smile in the face of patients. 

“It was nothing important. No need to worry about me, either. You have a gash on your left arm so I see you haven’t been eating too many demons. Two in the last month?” Akiko flutters her eyes to clear it again, her mouth spewing words faster than she can properly think. 

Genya stares at her wide eyed, astonished. 

“Y- Yeah… How do you know?” 

She pays him no mind, scribbling the information down with creased brows. Genya isn’t all too used to this version of Akiko. Sure, she’s serious, but not with him. She makes no move to tease him, quickly jotting down information and asking Genya to confirm the information. 

Every time, she hits the nail on the coffin. It’s like she’s unraveling his life in the past month, and Genya is almost frightened of her. 

“Himejima hasn’t let up easily on you. Your biceps are 42 centimeters wide now… He still has you pushing that big rock, hm? Please tell him that misogi is not the proper way for you to rest your body,” Akiko sighs, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. 

She’s done with her checkup within a few minutes, taking no time to prod at his body and instead glancing at his limbs then writing numbers down. She then quickly stands to a small cabinet on her desk, pulling out a small roll of bandages and some alcohol and cotton balls. 

Akiko frowns at the little bit left in the jar, and the fact that she barely has any bandages left. It’s just enough to help patch Genya up with, but she’ll have to go out and buy some more in the local village after she’s done. 

“At any rate, I’m just going to wrap up your wound and then send you on your way. Sorry I was late for the appointment this month,” she’s about to unbutton Genya’s uniform for him, but he quickly stops her with raised hand and a mad blush. 

Akiko pauses, quickly apologizing for being so forward, and allows him to remove as much of his uniform as he is comfortable with so that she can clean his cut. 

Genya looks everywhere but Akiko. She knows that he's an embarrassed mess around any female, so she’s quick to finish up her work and allows him to shrug his uniform back on. 

“Do you want me to walk you to the entrance?” Akiko asks Genya, who shakes his head. She shrugs in compliance, apologizing for making him travel all the way to the Butterfly Estate for such a short checkup, and waves as he walk down the hall and out of the estate. 

Once he turns the corner, Akiko makes her way to the kitchen to find Kanon. The pinkette is looking through the pantry with a troubled look on her face. 

Akiko’s eyes are given a rest when she looks at Kanon, and it’s most likely because Kanon doesn’t kill demons for a living and lives a peaceful (or, as peaceful as it can get) life at the estate. 

“Are we out of food?” Akiko asks, and Kanon jumps at the sudden presence of the ginko eyed girl. 

Kanon nods her head and Akiko frowns, but the timing couldn’t be more perfect. 

“Alright, let’s go shopping together.” 

Of course, Shinobu feels against this idea considering the town is an hour walk away, and if they aren’t quick enough, it’ll be dark. 

“Perhaps someone else should go with you?” She says, and Akiko sighs. 

“I think we’ll be more than fine. If it make you feel any better, I’ll bring my tools. If Kanon trips over a rock, I’ll save her from bacteria.” 

Akiko can see the irritation radiate of Shinobu, so she quickly hikes up her bag, shoves a good amount of money in, and meets Kanon at the front door. 

Akiko doesn’t like the way Miruna circles above their heads. 

things are gonna get so spicy after this,,, fuck guys im so excited

expect akiko to grow!! we love character development :,,) also yeah she has other emotions besides ‘bitch’ and ‘smart ass’ :)) 

big thank you to @kny-writings and her oc himi miyuki!! 

#bittle's murder of one #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #tanjirou #tanjirou kamado #kochou shinobu #himini miyuki #tamura akiko #sanemi #genya

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Stay Ch. 16

Master List

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Angst, and fluff, and feels oh my!

A/N:  So yeah I swear I wroth an authors note for this... but idfk what happened. 

ANYWAY! Thank you all for being so patient while I got my life together. This one is also short and sweet (guess that’s the mood I’m in). However, y’all should know me by now. This is just the calm before the storm. 

Hope you enjoy this one my pumpkins! 

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf  @disagreetoagree  @breezy1415  @peachthatdrinkslemonade  @5aftermidnight@jeromethepsycho  @marvel-randomness  @daniellajocelyn  @katecolleen  @yanginginthere@wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @lesbian-girls-wayhaught @siriuslycloudy2

March 2007

At some point in the last five months, you’d stopped recognizing yourself. The woman in the mirror wasn’t Y/N. Her hair was different, down to even the eyebrows. Her accent distinctly that of a life long Londoner. She worked for an independent UK couture fashion magazine, chose wine over whiskey, and was distinctly heterosexual.

When the chance to work this job requiring deep cover came up in December you jumped on it. You didn’t want to be you anymore. The you that couldn’t be with the woman you loved. The you that was heartbroken. The you who was beginning to doubt that you’d ever be happy. Fuck her.

Being Charlie Daniels was far better. She was, of course, a real person. Just one who was now living comfortably in the Bahamas courtesy of MI6. Even legit agencies had use of freelance talent every now and then.

Settling into her life had been easy. Not setting her boss on fire or blowing his brains out daily was a different task altogether. Turned out that a magazine was a great front for a crime empire. Lots of international travel, young and beautiful and desperate men and women, money exchanged in countless untraceable ways, on and on. And this fucker was happy to take advantage of every single disgusting avenue it opened up.

You almost had everything you needed to hand to MI6, get your obscenely large payout, and get on to another gig while they threw all of these bastards into cells to rot for the rest of their miserable lives. Just one more trip. After whatever horrible things they lay out in Tokyo you’ll be set.

Tokyo is one of those cities you can lose yourself in. Like New York but better for its interesting balance of vibrancy and grounded reserve. You absolutely love it.

The whole point of the trip, at least on the surface, was to focus on Fashion Week Tokyo. Honestly, there was a part of you that wished this was your world. Nothing but runway shows and after parties. Writing about the latest trends rather than delving into the inner workings of the worlds miscreants

Oh well. It was nice enough to pretend. You had to admit that you’d miss Charlie Daniels once you shed this skin in a couple of weeks.

You’re sitting two people down from your boss at an underground show. The level of security here screams that there are other things going on behind the scenes but it’s still a room filled with a who’s who of the Japanese and international fashion communities.

This was your third show of the day, and you knew there would be a party after where you’d have to schmooze all while plucking information from your unsuspecting fellow guests. You’re exhausted. So rather than pay much attention to the show you let your mind wander.

When she walks out you feel her rather than see her.  Slowly you turn your head to stare dumbstruck at the model walking onto the catwalk. Your heart begins beating against your ribs, your mouth goes dry, your hands shake.

It takes every ounce of control you have to keep your emotions in. To not scream “Natasha!” at the top of your lungs. To not grab her and run for the hills. Charlie Daniels and her easy life be damned. It’s hard but you manage.

As she turns and comes back down, passing now closer to you, her eyes don’t graze  the crowd at all. Head up, shoulders back, she walks the runway like she’d been doing it for years.

The rest of the show is maybe ten minutes but it feels like years. You know the models are all attending the party. Eye candy for the high end guests.

It’s fairly easy to ditch your coworkers in the crowd as you try to find the best vantage point in the room without being too obvious. After a solid twenty minutes, you find yourself planning an escape route. Most of the models are milling about but she’s no where to be seen. You will find her.

But you know you can’t skip out just yet. At the bar, you order a red wine and make yourself seen. Charlie would never miss the whole party after all. You spend a bit chatting with designers and a few models, feigning interest in the whole thing until you hear your boss call out to you.

“Oy, Charlie!” Carl’s voice alone makes you want to put him down. When you turn he’s waving you over to the bar. Sighing heavily you head over.

You’re about ten feet away when you see her, head back laughing at something Carl or his friend had said. Both men are far to close to her for your liking and the hungry look on Carl’s face sets your blood boiling.

He slings an arm around your shoulders and you carefully coach your face to not show disgust. “Charlie here is my best writer. Doin’ some pieces for us on this whole thing,” he waves his other hand around wildly.

“Good to meet ya, Charlie, I’m Dan,” the other man, clearly American says.

“Likewise,” Natasha doesn’t react to the accent at all.

“This here is-”

“Natalie,” Natasha cuts him off, extending a hand to you. Holding her eyes with yours you take it. It’s like touching a live wire.

“Natalie is an American model working here in Japan. May be a good topic for a piece.” He ribs you leaning closer, “And a good piece for the office eh?” Suddenly that MI6 money seems far less appealing.

“I’d love that,” Natasha beams. “Why don’t you guys go mingle and Charlie and I can chat!” The men exchange a glance, but there’s plenty of fresh meat around to sink their teeth into.

Carl flashes you a greasy smile and a wink as he walks away. Thinking clearly that you’re going to snare this woman for him. You, unfortunately, had a few others. Not something you were proud of. Demands of the job you told yourself.

“She’ll take a vodka neat,” you tell the bartender.

“Yes,” Natasha smiles at him, “Whiskey for her. Makers if you have it.” He thinks nothing of it and makes your drinks.

“So, how’s modeling in Japan?”

“Probably about as good as writing for a sleazy jackal.”

You laugh, “That bad? What’s the goal.”

“Getting a cover,” you commend the clever word play.

“That’s a good goal. Long term?”

“Something like that.” She takes a sip of her vodka, “How long are you here?”

“End of the week.” Your skin itches to touch her. The men are rounding back. You hold her gaze and shift your eyes back to them. She catches on.

“Perfect! It’s so hard to have a good interview here, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. Why don’t you come by my hotel?” You whip out your spare key card. “I’d love to get your story for the mag, maybe do a full feature.”

“A feature would be excellent exposure!”

“Wouldn’t it?” Carl slides up next to her. “We can get you all the exposure you could want Ms. Natalie.”

“Charlie was telling me all about it.” She flashes him a coy smile. “Thank you so much Charlie! I forgot I have a late fitting tonight for another show so I’ve got to run. But we’ll chat soon yeah?”

“Absolutely! It was so good to meet you Natalie.”

“Same! Bye!” She hurries through the crowded room and disappears.

“Busy girl.” Carl quips. “Whiskey?” You look down at the glass by your hand.

“Some guy sent them over,” you gesture to Natasha’s lipstick stained glass. “Seemed rude to refuse. Can’t stand the stuff though.”

“That’s a mans drink,” Carl laughs at his own perceived joke and you force a smile.

Somehow you make it through the rest of the evening. You’d refused to allow yourself to hope that she’d be here, too obvious to come the same night, better to wait. Kicking off your shoes you head straight to the mini bar and crack open a whiskey, downing it in one gulp.

“You really need to be more careful,” Natasha’s voice comes from the bathroom. “I mean not even checking around. Sloppy.”

“Charlie Daniels doesn’t have to check for Russian assassins in her bathroom,” a smile pulls your face so tight it hurts.

“Well, Natalie Rushman isn’t a Russian spy. So…”

You let your real accent resurface as you pull her into your arms, “Natalie Rushman, I don’t know if that’s clever or lazy.” She kisses you hard, tongue sliding over your lips hands gripping your ass.

“Mmm,” she hums. “Kinda like the accent.”

“Oh?” You revert to the clipped posh Londoner sound. “Would you rather be with Charlie? I hate to break it to you, she’s strictly into dick so you may need to get a bit creative.”

