#maybe a little grab bag of minor characters after? see how much energy i have

[samstarium]

nb crowley icon fest! all art is from hg-aneh (3/?)

transparents under the cut

#i had to throw in a bunch of his looks. just too good #good omens #edits #icons #pride icons #transparents #crowley #nonbinary #good omens icons #ik theres probably some mistakes im just excited to make n post these #additionally sorry hes scowlin in so many but like. its crowley #maybe a little grab bag of minor characters after? see how much energy i have #pls remember to credit hg-aneh if u use the transparents! n u can credit me too if u want but not required

[mentally-unavailable]

How To Court A Cryptid: 101 Chapter 3

PREVIOUS CHAPTER or NEXT CHAPTER

Content warning: Cursing, threats of violence, minor violence, transphobia and homophobia, leftist/anarchist views (Not really a warning, but for those who don’t agree with those views), smoking

“Hello chat! How are we doing today!?” Tommy yelled into his mic, talking to chat as he started his stream. 

I sat on the side watching him talk to the chat, I couldn’t see chat but I could tell they were questioning why the lights were off, since Tommy kept smiling and trying not to giggle. 

“Why are the lights off?” Tommy asked squinting at chat, I then rolled into the camera’s view.

“Well, typically cryptids like dark places where they can’t be seen” I said rolling in and leaning so I could see chat.

Chat then went 1 million miles per second they were all spamming cryptid and being amazed that I was real. I started to laugh really hard because some of the chats messages.

“Well, chat this is the Dream SMP discord cryptid; also known as- Can I say your name?” Tommy asked looking over at me. I smiled,

“Uh, I prefer Bas or bastard here on the innerwebs, but if you want sure you can say my name. Just don’t give like my home address or whatever” I said looking at chat smiling. 

“what? Why would I- never mind. Okay chat this is Bastard.” Tommy said smiling looking over chats messages “Hey, can we turn on the lights?”

“UGGGHHHH, I guess” I said getting up and walking over to the light switch. I turned it on and saw Tommy walk over to see and stand next to me. I gave him a confused facial expression.

“Chat wants to see the height difference, you goblin” He said smiling looking down at me. I quickly stood my tippy toes, easy with the boots

“Okay, fit check, as you can see I have the superiors fashion sense chat. Tommy here has none, write that down” I said walking back to my chair.

“I do not! I have a great fashion sense!” Tommy said looking at me offended I started to cackle like a hyena

“Yeah, to be fair though, you are a teenager who live that streamer life style so I understand” I said after catching my breathe from laughing, Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah” He said crossing his arms, I looked over at chat

‘Gamer Bf and Alt s/o goals’

‘Are you a boy or a girl? I really can’t tell’

“Ew, I will punt you straight into the sun you heathens” I said with a face

“HEY! Don’t threaten my chat!” Tommy yelled at me

“They were shipping us. Ew, he is like my little brother. This isn’t sweet home Alabama people” I replied

“Okay fair enough, also chat they use they/them pronouns, respect that please” Tommy said looking at the monitor

“Thank you, so what are we gonna do?” I asked leaning back on my chair and grabbing the container of brownies.

“We could go on the SMP and mess with people” Tommy said grabbing a brownie and popping it into his mouth.

“Cool, give me the grand tour” I said popping a brownie into my mouth

Tommy then booted up Minecraft and got onto the SMP server, he made sure to show on stream

“Okay, lets show the cryptid how to be cool” Tommy said moving his character around

I looked over at the camera unamused, I looked at the stream and saw my face. I started to get uncomfortable and looked down.

“I am being perceived and I don’t think I like it...” I said picking at my nails

“You okay?” Tommy said looking over at me, I smiled and shook my head yes

“It’s okay, I’m just use to being blurry not in 4k resolution” I said chuckling

“Oh hey Dream is on” Tommy said looking on the list,

“He’s the sever owner right?” I asked looking on scream

“yes” Tommy said

“So, he’s like a goverment?” I asked smirking

“what are you thinkin?” Tommy asked looking over at me

I smiled before shrugging and setting down the container

“Well, as an anarchist, I don’t really like the government. So, maybe I could attack him while screaming ‘ACAB’ or ‘Down with the government bitches’ idk. Wait- will that get you in trouble. My bad” I said cutting myself off worried I said something that will get Tommy in trouble. He started laughing, more wheezing

“Omg, yes! Let’s do it!!” He yelled moving towards Dream and others of the server. I smiled,

‘Cryptid says ACAB?’

‘Anarchist? Technoblade might like this!’

Some of the chat said amazed I said something like that,

“Yes, chat ACAB all the way, demolish the government! Consume the rich people!!” I yelled excitedly

“Okay, how do you wanna do this?” Tommy asked

“Okay, I’ll attack while you get us into VC and you scream then I yell ‘ACAB bitches’“ I said scooting him over so I can take control of his character

“Okay good” Tommy said getting into the VC “Here we go!”

“By the way, I’m bad at Minecraft” I yelled before we joined and attacked Dream.

“AHHHHH” Tommy yelled

“ACAB BITCHES” I yelled after him attacking Dream

“Huh? Tommy! What the Fuck?” Dream yelled before he pulled out his own sword and started swinging

“Oh fuck!!” I yelled trying to get away

“Move!!” Tommy yelled before he died

“Uhhh, my bad” I said smiling at him, Tommy rolled his eyes

“Tommy what the hell man? Why did you attack me?” Dream asked

We both looked at each other before I smirked and leaned into the mic

“Tommy is no longer with us” I said deepening my voice

“What!? Tommy did you get hacked? I’ll open your stream” Sapnap said with Dream and George agreeing.

Tommy muted himself, turned off the music, then got up and moved the camera zooming in my face and then ran and turned off the lights. My face was only illuminated my the screen light, Tommy then hid, I was confused before he looked at me and winked. I turned and stared into the camera with a dead look.

“AHHHHHH!? WHAT THE FUCK!???” Was all we heard from the others, as we both started laughing

“The cryptid is real!?” George yelled 

“Y’all have Discord Admin energy bitches” I said before we quit the VC and started wheezing. I started coughing and grabbed out my drink from my bag. I opened my Monster and chugged. Tommy kept wheezing so hard,

“Omg, did you guys hear them!? Omg that was so funny!” Tommy yelled, I chuckled

‘Dream: What the fuck!?’

‘Sapnap: GOT EM!’

“Dream is actually our Discord admin” Tommy said between laughing

“Ah, cool. He doesn’t have it actually, but now knowing. HMMMM” I said looking at the camera smirking

“Yeah, and Gogy is his discord kitten” Tommy said putting everything back to normal

“An I oop- Wait, that’s georgenotfound right?” I asked

Tommy leaned back into his chair giggling “yup, he’s the bestest man ever” he said smiling

“I thought that was Philza Minecraft?” I asked having a confused face

“Wait! Phil is on! Do you wanna meet the biggest man? Philza Minecraft” Tommy asked

“I thought you were the biggest man?” I asked smirking

“I am, well- we share the title anyways” Tommy said as he joined the VC

“Tommy, we just had your stream open!” we were met with,

Tommy started wheezing again, I smiled ‘Brothers’ I thought

“You’re going to get banned” A voice said; ‘Technoblade’ I thought remembering his voice from some of Tommy’s streams.

“Chaotic little shit” Philza said laughing

“The cryptid is real! Oh my god I have to tell Quackity, he thought you were using photoshop or whatever!” Wilbur yelled laughing

“God has let me live another day, so, I’m gonna make it everyone's problem” I said snickering, while I felt my face heat up. ‘God I feel like a zoo animal’ I thought smiling awkwardly

I don’t know any of Tommy’s friends really, and they don’t know much about me. Only that I’m Tommy’s scary friend and what they’ve seen from pictures and probably dumb stories he told them.

Tommy took control of the game, making sure the stream was entertained. He answered with giggles.

“Did you really bite a kid in school for picking on Tommy?” 

‘FUCK’ I thought, making a surprised face

“Well you see there! Uhh-” I tried to say

“They also threatened a dude with a Selenite knife once!” Tommy chimed in

“Yeah, that’s true, but both fuckers deserved it okay!” I said as I felt my face get hotter from embarrassment

“God your both equally feral” Phil said laughing, Wilbur giggled and Techno stayed mostly silent besides a small laugh. Tommy explained he was ‘awkward around new people’. ‘Social anxiety. MOOD’ I thought smiling.

“I personally prefer ‘unhinged’ but pop off I guess” I said shrugging

“Feral cryptid! Feral Cryptid” Wilbur chanted, soon the chat also spammed it

“So, this is THE Philza Minecraft” Tommy said as if he didn’t just say I bit a person and threatened another with a knife. “An honor right?”

“Hello, pleasure to meet you” I said smiling awkwardly

Phil laughed, Tommy looked offended “This is Philza Minecraft! Creator of Minecraft! Show some respect!” Tommy yelled

“Didn’t that other dude make the game?” I asked confused

“Yeah, but he was a wrongen. So, we joke that Philza made it instead” Wilbur explained

“Oh, yeah he was a fucking bigot right?” I asked, everyone went quiet “Should I have not said that? My ba-” 

“no, no” Wilbur said giggling “No, that was perfect. I wouldn’t have said it but you hit the nail on the head”

“Ah okay” I said with a small smile

“They are very radical” Tommy said smiling, I laughed awkwardly

“We heard” Techno said when amusement

I ended up taking off my jacket, revealing all my tattoos on my arms

‘WOAH!’

‘Are those real?’

“Yes, chat they are real, some are done professionally, others are stick and pokes. Don’t do it unless you know what your doing” I said raising my arms to show off my art

“Yeah, they piercing their own nose though!” Tommy yelled

“Oh, my god, that is dangerous.” Phil said worried

“Yeah, most I did myself or my sister did. She wanted to be a tattoo artist at one point so I just let her do whatever on me. Don’t worry they were done safely, mostly” I said laughing

“what does the skull say?” Techno piped up, I smiled, showing the camera my tattoo on my right fore arm. It was a leopard skull with grapes running out of the left eye socket dripping liquid. Under was a chalice, the piece was surrounded by a diamond. 

“It’s a piece dedicated to the god Dionysus. One of the first I ever got done professionally. And yes chat it hurt like a bitch” I said showing the tattoo

“Hello!” two voices popped into the call

“TUBBO!” Tommy yelled, I snapped my head towards the screen

“Tubbo? Isn’t that the guy you were calling when you broke your wrist?” I asked, Tommy wheezed

“Oh is that (y/n)?” Tubbo asked, I smiled

“Hey bubbs, how are you?” I asked

“Wait you both know each other?” Ranboo piped in

“Yes, you see some time ago, we were at the skate park. I was skate boarding and Tommy was on the phone with Tubbo. Tommy then wanted to do a trick. So, I take the phone and Tommy then fails miserly and breaks his fucking wrist! We were on call the whole time to and at the hospital” I said laughing

“Ah, sounds about right” Ranboo said

“What does that mean!?” Tommy yelled, Tubbo was laughing

“I’m good (y/n), thank you for reminding me of that” Tubbo said between laughs

“wait your name is (y/n)?” Wilbur pipes in, Tommy looked scared for a second

“Yeah, that is my name. I go by Bas or Bastard on social media though” I said shrugging. 

“Bastard?” Phil asked confused

“Can I promote myself?” I asked looking over at Tommy, he nodded smiling

“Yeah, I go by Cryptid_Bastard. I post art or whatever” I said relaxed

“That fits you” Tubbo said, I smiled

“Thanks bubbs” I said smiling

After a few hours we ended the stream and said goodbye to everyone. Me and Tommy leaned back in our chairs and sighed.

“Well, that was fun. I like your friends” I said smiling,

“Yeah, you can come on another stream another time if you want” Tommy said smiling, I nodded my head

“Yeah, well I need a break. I’m gonna go on a walk if you don’t mind. You wanna come?” I asked as I stood up and stretched

“Nah, I’m gonna chat with Tubbo for a bit” He said, I nodded before grabbing my bag and leaving the room. I walked out and said hi to his parents and informed them I was going on a walk. I walked out the door and towards the street. After getting to the sidewalk I grabbed out a cigarette and my lighter. I lit up, and took a deep draw. I ended walking towards the park while smoking,

*VRR VRR* I heard as my phone started vibrating in my bag. I dug around a pulled it out, it was notifications from twitter. I unlocked my phone and opened twitter, I had a whole wave of people following me and commenting on my art. I smiled before getting ready to tweet. I opened the camera and angled it to show me, I had my cigarette in my other hand making sure not to show it. I smiled taking the picture before typing and posting.

Cryptid_Bastard

*insert picture of you*

Welcome everyone, welcome to my corner of the internet! (:

I turned off my phone before walking towards the park.

‘Chaos isn’t so bad’

A/N: I hope y’all liked this. I’ve introduced SOME of the romantic interests! LET’S GO!! I’m gonna go hibernate for like a million years now. Stay hydrated! :P

TAGLIST: 

@teenage0jealousy

@smolbox-png

@yourimaginaryfriiendd

@venusliily-blog

@mega-trash-cringe​

@jaciahbabes

@ponyboytoddandthebatgreasers

@ahmya-4

If you would like to be added please comment here:  Taglist for HTCAC:101 (How to Court A Cryptid: 101)

#mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #x reader #x gn!reader #x punk!reader #x alt!reader #Technoblade #Wilbur soot #MCYT fanfiction #dream smp fanfiction #Philza minecraft #Tubbo #Tommyinnit #Ranboo #How To Court A Cryptid: 101

[achliegh]

Golden

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 9:

FMRN

Would You Go With Me

My Stress

Today was the day, Leo was moving to Gryffindor with two sexy hockey players who actually want him. He hasn’t stopped smiling for the last 26 hours. He was currently in the shower while his boys packed a ‘sexy time’ bag in his closet. Casually bopping to the beat of FMRN as he rinsed off his body. Stepping out of the shower he starts drying off. Legs, stomach, chest, face and everything else. Walking to the closet for the connecting door to the bathroom he finds Finn sitting on a suitcase and Logan trying to zip it shut. Shaking his head he walks over to this plane clothes and starts getting dressed, just a simple pair of jeans, t shirt, belt and baseball cap.

The music was still in the background as Logan jumps up and whoops with triumph. Skipping over to Leo he pulls him in for a rather aggressive, excited, kiss with Finn following with his own sweet and gentle one of his own.

“That bag is crazy full, just so you know.” Finn smiles and kisses Logan’s forehead, the shorter of them was still buzzing like he drank six energy drinks. They heard a bell being rung for breakfast and all sprint over each other to get downstairs.

Judy does not play when it comes to breakfast.

After a healthy morning breakfast of shrimp and grits, or cheese grits if you are Leo, everyone started packing up the vehicles. Leo gets car sick a lot of the time in smaller cars so he is driving them to the airport, ‘them’ meaning Clay and Reg… Finn and Logan got kicked out into Thomas and Noelle's car. Logan fought a little about it but Finn knew that Leo still needed his space. So convincing Logan to go with him by offering a bag of salt and vinegar pork rinds, was rather easy.

Finn has noticed how easy to fall Leo is, he just hopes that Leo doesn’t hesitate with them. Logan didn’t make a very good impression the first time they left. Ever since then Leo has been, understandably, cautious around them. It hurts a little but Finn only ever notices after he looks back on a situation. How Leo looks unsure or hesitates to touch them.

He figured them living together might help Leo open up to him. He just wants him to be happy and safe with them.

“Why am I so nervous…? I have been talking about these two for the entire summer. Shouldn’t I be more excited?” Leo opens the gate with an app on his phone before setting it down in the cupholder. Reg and Clay share a look.

Leo has taken to getting drunk to open up about his fears, Reg and Clay have both become therapists for a sad Leo who isn’t thinking right. It usually stems from Logan's words he used to kiss Leo goodbye for the first time.

‘You are just… a guy who we had a fling’

‘You don’t mean anything to us Leo’

‘Stop being a fucking child Leo!’

Those words haunt Leo when he isn’t distracted in some way. It has gotten better ever since their trip to Gryffindor the first time, but they knew it still bothered him.

“Maybe it's because you are living somewhere away from Peanut for so long.” Clay smiles at him when their eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

“I did try and convince Logan to let him come with, but it was a no. I still can’t believe he is afraid of horses.” Leo snorts and visibly relaxes.

“You know you can always stay with me if you ever need anything, right?” Reg looks at him and gives him a soft smile. Leo squeezes his bicep in thanks. They continue the rest of the drive by Clay annoying Regulus until Reg climbs into the backseat to give him a couple of smacks with a bag of sunflower seeds.

A plane ride and a sleepy car ride later, Leo was carrying most of his bag into Finn’s apartment. He set everything down in the second bedroom and looked around. This was the smallest bedroom he has ever been in… But he was hoping he’d be spending most of his time in the master bedroom anyway. Biting his lip at the thought he is jolted out of his thoughts by two idiots trying to squeeze through the room door at the same time.

“I think we are stuck…”

“Non, I can get us out!” Logan pushes the bag that was in between then onto the floor and they both go toppling over. Leo couldn’t help that laugh that flew out of his mouth. He walks over to help them out just to be pulled into the pile on the ground. Right on top of his baseball bag.

“Oh fuck! Bat in my ribs!”

“You brought a bat!?” Logan is looking at him like he's insane but helps him stand after pushing Finn off himself. “How are you going to use that on the ice?”

“Lo… he plays baseball, not hockey.” Logan rolls his eyes and just ‘blah blah blah’s behind Finn’s back. “Why did you bring it though? It’s going to be too cold to play.”

“Gryff has an indoor batting cage, I looked it up before we left. Shouldn’t you know everything here by now?” Leo starts laying the bags out in a line and opening them up to start organizing the room. Clothes are first.

“Lo doesn’t get out much.” He gets a swift smack to the chest with a pair of long socks from said hermit. Rubbing his chest he smiles. “I have no excuse. Where do you want these?” Holding up the third pair of boots he has found while rummaging in Leo’s bags he holds them up.

“By the wall please.”

“So polite. Logan, you could learn something from him.” Logan makes a sound of offense and was going to say something back in return but Leo turns on his speaker and starts playing some country yeehaw shit, it's growing on him and he won’t lie about it.

“I love this song.” Leo grabs Logan by the wrist and pulls him close, one hand on his waist and the other interlocking their fingers. Swaying to the beat he suddenly pulls away to grab Finn's hand and spins him into his chest while singing “If I gave you my hand, would you take it And make me the happiest man in the world? If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, Finn. Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea? Let me know if you're really a dream. I love you so, so would you go with me?”

Swinging Finn around as Logan watched in awe Leo is pulling away from Finn and holding his hand out to Logan. Breathing slightly heavy just smiling his bright chipped smile with his wild blue eyes. Logan can’t help but take his hand and let himself be spun so his back is to Leo’s chest as he mumbles those same words into his shoulder. “If I gave you my hand, would you take it? And make me the happiest man in the world? If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, Lo. Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea? Let me know if you're really a dream. I love you so, so would you go with me?”

Hours of dancing and actual unpacking later, Logan had to leave to watch the kids while Celeste and Dumo head to their eye appointments. Leo was sprawled out on the sofa, mostly asleep, when he felt a kiss on his temple and heard some mumbling.

“I’m going on a run, I’ll be back. Okay?” Nodding a couple seconds later after the question sunk in, Leo gives him a quick peck on the lips and buries himself back into the couch.

When he wakes up Finn still isn’t back, his own phone is dead, and it's cold. He sets his feet on the ground after sitting up and a shiver runs through his body. Wrapping his arms around himself he walks to his new room and pulls on his thickest socks, that just happen to have a hole that his big toes catches on. He also decides to change into his one pair of sweats, the Lions ones from the hockey game, and the sweatshirt he wore with them. Putting the hood up and pulling it tight so just his face isn't covered, tying a little bow he doesn’t care how he looks, he’s warmish now.

Wandering into the kitchen and plugging his phone into an outlet in the island, he texts the boys asking what they want to eat, turning on the oven would feel nice. While he's waiting for a response he decided to look around. He walks into the living room where he was just napping to look at all the pictures Finn has of his team, family, friends and him and Logan.

Smiling he picks up a picture frame with Finn on some guy's back, Leo thinks his name is Kasey if he remembers properly. They are in a fountain but only Kasey is wet. He sets it down and picks up a picture that is not in a frame but just laying on the table. Odd. It is of Finn and Logan, they look younger and Logan has a blonde streak in his hair. They are smiling wider than Leo has ever seen them smile. Finn has his arm around Logan’s shoulder and Logan has his arm around Finn’s waist.

Their cheeks are pressed together. It’s sweet. Leo turns the picture over and reads what is written on the back.

‘The year I found the one.’

Leo smiles and sets the picture back down, walking over the wall that has pictures literally taped to it. He makes a mental note to buy some frames. He is taking in all the smiles of people he didn’t know, a man looking like Finn and Finn actually headbutting in a picture makes him laugh.

He hears his phone ding with a text notification, he makes his way over and notices the corner of a picture sticking out from under the couch. He pauses in his path and bends down to pick it up. It’s folded, but it’s a picture of Finn and Logan at the bonfire that Leo took them too. Leo unfolds the side of the picture and realises… there is a crease over his own face.

Ouch.

He folds the crease again and sees how it completely cuts him out of the picture. Leo actually has this same picture in the back of his phone case. Suddenly that tiny drop of doubt becomes flooding water filling up his head. Putting the picture down on the counter after he walks back over to the phone.

He opens his messages to the boys needing steak for dinner… maybe… Did they forget? He sighs and feels the doubt flooding from his brain to his heart. Shaky hands start some music to hopefully distract himself from the smell and texture of meat. Clicking his phone off he starts working on dinner.

Finn and Logan walk in the apartment together, laughing and still sweaty from the run that Logan joined Finn half way through. Taking off their shoes and setting Logan’s bag by the door, a heavenly smell fingers their nose holes.

They share a look of confusion for a moment when they realize the smell is actually steak… They thought Leo would have gotten the joke but maybe not. Maybe the ‘lol’ and ‘lmao definitely’ weren’t obvious enough. They make their way to the kitchen and hear the music and the sizzle of a pan.

They turn the corner to see Leo, looking rather sad. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks slightly green, he is watching a small steak cook in a pan with no emotion in those normally challenging eyes. His hair looks like he has ran his hands through it and gripped it so it is standing wildly on his head. His hood is tied but not on his head. He is slightly shivering from either it being cold or something else.

Finn was the first to approach him. Resting his hand gently on Leo’s as they hold the spatula with a death grip, he takes the tool away and tosses it towards the sink and having no clue where it landed. Logan has taken it upon himself to turn off the stove and move the pan off the heat.

“Leo?”

“Are you using me?” Leo just blurts out what he is thinking and automatically regrets it from the look of hurt on Finn’s face and the look of anger on Logan’s.

“Let's talk about this while we clean these.” Finn holds up Leo’s hand to inspect the tiny knife cuts he accidently got from chopping onions. Being pulled towards the bathroom, Leo is told to sit on the counter. He does. Logan takes the peroxide from Finn and wets a couple of cotton balls with it.

Scrunching his nose as Logan dabs his small nicks he looks up at Finn who is holding two boxes of bandages, one box is Bob the Builder theme and the other is Hello Kitty. Smiling Leo nods towards the Hello Kitty ones.

“What makes you think we are using you?” Leo zones out for a second, thinking about the song that is still playing in the kitchen and how they need to turn the music off. “Leo.” He remembers that he was being asked a question and clears his throat.

“I don’t know, It’s just that you guys were already together before I came into your relationship. I just feel like maybe I’m just here to piss people off or as some… I dunno fetish maybe. I know it hasn’t been super long but I thought that maybe you would have one or two pictures of me. And I saw the folded one where it’s folded over me…” He is avoiding looking at Logan at all costs.