Natasha’s head falls back with laughter, “I’m always into a challenge but,” she cups your face in her hands, “I’d much rather Y/N, she’s got a cute accent too.” Your kiss is soft this time, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, honey.” Gently you push a strand of hair out of her face. “Is this smart? Are you gonna get-”

“I’m good. I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was risk.” She pulls away and tugs you toward the bed. “There’s no surveillance on me here, I check in every week, that’s it. This is strictly to build a cover.”

“Cover for what?” She gives you a sideways glance. “Right. National security.”

“Do you really want to talk about work?”

Smirking at her you push her back on the bed. “Maybe later.”

You lean down to her but she stops you by planting a strappy heel in the center of your chest. Trailing your fingers down her leg you snag a knife from her thigh holster. Carefully you slide the blade under the straps, the incredibly sharp edge cuts through the thin suede like it’s nothing.

“Those were very expensive you know,” eyes sparkling with desire.

You slip the shoe off and toss it aside. “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Your lips press against her ankle.  

Everything in your life until her was so fleeting. Even your own name, the sound of your own voice, who you were… But with her, you were grounded. You weren’t anything but her’s, you were Y/N.

Suddenly you’re overwhelmed. Caressing her muscular calf you just stare at her eyes. Emerald green, dark liner, lids heavy with lust and exhaustion.

“Natasha…” Your voice cracks and you fight for composure.

“Y/N? What is it?” She shoots up, cradling your face in her hands.

You shake your head, unable to really find the words and unwilling to send this storm of emotions to her. “I just…” You cover her hands with your own. It’s not that you don’t want her, you do. But…

“Can we just… I just wanna hold you…” Her expression immediately softens, eyes sparkling a touch with tears. “Sorry… I… I just…”

“I’d love that, baby.” Tenderly her lips brush yours, then your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids as they flutter closed.

You shed your clothes and crawl into the plush bed. Holding tight to one another you spend hours drifting in and out of sleep, covering the other with soft kisses. Before the sun rises your hands wander southward.

This time you don’t fuck one another senseless. It feels like you’re trying to memorize every curve, every sound, every subtle thing that marks being together. You both know you many not get to do this for some time. The knowledge aches but it doesn’t make having her any less sweet.

Post Snap

You lean your head back on the wall behind the booth. The crying man from last night is gone, you find yourself hoping that he’s resting peacefully somewhere… even though you know it’s pointless to hope for such things.

There are more people filling the bar than there was before. The TVs are off, radios turned up, reporters frantically trying to determine what happened. It was global, that was clear. All planes grounded, trains stopped, communications spotty due to damaged cell towers.

A man speaks frantically to someone who seems to be a friend that he was heading to Nuremberg from Budapest, how the roads are almost not navigable. He doesn’t know if his family is even still there but he has to find out.

Despite his distress, your lips curl a bit at the mention of Budapest.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow #queer fic #wlw

[prissypickle]

Caius’s Mate Chapter Six Part Two

I wrinkled my nose. "I ain't drinking that pedialyte shit. That tastes nasty..."

He laughed a bit. "Well we want you to drink as much as you can tolerate," he said.

"I'll drink anything but that," I argued.

He sighs and nodded. "We will do IV fluids,"

"When can she go home," Alec asked.

"Hopefully within a few weeks," he said. "We will start physical therapy," he said, "Your physical therapist will help and decide what is best," he said.

"I can walk," I was confused sitting up sore from laying.

"Take it easy," he said.

I looked down. "Im fine," I whispered.

He sighs and nodded and left. I looked at Alec as he took out his phone calling Aro. "You don't have to stay with me," I said looking down. 

He nodded and headed to the hall talking to him. 

I looked down trying to stand up, but I couldn't. I couldn't stand on my own. Sadness filled me. I'm completely helpless.

I winced and laid back down.

A nurse came in handing me a drink. She came and checks my vitals. "I'm still alive," I chuckled awkwardly.

"It's just routinely, I have to check every 30 minutes," she replied.

"Fantastic," I murmured.

She sighs. "Can I get you anything?" she asked.

"Water? Ice?" I asked.

"Sure dear," she said.

"Thank you," I sighed and leaned back and looked at the ceiling playing with my fingers. I got bored and looked around the room. The room was a really nice room. There was a bathroom in the right corner with a glass sliding door. On the other side there was a couch and a chair and a long tall whiteboard that had some information about me. There were flowers drawn on it too. I smiled a bit. These are much nicer than the hospitals back home.

Welcome Izzy!

Age: 16

DOB: 7/6/01

Allergies: None

Nurse: Jess

Limitations: Solid food, soft food

Medication: None

After thirty minutes Alec came in with Aro. I looked at Aro shyly. "Hi," I said.

Aro look down looking guilty. "Hey," he said.

"I'm extremely sorry. I didn't mean to put you in a coma... I was already angry.... and then he came and told me what happened and then that happened. I should've been smarter and you didn't deserve that. I'm sorry. Let me know if I can do anything for you. Or to help you," he said.

I looked down. "Well I acted like a two year old... trashing the room... I'm sorry... I was scared and I didn't want to be there..." I said trying to explain myself.

He sighs nodding taking my hand. "I wanna go home.... can you do that for me?" I whispered.

"No... sweetheart. You know too much..." he said. "You know about us. There's too much evidence on you. I'm so sorry," he said taking my hand feeling bad.

I nodded and looked away tears in my eyes. "Can I call her?" I asked.

He sighs. "No,"

I curled up. Jess coming in bringing me some more water and an ensure protein drink, "Try to alternate from the ensure drink to that," she said.

"Thank you," I whispered taking the water taking a sip shakily trying to calm myself down.

She nodded.

"I'll come and check on you tomorrow alright?" Aro asked patting my back.

I nodded upset.

I laid on my side sucking on the ice. I faced away from Alec not wanting to talk to him. "You can go home... I'm fine... I was fine alone for 18 months," I said.

"I didn't leave you alone for 18 months you know. I was here every day.  Sometimes my sister came instead... thinking you needed a girl to come and wake you up. I'm sorry you had to wake up alone. I wish I was here so you weren't as scared... I come at 10:00 and leave at 8:00," he sighs.

"I didn't even realize I was in a coma...  I wasn't scared waking up alone. I was a afraid of you coming. I didn't want you to hurt me. I didn't want anyone to hurt me...  That's the only reason why I was scared," I said lowly.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Stop saying sorry!" I snapped. "I get it you're sorry. I understand that you feel bad that I was in a coma. But you fucked up. You all did. You all need to learn how to treat people better. Please leave. Go home. Come back tomorrow. I'm fine!" I said stressed out.

He sighs nodding. "Okay," he sighs leaving.

I pressed my fingers against my temples feeling stressed out. I heard footsteps. "What do you want Alec?" I signed.

"Sorry... I'm not Alec," a man said coming in with a wheelchair. "Im Derek... I'm your physical therapist," he said.

"Do we have to do it today?" I sighed.

"Yes," he said and took my arm. "I'm going to help you on the wheelchair so we can go to our physical therapy room," he says taking my arm. I swung my legs off the bed immediately they began to shake as I stood up he helped me take a step to the wheelchair.

"So Izzy, do you live in Italy?" He asked.

"Nope," I said not in the mood.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

"School trip," I popped the p. "But then this happened,"

He sighs. "I was told things happen for a reason in life," he said.

"Like being tortured? Then going into a coma?" I mumbled.

He didn't hear me. "You have to have a positive outlook on life or you won't heal," he said.

"How can I have a positive outlook when I was in a coma for 18 months... and no one will let me call my mother," I sighs.

"I'm sure we can make that arrangement," he said.

"We can?" I asked.

He nodded.

I looked down. "Thank you," I whispered.

He pushed me into a room with treadmills, and other equipment. "Alright," he said. "We're going to try to walk," he said going over to the wall. "So I'm going to help you stand up and I'm going to help you put this belt on. Then we will take it slow.  I won't let go of you," he said helping me up, my legs shaking. He secured the belt around be. With one hand he held onto the belt the other held onto my arm. "Try to take a step," he said.

I nodded and and shaking took a step not able to put all my weight on my legs on my own.

"Take another step," he said.

I nodded lifting my leg taking another step my gripping tightly onto his arm.

Tears filled my eyes as we got only about five feet before I sat down in a chair. I felt my breathing speed up. "How come I can't walk?"

He sighs. "Because you hadn't walked for a year and half... your muscles stiffened and your body shut down and essentially "forgot" how to walk," he said.

I looked down. "Will I be able to walk soon?" He asked.

"Yes... if you believe in yourself and if you are determined to practice," he said.

"Let me know when you are ready and we will go back," he said.

I nodded and wiped my tears, "I'm ready," I said.

He nodded and helped me up. One step at a time I got back to the wheelchair then sat down. "Alright that was amazing," he said putting his hand up.

I gave him a hi five.

We headed back to my room. "Tell me your biggest dream," he asked.

"I want to become a writer and publish a book one day," I looked down.

"Well Izzy. You can do it. I feel you are strong willed and you can do it. And I will look out for that day that your book gets published and I will be the first person to buy it," he said supporting me.

"Thank you," I said smiling.

We got back to my room and I got to the bed and laid back down.

#twilight #new moon #newmoon #eclipse #breaking dawn part 1 #breaking dawn part 2 #breaking dawn #tts #the twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #writing #wattpad #vampires #vampire #oc #the cullens #cullens #the volturi #volturi #aro #caius #marcus #alec #demetri #jane #felix

[hollygopossumlovesj2]

Come Back Down, Part 21

Title: Come Back Down, Part 21

Warning/Rating: NC-17; For graphic smut, hand job (male receiving), cussing, description of mental illness.

Word Count: 4,879

Summary: Recovery is not easy for Jensen. It involves sitting still and ‘resting’ which pretty much adds up to anxiety and feelings of failure. Depression weighs heavily on him as he contemplates the past month.

A/N: Thank you, @tas898, for reading through this and reassuring me that it wasn’t complete crap! Also for pushing me to post the damn thing. I super appreciate your support, Twinsie!

Hollygopossum’s Master List ~ If you’d like to read more of my work, click this link 

Come Back Down Master List ~ Just incase you’d like to catch up, click this link here!

Cbd21

I’d been home for about 2 weeks now and had barely even left this room. Despite being drugged up to the gills for most of it, I was starting to lose patience with everyone. Mom had, of course, been insufferable and over attentive which was both annoying and guilt inducing. I knew there were preparations for her favorite holiday to be done but she was too busy checking on me every thirty minutes. Which, was an improvement because up until a couple of days ago, it had been every five.

It was a crazy concept to me, when I thought about it, but Christmas was only less than a week away. The two weeks I’d spent in hospital had seemed to drag on and on, but it turned out that hospital time goes a lot slower than real time.

The time I spent hospitalized was anxiety inducing, especially with my parents and their superpower of smothering the fuck out of me. My family had come to an agreement of a different schedule when I finally lost it enough to need more iv Ativan.

They were only allowed to come in one person at a time. My parents traded of the morning and afternoon shift. Josh, Mackenzie and Jared had each come to visit and take a ‘shift’ that I found unnecessary since I had a very attentive nurse. She came quickly when I had to break down and push the button but she hadn’t tried to make small talk. She was there to get down to business.

Then there was Y/N. She mainly took the night shift, after my parents and I had put our foot down that she needed a shower and at least 5 hours of sleep that she wouldn’t get if she stayed glued to my side 24/7. Selfishly I wanted her to stay with me and scare off my parents with her haunted eyes. But, she truthfully hadn’t recovered from me scaring the ever loving fuck out of her and she needed sleep and food.