“I can’t speak for Logan,” Finn cups his cheek and makes him look at him. “But I really really like you, and I’m definitely with you, for you.” Smiling at him Leo lets himself be kissed and melts into it. Pulling away they both look towards Logan, who seems to be lost for words.

“I can’t believe you would think of us like that!” Finn gives him a warning look and Logan takes a deep breath. “Sorry, I just- I’m not good at this type of stuff. I’m really bad at expressing my feelings and emotions, usually I show them in other ways.” He takes Leo's hand and plays with his fingers. “I’m sorry I just snapped a second ago, I’m used to Finn speaking for the both of us… but I’m realizing that makes us ‘one’ in this relationship when obviously there are two of us that really want you.” Leo smiled a little and lifted Logan's hand to his lips giving it a few kisses.

“I really like you too, Lo.” he smiles the tiniest smile and turns to look at Finn. “I like you too.”

Logan and Finn lean in to kiss Leo’s cheeks at the same time. Smiling, Leo lets himself receive the affection without worrying if it's real.

He can worry when he is alone.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

[punksarahreese]

Comfort | Restart

Medtober day 3 + 4 (event by @page-doctor-bekker)

Med student!Sarah; everyone needs a real support system

Word count: 2335

CW: minor parental gaslighting/manipulation

***

Sarah had hoped no one would notice, though she quickly realized her body gave itself away all too easily. No amount of caffeine could hide the sluggishness in her movements, her limbs feeling heavier than lead. If it wasn’t that it was probably the way her voice held no cheerful tone like it usually did, instead her words fell flat and had April casting her concerned glances.

She kept to herself that day, all too exhausted to even try to be social. As long as she made it through her clinical hours she could go home and sleep, at least for a few hours. She hadn’t gotten more than six the past few days, instead pouring over her textbooks that had taken their rightful place strewn across the floor. The exam for her latest rotation was coming up and Sarah was feeling the anxiety far more than usual. That was at the fault of her mother, though the woman would say it was her daughter’s problem alone.

“Sarah, you need to stop worrying over such silly things,” she had told her over the phone, “The only thing you should focus on is school.”

“Mom…”

“Now, you know how important this is. You don’t have time for friends, it will only slow you down. My daughter will be a doctor, right? You wouldn’t let me down after all this money I’ve sent…”

It always ended like that, the passive aggressive cherry on top of narcissism. Her mother wasn’t maternal in the slightest, though she would still use her relationship to Sarah for her benefit. Sure she made certain Sarah had all the money she needed to be successful, but it all came with a price. She was expecting her daughter to make a name for herself as a doctor, which would of course leave room for bragging and manipulation on Elizabeth’s part. Sarah’s whole future rested on her mother’s money as much as it did her own success, which was an unfortunate feat she was beginning to despise.

“Reese,” if she hadn’t already been sitting down, the sudden voice on her right could have knocked her off her feet. She winced at her own jumpiness, turning to look at Connor sheepishly.

“Dr. Rhodes,” she pushed a scrap piece of medical tape into her textbook before letting it fall shut on the marked page, “Hi.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah… yes of course. Just getting some studying in.”

“Uh huh,” he looked at her for a moment and Sarah knew she probably wasn’t helping her case by looking like a whole mess, “Ava was looking for you.”

Usually a mention of her mentor would immediately grab her attention and send Sarah scurrying off to find out what she wanted. This day, however, she wanted to do the opposite. Ava could see through her in seconds and Sarah didn’t have the energy to be chastised for being spacey or distracted. She was burnt out and as much as she enjoyed being on the surgeon’s service she would much rather go home.

“Oh?” Was all she said, getting to her feet. She checked her watch, realizing it was just in time for her break to begin. Sarah gathered her textbook along with her glasses she had opted to wear that day instead of contacts. One more look at Connor preceded her reply, “I’ll go find her in a bit then.”

She didn’t look back at the fellow but she knew he was probably watching her in confusion, her attitude much different than usual. Usually she would be following after Ava like a lost puppy, so the fact that she didn’t even ask where she was was wildly out of character. Sarah didn’t have the time to worry too much about it though, a chirp from her phone letting her know her mother had more to say to her.

***

“Check on your med student.”

“What?” The look Connor got from his colleague was a guarded one, clearly she didn’t know where this was going. Connor and Sam had been pestering her for a while about her soft spot for Sarah Reese, so Ava had become accustomed to assume teasing would ensue at any mention of her.

“She looks like a mess today,” he said as he snatched a chip from the bag she had been munching on, “Bloodshot eyes and way more jumpy than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“What happened?”

Connor shrugged but couldn’t help the little smirk at how concerned Ava immediately became, “Don’t know. That’s why you should check on her.”

***

Ava found her in the locker room reserved for med students and interns, thanks to one of Sarah’s classmates who pointed their instructor in the right direction. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she nudged the door open but what she got was a bit of a shock.

Sarah was sitting in front of her locker, knees pulled up to her chest and her grey scrubs already a bit dusty from the floor. She was staring blankly at the textbook propped up on the bench, completely unfocused from the words. She mustn’t have heard Ava come in because she didn’t react, the only sound being a sniffle.

“Sarah?”

Just like Connor had pointed out, she jumped far more than she had ever before. Ava knew the medical student was on edge most days, but this seemed a bit concerning. That worry only grew when she came around the corner to face Sarah properly, not expecting quite the sight she found.

Sarah’s eyes were swollen and red, as though she had been crying for quite some time. That theory was pretty much proven by the tears tracking down her ruddy cheeks, leaving little stains where they landed on her top. Her hands shook as they worried the fabric over her knees, a rhythmic movement that must have been an unconscious thought. The med student looked like she hadn’t slept for days or like she had been to Hell and back; or maybe both.

“D-doctor Bekker,” she looked up in alarm at her mentor, very deer-in-the-headlights as if she was terrified of what she might say. Something told Ava it wasn’t a coincidence that she hadn’t seen Sarah at all that day, since the other woman looked like she had been caught red handed by just the person she didn’t want to see.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Ava was crouching beside her without a thought, “What happened to formalities making you nervous?”

“I-”

“Sarah, what’s wrong?”

The brunette’s rapid head shake sent rouge curls tumbling into her line of vision, “Nothing! I’m fine.”

“Oh yeah you definitely look fine,” she was a bit shocked with the casual way Ava dropped onto the ground beside her, seeming unlike the focused surgeon she knew. Ava should be working, not sitting on the dirty locker room floor with her medical student who had spent the whole day avoiding her like the plague. Still, she showed no signs of leaving without an explanation, which made Sarah sigh.

“My cardio rotation exam is coming up…”

“Yes and? We’ve been preparing for this for weeks, Reese. You know the content like the back of your hand.”

“I don’t… it’s not that easy,” she protested, “If I don’t do perfect on every exam from here on out I might not match into the program I want. I need to be perfect, Ava.”

“No, don’t do that. You aren’t allowed to psych yourself out like this. You will do just fine, I didn’t train you to hide from the scary stuff now did I?”

“No…”

The blonde nodded affirmatively, “Exactly. So you’ve been studying and not sleeping, I take it?”

Sarah scoffed, “What gave it away?”

“The bags under your eyes are bigger than Connor’s ego,” she teased, “Plus the fact that you haven’t put that textbook away all day and you’re shaking like you do when you’re living off of caffeine.”

“Not fair,” Sarah sighed, “Don’t psychoanalyze me; that’s doctor Charles’ job.”

“Oh I would never take his job,” Ava replied, “I have a hateful relationship with Sigmund Freud and refused to do psych after med school.”

That was what finally got a smile out of Sarah, though it was followed by an incredulous headshake. Of course Ava would say something silly or unrelated to make her feel a bit better, she always did. She shifted uncomfortably on the hard flooring, looking at her mentor cautiously.

“Why are you here, Ava?”

“Because I needed to check on you.”

“You have other things to do…”

“Sarah, you’ve been spacey and avoiding me all day. I can’t very well let my star med student blow off rounds just to sit on this Petri dish of a floor and cry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me what’s really wrong so I can help.”

“I told you… exams.”

“Yeah but exam stress doesn’t often make you look like you’ve been crying for hours straight. What happened, Sarah?”

She knew she was backed into a corner, very aware of Ava’s concerned, stern eyes watching her every move. It’s not that she didn’t want to talk to her, Ava was probably the only person she wanted to talk to about this, but it wasn’t that simple.

“Exams are coming up; I’m moving to neuro in a couple weeks.”

“Yes? What… oh.” The surgeon seemed to have a sudden realization about what really was wrong. She sighed, slumping back against the locker beside Sarah’s before replying, “Reese, are you upset you won’t be on my service anymore?”

“Don’t say it like that,” she couldn’t help the whine in her tone, “I know I’m being a baby about it, just forget it.”

“No, Sarah,” the comforting hand that fell on her knee made her jump a bit, “It’s okay to be upset about it. I know you weren’t all too excited for CT in the beginning so it’s… rather endearing that you like it so much now.”

Sarah’s cheeks flamed at that and she tried to hide them behind her hands, not replying. She hated how upset the thought of rotation change made her, especially since she never even wanted to do cardio. Pathology was going to be her specialty in the end so that’s the residency she was applying for. She had no reason to feel so attached to cardiothoracics, not to mention the gut wrenching worry that Ava would forget about her.

“Hey,” Ava nudged her gently, “Sarah?”

“My mom is on my ass,” she admitted suddenly, “She’s very controlling and our whole relationship is based on money. She expects me to only think about school and stop ‘playing around’ in clinicals because I’m supposed to go to path in the end. That’s why I wanted to hate cardio, I shouldn’t have gotten attached.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she shook her head, “It’s irrational the way she makes me so anxious but… I need to do perfect, Ava. I can’t afford any other outcome, you know?”

“That’s far too much pressure on you,” Ava looked at her seriously, “You’re allowed to have a life, Sarah.”

“Not in her eyes. I have to be a pathologist first and a human second or my mother won’t be happy.”

“And what about you? Are you going to be happy?”

“That doesn’t… it doesn’t matter.”

The blonde scoffed, “That’s rubbish and you know it. You can’t do your best if you aren’t sleeping and you sure as hell won’t do well in something you’re not passionate about.”

“But-.”

“No arguing,” she couldn’t help the small amusement at Sarah’s immediate compliance, “Please take care of yourself, Reese. Do this for you, not anyone else, or you’ll regret it.”

Ava didn’t wait for an answer, instead she got to her feet and dusted off her dark pants. She held out a hand for Sarah, looking at her with expectant eyes. The student let herself be tugged up off the floor, though she had trouble holding eye contact for very long.

“Sarah?”

She hummed in reply, busy wiping ruefully at the tears that had started to fall again during their talk. She saw the worry in her mentor’s face and it hurt a lot more than she wanted to admit. Ava Bekker cared for her of all people and here she was spending the day sulking and avoiding her.

“Come here.”

She was a bit taken aback when the blonde opened her arms, offering a hug for the first time. She wasn’t a physically affectionate person as far as Sarah had seen, not with her students especially. Still, it had been a very long time since she had received any sort of comfort like that and she had a hard time finding a response.

Eventually she did melt cautiously into Ava’s arms, surprised by how strong and secure they felt.

The surgeon didn’t say anything, just let Sarah lean into her until she relaxed into the embrace like expected. It was clear the other woman didn’t get a lot of physical comfort and Ava felt her stomach twinge a bit at how socially distant Sarah seemed. She deserved a support system, especially in such a competitive med program, and it broke her heart to realize she didn’t have much of one.

“Listen, you are a brilliant student, even if you have trouble with confidence. Enjoy neuro, don’t waste that time being upset and instead learn as much as you can. Don’t doubt yourself or downplay your abilities just because you think you should be in a lab instead. You would make an amazing surgeon, Sarah, whether it’s in CT or not.”

“Ava,” her reply was muffled slightly by her hair, “I don’t…”

“Just put yourself first, okay? And don’t be afraid to ask for guidance. Even if I’m not your mentor anymore once your rotation is up… I’m here, I promise.”

Sarah couldn’t think of a meaningful reply, overwhelmed by it all but still soothed by the lilac scent that was so Ava. All she could do was mumble a “thank you”, but in that moment it was more than enough.

#this is a double day that’s 3 days late <3 but it’s long lmao #it’s also Bad so lmao #my aus #restart #med student!sarah #fellow!ava #medtober 2021 #sarah reese #ava bekker #chicago med #Reesker #crockettstiddies #purple-dahlias

[macgyvermedical]

So the hero in my fanfic just stuck a metal objec in a power socket in a hospital, but was immediately found unconscious by a doctor. Doctor starts CPR, and to spruce up the whump I want to add a shot of adrenaline in the thigh to help start his heart. But when I'm researching if this is an accurate way to resuscitate someone, I see a lot of "Yes, BUT..." and now I'm uncertain if this is big no-no... Is it okay to use adrenaline in order to get an unconscious person's heart to start up again?

The short answer is yes, but it’s definitely more complicated than that.

Let’s start with those electrical injuries. Electricity can harm a human in three main ways. The first is that electrical energy becomes thermal energy in the person’s tissues, causing burns. The second is that muscles rely on very measured electrical impulses to function and if these impulses are overwhelmed by a lot of electricity all at once, they can contract so strongly they break bones or prevent someone from letting go of what is electrocuting them. The third is that the heart’s rhythm is also controlled via small electrical impulses. If a lot of electricity goes through the heart at the wrong part of one of those impulses, it can throw the person into an ineffective heart rhythm called ventricular fibrillation. Ventricular fibrillation does not effectively push blood through the blood vessels (a condition called cardiac arrest), which can quickly cause death.

The kind of electricity your character would have encountered is called Alternating Current (AC). AC is generated by moving electrons back and forth through a circuit quickly- about 60 back-forth cycles per second in the US. This is the kind of current that exists in power outlets (vs Direct Current (DC) which exists in batteries and lightning and moves only in one direction through a circuit).

Alternating current is particularly dangerous for a few reasons:

The first is that it is more likely to cause that strong contraction of muscle (vs DC which is more likely to throw people away from its source). While the voltage coming out of a standard outlet will not often be enough to break bones due to strong muscle contractions, it will make it impossible to let go if a person accidentally grabs hold of an object with AC running through it. It also means the person will be stuck there with electricity pumping through them until the breaker or fuse trips, whether they pass out or not.

The second is that, since AC cycles 60 times per second, it is pretty likely that one of those cycles will fall at a bad time during a heartbeat, causing that ventricular fibrillation/cardiac arrest I talked about earlier. Unfortunately (or fortunately for your story), it often takes longer to trip a breaker than it does to cause cardiac arrest (though if the breaker trips, the person coming to rescue your character will be safe from getting electrocuted themselves).

So, essentially, it is perfectly reasonable that your character would suffer burns to their hands, maybe some minor musculoskeletal injuries from the muscle contractions, and be unconscious and in cardiac arrest when found by the doc.

Now let’s talk about how medical professionals would approach this situation in a hospital.

Not all people who are unconscious are in cardiac arrest. A doctor (or really anyone who works in a hospital from a nursing assistant or dietary aide to a nurse or doc) who walks into a hospital room and sees a patient on the floor will first do a really quick assessment to determine if the person needs CPR- they’ll first try to wake the patient up by shouting at them and, if that doesn’t work, by pushing their knuckles into the person’s chest (called a sternal rub). If this doesn’t work, they’ll tip the patient’s head back and check for a patent airway (can air move in and out of the person’s nose/mouth?), check if the person is breathing (are they actually moving air into and out of their lungs?), and check for circulation (does the patient have a pulse in their neck?). If no breathing or pulse, the doc would call a Code Blue (by either pressing a button on the wall or yelling out the door) and start CPR.

Almost everyone in a hospital has taken a class called BLS, or Basic Life Support. This is essentially CPR designed for a hospital environment. It’s 30 compressions to 2 breaths just like it is everywhere else, but the breaths are usually given with a bag-valve-mask device (BVM) and BLS assumes there are more trained people in the room than your typical CPR-in-the-community scenario. BLS also allows anyone with training to operate a defibrillator on automatic (AED) mode. 

Often, as soon as another person enters the room (usually a nurse or nursing assistant- though a lot of people will come running when a code blue is called), that person will take over compressions and another will sit at the patient’s head and give them breaths with a bag-valve-mask device. This frees the doc, as the highest-ranking medical professional in the room, to run the “code”.

Doctors, paramedics, respiratory therapists, and many nurses have a higher level of training for cardiac arrests called ACLS, or Advanced Cardiac Life Support. In ACLS, it is assumed that the equipment is available to intubate a person (put a tube down their throat to deliver breaths more effectively), give drugs and fluids through an IV, and manually set a defibrillator to the best needs of the patient.

We use the term “cardiac arrest” to describe any time the heart is not beating in a way that can support life. This can either be that it is not beating at all and has no measurable electrical activity (asystole), beating too fast to fill with blood between beats (ventricular tachycardia), quivering and not moving blood (ventricular fibrillation), or the electrical activity is normal but the heart itself is under too much pressure to pump blood (pulseless electrical activity).

[Ventricular Fibrillation (top) vs normal sinus rhythm (bottom) on an EKG strip]

Your doc isn’t necessarily going to be able to tell which one of these is going on from feeling for a pulse. Fortunately, the first thing to do for any of these is to start CPR. While CPR is happening, someone (often a nurse, nursing assistant, or EKG tech) will get an EKG on the patient, someone (often a respiratory therapist) will be intubating them, someone (often a nurse) will be prepping medications and starting IVs if necessary, someone (often a nurse) will be setting up the defibrillator and putting pads on the patient’s chest, someone (often the patient’s  nurse) will be giving report on the patient to the person running the code, and someone else will be writing down everything that’s going on including when each thing was ordered and done.

When the EKG is done, the doc would be able to identify that the cause of the cardiac arrest is the ventricular fibrillation. The ACLS-level treatment for ventricular fibrillation (as of 2016) is to do CPR, intubate, and provide oxygen and breaths through the ET tube, shock with the defibrillator as soon as possible (and if the first one doesn’t work, every 2 minutes thereafter), give 1mg of epinephrine (adrenaline) through the IV or 2mg through the ET tube every 3-5 minutes, and give another drug called amiodarone (or lidocaine based on the doc’s clinical judgement) after 2 shock cycles.

During this, the doc is trying to figure out what caused the rhythm and reverse it, though with electrical injury like this, there’s not a whole lot more they could do besides keep doing this until either the person’s heart goes back into a working rhythm, the heart goes into another rhythm warranting different treatment, or the doc decides it has been too long and there is little chance of the person surviving and calls time of death.

So it’s reasonable to give your character CPR and epinephrine, but the epi would be given through an IV during a fairly extensive and deliberate series of events. The good news is that since someone found them immediately and ventricular fibrillation is a shockable rhythm, they have a relatively very good chance of surviving this cardiac arrest.  

#whump reference #writing reference #electricity #code blue #medical emergencies in a hospital

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch42: Maybe Baby Part 2- Between The Toaster And The Fridge

Intro: Steve comes home to a very, special welcome…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N- More thanks to @angrybirdcr​

Chapter 42 Part 1​

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The recruits around Steve were laughing, and he had to smile himself. He’d just told them the story about how he had managed to get a flag down from the top of a pole once when he was training, right before he go the serum. He’d taken the pins out of the bottom of the pole causing it to crash to the floor where as everyone else had tried to climb it, including Gilmore Hodge. God, what a prick he had been.

“So, the moral of the story is just because it’s the path of least resistance, it doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path.” Steve looked around at the assembled team, smiling to himself as he repeated the words Natasha had once said to him, words he hadn’t agreed with in that circumstance but here, well, they fit.  “Consider each task on its own merit. Decide what your end goal is and then look for the simplest, safest and least strenuous way to achieve it. Conserve your energy for when there’s no other option open to you because that’s the time that you’ll truly need it.”

With that he nodded to Rhodey and moved to the side of the room, folding his arms across his broad chest as he looked at the assembled trainees. They seemed like a good bunch this lot, receptive to his advice and teaching which was an improvement on the lot he’d had a month or so back in Colorado. They’d been a nightmare and when they were awkward it made being away from his girls so much more of a chore. At least when they were like this, it made him feel like it was worthwhile. He took a few more questions, gave a bit more advice before they called it for the day and he headed back to his room to make sure he was packed, ready to head home the next afternoon. It had been three weeks this time, and whilst he’d spoken to Katie and Emmy every night it still didn’t make him feel any better at being away from them, even though he knew it was part and parcel of his job. 

It also wasn’t helping their baby-making plans either.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket and he smiled when he saw who it was. Flopping down on the bed he beamed at Katie.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey handsome.” she smiled, yawning slightly

“What you been up to?”

“Been busy with this Half Way Home proposal.

“How’s it going?”

“Good, Pepper’s giving it the once over before we send it into the Senate. I don’t think they’ll have an issue, I mean we’re not asking for funding but with them behind us it means the sale should go through easier.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned.” He smiled “Bet Natasha is pleased.” “Hmmm” Katie frowned. “She’s flown off again this evening.”

He groaned “Johannesburg?”

“Yeah.” she shrugged “She won’t give up. Says she owes it to Clint to try.”

“She’s on a hiding to nothing.” Steve sighed “I don’t know what she thinks she can do.” “Who knows, but if it makes her feel better who are we to argue. We’d do the same in her position.” And Steve had nothing else he could say on the matter, as he knew she was right. He had done the same, pretty much.

“Can’t want to get home tomorrow.” he changed the subject, smiling. “Three weeks apart isn’t exactly helpful on the whole trying-not-trying front is it?”

“Not really no.” Katie gave a soft laugh

Steve grinned cheekily “Every time I’ve jacked off in the shower I’ve had this horrible, guilty feeling that I could be washing a little me down the-“ “Oh my God!” Katie snorted as Steve laughed loudly, his right hand flying to his chest “You’re disgusting!”

“You love it!” he smirked, and she sighed and looked at him.

“I love you.” she said simply, and he could do nothing but grin stupidly back at the screen.

“Hi Jen!” Katie greeted as she walked up to the coffee counter, Emmy walking behind it like she owned the place, casually heading into the back to find Brooke.

“Hi!” Jen turned to her, “Usual?” “Erm, to be honest with you coffee isn’t what I’m after today.” she said “Had a disgusting hangover yesterday that I’m still recovering from so can I get a tea and one of those Danishes please?”

Jenifer chortled, “Take a seat I’ll bring it over and join you for a bit.” Katie smiled, paid for her drink and food and headed over to the comfy sofas by the window. Sinking into the well-worn leather she pulled out her phone and flicked through a few emails, pleased to see Pepper had proof read their proposal and made a few minor tweaks. She had just fired it off to her secretary to make the changes and forward on when Jennifer sat opposite her, pushing her food and drink over the table. Katie was that hungry she wolfed the pastry down in about four bits, before leaning back, wiping her fingers with a napkin.

“I think sugar and carbs maybe the way forward today” she laughed “I feel better already.”

“Why is it the older you get, the longer hangovers last?” the woman asked and Katie shrugged.

“Gone are the days I could sink shot after shot and still make it out unscathed.” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her tea appreciatively “Being an adult sucks.” She spent a few hours at the coffee shop, leaving Emmy there after Jennifer had assured her it was ok for her to stay, before heading into the city to find Steve a gift. This year, four, was either fruit, flowers, linen or silk. Which was a random combination when you thought about it. But she found a really nice grey linen blazer that would suit Steve, and smirking to herself, bought a silk slip that she could wear to bed. Always nice to keep him on his toes as she had said last year.

She picked Emmy up and then stopped on the way home to fuel up the Camero, As she leaned against the side of the car, watching the numbers tick over on the pump, the smell of gasoline filled her nostrils, almost choking her and she was overcome with a wave of nausea and vomited straight onto the floor.

“Fucks sake.” she groaned, as she managed to compose herself, waiting for the feeling to subside. Thankfully Emmy was too engrossed in something on her phone to notice. Eventually, her stomach stopped flipping and she finished, paid and headed back to the Compound, wondering if she was coming down with a bug. But then, as she walked down the corridor with her bags the strong stench of bleach from one of the labs made her once again feel the need to hurl.  