So now, even though I was feeling pouty and ready to hunchback my healing ass out of this room and to the nearest bar, I stifled it. Earlier in the week, I’d half heartedly tried to convince her to go home to Wyoming. I told her she didn’t have to stay to take care of me when she had so many things to do at home. The argument was pointless, like arguing with an especially grumpy mule. I tried to let the guilt bog me down. I tried to convince myself that I was not just uselessly just putting her life on hold, and many of the cast and crew were ‘home on break’ until we had a full cast to work with.

So much guilt. Forever with the guilt.  

Unfortunately for me, she was also extremely perceptive. She always had been, and she knew with just one look that I wasn’t handling the bed surfing part of my recovery well. If I were honest with myself, I would admit that the appendectomy had scared the fuck out of me too. But, it seemed wrong to voice that when everyone else had been terrified too. I was damn relieved that she hadn’t listened when I told her that she should go home.

She knew from experience how much of a pain in the ass I could be when I wasn’t feeling well. And, like I’d said before, we’d been there for each other through a large variety of situations. Like, the time I’d gotten mono from making out with Anna McDowell the summer before senior year.

Y/N had been the only person home because she was visiting over her break. Dad was off filming a part in some sitcom that filmed in Vancouver. After I had assured Mom that Y/N and I could behave and would be fine alone, she had reluctantly gone with him.

My throat had been brutally sore and I’d felt weighed down like I could sleep for days at a time. I’ll just say that mono had made the bad cold I’d had back in Cheyenne look like the sniffles. She made sure I drank plenty of fluids and took my medication. She would even bring me popsicles if I didn’t bitch too much. I know I definitely tested Y/N’s patience that first week of summer. It was one of the many times that solidified the position she held in my life as my favorite person.

Now, things were a little different. We weren’t just two teenagers trying to get by anymore. She never gave me any inclination that she ever planned to run like hell. I’d tried to get used to the very real possibility that dealing with all of this was just too much for me to ask. How could such a friend stay in my life for so long? Especially when they were picking up pictures of her and putting them in the gossip magazines?

My life was already spilling over into hers and I hadn’t made anything official. I’d gotten comfortable with what we had, but now I had to consider the possibility that she wouldn’t want the kind of life that was constantly being observed underneath a microscope. Not that I could completely begrudge Danneel for going off the deep end, but I knew I was going to get some backlash for that. That meant that Y/N might get backlash, too. Some of my fans had tagged her as the ‘other woman’ years ago before I’d wizened up.

My sad effort to keep these worries and some others under wraps and my problem alone had failed. She’d tried to cheer me up by offering me my favorite foods or letting me watch whatever I wanted, but the truth was that I was going fucking stir crazy. I didn’t want to sit still so that my abdominal internal sutures could heal properly like the outside sutures were headed to a lot quicker than I had thought. To be honest, it was getting a little itchy which just added to my discontent.

To be fair, I recognized that it was my own damn fault that I’d landed in this situation. If I hadn’t been such a hard headed dipshit, I’d be back on set by now.

On top of that, I couldn’t help but think about Danneel and the fake pregnancy. I still hadn’t been able to give her what she wanted. It still stung more than I was prepared for, even though we weren’t together anymore. Our divorce had caused her to suffer a psychological break, or so her brother had informed me in a very angry, violent conversation over the phone right after I’d been released to go home.

I’d spoken to Danneel’s mother yesterday and she’d informed me that Danneel was receiving treatment closer to her home town in Louisiana in a much nicer, if a little bit professional tone. The doctors there thought the break was due to the imbalance of hormones in her system caused by the fertility treatments she had been having. Oh, and stress. For some reason, Danneel’s mother took pity on me. She mentioned that even though stress didn’t help the situation, it had played a very small part in comparison to the fertility treatments and her unsuccessful attempts at conceiving a baby.

I still couldn’t quite let myself off of the hook, even having been pardoned by her mother. As soon as I was healed enough to drive, I planned on making time to visit with Mrs. Graul and maybe even Danneel if she was ready to have visitors. I knew all too well that the divorce was solid this time, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of being responsible for pushing Danneel closer to the deep end. She might have meant to harm me, but I would’ve never wished her any real pain.

Y/N was still furious with Danneel who had confessed to running her off the road and into the ravine. A dark, unpopulated ravine that she’d been at the bottom of for nearly a week. Add on top of that the vandalism of her barn, and Y/N had every reason to press every charge possible, but she’d dropped them when she found out that Danneel wasn’t mentally well. She’d told me right before bed the night before that she didn’t want to make a bad situation worse. Plus, it was kind of hard to point fingers at someone who’d had such a hard time adjusting that they had a meltdown.

Once the media got a hold of the story, some negative Tweets and articles had already been released. Some of the Supernatural fandom were not very happy with me. They blamed me for Danneel’s mental break, and I couldn’t say I blamed them. The suits at the CW said not to worry, that the negative press would settle soon. They’d even tacked on that my drama had actually benefited the show being renewed. Bad attention, is still attention. Ugh! I felt used, but at least the crew would still have a job the longer they stayed on tv.

I sighed, feeling the tension building back up in my chest. It had only been momentarily alleviated by Y/N’s earlier animated conversation about how beautiful our hometown was. As she’d leaned into my shoulder, and nowhere else because I was a fucking china doll, she’d reminisced in a way that didn’t completely depress her. It was new, this lighter side of her talking about childhood hang outs and memories of us as high schoolers.

No matter how many times she returned to Dallas, and even though my parents had moved to a new house a few years before, the first couple of days always hit her like a sledgehammer. Especially if she tries to talk about her family. Now though, she seemed relaxed and happy to be here. She’d come back upstairs a couple of times ready to discuss a conversation that she’d had with my parents. There were little tidbits of information that she’d never known about her mom until my Mom had shared with her.

Maybe I’d be able to summon the inner strength to ask her what had changed.

She had disappeared about an hour ago and the book I was trying to read wasn’t holding my attention for longer than 5 minute increments.

Ever since I’d arrived home I’d been battling the nervous, possibly manic energy that was buzzing beneath my skin the longer I was forced to sit still. There were so many things that needed to be done for the show and I’d had to fight with both my Mom and Y/N so that I could leave to do voice work next week. They’d eventually given in when I told them that it was going to be done locally and for short amounts at a time. Even being able to do voice work in the very near future didn’t really quell it.

The crew had made changes as soon as they knew my recovery would be extended. They had left me out of several scenes and used my stunt guy to fill in where they couldn’t. I hated the strain this put on my friends.

Singer had tried to comfort me with the fact that it was only a couple of episodes and then they would break for Christmas. I wasn’t comforted. I hated anything that would possibly take away from the shows full potential and the family that was there.

You’d think the nervous energy would be completely cancelled out by the depressive episode of gargantuan proportions. It was obvious with my unwillingness to get out of bed or eat or to bathe myself with anything more complicated than a baby wipe down. I could actually feel myself sinking deeper and deeper, even with taking my antidepressant regularly. I could recognize it but I couldn’t do anything about it without feeling overwhelmed and defeated.

I had been at the end of my rope a few nights ago and finally caved. I told Y/N a shortened version of what was going on with me, omitting my worries about her because I didn’t want to give her more things to worry about. She had listened patiently but she hadn’t tried to soothe me with putting her hands on my face or giving me a look of pity.

She chose a scientific explanation that put me at ease faster than a generic, ‘I’m sorry, baby.’ She’d simply explained that sometimes anesthesia and the sedatives would mix up the normal balance of brain chemicals. That I should just try to take it easy until they balanced themselves out, but I didn’t know just how much more I could take.

Bored by the book I was trying to read and filled to the brim with hopelessness, I fell asleep. Sleeping was my only escape. It was the only way I could stop the voices in my head telling me how much I’d fucked up. That I was letting everyone that I’d ever cared about down.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep the next time I woke up, but it was a pleasant wake up. Y/N face was leaning down so that she was eye level, a private smile on her face and a little blush on her cheeks. It looked like maybe she had been able to be outside for a little while and gotten some sun on her face.

“Hey.” She whispered like speaking too loud would disturb the room. As I slowly became more conscious, I noted that she’d opened the blinds to let some sun it. It glowed brightly against the beige carpet in the room, reflecting an ethereal glow on her face.

“Hey.” I croaked, lifting a hand to push the hair hanging in her face behind her ear. She leaned down a little further to kiss my nose and then my lips, bringing a small smile out.

“I’ve run a bath for you.”

And… the moment was gone. “A bath?” A bath required energy. A bath meant I’d need help getting in and out. A bath sounded terrible.

“Yeah.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, probably seeing my face fall. “I’ll do all the work. All you have to do is stay awake.”

“I don’t want you to do all the work.” I grumped, groaning quite dramatically as I sat up. “I don’t want you to have to do anything.”

“Would you rather your Mom helped?” Dirty. She played dirty. She deduced the answer by the appalled twist to my expression. “Maybe we could have a little fun.”

I lifted an eye brow in question, wondering if Y/N had lost her mind while I’d been sleeping. It was a tiny bit enticing but absolutely not while my parents were still in the house. That would just be weird. Plus, I wasn’t exactly in shape to be doing acrobatics in the garden tub.

“Your parents are gone shopping for some last minute Christmas things. They’ll probably be gone…” She checked the phone she’d been carrying in her right hand. “For the next two hours.”

And, there went most of my excuses.

I didn’t cave one bit, my face a study in extreme grumpiness, as she walked close beside me while I hobbled into the upstairs bathroom. Even as I saw the bath tub full of bubbles and surrounded by a couple of candles that had to be left over from Mackenzie, I remained against this whole thing. It was one thing for me to help her shower all last summer. It was completely another for her to do the same.

I loved her and I wanted to be her safety and her security. I couldn’t very well do that while she was washing my ass for me.

To Y/N’s credit, she never lost the smile on her face or the genuine care she put into getting me into the tub. Which, if I were in the mood to be honest, it wasn’t as complicated as I’d thought it would be. It didn’t even hurt as much as I thought it would, but I still would’ve preferred some damn baby wipes or a sink bath to this. I could already be napping again by now. I was already a little breathless from the ten feet I’d just crossed to get to the bathroom.

A thought occurred to me as I got lost watching her take her clothes off, neatly folding them up on the counter next to what I assumed were my clean clothes. (Because I hadn’t even thought about grabbing any) But, maybe she was pushing this bath because she was tired of sleeping next to someone that (maybe, possibly) didn’t smell too fresh. The reasons didn’t even really matter that much. I was in the tub now. Might as well be fucking clean.

“Sit up a little.” She helped by pushing my shoulders forward and then slipped in behind me, her legs spread wide to frame mine. “Okay, now lean back.” I carefully leaned back and despite my issue with being the little spoon, I had to admit that it felt good. I closed my eyes and breathed deep, the water gently lapping around us and her arms encircled around my chest so I wouldn’t slide down.

This was nice and quiet, the firm hold around my chest chased a bit of the crazy anxious feeling away. Y/N knew exactly what I was doing and the possibility of her not knowing hadn’t crossed my mind besides being a grumpy asshole.

I didn’t even have to move when she began soaping my hair with shampoo, using a cup to wet my hair and then rinse it. I begrudgingly had to admit, if only to myself, that having my hair washed felt fucking fantastic. I relaxed further, humming as I let my full weight lean against her, as she massaged my scalp with firm fingers.