Something clicked in her mind and she paused, suddenly feeling very hot.

“Hey.” Bruce looked at her as he appeared from the lab. “You alright? You look a bit pale.” “Yeah, fine.” she nodded, swallowing “Just remembered, I forgot to grab something. Emmy, can you take these up to the apartment and go straight to Nat? Bruce do you mind just…”

“No, course not.” He smiled, “In fact, I have something to show you Em. Remember that research I was doing into the…”

Katie didn’t stay to hear the rest, Emmy wandered off after Bruce chatting away, whilst she turned back the way she had come and hurried back to the car. 

***** Steve walked back into the apartment and was greeted by a whirl of sandy fur before Katie appeared hurriedly crossing the hallway to throw herself into his arms.

“Missed you.” He smiled, as he bent to give her a kiss.

“I missed you too.” she pouted, her hands fisting into his light blue button down “Three weeks is far too long, I don’t like it.” “I know, sorry baby.” he smiled “Where’s Emmy?”

“Nat’s” Katie said as she turned and headed back to the kitchen “I know it isn’t our anniversary until tomorrow but I wanted get you all to myself right away.”

“Yeah? Got something in mind?” He grinned, wrapping his arms around her from behind, nipping at her neck before he rest his chin on her shoulder.

“Yeah, feeding you.” she chuckled as his stomach gave a loud rumble “Hungry?” “I’m always hungry.” he pouted, his arms still wrapped tightly round her “Doesn’t help that whatever you’ve been baking smells so good.”

“Saffron buns.” She smiled and Steve let out a groan off delight as his stomach rumbled again “And seeing as you’re so keen to get your hands on one, can you get them out of the oven?” she nodded towards it and twisted away from his hold “I’m almost done with the rest of the food.”

Grumbling slightly at the loss of her warmth against his chest, he straightened up and pulled the metal and glass door open before he frowned. A single bun sat on the tray in the middle of the large oven. What was that about?

“Honey, what…” He turned to look at Katie who was stood behind him, biting her lip. He frowned, before he turned back to the bun in the…

Oh. Oh!

Steve spun round that fast he nearly fell over. Katie smiled at him, her eyes shining at the look of surprise on his handsome face.

“You’re - um. You - you’re…?” Steve couldn’t quite form his words. Katie smiled, as he swallowed hard “Katie…”

“Yeah. Although I think the correct term might be ‘we.’” 

“Sweetheart you…” he looked at his wife, not quite able to believe what she was saying “We’re, really having a baby?” “Yeah.” She nodded, sniffing slightly as she reached for him then with both hands, cupping his face in her fingers. “We are. You’re gonna be a daddy, Steve.”

“Shit!” He exclaimed with a laugh “I’m gonna be a daddy!” with that he pulled her into his arms and swung her up in the air, the same way he had done when she’d agreed to marry him, causing her to laugh before he gently brought her down again, her arms sliding around his neck as he set her on her feet, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“How far gone, do you know?” He asked, pulling back an inch. “Not sure. It can’t be that far but I have an appointment with the ob-gyn tomorrow morning. I wanted to make sure everything was okay after, you know…”

Steve glanced down at her stomach and moved his hand towards it, pausing.

“You don’t have to ask.” Katie smiled softly, taking his hand in hers and guiding it onto her stomach. Steve took a deep breath as his fingers splayed out gently across her belly under her palm, his face shining with pure unadulterated emotion as his eyes stayed focused on his hand.

He had never felt so happy or so alive in his life.

*****

A tiny blip. Nothing more than what looked like static brought tears to both their eyes as Dr Kellet pointed to the image.

“Well, Mrs Rogers” she smiled “from this I estimate you’re roughly eight weeks pregnant.” “Eight weeks?” Steve asked, as he did the maths in his head. Eight weeks took them back to the fourth of July, his birthday…

Katie grinned to herself as she felt Steve’s arms slide around her waist and his lips gently brushing on her neck, his stubble scratching at her skin.

“I’m trying to cook you lunch here.” she sighed as his hand worked beneath the waistband of her denim shorts. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers skated into her underwear.

“Want me to stop?” he asked as her head fell back against his shoulder and she bit her lip.

“Didn’t say that.” she muttered as his fingers slipped further into her folds, finding her spot. His other hand slipped up her vest top and splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him further and she let out a soft squeak as he slipped one finger into her. He continued to work her, she was putty in his hands and eventually when he knew she was close he moved and spun her round, pulling her to him, his arousal pressing into her as he kissed her, hard, his hands cupping her cheeks as he backed her into the wall. Her hands strayed down to the buckle of his belt and she quickly undid it, wasting no time as she slipped her hand into his boxers, grasping him hard. He bucked at the touch and let out a hiss.

“Easy soldier.” she grinned into his mouth as he let out a groan, his hands dropping to her shorts. In a flash she was out of them and her underwear and he lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, back pressed against the kitchen wall.

“Shut up.” he mumbled, kissing her hard and she laughed into his mouth, a laugh that turned into a gasp as he pushed into her with no warning at all.

“Gonna fuck a baby into you doll.” He growled and her head rolled back, banging slightly on the light yellow painted wall. “Say that again.” she moaned.

He punctuated each word with a hard thrust “I’m…gonna…fuck…a…baby…into…you…” he purred, one hand resting by her head on the wall, the other snaking under her top and pulling down the cups of her bra. He rolled each nipple in turn between his thumb and forefinger leaving her grinding down against him for more friction as she kissed him again, hard, her gasps coming thick and fast as he rutted up, his hips snapping back and forth in a fast and deep rhythm. Steve let out a groan, his tongue sliding against hers sending the familiar red hot pokers of desire straight to his belly. His wife still managed to turn him on as much as the first time they’d ever been intimate together, despite there being what felt like a life time of ups and downs since then. If anything he was convinced that’s what made it better. He knew her body as well as he knew his own, every curve, every dip, every scar, blemish freckle and she knew his, each and every single inch of his skin, his limbs. Her hands grasped at his back, sliding up his t-shirt, nails raking down his skin, the stinging sensation causing him to grunt again as his rhythm picked up slightly, gaining momentum as he could feel himself going. “Come on, baby.” He muttered, his forehead pressed against hers “Wanna see you let go.”

“Stevie.” Her voice was a whisper, as her eyes fluttered closed for a second and he felt her thighs tighten around him, her mouth falling slack for a moment as her head tilted back. He moved the hand that was against the wall to her neck, holding her head in place and when her eyes opened again, those beautiful green orbs locked onto his she gave a low, sultry moan and he felt her walls tighten around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He mumbled as the strands in his stomach began to tighten “I love you, so much.” and with a final few snaps of his hips he came with a loud moan, his head falling to her shoulder, lips latching onto her neck as he thrust through his orgasm, before he stilled, both of them catching their breath.

Their baby had been conceived between the toaster and the fridge.

“So from that you’re estimated due date is the ninth April…” Dr Kellet smiled, tapping at something on her computer and then turning to gently wipe off the gel she had placed on Katie’s stomach. “So, do you have any questions?”

Of course Steve did. He spent a full thirty minutes drilling the woman about all the types of things Katie could and couldn’t do. Dr Kellet smiled, before she answered all of them, and some he hadn’t asked, in particular one about how sex was fine up until the birth if Katie was comfortable, warning him in fact that many pregnant women felt a spike in their libido in their second trimester. This caused Steve to flush and Katie to silently snigger.

“And lastly, I do hate to warn you about this as well but the term morning sickness, its bullshit. Should be called All Day Sickness”

“Tell me about it” Katie rolled her eyes. “Smells are the worst trigger.”

“Yeah, that’s very common.” the Dr Smiled “The good news is it should die down, if not go completely by about twenty weeks, but just keep yourself hydrated and rest up to avoid fatigue.”

“Thanks.” Katie smiled at her, “I’ll bear it in mind.”

As they walked back to the car, Steve’s arm curled round Katie’s shoulder and he pulled her closer, dropping a kiss onto her head. She smiled to herself, leaning into his touch as he gripped the scan photo they had been given with his other hand.

“I still can’t quite believe it.” He shook his head, reaching into his pocket for the car keys. “I know.” Katie’s voice was little more than a whisper. Steve turned to face her, his hands linking at the bottom of her spine “I can’t wait to tell everyone.” “We’re not telling everyone until twelve weeks is up.” she said, shaking her head “Bar Tony, Natasha, and Emmy.”

“Now?” He grinned, and Katie laughed as she snaked her arms round his neck.

“So impatient, Captain Badass.” She grinned as she leaned up to kiss him. “But yeah, let’s pay Tony a visit!”

Steve spent the entire forty-five minute journey grinning like an idiot, chatting about plans for nurseries and all sorts of stuff, he was incandescently excited. Katie simply let him go on, his happiness was infectious although she did at one point have to get him to pull over so she could vomit out of the passenger door.

Steve was out of the car like a shot and round to the other side, crouching down, his hand gently stroking Katie’s flushed cheek.

“You okay?” He asked, his face concerned as she reached for the bottle of water that was in the cup holder.

“Get used to this.” She groaned, laying her head back against the head rest.

As they walked up the driveway to the porch, Pepper spotted them immediately from where she was sat on a chair on the grass, Morgan happily led on her tummy on the tartan blanket. She greeted them as they approached and Morgan let out a loud shriek at the sound of their voices.

“Moo, you’ve gotten so big!” Steve smiled as he swept her up and she beamed back at him.

“Well you haven’t seen her in a few weeks.” Pepper chuckled, as Steve gently pulled faces at the infant, causing her to give him a huge smile. “They grow fast.” “You’re not kidding.” Steve mused and Katie smiled, unable to stop her heart blooming at the thought that he would be doing that soon enough with their own baby.

“Hey guys.” Tony smiled, walking out of the house and dropping onto a seat next to Pepper. “Not that it’s not nice to see you but we weren’t expecting you.” “Yeah, well, we err, have some news that we kinda wanted to tell you in person.” Katie glanced up at Steve as he gently placed Morgan back on the blanket and Katie sat on the wicker couch opposite her brother and Pepper, Steve perching on the arm next to her.

Pepper twigged immediately, smiling at Katie who grinned back.

“What’s the matter?” Tony frowned, “Are you sick? Is something wrong with the business?”

“Oh come on Tony, isn’t it obvious?” Pepper looked at him

“Errr no.” he frowned. “What-” he looked at his sister “-what’s supposed to be obvious?”

Katie glanced at Steve who gave her a grin before he turned and looked at his brother-in-law.

“You’re gonna be an uncle, Tony!” he smiled, dropping an arm round Katie’s shoulders.

Tony stared for a minute and then slapped his knees triumphantly, a huge grin breaking across his face. “You’re kidding me! Really? Really?” He leaned forward, intently scrutinizing Katie’s midsection until she tossed a throw pillow at his head. He dodged it, looked at her for a moment before he jumped up and swept her into an enormous hug. She stood up to greet him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Kiddo, that’s, wow, it’s awesome!” He spluttered.

“Thanks Tony.” She sniffed, stepping back as her brother reached up and cupped her face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Guys, congratulations.” Pepper gave Steve a hug and then turned to Katie when Tony had finally released her, giving the younger woman a squeeze.  

“Wow, Baby America - you gonna dress him in star spangled diapers?” Tony paused, faltering, as he was shaking Steve’s hand. “Or her, or maybe one of each?”

“One of each?” Steve frowned.

“It isn’t twins.” Katie rolled her eyes

“You gonna find out what it is?” Pepper asked.

“I dunno we haven’t discussed it.”

“Wait, they can find out?” Steve frowned “They can find out what it is before it’s born?” Tony looked at Steve “Remind me how long you’ve been defrosted?”

“Tony.” Pepper warned him before she turned to Steve “Yes, Steve they can.” “But you guys didn’t?” He frowned. “We didn’t want to know.”  Tony shrugged, dropping a kiss onto the side of Pepper’s head before he clapped his hands together. “This causes for a celebration, only not you young lady.” He pointed at Katie and she rolled her eyes “Yes, beers.” he continued chunnering away to himself, heading back to the house.