Her chuckle vibrated against my back, making a relaxed smile slowly spread on my lips. “You and your hair.”

I cocked an eyebrow even though she couldn’t see it, “What do you mean, ‘you and your hair?’” My voice grumbled an octave or two deeper because I was on the cusp of falling asleep.

“All anyone has to do to wipe that grumpy look on your face is put their fingers in your hair. I’m not sure you can have your hair cut in public with the noises that you make. You might get arrested for being indecent.”

“What?” I tensed up a little, only because what she was describing wasn’t very manly at all. I couldn’t help the character traits that I held to so rigidly. “I do fine in public thank you very much.” I had evolved since I’d grown up in Texas and made sure to never extend anything but support, especially to those that chose to challenge the world’s expectations and dared to be exactly who they were. I admired their strength, but I was still stuck living by my Dad’s southern expectations and it was a lot easier to be understanding of someone else than it was to be understanding of myself.

“Shhh…” Her fingers slid down to dig deeply into my intensely tight neck muscles after she’d rinsed my hair thoroughly. I instantly forgot what I was ruffled about. “I didn’t mean to get your hackles up, Ackles. You’re still a big tough guy if that’s what you want to be.”

She got a grunt in response, mostly because I didn’t want to get into another discussion about how I hold myself to too many rigid self-expectations. Oh yes, she had made her point several times, but I just couldn’t stop. The anxiety that I’d been trying to fight since childhood always managed to make me fixate on my flaws. All through Days of Our Lives and Dark Angel, I would spend hours rehearsing and trying to have my line delivery perfect. When I would lay down at night, all the times I’d failed would keep me from sleeping well, including the time I’d failed to get a big part in the kindergarten play. I took a big breath and let it go, relaxing back into her warm, soft body.

I let myself drift in and out of consciousness, letting her hands wash away all the eck that had built up while I was laid up. Y/N had clipped her nails short so that she could massage my skin as she washed everywhere thoroughly, pushing the painful toxins and leaving me basically a pile of jelly. Damn it felt good. She cleared her throat, a tell that she had something important to say, and I braced myself for what would come next.

“You can’t do this to me again, okay?” She began to whisper, her warm breath and lips tickling the back of my neck and setting off goosebumps as she swiped the wash cloth over my healing incision. I hummed in answer, trying to maintain this relaxed state for as long as possible, but let her know I was listening. “You get a free pass for this one, but anything after this, there will be consequences.” I grunted, unable to conjure up enough energy to form words. “I won’t be able to handle it again, Jay. I never wanted to be close to anyone after my parents. But then, there you were. I will never be able to survive a day without you alive on this Earth somewhere, and that terrifies me.”

The sound of her sniffling brought me back to Earth, her words processing clearly. I laid my head back, held up by her shoulder as I searched blindly for her lips. My eyes were still closed as I instinctively found them. I was afraid if I opened my eyes that she would see the fear in mine as well. Not because of her threat of retribution and consequences, but the horrifying thought that if something happened to me she wouldn’t survive.

They were salty from tears when she pressed her lips against mine. I turned the kiss into something needy, something that expressed the vulnerable thing inside me with her name on it, without words. I wanted to pull her into my lap and hold her close but the internal sutures kept me from moving very much at all.

“M’not goin’ anywhere.” I pressed the words into her willing lips, my tongue easing in to glide over her teeth and then battle for dominance with her tongue.

“Okay,” she whispered on an inhale, her fingers teasing my happy trail below the surface. I was already responding to her kisses, my dick already filling with blood and half hard. I couldn’t help the grunt that was muffled by our lips when her fingers lightly grazed me. My eyes squeezed closed even tighter against the emotion that was stirring turmoil in my chest. The bath and the tease of something more made sense now. She wanted to put her hands on me to feel me alive and well. How could I ever have thought I’d be strong enough to begrudge her that.

From then on her touches were done with more intent, her fingers teasing my shaft only to go lower and gently roll my balls and hold them in her palm. I was gonna be a quick trigger and I couldn’t even bring myself to feel self-conscious about it. I hadn’t even put my own hand on me since a few days before my surgery. I hadn’t even thought of this since I’d been home, too distracted by the pain.

But, fuck if it didn’t feel good now. I was already panting hard, my head feeling dizzy from my short breaths and limited oxygen intake. I tried to turn around so that I could touch and taste more of her, but she stopped me with her hands pressing firmly against my pecks to keep me still. “Stay like this. This is just for you.”

I didn’t like being the only one on the receiving end. I got a lot of my pleasure from watching her feel good. I loved how responsive she was. I loved the noises that she made and how she would finally just let go and feel it. However, I had to admit that what she was doing, the being in control? Fuck, that was hot, too.

I finally had to stop trying to kiss her, leaning my head back and tucking my nose into the crook in her neck just so that I could breathe her scent into my lungs. I felt her other hand leave my side a moment and the sound of a thick liquid being squeezed from a bottle. It didn’t really register until her hand was slicking up my cock with a lubricant. It was oil based so that it didn’t wash off right away, removing the friction that water made uncomfortable. The warm, wet sensation was overwhelming and I couldn’t help the groan as I pushed my face further into her skin.

This time she didn’t tease, sensing my urgency in the twitch of my hips, her hand firm as she began pumping with purpose. I was already desperate, my breath started to get caught in my throat and hitch in my chest.

“Relax, let me do all the work.” She whispered like a dirty, dirty porn star and put pressure on my hip to try to keep me still. The action resulting in a moan from deep in my throat, a thrill of pleasure crawling up my spine. Fuck it was hot that she was bossing me around a little.

She would bring me right to the edge, my toes curling in the water, before she’d ease off. I could hardly stay still or hold in the vulnerable moans that echoed in the acoustics of the bathroom. I couldn’t help but to thrust into her hand as much as she would allow, planting my feet and trying to get the most out of every single one. To keep from sliding down, my hands were leaving finger print bruises as I gripped her thighs for dear life. Fuck!

“Oh, fuck. Oh, god-. …gonna… Sweetheart, I’m gonna-. Oh, fuck!” When she finally let me come it felt like months’ worth of come was dragged out of me in long, hard pulses. My balls clamped down so hard that they were actually sore when I could bring myself to give a fuck. To be honest, I didn’t know what I said, my mind blown and focused on just one thing, babbling the words that just rolled out of my mouth without a filter. There may have been curse words or multiple praises for unknown deities and moans that might’ve sounded like I was dying. All I really knew was that my throat was a little dry when I could finally focus on the room.

The orgasm had turned my entire body into jelly, my legs and arms were like limp noodles. I hissed through my teeth, my dick still very sensitive, when she washed the lubricant off with a warm, soapy wash cloth. God, as much as I’d complained and tried to convince Y/N that this wasn’t a good idea, I had to admit to myself that I had been wrong.

Even though I had been a grumpy ass, she had still been able to take care of me so completely that mixed in with the orgasmic haze was a hell of a lot of gratitude.

Getting me out of the bath tub and dried off would probably be a funny story later, but I was too relaxed to care. I could feel the dopey smile on my face as Y/N laughed at me while I leaned almost my entire weight into her side. “Whoo…” We listed to the left and to the right a little because my brain was mostly out of the building.

“Alright, chuckles, hang on for me for just a minute longer.” She kind of sounded like I was probably killing her back, but my center of gravity depended on her.

When we finally made it safely to the bedroom and into bed, she took great care as she tucked me in. She pulled the comforter up to beneath my chin and dipped to kiss my lips one more time.

It was pure luck that I was able to work my hand and to grab onto her shirt before she could get up to leave. She returned the big, dumb smile I could feel on my face. “Stay.”

The amused smile on her kiss swollen lips turned soft as she answered me with a kiss to my forehead. “Okay.” I watched blearily as she ditched her blue jeans and bra, climbing and snuggling up close next to me in just a t shirt and her blue lace panties. She laid up against me, but put her arm over my chest to avoid my incision, tucking her face beside mine, sharing my pillow. “Love you.”

I pressed my lips into her forehead, staying there as I fell into a few deep, quality hours of sleep. “Love you, too.”

Tagging (Forever’s): @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @callmesatansprincess, @atc74, @ryansgirl5509, @notnaturalanahi, @keepcalmandcarryondean, @sea040561, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @uniquewerewolfsuit, @ria132love, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @pretty-fortune, @butiaintgonnaloveem, @justanotherdeangrl, @weasleywinchester,@easelweasel, @akshi8278, @tas898, @mandymoiselle1970, @pansexualmeteorite,

Tagging (CBD Only): @melissaj616, @katrena7, @deansdirtyduchess, @anticipate1003, @jalove-wecallhimdean, @shamelesslydean, @xristina-gkika

#Jensen ackles #Jensen ackles smut #Jensen ackles x reader #Jensen ackles rpf #supernatural rpf #Jensen ackles x y/n #Jensen ackles angst #Jensen ackles fluff #bath tub fun #surgery recovery #recovery from appendicitis #Supernatural Smut #Supernatural Angst #Supernatural Fluff #Come back down #spnfanficpond #guppy fic #Jensen ackles fan fiction #Jensen ackles fan fic #hollygopossum writes

[ofnifflersandkings]

Media Naranja IV

A/n: Longer chapter, but I’m super happy with the way it turned out and this’ll probably be the last part so i went all in.

Previous Part: http://ofnifflersandkings.tumblr.com/post/163150824192/media-naranja-iii

•

Connor flinched a little when he heard the volume of his door closing, but simply shrugged it off as he threw his coat and bag onto thefloor, promptly flopping onto his bed and groaning into the pillows. He felt pretty bad about just leaving you at the library, but decided that it was best to collect his thoughts.

Connor sat up on his bed, his gaze fell on his laptop and he debated on talking to Jared and Evan and get their intake on the whole ordeal.

The three of them all shared a couple classes, and they had mutual ideas of who the other was, besides that one English project sort of forced them to all get along with one another and form their small friend group.

They weren’t close friends. But still, the two of them had a funny way of talking to each other that amused Connor, so they all would talk online more than in person.

“God dammit,” Connor mumbled, fetching his computer from his desk and sitting up on his bed.

He booted up the computer and pulled up chat and stared at yesterday’s conversation.It took him a solid five minutes before actually figuring out what the hell he was gonna write

Connor: Listen, I need opinions on something.

Only seconds after hitting enter Connor felt the overwhelming desire to cringe, this was going to be the most awkward conversation of his life.

Evan: Sure, what happend?

Jared: oh my god, are we all about to have a moment??

Connor rolled his eyes, Jared was probably his least favorite of the two, but he certainly had the better sense of humor.

Connor: hilarious, seriously though, i need help on this one.

So, he told them what all happened at the library down to the part where he ran away. Connor saw the annotations that both of them were typing and rubbed his forehead, all of this emotion bullshit was giving him a major headache.

Evan: That’s a lot of information, but I’m sure we can help you with it.

Jared: hoLY SHIT CONNOR MURPHY IS JEALOUS!

Jealous?

Now that didn’t sound right.

Connor was a lot of things, but jealous? Never.

Besides,what was there to be jealous of? You and him were friends and nothing more.

So, then why did it hurt so much to think about?

He shook his head and promptly carried on the conversation.

Connor: Absolutely not.

Jared: Bullshit, literally everything about that story points to jealousy, just let it happen man.