“You two okay to watch Morgan?” Pepper asked gesturing to where Morgan lay on her back, legs wriggling furiously “Just keep an eye on her, anything she can get hold of she’s sticking in her mouth…”

The two of them nodded and sank back into the chairs and Steve dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, his arm curling round her shoulders as she snuggled into him, kicking off her shoes so she could swing her feet up onto the cushion besides her.

“Happy?” He asked.

“Ridiculously” she responded, giving him a soft kiss.

***** Later that night they broke their happy news to Emmy, only she didn’t react the way they had expected.

“So,” she looked down at her hands as her fingers twisted around one another, the way they always did when she was worried, “does this mean I need to pack my bags?” “What?” Katie frowned, “Why would us having a baby mean you need to pack your bags?” “Coz, well, you’ll have your own kid now.” she shrugged “Not like you’ll want me around.” Steve and Katie shared a look and Steve shook his head, dropping to his knees in front of the girl as Katie sat on the arm of the chair she was in.

“Of course we want you around.” Steve looked at the girl “Emmy, you’re part of our family now, and all this means is that our family is getting a bit bigger.”

Emmy looked up at Steve, her eyes shining with tears, before she looked at Katie, and melted into her arms as the woman gave her a hug.

“You have a home with us for as long as you want.” Katie pulled back, smiling “And besides,” she winked, “you’ll be our chief babysitter.”

Later that night, when she was getting changed for bed, Steve couldn’t help but just watch Katie as she moved around the bedroom in her sleep shorts and bra. The fact she was growing his baby just made her all the more beautiful to him, and when he couldn’t stand not touching her anymore, he threw his legs off the bed and moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder into the mirror as she finished cleaning her teeth. One hand came to rest on her hip, while his other hand slipped down, palm spread protectively over her bare abdomen as he pressed tender kisses to her cheek and throat.

"I love you,” he whispered softly against her ear.

She leaned back against him, looking at the two - no, three of them in the mirror, her husband’s head bowed against hers, their child beneath his hand.

For once he fell asleep before Katie, and as she lay there, gently stroking the back of his neck she couldn’t help the immense happiness that overwhelmed her. Things were about to change, again, for them. But this time, it was a change they both welcomed.

**** Chapter 43

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

[rhosyn-du]

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Eight

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321​ Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue​ Tags:  Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Eight

“If you’re taking me to a strip club, I’m walking out and crashing Magnus’s bachelor party.”

“Dude, have a little faith.” Jace grabbed Alec’s elbow and helped him out of the car.

“And stop scrunching your nose to try to see through the blindfold,” Izzy said from Alec’s other side. “We can see you doing it. Besides, do you really think there aren’t going to be strippers at Magnus’s party? Have you met Catarina and Ragnor?”

“Yes, and I trust their taste in strippers more than I trust yours.”

“I think I’m supposed to be insulted,” Izzy said, opening a door so Jace could usher Alec through, “but honestly, I kind of just want to ask Cat if she knows any good strip clubs I can take Clary to for our next date night.”

Alec made a pained sound. “Can I request a moratorium on anything that involves strippers and any of my siblings?”

“You can request it,” Jace said, “but it doesn’t mean we’ll listen. Mind the gap; you’re about to step into an elevator.”

“Isn’t my bachelor party supposed to be about things I like?”

Izzy pushed the button for their floor. “No, it’s supposed to be about doing things with your friends and siblings before you get married and forget all about us.”

“Iz, I meet you for drinks literally every week. I’m not going to stop just because Magnus and I are married instead of engaged.” A slow smile spread across Alec’s face. “I’m marrying Magnus tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you are.” Jace patted Alec’s shoulder as the elevator doors slid open. “Almost there, buddy.”

They led Alec out of the elevator and down the hall.

“Okay stop,” Izzy said when they reached their destination. “You can take the blindfold off now.”

Alec made a show of keeping his eyes squeezed shut as he pulled off the blindfold, opening one eye slowly as though bracing for something horrible. Jace saw the moment Alec recognized where he was, his shoulders relaxing all at once.

Alec glanced between his siblings, unimpressed. “This is the door to our loft. I live here.”

“I told you I was going to plan you the perfect bachelor party,” Jace said. “Did you really want to spend your last night as a single man somewhere else?”

“Your party awaits, big brother,” Izzy said, swinging the door open.

“Alexander!” Magnus met them at the door, smiling broadly. “I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to show up.”

“We had to drive around enough that he wouldn’t know where we were going,” Jace explained. “You know what his crazy sense of direction is like.”

Alec gave his fiancé a questioning look. “What happened to separate bachelor parties being an important part of the tradition?”

“Ragnor and Catarina reminded me that some traditions really aren’t that important,” Magnus said airily. “Especially when breaking them would make you happy.”

“He means he sulked and whined about having to spend all night away from you until we suggested a joint party,” Catarina said, handing Alec a martini and Izzy something dark and fruity with far too many cherries. “And then he pretended like it was all our idea.”

“It was pitiful, really,” Ragnor added. “At one point, he actually languished on my couch to moan about it like some discount gothic heroine.”

“And on that note,” Magnus said, taking Alec’s arm, “my fiancé and I will be going to join our friends who don’t intend to spend all evening mocking me.”

“That’s really sweet, you know,” Alec said as he let Magnus lead him away.

“Well,” Ragnor said, “it’s my duty as Magnus’s co-best-man to make sure he is sufficiently mocked this evening, so I suppose I must follow.” He looked at Jace and Izzy. “I believe Clary and Simon are in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the cupcakes.”

Jace threw Izzy a questioning look. “Cupcakes?”

Izzy shook her head. “Must have been something Ragnor and Catarina planned. Let’s go see.”

The cupcakes, it turned out, were dick-shaped. And because it was Clary decorating them, they were very accurately dick-shaped.

“Oh yeah,” Izzy laughed, “this was definitely Cat’s doing.”

“Cat was in charge of baking, I’m in charge of decorating,” Clary confirmed, eyeing the cupcake she was working on critically. “Devil’s food cake with a chocolate-and-whiskey ganache filling and a variety of different icings. We’re calling them cock-cakes. Simon, pass me the lemon buttercream?”

“You got it, boss,” Simon said, grabbing one of the many pastry bags lined out on the counter and handing it to Clary before stepping over to Jace and greeting him with a warm smile that made Jace’s insides melt. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” Jace couldn’t help his answering smile, couldn’t help drawing Simon into a soft kiss that felt easier than it probably should. “If I knew you were going to be creating culinary dick art without me, I would have made Iz drive Alec around on her own.”

“I’m mostly just assisting.” Simon leaned into him, stealing another quick kiss. “Clary’s the real artistic genius behind this masterpiece.”

“It’s true, my girlfriend is a genius,” Izzy agreed happily, walking over to wrap her arms around Clary’s waist from behind.

“Right now, this artistic genius is being distracted from finishing her cupcakes by too many people in the kitchen. You two,” she gestured at Simon and Jace, “take that finished tray out to the table.”

“Wait, how come we have to be the ones to leave?” Simon wondered. “Izzy’s being way more distracting than we are.”

“Because she’s cuter than you are,” Clary said without looking up from her cupcakes. “Go.”

Jace looked at Simon. “The lady has spoken, I guess. Come on, let’s go watch Alec pretend he doesn’t think these cupcakes are hilarious.”

~~~

Jace couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy. He wasn’t sure he ever had been this happy. The joint bachelor party had been a rousing success—cock-cakes, a stripper who was definitely not better than he would have hired, and all—and Jace was so glad he and Izzy had been able to help do this for Alec. And it had been amazing to see Alec so joyful and so obviously in love, to see Izzy and Clary and how happy they made each other. To feel the possibility of a love like that for himself every time Simon took his hand, to see it every time Simon smiled at him, to hear it every time Simon said his name.

It was enough to make him want to be a little reckless. Maybe even reckless enough to tell Simon that he was more to Jace than a fake-boyfriend-with-benefits, that Jace wanted them to be more. It was hardly a new thought, but Jace thought that maybe he was finally ready to say the words out loud.

“Hey, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” Simon said, as if reading his thoughts. “When we get back to the hotel,” he added, throwing a pointed glance at their Uber driver.

Jace smiled at him. “Sure. I actually wanted to talk to you, too.”

“Cool.” Simon sounded nervous. Jace could relate. Now that this was actually happening, he felt like he had an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies in his chest.

Jace’s butterflies hadn’t calmed down any by the time they made it back to their room, and he could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off Simon as he kicked his shoes off and started pulling out his clothes for morning.

“So,” Jace said, leaning against the wall with an affected casualness, “what did you want to talk about?”

Simon squared his shoulders, turned to face him. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Jace’s whole world rocked sideways. “What?”

This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.

“This whole fake dating thing. It was a mistake. I probably shouldn’t even have suggested it in the first place, but I thought—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I was wrong, and I can’t keep pretending with you, so.” He took a deep breath, obviously steeling himself. “So, this is has to be it. After the wedding tomorrow, no more pretending.”

“Oh.” It was all Jace could find it in himself to say. He reached for the bravado he would normally wrap around himself in a situation like this, but it had deserted him entirely. “I can’t keep pretending with you.” It had all been pretend for Simon. And Jace didn’t even have any right to be hurt by it, because it was what he’d agreed to.

“It’s just,” Simon continued, “seeing Alec and Magnus so happy tonight, and seeing the way Clary and Izzy are together, and even the dumb text Becky sent me earlier about how excited she is to see Maia tomorrow, it all made me realize just how much I want that. I want it with someone I love who loves me back, and you—”

“And I’m not a relationship kind of guy,” Jace finished for him. He didn’t actually need to hear all the reasons that would never be him. He was aware of his own failings.

“Right.” Simon’s voice was barely above a whisper, all his nervous energy having drained away.

“I get it.” Jace forced a smile. Maybe he couldn’t be someone Simon wanted to really be with, but he could at least pretend he wasn’t devastated by that fact. “You deserve that kind of happiness, maybe more than anyone I know. I hope—” He drew in a sharp breath. He would not let his voice tremble. “I hope you find someone who can give it to you.”

He turned away, unable to maintain the facade any longer. “I’m going to hit the shower before bed.” He wasn’t proud of having to hide the bathroom with his feelings, but he couldn’t stay here with Simon, not now.

Jace spent a long time under the shower’s spray. Until he was sure Simon must have fallen asleep. Until he was sure all his tears had washed away.

~~~

Best man duties were almost enough to distract Jace from his own problems for most of the next morning, and he threw himself into making sure everyone in the wedding party was where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be, keeping Max away from anything flammable, and keeping Maryse and Robert away from each other. In the thankfully rare moments of downtime, he forced himself to put on a lighthearted demeanor. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of Alec having a perfect wedding, especially not his own stupid feelings.

He should have known that Alec would see right through him.

“You okay?”

Jace glanced up from the mirror he was using to fix his bowtie. Everything was set, everyone was in their proper places, and Jace had nothing left to do but keep Alec company and wait for the ceremony to start.

“I’m fine. I’m not the one getting married in,” Jace checked his watch, “twenty-three minutes.”

“Don’t deflect. You’re doing that thing you do with your eyebrows when something’s really bothering you, and I’m not doing anything for the next twenty-three minutes if you want to talk about it.”

“What I want,” Jace told him, “is for you to stop worrying about other people and get your ass married.”

“Fair enough,” Alec agreed. “But I’m here when you do want to talk about it. I know I’ve been completely wrapped up in wedding stuff for a while, but you’re still my brother and my best friend, and I don’t want you to think you’re any less important to me now than you always have been.”

Jace walked over and put a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “The only complaint I have about you being wrapped up in wedding stuff is how sappy it’s apparently made you.”

Alec chuckled. “Oh god, that was really sappy, wasn’t it? Shit.” He wiped at his eyes. “I think I might actually cry out there. You’re not allowed to make fun of me if I do.”