Evan: Well hold on, it coud be something else? Maybe it’s just because you don’t like this Tony guy.

Jared: nobody even knows who tony fucking is, why would that explanation make any sense, hansen?

Jared: You’re jealous and I’ll prove it, because word on the web is that (Y/n) and Tony went on a date tonight at the one bookshop next to the coffeehouse. It’s a total hipster’s wet dream but there are pictures and everything.

Connor reread the message a few times, his brain was taking bit longer to actually process what he was reading on the screen.

Connor: Well fine, why should I give a damn who she goes out with, it’s not like i care or anything. It’s whatever.

Connor made a small ‘hmph’ noise as he leanded against the headboard of his bed, he could feel the disappointment and minor anger getting to him the more he thought about it.

And at first, he really, honestly, and truthfully thought he could end it there and leave it at that.

But before he knew what was happening, his hands were harshly typing away on his keyboard.

Connor: i mean what the fuck does she see in him anyways? the dude looks like a discount Harry fucking Potter they’ve literally never spoken in person i hang out with her all the time and this is the first I’ve heard of any stupid fucking tony

Evan: I think you should calm down a little.

Connor barely even looked at the responses, because all of this pent up anger had been released and he was certifiably pissed.

Connor: the two of them were chatting up a. storm at the library and the dick even made her laugh like ten times but whatever i honestly couldnt care less so what if the ass doesn’t deserve her or care about her like i do. i’m perfectly Fine.

Evan: holy shit

Jared: um…okay.

Evan: I mean really, wow.

Connor looked back at what he had written, and immediately wanted to toss his computer out of his window before throwing it into the deepest depths of the ocean.

Something didn’t add up though.

Jared wasn’t particularly close to you, and he didn’t know Tony.

Connor: Hold on, how do you known they’re together?

Jared: oh yeah, i don’t.

Jared: I was just pulling on your dick because you were being a bitch about your big ole crush on (Y/n), only wanted you to own up to it. But then you just went oFF.

Connor blinked, admitting his feelings to himself was something he was never able or wanted to do. Maybe it was because you were his first real friend, and the idea of putting that at risk for some petty schoolgirl crush was something he didn’t want to do.

But looking back on it now, this was clearly something a lot deeper than that.

Doesn’t mean he wants to admit it.

Connor: Right, well uh, I’m gonna sleep on it.

He closed his laptop amd set it aside, situation himself so he could look up at his ceiling and think.

Connor Murphy liked you.

A lot.

That part was obvious.

He indulged himself a little, allowing his subconscious imagine what it would be like if the two of you got together. Honestly, it wouldn’t be much different. You and him were already so close, it practically felt like a romantic relationship.

Connor just couldn’t wrap his arms around you, or hold your hand whenever he wanted to, or kiss you.

But he’s getting ahead of himself.

Connor got worried.

•

Another hour passed and stilll not a thing.

But he was cool about it, it’s not like he was waiting on you to answer him.

What a fucking lie.

The boy was checking phone nearly every five minutes regardless of his ringer being on and at the highest volume.

Connor carried it with him everywhere checking to see if you had answered. His phone was practically glued to his hands, it went with him while he brushed his teeth, talking to the boys, or pacing around the room as he stared at the messenger

He was a mess.

•

I mean what the hell kind of teenager doesn’t have their phone on them 24/7? He even knew that you had least 15 ebooks downloaded onto your phone.

Another hour and nothing, dejected and a little hurt, Connor left his phone on the kitchen table to go outside and kick at some of the pile of leaves that had gathered in the backyard to get out his frustration.

Ten minutes and scattered leaves all over the place, Cynthia showed up at the back door. “Connor! Your photo went off!” She called, holding the phone out to him.

Connor nearly ran his mom over when he ran past her, snatching the phone out of her hands.

“Thanks, love you, I’ll be in m room!” Connor said, far too quickly for her to understand.

Once he was alone, Connor looked down at the screen and got the biggest smile on his when we saw you had finally replied.

(Y/n): Sorry, I was reading. But I can meet you in 10??

Connor managed to reply, put on his jacket, and tell his mom where he was going in the matter of minutes before he was out the door.

•

You were already there whenever Connor came sprinting down the walking path, you smiled at his unkempt hair and the way the curls went absolutely everywhere.

Jared had told you Connor only started letting grow out over the summer, but you had a hard time imagining him without his long hair.

You had grown fond of it.

“There you are,” You said, giving him a smile when he came up to you.

Connor gave you a breathless laugh, and you could see how rosy his cheeks had gotten from both the exercise and the cold.

Speaking of which, you noticed that his jacket was far too thin for the kind of weather that was happening right now. Winter was on the horizon so the temperatures kept getting colder by the day.

“Hey, come here,” You said, beckoning him with your hand until he was standing right in front of you. “That jacket isn’t gonna do you any good, take this.”

Connor saw that you were beginning to take off your thick wool scarf and his hands went out to stop you before he stopped himself and awkwardly shoved him into his pockets.

“N-No, no, don’t do that, keep it.”

“Stop trying to act all tough and just take the scarf,” You ordered him sternly. “I don’t need you whining to me when you get a cold.”

He expected you to hand the scarf to him, so picture his surprised look when your hands gently went around his neck to put it on for him.

He could feel the coldness of your skin when your fingers softly brushed against the base of his neck and it made him involuntarily shiver at the sensation. Your perfume still lingered in the material of the scarf and he was suddenly completely wrapped in the feeling of you. It overloaded his senses amd he felt heat crawl up on his cheeks.

"Thank you,” Connor said, coughing to cover up how flustered he was.

You smiled before backing away from him. “So, what did you summon me here for?”

Oh, yeah.

Connor sighed, momentarily forgetting what he was doing. “I wanted to tell you something important.”

“Go on then, I’m all yours.”

He looked at you for a moment, his brain suddenly coming to a blank about what he had rehearsed saying to you. The words were meant in a nonchalant way, but it made his head go in a million different directions.

So much for the plan.

Connor’s hands fumbled together as he trie to figure out how to word his feelings without sounding like a total idiot. “I uh, I totally understand if you don’t feel the same..,” He trailed off, eyes looking up at you for a minute before a minuscule smile formed on his face. “But it would be really nice if you did.”

He settled his gaze on you again and instantly regretted everything once he saw the soft expression on your face. Did he sound stupid and that was some kind of look of pity.

“Of course I feel the same, stupid.” You said, wondering how he missed all the signs you had been giving him.

“Seriously?” Connor asked, feeling a smile grow whenever he saw you nod. “Well that’s good.”

Shut up you sound stupid

There was a short moment of silence before he spoke up again. “You know, your hands are really cold, give ‘em here,” Connor said, taking your both hands in his and tucking them under the scarf. “Better?“

“Better.” You replied, looking up at him to see him smile.

Connor examined your features up close, all the small freckles down the bridge of your nose and little imperfections one could only see if they were really looking at you.

You noticed him subconsciously leaning in towards you, your noses barely brushing against each other. You retracted your hands from him, on to place them around his neck as you leaned up to kiss him.

His hands reacted by wrapping his hands around you, resting them on your shoulder blades before pulling you closer.

Borh of your lips were chapped, and there was little movement from either of you, but it was warm and sweet and it just felt right.

Connor had every intention on keeping you there for awhile but you pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes, though he still had you tucked into his arms.

Connor took the opportunity to place a tender kiss on your cheek before letting you make your call.

Oh, yeah.

Connor Murphy liked kissing you.

A lot.

#a bittersweet moment #this took fucking FOREVER to fix #so if there are any mistakes it's honestly probably because i couldnt be bothered #errors in the chat sections are on purpose tho #also gifs still don't work #tumblr is trying to test my patience #connor murphy imagine #connor murphy x reader #dear evan hansen imagine #broadway imagines

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Chapter Thirty-Four

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII

cowritten by @lux-scriptum​

A/N: Trigger warning for grief, excessive violence, heavy drugs, implied sex for drugs, just nik being :/

The can of gasoline hit the sidewalk with a dull thud. Amara tipped her chin up, glaring at nothing in particular. This was long overdue, but Cameron had gone and stolen her thunder, burning his club down first. Still, if she was going to stay sober, she needed some sort of outlet. So. Gasoline.

Amara turned around and unloaded the second can. She lugged it up the path, and pushed her way inside Lev’s old house. The stains on the floor, both old and new, damn near made her see red. Swallowing the bile that rose up, she started in the bedroom. This was her second trip, and she’d wasted too much in the bathroom and kitchen. She was impatient; she wanted this over, and this awful reminder of every awful thing that had happened to her cousin deserved to be burned to the fucking ground.

The second can went around the living room, and then she backed out the door. The smell of gasoline followed her. For a long moment she stared in the house, more than just the acrid scent making her throat tighten.

It was overkill but she stood there and lit every match in the box she’d bought, flicking them into the house one by one until they were gone. Only when she turned away did she notice the car idling. She stared down the sedan for a full minute before she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and headed over.

Sorin lowered the window, frowning up at her. “Arson’s illegal, you know.”

“Do I look like I give a flying fuck?” Amara leaned over. “No one lives near here anymore, and following laws is low on my priority list.”

“Noted,” Cyrus said, turning off his car. “Why did you ask us to meet you here?”

“You were on my way. I want to discuss what you owe me.”

“Amara,” Cyrus said, voice even. “I’m not going to kill anyone for you.”

“I’m not going to ask that of you. I can kill anyone I need on my own.” She straightened. “We’ll talk at my apartment.”

She hopped on her bike, gunned the engine, and took off without bothering to see if they'd follow.

---

Nik had been wandering the streets of the Obsidian Court for gods knew how long. He didn’t quite care either way. Cameron was off doing Cameron things and he managed to slip loose of Ash’s leash, and now he was free to wander.

It didn’t take him long to find the darker parts of the city, especially when this entire city was filled with monsters of varying lethality. It definitely wasn’t hard to find dealers, however, it was hard to find a dealer who would deal to him.

Fucking Cameron.

Nik finally found one in a dive, sitting in a back booth smoking and looking at his phone. It hadn’t taken much to sit down across from him. Even if Nik’s wings weren’t showing, the demon’s silver eyes were well aware of the fact Nik was an angel. “Well, you look like shit,” he observed, mildly.

“Hm, I imagine I do,” Nik said. “Hangovers.”

The demon’s mouth tilted and he put down his phone. “You’re wanting to buy.”

“Was it that obvious?” Nik asked, leaning back. “I got the cash.” Cameron’s cash, but still.

The demon leveled him a look, mirroring Nik as he leaned into his booth. The way he looked Nik over, almost curiosity more than anything else. “And if I don’t want your money?” he asked.

“I mean, I can suck your cock,” Nik replied. “I got the skills for that, too.”

“Oh I’m sure you do,” the demon said. “But what if I said I didn’t want your mouth?”

Nik felt a smile tilt up on his face and he arched a brow. “I have an ass,” he said.

The demon snorted. “Never fucked an angel,” he mused. “I think I can make the trade.”

“Poor you,” Nik said. “Luckily I can help. Provided you give me what I want.”

“Oh I will,” he said, “However. I feel like I should tell you that this product is aimed at demonic biologies. It could quite possibly kill you- and I am not so sure that I want Cameron Luain showing up on my doorstep because his cockwarmer decided to overdose on demonic drugs.”

“Hm,” Nik mused. “That does sound like a pickle, doesn’t it.”

“So you better make the fuck worth it.”

---

Cyrus parked the car and looked over at Sorin. “You going to behave?” he asked, still gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“I don’t like how she roped you into this,” Sorin muttered petulantly.

“I agreed,” Cyrus replied mildy. “I could have said no.”

“I don’t like it,” Sorin insisted, and got out of the car with a huff. Cyrus had to jog to catch up with him, grabbing his wrist. Sorin glared at the ground, baring his fangs at nothing, before adding, “But fine, best behavior.”

Cyrus held onto Sorin for an extra moment, waiting until Sorin looked up to let go. By the time he finished crossing the parking lot, Amara was already stomping up the stairs. She’s in a wonderful mood, Cyrus mused drly, taking the lead rather than have Sorin on her heels.

By the time they got upstairs to her open doo, Amara was already kicking the two people on her couch out of the apartment. Sorin all but jumped back from the curly haired blonde man, despite having a solid inch on him. Cyrus tried not to purse his lips, and held the door for the petite ginger who followed, discreetly wiping her face as she passed.

Tension lined Amara’s body, drawing her taut as a bowstring as she watched them. “Well?” She finally bit out. “Sit.”

Cyrus wrapped his hand around Sorin’s wrist, and tugged him down onto the couch before Sorin could get bitchy. Rather than sit herself, Amara started pacing back and forth. “You wanted to discuss what spell you wanted from me?” Cyrus finally prompted.

“Is it possible to bring back the dead?” Amara asked with abrupt bluntness.

“I beg your pardon?” Cyrus asked. Beside him, Sorin had gone stiff as a board. “Back from the- you can’t be serious.”

“Deadly serious. Is. It. Possible?”

“Not that I know of,” Cyrus said. He sat back. “But-” He hesitated.

“But what? What exactly would stop you from bringing my cousin back?” Amara demanded, stopping to fix him with a look so fierce Sorin growled beside him.

A thud on the door broke their staring contest before Cyrus could figure out how to word what he wanted. A moment later a very clearly inebriated angel stumbled through the doorway.

“Demon. Goth boyfriend.”

Cyrus assumed those were greetings of a sort, because they were immediately dismissed in favor of Amara.

“I’ve got drugs. Wanna get high?” He waved said drugs in Amara’s direction to prove it.

Amara scowled. “No. I’m busy, and I’m still pissed at you.”

The angel squinted at her. “Are you sober?” He somehow managed to sound accusatory and confused at the same time.

“Sober as a priest during mass,” she replied. “Is that all you want, Nik? If so you can go.”

Nik continued to stare at her. Even Cyrus was getting uncomfortable by the time Nik said, “Are you pregnant?”

“No,” Amara said shortly. “I’m not. Unlike some people, I know how to cope with death.”

What, with necromancy? Cyrus thought, but he kept that to himself.

They all watched Nik saunter across the room. “Do you want to be?” He all but slurred, leaning in close as he slid his hand under her shirt.

Without hesitation she twisted his wrist, grabbed the scruff of his neck, and slammed his face in the coffee table. He dropped like a rock and lay on the floor. After staring at him for a moment, she crouched and checked to see if he was breathing.

“I didn’t mean to hit him that hard,” she said mildly, sitting back on her heels. “Give me a minute, I have a phone call to make.”

Sorin and Cyrus exchanged a look as she pulled her phone out.

---

She should have been less hasty to react, and she knew it. Nik was grieving, and she had no intentions of telling him what she was trying to do. Fuck him, especially after calling her a liar and blaming Lev’s death on her.

Cameron picked up immediately, like he knew she was going to call. He probably did, too. “Come get your brat,” she said in place of a greeting. “I knocked him out after he offered to knock me up.”

“I don’t think he can get it up,” was all Cameron said. “Don’t kill him.”

The phone call ended with a decisive click.

“Bastard,” she muttered, standing. She looked Sorin and Cyrus over, and said, “We’re just gonna have to wait until Cameron comes to pick up Nik. Use that time wisely, witch, and think about your answer.”

She proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes with her arms crossed as she slouched in the armchair, glaring at the door until Cameron deigned to show up. She knew damn well it took half that amount of time to get there even if you followed the rules of the road.

The first thing Cameron did when he walked in the door was to look right at the witch and demon seated awkwardly on her couch. The witch met his stare steadily, not blinking, which... Amara had to give credit where credit was due. A lesser man would have broken eye contact, or at least squirmed. Cyrus simply waited calmly for Cameron’s attention to turn elsewhere.

The suspicion in Cameron’s gaunt face when he looked to her finally didn’t sway her from her stony silence. Eventually Cameron scooped Nik up. “Thanks for babysitting him. I’ll be sure to pay you.”

Amara lifted her chin just a little, just out of pure stubbornness. She didn’t owe him a goddamn thing, least of all this. She washed her hands of owing him anything when she gave him Lev’s ashes.

Silence reigned in the apartment for a full five minutes before Cyrus spoke up.

“It might be possible. With a heavy emphasis on might.” Cyrus leaned forward. “Ignoring the fact you’re asking me to break the very laws of nature, this has never been done before. Never, in the history of angelkind, demonkind, or humankind. No one has managed to bring back the dead.”

“My family has a reputation for beating the odds,” Amara replied flatly. “Figure it out.”

“Circling back, and not ignoring it, you’re asking me to break the laws of nature. Do you not understand what a witch is?”

Amara narrowed her eyes. “I know exactly what a witch is, and that’s why I’m asking you right now.”

“And why do you get to bring someone back?” Cyrus challenged. “Who says he wants to come back? DId you consider any of this? I get you’re grieving, but wedging that door open is not a reversible act. What’s to stop anyone else from doing the same thing?”

“Not my problem,” Amara snarled. Despite that, she looked away. “I don’t care about the rest,” she said finally. “But- we’ll ask him. Before. I know someone who can see ghosts.”

Cyrus sighed, and when she looked up, he was rubbing his temples tiredly. “Again, I don’t even know if it’s possible-”

“Then find out,” Amara said, and even she could hear the desperation in her voice. “Please. I have to try. He was- he was just starting to be happy, and I let him get murdered.” She swallowed, hardened her tone again. “I can describe it for you. What that demon did to him. He didn’t deserve it.”

Cyrus’ stupid stare didn’t waver, even if beside him Sorin had his head down and his fists clenched. Finally Cyus said, “I can look into it. I’ll do my best to figure it all out. I promised you a spell, and I’ll do everything in my power to find it. But this does not get out. I don’t want people lining up at my door to find out how I raised the dead, if it even is possible.” Cyrus paused, long enoughs he thought he wouldn’t go on. His hand found hers, and she couldn’t bring herself to shake him off. “Before I agree to do the spell, I want to talk to him myself. Either through a seance, or through your friend. And... are you sure he’s a ghost? I won’t be able to do anything if he’s moved beyond.”

“Lev’ll stay. Nik’s a wreck. I know him too well. He’s here somewhere. Crying, if ghosts can even cry.”

Cyrus nodded slowly. “I'll do my best,” he promised, and stood. “Is there anything else you need?”

Amara shook her head. She waited for Cyrus to gently pull Sorin to his feet and herd the demon out the door with an arm around his shoulder before she lowered her head in her hands. She’d done all she could for now. It didn’t feel like enough.

---

Cameron dropped the stone cold unconscious omega back at home, ordering the sentries to make sure he did not leave his house and could not get to the alcohol. He called Ash and told him to come babysit as well before he went back to Amara’s shitty apartment.

He hadn’t bothered knocking on the door and walked inside. Amara was sitting with her head in her hands and Cameron had the feeling she had been sitting like that for a while. “That can’t possibly be good for your back,” he said, mildly.

“Like you care,” Amara said, in a muted sort of tone.

“I don’t,” Cameron said. “What was the witch doing here.”

Amara finally bothered to look up at him. “Doing me a favor.” When Cameron didn’t say anything, she said, “He’s going to try to bring Lev back.”

The only reaction Cameron gave her was furrowing his brows. “And what makes you think that any of us have the right to play with life like that. We trade in death, our hands are too dirty for this.”

“I take what I want.”

“I know plenty of people who take what they want,” Cameron said, coolly. “Doesn’t mean any of you have the right to alter the laws of nature. Then again, you are a hypocrite.”

Amara stared at him with a blank tone that he chose to ignore. “He didn’t deserve that. We should have done better.”

“He didn’t,” Cameron said. “And we should have. But he got it and we didn’t. We live with our choices.”

“I won’t. And you can’t stop me.”

“I’m sure I could,” Cameron said, mildly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“But you won’t. You miss him too and Nik’s a wreck. I’ll take the consequences.”

“And what about the consequences your cousin will face if brought back from the dead? Surely you don’t think he will be symptom free from necromancy.”

“I’ll figure it out,” she said. “It can’t be any worse than him watching the three of us flounder. You know he is.”

“And you’re so sure about that?” he asked dryly. “I hadn’t realized you were so well versed in the arts of bringing back the dead.”

“Then fine,” she said. “I’m a selfish bitch and I want him back. And I don’t care about anything else.”

“Well. At least you’re self aware. And what would you do if your plan doesn’t work? I’m sure you wouldn’t be happy with your witch’s failure in resurrection. Considering his magic would be derived from the very nature you plan on breaking.”

“Then at least I tried,” she said, her tone too hoarse for his taste.

“Have you considered what the ginger is going to have to say about this?”

“If Ash didn’t want me fucking with the laws of nature then he should have saved Lev when he had the chance.”

Considering Ash’s magic, his very being was tied to Nature, Cameron was sure Ash had plenty to say on the matter, and if he cared, he might consider telling him. But instead he said, “Does your witch have any idea of how to do it?”

“No,” she admitted. “He just said he’d try and figure it out.”

“How reassuring,” Cameron deadpanned.

Amara seemed tired when she said, “Fuck you.”

“Did you consider that I might have had information to give you regarding this idiotic idea of yours?”

Amara sighed. “No. I didn’t want to think about you; I don’t owe you anything.”

“Going to be hard resurrecting your cousin if you lack the key ingredients, don’t you think?” Cameron said. Even with the reading he had done, it didn’t take a genius to piece together the fact Lev’s ashes were probably going to be required.

Amara rubbed at her face. “I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. We’re still trying to figure out if it’s even possible.”

“Does anyone know? Besides you, the witch and his demon?” Did you idiotically tell Nik.

Amara shook her head. “Cin knows. He doesn’t approve either.” She looked up, leveling him a look. “I don’t owe Nik anything.”

Cameron lifted a brow. “Trouble in paradise? Are you saying Nik is no longer your best friend. I’m sure he will be hurt at the revelation.”

“He told me Lev’s death was my fault because I introduced you. As if you both didn’t make Lev the happiest he’d ever been in the 137 years he was alive.”

“Lev’s death is my fault,” Cameron said, flatly. “No one elses.”

“Fuck you. It’s Destris’ and we both know it.”

Cameron didn’t give her the satisfaction of a blink. “I’ll let you think that,” he said, coolly. He moved over to the coffee table and dropped the bottle of whiskey next to her. “Your payment.”

“I don’t want it. Take it back. I’m sober.”

“Not for long,” Cameron said, already turning around and walking out the door. He pulled out his phone, looking at the time and map. He had the feeling the witch and his lover lived in demonic territory somewhere.