“Buddy,” Jace said gravely, “as your brother and best man, it is my solemn duty to make fun of you for it for the rest of our lives. But I’ll wait until you’re back from your honeymoon.”

Alec didn’t cry during the ceremony. Jace noticed a few moments when he had distinctly watery eyes, though, and filed those away for future teasing. Then Alec and Magnus were kissing and the ceremony was over and Jace had absolutely nothing left to distract him from his thoughts.

Especially when the subject of those thoughts was waiting for him in the reception hall, looking as hot as Jace had ever seen him in a perfectly tailored black suit. Jace had managed to avoid looking for Simon during the wedding, and seeing him now hit like a punch to the gut. His emotions were still too raw to deal with what had happened the night before, and there was only one way he was going to make it through this. Luckily, it was the thing he was supposed to be doing. Namely, pretending his ass off.

So he greeted Simon with a warm smile and a kiss to the cheek before settling into his seat. They were at a table with the rest of the wedding party, along with Clary, and it was all so familiar that Jace had no trouble falling back into his role, teasing the hell out of Alec and congratulating the happy couple. Simon made it easy, not acting any different than he had before their conversation, never hesitating to offer small touches and gestures of physical affection, even moving his chair closer so they could lean into each other once they were done eating. It would have made Jace a little sick if he let himself think about it, which he pointedly did not.

Jace let himself get lost in it. It was stupid, and probably a little selfish, but if this was the last time he would ever get to be with Simon like this, he was going to enjoy it.

“Dance with me.” He didn’t mean to say it, but apparently he’d had enough champagne that he wasn’t quite thinking before speaking anymore. He knew as soon as he said it that he’d overstepped. After all, look what had happened the last time they’d danced together.

“Oh.” Simon looked genuinely shocked by the suggestion. “I, uh...”

“I mean,” Jace backpedaled, “if you want to.”

“I believe I might fancy a dance, myself,” Ragnor said. He extended his hand to Madzie, the flower girl and Catarina’s daughter. “Might I have this dance, young lady?”

“Can we do the twirls?” Madzie asked, jumping up from her chair and spinning around to demonstrate.

“Obviously,” Ragnor told her seriously. “After all, what’s the point of dancing without twirls?”

Madzie didn’t bother to give a verbal answer, just grabbed Ragnor’s hand and skipped off toward the dance floor.

“With any luck, that will help her work off some of the sugar buzz from all that cake.” Catarina gave Magnus a long look. “I can’t believe you gave her a second slice.”

“My dearest Catarina, it’s my wedding day, and I will spoil my goddaughter if I want to.”

Catarina scoffed. “You say that like you don’t spoil her every day.”

“It’s true,” Alec agreed. “We might need to give her a third slice if we want to spoil her extra today.” He managed to keep a straight face right up until Cat’s napkin hit him in the face.

“I think I might need to dance off my own sugar buzz,” Izzy announced, grabbing Clary’s hand. “Come on, hot stuff. Let’s go shake our booties.”

Clary laughed. “I can’t exactly say no when you’re offering to shake your booty for me.”

“You know what?” Simon said suddenly. The look he gave Jace was challenging. “I do want to dance.”

It was Jace’s turn to be shocked, but he recovered quickly. “Okay.” He met Simon’s challenge with a smirk. “Let’s dance.”

Jace’s bravado was shaken slightly when the music transitioned to a slow love song right as they made it to the dance floor. But Simon didn’t hesitate, stepping onto the dance floor and drawing him close.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke, rocking gently to the music. They danced close enough that Jace could hear Simon’s breaths, feel them against his cheek. It was too much and not enough all at once, and Jace had to say something or he was going to go crazy.

“Thanks, by the way. For, you know, all of this. I don’t think I ever said that.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” Simon’s voice was low and intimate. “This was as much for me as it was for you.”

Jace wanted to say that it couldn’t possibly be, that if any of this meant half what it did to him for Simon, then he wouldn’t be able to give it up so easily. But that would have been deeply unfair, no matter how true, so instead he just said, “Well, thank you, anyway.”

Simon pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, and Jace didn’t understand why he looked so sad. “Thank you.”

And then they were kissing, slow and gentle, and Jace didn’t even remember moving, but he must have or how else could they have gotten here? All the longing and heartbreak he’d been pushing down all day rose up, threatening to break him open and spill out all over the dance floor. The only things holding him together were Simon’s arms around him, Simon’s body pressed against his as they swayed to near-forgotten music, Simon’s mouth on his.

When the song ended and Simon pulled away from him, Jace stumbled and had to force himself upright.

“Come back to the hotel with me,” he said urgently. He couldn’t just let Simon go, he realized, not without at least trying. They could go back to their room, and they could talk, and Jace would somehow find the words to convince Simon to stay. “Please.”

Simon closed his eyes and visibly steeled himself. When he opened them again, Jace knew he’d lost before he even had the chance to put up a fight.

“I already made plans to hang out with Becky and Maia tonight. You know, sibling and sibling’s-maybe-girlfriend bonding. Maia’s going to give me a ride back to Boston in the morning.” He took Jace’s hand and lifted it to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on his knuckles, then pressed something small and metal into his palm before letting go.