----

Cyrus ran his fingers through Sorin’s curls, stifling a sigh. Reopening old wounds hadn’t been the point of seeking out Amara all those weeks ago. The conversation about Fax this afternoon, as soon as they’d gotten home, had taken a lot out of both of them. The look on Sorin’s face when Cyrus had gently pointed out Fax had moved on months before haunted Cyrus.

For the last hour Sorin had just lain there with his head in Cyrus’ lap. Cyrus had let him, giving him time to process and grieve all over again. Two steps forward, one step back. As always.

Cyrus’ wardings warned him right before Cameron stepped through the front door. The demon settled in Sorin’s armchair, crossing one knee over the other without so much as a greeting. “So. You want to bring back my omega from the dead.”

“Want is a bit of a stretch,” Cyrus replied, keeping his arm on top of Sorin to keep him from sitting up. “Coerced into it is a more accurate description. But yes, I will be attempting it.”

Cameron looked at him for the longest time before saying, “Why? I’m sure you could defend yourself from Amara just fine. And if not, you boyfriend can.”

Cyrus inclined his head. “I could,” he agreed. “But I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. I made the mistake of keeping that promise open ended, and I won’t be making that mistake again. At the time it seemed worth it, for Sorin’s sake.” He dragged his fingers through Sorin’s curls again, and Sorin hid his face against Cyrus’ thigh in response.

Cameron leaned back. “I thought witches had morals.”

“We do.” Cyrus arched a brow. “Just because they don’t line up with what you expect doesn’t mean I don't have them.”

“Oh, I don’t have morals,” Cameron said. “However, you answer to a higher power than me.”

“I expect this spell will have a hefty price,” Cyrus said. “I know I’ll be breaking the laws of nature. If I can even manage it. Nature will demand something in return. Amara will have to decide if she’s willing to pay that price. Though I’m sure she’ll not care what the price is.”

“No she does not,” was all Cameron said. Eventually he said, “And what about the price Lev will have to pay?”

Cyrus closed his eyes, grimacing. He only opened them when he knew what to say. “Part of my conditions for bringing Lev back is ensuring I minimize whatever cost there is for him. And he has to agree to it. I’m not yanking him back into this life if he doesn’t want to come. No one deserves that. If I can’t promise both of those with the spell I create, then I will not perform it, and Amara will have to live with that. You all will.”

“Are you prepared for that kind of blood on your hands?” Cameron asked.

Cyrus considered that too. He couldn’t not. Every time he thought about what he had to do, he had to face that truth all over again. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. “I’ll have to decide when the time comes.”

“And that will be your price.”

“I know,” Cyrus said softly. “It’s a lot to pay, for one omega.”

The blank look on Cameron’s face didn’t go away, even as he stared at Cyrus. Seconds stretched into minutes, until Cameron said, “You don’t even know him.”

“No,” Cyrus said. “I don’t. “But Sorin’s cousin did.” He could feel Sorin tense underneath him. “We’ve been meaning to come talk to you about him, as soon as Sorin was ready.”

Cameron’s pale gaze shifted to Sorin. “Well? Are you ready?”

Slowly, Sorin sat up, fingers clenching into fists as he stared right back at Cameron. “I don’t think I’ll ever be,” Sorin said. “But Levant is the reason Fax was killed. I want to know what he was like. Why Fax loved him enough to get killed for him.”

Cyrus could see Cameron thinking. “He cared. Too much. He was afraid, too much.”

“So Fax wanted a mirror,” Sorin said bitterly, mostly to himself.

“What else did you want to know?” Cameron asked.

“Everything that comes to mind is not something you could answer,” Sorin replied. The temperature in the room spiked as grief showed plain on his face. Cyrus put a hand on his shoulder gently, and it settled, somewhat. Sorin swallowed hard, and added a quiet, “But thank you. At least I know that.”

Cameron inclined his head ever so slightly, giving Sorin a mild, “You’re welcome,” before returning his attention to Cyrus. “How exactly are you planning on bringing Lev back from the dead.”

Cyrus pushed down his annoyance. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t even begun my research. Amara only told me what she wanted two hours ago, and I’ve yet to have a chance to figure out where to start. I may need another witch to help me, and the whole process could take months. There’s no way of telling this early.” He spun one of his many rings, thinking about it. “I’m assuming you’re going to want progress reports.”

“Yes,” Cameron said shortly, and then added, “Do you know any witches?”

“None I’m particularly fond of. Or trust,” Cyrus admitted. “Again. I haven’t had nearly enough time to sit down and plan this all out. I’m not going to dive into this head first.”

Cameron stood up, looking at the black and silver watch on his wrist. “Well. If you would like my resources, let me know.”

With that, he was gone, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Cyrus sighed, flicking it shut with a brief spell, and then leaned back, dropping his head on the back of the couch. Sorin resumed his place in his lap, sighing as well.

“You shouldn’t have agreed to that spell,” Sorin muttered. “Now we have Cameron fucking Luian barging in our house.

“I know,” Cyrus replied dryly. “Believe me. I know.”

----

Cameron spent the drive home mulling over the witch’s words, and Amara’s words. And his own words. He thought about the possibilities and the consequences of bastardizing the balance of forces outside of any of their control.

He assumed Lev would want to come back, just because Lev wanted to piece together Nik again. It only made sense, seeing as how the angel tried putting everyone back together besides himself.

Cameron made his way back to the house after parking the car, snow crunching under his shoes as he walked inside. The sentries didn’t move an inch while Cameron walked down the hallway to the bedroom where he could smell the angels.

Nik was indeed still passed out cold on the bed where Cameron had left him. Ash was stewing in his corner in the chair, heat radiating off him as his glowing green eyes snapped onto Cameron. He got up from his chair and came over to Cameron. “Your house reeks and you owe me for once again babysitting him because you can’t be bothered to deal with the mess you got him into.”

“Well I do appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule,” Cameron said, mildly. “I’ll make sure you’re paid.”

“I don’t want your money,” Ash snapped, storming around him.

“How about information?” Cameron said, getting Ash to stop dead in his tracks at the doorway. “I’m sure you’d be pressed to learn that Amara plans on bastardizing nature.”

Ash slowly turned around and looked at him. “Excuse me?” Ash asked, in a softness that had Cameron’s brow arching.

“You might want to pay her a visit,” Cameron said, hands sliding into his pockets. “She wants to have Levant brought back from the dead.”

Ash stared through him, eyes hard and sharp and cutting into him. Cameron waited for him to say something, to start shouting or to light something on fire, seeing as how he could feel the heat curling in the air. But Ash turned on his heel and disappeared out of the room.

-----

Ash drove straight from Cameron’s house to Amara’s shitty apartment building. He had his magic going full force, keeping his eyesight crystal clear as he started from the parking lot to her apartment. He hadn’t bothered shutting off the car or knocking on her door before barging into her apartment.

Amara was staring at a bottle of whiskey on her table, and he could tell she had been staring for quite some time. “Well I clearly cannot blame this idea on alcohol soaked desperation.” His magic wilted at the mere thought of someone being bought back from the dead.

Amara hadn’t bothered looking up at him. “I haven’t had anything to drink since he died.”

“So you finally curb booze in order to have necromancy performed?”

“Yaaaay,” she said, in the most unimpressive deadpan tone Ash had ever heard. “Got it in one.”

“This is pathetic,” Ash said. “You’re pathetic. You do not hold a monopoly on grief. You do not get to decide who gets to die and who gets to come back. You have absolutely no fucking right to bend the laws of nature to fill your own grief.”

She looked him dead in the eye. “You make it sound like I care.”

“Oh I don’t give a shit if you care or not,” Ash said. “You need to learn to handle your grief like a damned adult instead of turning your cousin into the undead. We all have lost someone,” Ash said. He had watched his entire family being slaughtered in front of him. He had never once considered fucking necromancy to bring them back. “Lev will pay the price for this. Nature will have its balance and it’ll come right out of him.”

“Cyrus will figure it out.”

Well, Ash would have to add another idiot to the list, then. “And who is Cyrus? Someone you conned into enabling your stupid plan?”

“A little bit yeah; didn’t exactly give him an out.”

“A witch?” She stared at him blankly. When she didn’t elaborate, and her blood pressure altered, Ash said. “A witch, then.”

“Who else would be able to do that kind of magic?” she said. “A stupid question.”

“Well,” Ash said, “As far as I could know you conned some angel or demon into breaking even more laws of nature. Seeing as how I am connected to nature, you bitch. So yes, someone else would be able to do that kind of magic.”

Amara gave him a thoughtful look. “Noted. If Cyrus can’t, then I’ll go to someone else.”

Ash’s magic tore through him. He wrapped flames around her neck. “You know,” he mused, “I really could have you not.”

“You say that like I haven’t been suicidal my entire life,” she said.

“Yeah? Well get in line.” He tightened the flames, but didn’t let them burn her. “Like I said, you do not own a monopoly on grief. You are not the only person who wished they were dead at sixteen years old.” Bay flickered in his mind. “And you are not the only one who has not outgrown suicidal ideation. You aren’t special.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I’m tired of watching Nik. And I’m tired of watching Cameron pretend he’s not hurting too. They’re both ticking time bombs.”

She made it sound like Cameron hadn’t been a ticking time bomb for the last five hundred years. She made it sound like Nik hadn’t been trying to kill himself for the last nineteen years either. “Then get them in therapy,” Ash said, evenly. “This will just put a bandaid on it.”

She laughed at him. “You’re not going to convince me. The only one who could is Lev himself. But thanks for giving me the mental image of Cam and Nik in therapy.”

His magic felt like acid in his veins. It- it wanted him to push further, to make her not do this. “I could kill you,” Ash said. “No convincing involved.”

She watched him steadily. “You make it seem like you didn’t know the moment you met me that I was a selfish bitch who would do anything to get what I want.” She closed her eyes. “Kill me, if you really feel like it's necessary. Not like I can stop you.”

No, you really couldn’t, Ash thought. The temptation he had- he could feel the sharp sweetness of blood in his mouth. The hard pounding in his head definitely didn’t help matters either. But he snuffed out the flames. “I don’t kick a downed dog,” he finally said. “But I will stop you.”

Before she could even respond, if she even would respond, Ash turned back around and stalked out of her apartment. The way he slammed the front door echoed through the entire building, chasing him back to his car.

Tagging:  @idreamonpaper @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur @mis-lil-red

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #a/b/o verse #original writing #hell to pay #ch: cameron #ch: ash #ch: nik

[writing-in-riverdale]

twin andrews part 4 | jughead x reader

part one:https://writing-in-riverdale.tumblr.com/post/158708863703/twin-andrews-juggie-x-reader-an-im-hoping

part two:https://writing-in-riverdale.tumblr.com/post/158896154168/twin-andrews-part-2-jughead-x-reader

part three:https://writing-in-riverdale.tumblr.com/post/158929430293/twin-andrews-part-three-jughead-x-reader

part five: https://writing-in-riverdale.tumblr.com/post/159487616565/twin-andrews-part-5-jughead-x-reader

a/n: wowie lil nuggets we’ve reached part 4 im having a lil happy dance over here! im so overwhelmed about how much you guys are liking this series so im more than happy to get busy making parts as long as you’ll are loving it so let me know!!🥂👱🏻‍♀️💛🤓💐🌈💚🌻ps: if you’ve missed a part click on the masterlist in my blog ✨

♕

“ugh i hate calculus with my whole heart” i mutter flicking through my text book pooping a few gummy bears in my mouth. it was free period so Betty, Kevin and I decided to try and study for a calculus text tomorrow.

my brother and he’s team mates were also here with veronica and jughead sitting off to the side taking in everyone’s conversation. i catch him glances at me which cause me to smile and fiddle with the ends of his jacket

reggie was going on about his theories on who killed jason and everyone was getting pretty fed up with his antics

“it couldn’t have been a jock-” i groan closing my book “reggie can you just stop! jesus christ” he turns in his seat smirking at me.

“well well well my little vixen what’s gotten into you-” i roll my eyes “im trying to study and i can hear is your idiotic voice so it’d be wonderful if you just shut the hell up!” i smile sweetly the room snickering at my response.

“terribly sorry my lady- please continue working” i curse under my breathe turning my attention away from reggie and toward the brunette leaning against the far table, a smirk drawn on his face, i give him a wink causing his chest to shake as he laughs

my attention is brought back when reggie bellows jugheads name, i move out of the chair and over to reggie, “seriously?” he ignores me and continues to interrogate jughead

“what was it like suicide squad? when you shot jason?” “you didn’t do stuff to the body right? like after?”

i turn to jughead awaiting his response “its call necrophilia reggie, can you spell it?” he replies emotionless. he’s arms folded across his chest

“come here you little punk” reggie launches himself over the couch and rushes up the jughead not before archie jumps in front of him pushing reggie in the chest away from the two

i sigh relived that my brother was protecting him even though they weren’t the best of friends right now

everyone stands “boys” veronica warns touching chuck on the arm, i look at her puzzled at how snug she was being with yet another jock

i push past moose and grab reggie by the shoulder “would you just stop for a minute-?” i spit annoyed at the air head “leave him alone” i warn. he pushes up his selves glancing from me to jughead to my brother and then back to me.

“wait is that jugheads jacket your wearing princess?-” my brother shoves him once more “god just shut up reggie”

“what do you care Andrews?”

he glances quickly to me before back to reggie “nothing just leave him alone”

i smile small at my brother but it’s short lived as reggie speaks “holy crap”

“did you and donny darko kill him together? was it some sort of pervy blood brother thing?”

my brother shoves the raven headed boy, jugheads eyes going wide stepping away from the table and outstretching his arms shielding me from the two. i push past his arms and place a hand on Reggies chest “walk away”

anger flashes in his eyes “no can do princess” and with that he grabs my brother and throws him into the vending machine the glasses smashing, arms around me waist tug me back and i try and fight it until i realise it was jug.

Chuck and Jughead are up trying to pry the two apart as they wrestle on the ground Reggie getting one solid punch to my brothers eye before giving up the fight and letting Chuck drag him up holding him against the wall to stop him from causing further harm.

i move toward him anger moving through me like a tidal wave, “don’t you ever speak to my friends like that ever again- and i swear if you lay another hand on my brother i will make sure you cannot reproduce got it?” i sneer and he wink at me “god i love it when your mad” a flick switches and i punch him right in the eye.

he tries to break free from chuck as i continue to hit him annoyance taking away “you little jerk” i yell being lifted off the ground and dragged out of the room by the beanie wearing brunette

he walks me over to my locker as we see the principle enter the room walking away with the two jocks “i can’t believe him” i mumble slamming my hands against the locker

“hey don’t let him get to you” he places his hand on my shoulder and i exhale loudly “yeah i know- i don’t get how you can deal with it jug- what he said was totally out of hand and im sorry-” he shakes his head “don’t worry about it i seemed to have both andrews in my corner anyway”

i smile down at my feet “did you and archie make up last night?” he shifts on his feet “uh- no no we didn’t we just talked and yeah” i sigh “will you ever?” he shrugs again “i don’t know- i want to tell you it’s just” he clears his throat “it’s fine jug, ive got practice ill see you tonight at the rally?” he nods “yeah”

“(y/n) wait-” i turn and face him “will i be getting my jacket back anytime soon?” he chuckles, my eyes widen i had totally forgotten that i hadn’t returned it to him since he gave it to me last night “my bad” i shrug off the jacket and he shakes his head

“no no- keep it for now- it’ll give me an excuse to see you again-” i blush but continue to remove the jacket “i have practice so ill be in my uniform so it’ll just be in my locker so please take it, the game can be your excuse”

he reluctantly takes it from me and places it in his locker “i don’t think ill ever be able to wear it again, you wore it too well so now it doesn’t look as good on me anymore” he gives me a smug smile “yeah yeah whatever jones, i love that jacket on you-”

“see you tonight” i yell to him as i walk myself toward the girls locker room, great a whole period of my two favourite people; Cheryl Blossom and Veronica Lodge.

♕

after what seemed like the longest hour of my life the bell finally rings ending the period and i give a silent prayer as i now have an excuse to put as much distance as i possible can before i launch myself at veronica for breaking a thousand girl codes.

my head was aching from listen to her trying to tell Betty how she realised she did was wrong but she wasn’t the only one involved and that apparently she was being a ‘good’ friend and ‘protecting’ betty because cheryl would’ve gone in if veronica didn’t.

im almost in the clear until i hear the all to familiar voice calling out my name, i bring my hands to my mouth and scream into them before slapping a smile on my face and turning to face the raven haired girl.

“okay so i understand your mad at me for what happened between me and your brother and I just want to apologise” i pause before i answer trying to think of ways to place it nicely.

“look ronnie i wouldn’t have given a crap if you hooked up with my brother okay he can date and kiss whoever the hell he wants but when you add my girl to the mix that’s where i draw the line, you knew how betty felt- you both did yet not one of you thought to yourself maybe i shouldn’t smash b’s heart to smithereens” i smile sarcastically

“if your goal was to piss me off to the point where i actually can’t stand to be near you then congrats you’ve done that. im annoyed and hungry so quite frankly don’t approach me until ive calmed down because i swear i will take you down and i really don’t want to make an enemy out of you”

i move past her and make my way to my locker to grab a few things before heading home to change and prepare for the rally tonight it’s supposedly forecast to flash flood but for some wack reason they’re making us cheer in the pouring rain. yay school spirit

“hey andrews”

“oh for fuck sakes can’t a girl just be left alone!” i complain turning to see the smug look of Reggie Mantle, black eye and all. “not in the mood Mantle shove along go find another cheerleader to torment.

i begin to walk out of the school reggie still hot on my heels “but your my own and only vixen i swear” i furrow my brows at the boy and ignore him as i begin my journey home

im almost at my house when I realise reggie still trailing behind me “jeez reg what are you walking me home?” i complain trying to pick up my pace “we aren’t in school anymore you can leave me alone and stop acting like an asshole”

“oh c'mon (y/n/n) i thought we were past this” he complains stopping at the gate to my house “guess we aren’t” i say enthusiastically giving a thumbs up for encouragement before slamming the front door and flopping onto the couch.

the front door opens and closes but im too tired and grumpy to move so i stay out sprawled out onto the couch “why is reggie outside our house?” archie asks moving my legs so he could sit down.

i sit up and take the apple from his hand “reggie who?”

♕

“you ready for tonight?” i ask the blonde girl fiddling with my hair as we start the walk toward school

she nods her head and to swinging her blonde pony tail “im actually really excited- my first pep rally as a river vixen” she giggle spinning around in her uniform

“well miss betty cooper you were made to be a cheerleader, us vixens are lucky to have you” i encourage her attempting to calm the nerves i know she has.

“thanks (y/n/n), im so glad your back” i wink at the blonde “so am i- i did really miss you a lot, seems like everyone’s life just sort went on with me” i smile sadly.

we enter the locker room and my good mood seems to have diminished completely “ronnie!” Betty calls to the raven haired girl gesturing her over so we could walk out onto the field together

“looking good ladies” veronica compliments offering me a small smile, i decide to return it “we good?” she questions and i take a second to respond “yeah lodge we’re good”

she smiles placing both hands on our shoulders “now should be go and show some school spirit” her grin wide and preppy cheerleader tone on point “lets go!” i return the enthusiasm throwing up some spirit fingers.

we rush onto the field bouncing on the balls of the feet and get the crowd up and alive, it was pouring down and we were soaked as soon as we stepped foot onto the field. the bleachers filled with umbrellas to shield themselves.

the mayor steps up to the podium and gives a small speech dedicating the rally to the late jason blossom before introducing josie and the pussycats and the river vixens to start their performance

the music starts and we launch into the routine all eyes on us as we swish around our skirts doing a few flips but mostly choreography from one miss blossom. i grab my poms and start catching jughead staring right at me, it throws me off but i mange to get back into the groove a blush covering my face

we finish our routine and coach runs across the stage and introduce the almighty riverdale bulldogs. they break through the banner my brother at the front of the group wearing jasons jersey. i freeze sickness washing over me, i turn instantly to see cheryl turning white before catching my gaze and bolting off the field.

betty & veronica rush off the field following her but i decide against following them and walk toward my brother whom was amongst the crowd talking to one jughead jones

puzzled i jog over smiling brightly as i approach the two “whatcha talking bout” i ask smiling shyly at the brunette, i bump hips with my brother “nice way to spook everyone arch” i tease and he just shakes his head

“so?” i raise my eyes brows glancing between the two awfully chummy “uh arch just apologised and well im going to give him a second chance” jug speaks playing with the back of his neck

i smile to myself jumping up and down before launching myself into jughead, he stumbles but wraps his arms around my waist holding me up before setting me down “thank you” i mumble into his ear before turning and punching my brother playfully in the arm

“about time you big idiot”

“ow!” he exaggerates rubbing his arm “oh stop being a baby” i roll my eyes at him the boy laughing at the sibling banter

“Pop’s?” i ask the two and they nod i start walking and the lag behind “c'mon what are we waiting for!” they laugh and share a glance before jogging to catch up to my long strides

“can i ask yous something” archie asks me as we start our short journey to pop’s “shoot” i tell him adjusting my gym bag on my shoulder before jughead removes it from my slinging it on his own shoulder

“what’s with you two, why have you been wearing jughead’s jackets are yous like a thing or-?” i giggle glancing at the brunette next to me who decides to stay quite

“it was pouring down on the way over from the dance, i was cold so he leant it to me and i wore it to school the next day to return it. is it really that big of a deal?”

he shakes his head “not that it’s really any of your business anyway right jug?” he looks at me wide eyes glancing between his best friend and his little sister “i mean yeah”

i laugh at his nervousness and push open the door to Pop’s spotting B & V already sitting in a both toward the back, i don’t wait for the boys i just continue down and slip in next to veronica

“ladies” i smile at them and betty turns in her seat looking at my brother and he’s best friend, i realise instantly and cuss under my breathe “they don’t have to seat sorry my bad” she shakes her head and speaks out to the boys as they wait for permission to join us”

“you wanna join us?” they both share a smile “only if your treating” jughead comments walking over and sliding in next to me placing his arm along the back of the booth

i watch as my brother does the same sharing a glance of respect with betty then laughing at something veronica said as we all sit cozily in our booth waiting for our food to arrive engrossed in our own little world.

i feel jugheads arm drop slowly resting on my shoulder causing me to wriggle closer to him sharing a smile with the brunette before returning back to the conversation

last nights drama had fizzled away, friendships mended and on their way to being so for now we sit happy and content wonder what tomorrow brings and in this moment i smile this, this was home.

-🌹

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