Jace couldn’t do anything but watch him walk away, the weight of his father’s ring heavier than it had any right to be in his hand.

~~~

The apartment was quiet when Jace got home, and he was both relieved that he wouldn’t have to face Simon yet and disappointed because, as much as he hated that he would have to box his feelings away, he missed Simon, even though it had only been two days since they’d last seen each other.

He found the note pinned to the refrigerator, held in place by the Spider-Man magnet that he’d gotten Simon as a “congrats on surviving a horrible lab partner and not failing chemistry” gift last year.

Staying at Bat’s for a while. -S

That was all. Nothing about why Simon had left or when he was coming back. If he was coming back. Jace’s fingers almost itched with the need to text Simon to find out exactly what the hell was going on, but the fact that Simon had left a note instead of texting suggested he didn’t mean for this to be a discussion.

Not that Jace actually needed a discussion. Simon had made it very clear that things were over between the two of them, that he didn’t feel the same way about Jace that Jace did about him, and instead of accepting it and moving on like a good friend would have, he’d kissed Simon at the wedding. He’d been on the verge of begging Simon to give him a chance. Of course Simon didn’t want to see him right now. He wouldn’t want to see him, either.

For half a second, Jace considered taking Alec up on his offer to call if he needed to talk, but Alec was on his honeymoon, and Jace might on occasion be a self-centered asshole, but he didn’t want to be that much of a self-centered asshole. Instead, he grabbed his half-empty package of Double Stuf Oreos and took them to the couch, where he turned on Return of the Jedi and bundled himself up in the fleece blanket Simon always used when his feet got too cold in winter.

When the movie was over and the Oreos were long gone, he dragged the blanket into Simon’s room and curled up on his bed, on top of the covers. Sleeping on top of Simon’s bed wasn’t as pathetic as sleeping in Simon’s bed, he reasoned. Especially if no one was there to see it. And if the fleece blanket kept any tears from getting on Simon’s comforter, then he wasn’t really crying.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt.2)

(Dog hybrid! Namjoon x Reader) (ft. Bear! Taehyung) (Eventual Polyamory) 

Tags: graphic domestic abuse, minor body horror, blood, major character death, hybrid mistreatment, implied spousal rape, unplanned pregnancy, depression, nightmares, PTSD, Dog hybrid! Namjoon, Bear Hybrid! Taehyung, 

W/C: 5.2k

Song Rec: Hozier- to be alone

A/n: so yeah! here is the much-awaited second part of reasons wretched and divine! No jimin or yoongi in this yet. but it’s coming! 

- There is a moment when everything shifts, the world spinning off its kilter. You tearfully holding the pregnancy test in your hands, the horror welling up in your stomach that Namjoon feels in turn when it really really hits him what it means, what you’ve been going through. 

- Because he’s seen the hickeys, but he never thought- it never made sense- but now- You're hyperventilating, your breaths coming in deep gasps that rattle around your chest like a gale-force wind. Namjoon holds you up, stopping you from falling to the bathroom floor.

- Your lower lip quivers, and your shoulders to small for all the ache that lies between. You ghasp out his name “Joon- Joonie- this can’t happen- this wasn’t supposed to happen to me- if I have his kid- he’s never going to let me go.”  

- Namjoon wishes- wishes beyond anything he’s ever wanted- every desire he’s ever had because this takes precident- he wishes that the pregnancy test could be wrong. 

- But as he lets out his own choked breath even he can admit-  your scent is changing, it’s different now than it was when he first met you. slowly shifting to become somehow softer and sweeter, a change that he can’t quite place yet but probably would have been able to tell in a few days and now that he knows he can pinpoint it. 

- “Namjoon- I can’t” you sob and he pulls you to his chest, thanking his lucky stars that this happened when your husband was at work, that he’s not here for this. “I don’t want to raise them here- I don’t want this-” 

- Namjoon swallows back his panic, the part of his brain that was trained to deal with crisis taking over, knowing that once he suggests this the future might be out of his hands.  “We can leave- we’ll go- I think- We could leave now- it might be our only chance-“ 

- In a very haphazard way you grab as much as you can carry, and the money you keep around the house and a few things you can pawn maybe, you throw it in the first bag you can get your hands on. 

-  It’s probably better if you stay off the roads Namjoon’s says, and he knows that there are some train tracks a little ways away through the woods- you’ve heard the sound of it on occasion on the quieter nights- you could follow that. You might have an old college friend in the city you could stay with and Namjoon does too- the old captain, Namjoons old partner- maybe him. 

- Maybe he could take you to the police station and you could give a statement- and if the police system really was for protecting the people, maybe that would be enough to put your husband in jail.  

- You pile everything into one bag and don your most sturdy coat- in a panic you don’t think to check. Only to open the door to find your husband about to reach for the doorknob, come back from work early. 

- The way your husband just grabs Namjoon’s arm and twists it until it breaks will haunt you forever- the savage crack that started the worst night of your life.

- Namjoon’s scream echos off the walls. your husband closes the front door calmly. Freedom and safety so close and yet, so out of reach. Your hopes falling in a second. 

- What happens next isn’t pretty, the night passes on in a blur of pain and words that will haunt your dreams, and will one day make you reach for namjoon after- reassure yourself that he’s still there, that he’s still alive, that you both survived. 

- He goes for you after Namjoon’s incapacitated, his hand around your throat.  he manages to get both of you to the basement while namjoon pleads- “please don’t hurt her- I promise it was my idea-  please-.” neither of you is surprised when he pushed you down the stairs to the basement and then namjoon after you. Namjoon’s arm bleeding rivulets from where the bone pokes through. 

- The night moves on, syrupy slow and painful, and looks a lot like this.

- Namjoon with an inwardly piercing collar with barbs so that every single time he lunges to protect you it digs into his neck. Your husband screaming until his voice has turned hoarse.  “So you wanted her so bad that you were going to try to take her away from me? well, This is what your protection gets her!” 

- Blood in your mouth where you’ve bitten your cheek, spilling out onto your red lips when he hits you- the same cheek had touched Namjoon’s cheek just a few weeks ago, he remembers it vividly, and the gentle stroke of the back of his fingers to brush your hair behind your ear. And now- your husband grabbing you by your hair and shaking you like a leaf in front of Namjoon.  

- “Maybe after I kill her she’ll be reborn as a bitch and she’ll finally be at your level mutt. But then again you’re both already worthless.” 

- hours later your husbands cellphone starts to ring upstairs and he goes to retreive it. You’re crumpled on the floor motionless, Namjoon’s hand is starting to go numb. it’s hushed and cryptic at the top of the stairs, you can barely make out the words but you’re not really trying to do anything but muster the energy up to crawl to where namjoon’s tied to the wall, leaving a small trail of blood as you go. stilling when he pears down from the top at both of you. “I’ll deal with both of you later, get ready to meet the devil mutt.” 

- but this is already hell- There is already too much blood on your clothes, too much red.  

- Namjoon knows enough to know that the blood between your legs isn’t a good sign if you’re pregnant. You manage to crawl over to Namjoon and get him free just before you truely pass out and Namjoon drives you to the hospital, almost crashing the car several times (he’d never driven one before, and doing it with one hand wasn’t easy).

- They treat you and your baby. And Namjoon almost sags in relief when one of the nurses tells him you’re both okay- actually does fall over, the adrenaline finally fading and the true pain of his broken arm really hits him, sending him to his knees now that he knows that you’re safe- that you’re going to be okay. 

- They diagnose it as compound fracture; now in a thick and bulky cast. Cracking it back into place had hurt almost as much as the initial break. Namjoon is just being wheeled back to his room from the x-ray when one of the nurses comes leading two police officers. 

- Namjoon gives a statement to the police in his room while he waits for one of the nurses to come by and tell him that you’re awake and out of surgery. Since he introduces himself with his police number, they take his word as the truth (namjoon was worried- your husband was well known in town, but police do protect their own- even their hybrid units) 

- Then they leave, after they give Namjoon reassurance that a man will be placed outside your room until your husband is found and booked for the crime of attempted murder. A crime scene photographer will be coming by then as well- They’ll take pictures of your wounds later when you're awake- of course.

- A nurse hovers, and namjoon shoots up out of his wheelchair when she says that you’re ready for him, that you’ve been asking for namjoon and that you’re awake. 

- When Namjoon sees you in the hospital bed, the light of morning streaming through the window across your bruised face, he falls into you. Crying heavily into your lap as the stress and fear finally breaks from the day before, the nurse standing barely pausing as namjoon breaks apart. As Namjoon strings his good arm across your waist and gets as close as he can to you, you reach out to him too- hand fisting in the back of his hospital gown as strong as you can with how bruised up you are. 

- “I was so fucking scared- and it’s-“ “it’s finally over,” you say, more than a little weepy yourself. Namjoon pulls himself up onto the bed so that he can press his forehead against yours, an uneasy smile tugging on his lips, cheeks stickey with tears. 

- later, with you leaning against Namjoon’s good side, your cheek against his bruised collar bone, the officers come by to guard outside your door. And they must have you stand so that they can take photographs of your injuries. Namjoon refuses to leave the room when they do, even though they got a woman police officer to take the photos. He won’t leave you alone now- not when your husband is still out there. 

- He turns to the officer, “is there any word on the suspect yet?” it feels so much better to call him that, and Namjoon is anxiously anticipating seeing your torturer in handcuffs. The woman nods, “they should be taking him in now”

- But they aren't. 

- The police officers arrive to the farm to find him still absent, the farmhouse empty with all the lights on, door open, exactly how you left it. His car is missing as well. It takes them a few hours before they find it parked just off the interstate The next morning. 

- it takes them even longer to find your husband at the bottom of a ravine a few hours later, a bullet in his back and one in his skull.

- You and Namjoon are suspects at first but since they have video footage of you both at the hospital around your husband’s time of death you’re mostly cleared. No one mourns the loss of your husband, least of all you and Namjoon.

- You linger in the hospital for a few days, the doctors just want to make sure that there really isn’t anything wrong with your baby. And they allow namjoon to sleep in your room in your bed once he makes it clear that he will make himself a nusance if they don’t.

- Namjoon’s old captain comes to visit, Namjoon is surprised, but he guesses that his old precinct must have been called and given his id number after the police got involved. You’re still asleep, namjoon seated when he knocks on the open door. 

- They talk softly at the door for a long while, until your stirring sleepily and reaching for namjoon. and namjoon sees the old captain's eyes darken when he sees the fading black bruises on your cheek. The stitches at the top corner of your lip that will probably leave a scar. “Have you found somewhere you want to be?” Namjoon nods, smiling gently at your sleeping form. “yes, I believe I have.” 

- The old police chief is the one that drives both of you back to the farmhouse, your introduction is brief and a little less than ideal as you’re still in a fair bit of pain. Both of you get more tense as the farmhouse comes into view, the rolling vacant hills and the yellow police tape blocking the front door. But you both don’t really have anywhere else to go other than here. 

- “He deserved what he got,” he says to Namjoon before he pulls out of the long driveway. If anything Namjoon wishes he was the one who’d done it, but you both have your freedom now so Namjoon will count his blessings and take your husbands mysterious death as one good thing. 

- As a result of your husband’s death, you become very very wealthy and inherit not only the farm but Namjoon too. “You know, if you wanted your freedom I’d let you go, even like- get you an apartment and find work for you somewhere else or-” 

- “Don’t be ridiculous I’m staying.” he’s mad at you for about half a day because of that, spends an afternoon angrily throwing things into a bunch of bins to be put in the attic. How could you even think of letting him go? where else would he want to be but here helping you- especially after the last few months? Now that it’s over things are...not good but strange in their emptiness. 

-  But you had to offer, you had to ask him if he wanted to stay with you, you don’t have anywhere to go but this house, and it isn’t exactly filled with the best memories, even if your husband is gone. 

- The first night you and Namjoon walk into the house and just sit for a while, realizing that this place will never be hell again, if either of you have anything to say about it. 

- You live the first few days after the funeral in a fog, but then when it breaks, it’s when you go into your husband’s old den, where he kept his guns, and decide to sell them all- you have no use for them anymore, you don’t want them anywhere near here.  

- Then you tare away all of the modern things and the decorations your husband put in the farmhouse.  Namjoon finds you burning your wedding photos in the fireplace, and just says, “What can I do to help?”  

- You point at the fine china plates in the cabinets, and you have the vivid memory of your late husband backhanding you across the face after you’d dropped one. “Take care of those.” 

- You cracking open his expensive bottle of champagne for Namjoon, giving it to him because you can’t drink. You dance in the living room shattering glass after glass and plate after plate into the trash bin that Namjoon brought inside. You throw your old mattress out the top floor balcony and drag it onto the gravel. Namjoon pours gasoline on it and both of you shout and crow as your damned marriage bed burns and burns under the stars.

- And for a moment, the two of you are so gloriously free that it’s almost like the last 6 months never happened. Namjoon looks over at you across the fire, your cheeks finally glowing like he’s never seen and Namjoon yearns, his head spinning with alcohol- the first time he’s ever been drunk and he realizes he wants you- needs you. And maybe it’s wrong- because you’ve just gotten out of that hell of a relationship. 

- He doesn’t have to want- not for long. 

- Because that night, you drag Namjoon’s mattress out of his room, and put it next to the single mattress from the guest bedroom side by side in the living room. You sleep with Namjoon there, cuddled up under his arm feeling safer than you ever have before. Falling asleep with a smile on both your faces. 

- Namjoon’s never had a home but he can feel himself start to carve one out here with you.  

- You and Namjoon wake up early and watch the sunrise over the hill, you drive into town and buy your weight in wildflower mix spreading it along the fields that your husband kept prim and proper- because who needs plain grass when you can have flowers? When you can have queen Ann’s lace, snapdragons, cosmos and buttercups in excess. Filling jam jar after jam jar with color in your white and black themed house.

- But then the nights get longer. And the two of you realize that your husband might be gone, but the memories never will be. One night Namjoon is woken by your screaming. He never sleeps deeply anymore, is always twitching awake from some nightmare. His arm might have healed, but there is always a lingering fantom pain, a slight numbness in the tips of his fingers that he feels when he reaches out to help you button your jacket, or flick of bit of fuz off of your shoulder, or gently tug your hair from where it’s gotten snagged. 

 - most nights you thrash around in your bed until namjoon shakes you awake. You sob into his arms and fall back asleep eventually hiccupping even in your sleep, clutching onto namjoon like he’s still the only good thing in your life. 

- Namjoon just holds you, running his fingers through your hair realizing that it’s going to take more than just a few weeks for the weight of what you’ve been through to really fade. The nightmares come almost every single night without fail, Namjoon moves into your room- the guest room for now- though you’re in the middle of repainting the master suite. 

- It gets so bad that you stop sleeping at night, twitching awake when you fall asleep and staying up to watch late-night television no matter how much Namjoon asks you to please come to bed. Namjoon wishes he could just hold you and make it all better but it doesn’t work that way.

- love won’t fix this, even if Namjoon will love you in whatever way you let him. even if it will always be this way- just namjoon and you gently and carefully takeing care of each other. 

- Sometimes you go easily, and other times the shadows under your eyes are so deep that he sits on the couch with you (an old velvet thing you found in one of the back of the barns and pulls you to lie your head on his lap, running his fingers through your hair- the only thing that makes you relax these days. For a little while, the way he can see you pleasantly shiver, the tension slowly receding is enough. 

- “Did you know I used to dream of doing this- back when we used to hug in the hallway at night?” he says one night when sleepiness has tempted to think confessing might be a good idea. You turn your face from the tv. “No- you didn’t” you say, a small smile tugging on his lips, tempting ideas that he shouldn’t be thinking, Namjoon should give you your space. 

- You don’t sleep when you can avoid it. It gets so bad that Namjoon gets worried, he begs you really to tell the doctor. There isn’t much that they can do safely with you being pregnant, not much medication that’s safe to take. But sleepy time tea, melatonin, and therapy twice a week on Monday and Friday do wonders too. 

- Namjoon brings you your sleepy time tea every night, and he can judge if you’re going to go to sleep by the amount your hands shake when you take the cup from him. 

- You get better, the flowers begin to bloom with spring, and your belly gets a little rounder at the front a tiny bit noticeable just enough to show if you know- if you’re looking for it. Namjoon can’t stop looking at it, something pecular and soft digging it’s hooks into his chest, and you never seem to judge or be uncomfortable with the affection you see in his face. 

- on a cold night, one of the few, you and namjoon sleep closer than usual, his nose bauried in your hair, his arm slung around your waist. his hand open to cradle your stomach- just a little, just a little bit protective, as much as he dares. that night you don’t have nightmares- you sleep straight through till morning for the first time in a verry long time. 

- He thinks you’re finally getting better until he wakes in a thunderstorm and finds you standing in the grass underneath the torrent, shivering in your thin clothes. Your shoulders are shaking and your large white shirt is sticking to your skin, your lips are turning blue.

- “Honey, come inside, get dry,” his hands smooth over your shoulders, a whine low in his throat. Recently he’s gotten more comfortable with showing his lupine instincts again. After so many years holding them down. his tail hangs low between his legs. ears pressed against the side of his head. 

- He doesn’t like the way you’re shivering. Doesn’t like the way that your eyes are staring off into space, angry and tear filled. Like you can barely tell that Namjoon’s there, so lost in the painful maze of your own memories that he can do nothing but stand and wait. He’s just about to say your name again when you speak. 

-  “Namjoon,” you say, your voice shaking, angry, teeth gritted, and Namjoon catches a little bit of your sweet scent, twined with pepper strong anger, you’re furious under his gentle fingers, looking to wipe away the warm tears that mix with the cold spring rain. “This can’t be all there is, this can- I can’t just be this, there has to be something good, something better to come out of this.” 

- You feel so cheated, none of this is the way you wanted it to be, your life, your first kid, you didn’t want to resent them- the life already nestled with in you- but you did. Or maybe resentment isn’t the right word for it- maybe fear that you would resent them clouds your judgment and makes you unsure...if you even should keep it. 

- Even if you know you want to, you’d always wanted to be a mom, and despite the fact that the child is your exhusbands. You know it won’t feel like that forever. 

- And though you thought that maybe- you’d be doing in alone. You look at Namjoon and know...that he’ll be there, probably, in all likelihood, in all hope- you think he’ll stick around. You’d never force him into any sort of role he didn’t want. But his hands when he touches your stomach feel like a balm to ease away your worry And fear of being a single parent. None of it seems so weighty with him around, with him looking at you so tenderly. 

- Maybe in another world, another timeline, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe you where suposed to have met Namjoon first. You’re sure of it sometimes, that your life was supposed to be different and that nothing was supposed to go this way. You feel bitter and angry, but the only person to be angry at- the only person you want to scream and shout at- is 6 feet under already. 

- Not for the first time, you wonder who killed your late husband. You wish you could take them out for coffee or maybe cook them a nice meal.

- (Maybe one day you will get the chance) 

- You thought after he was gone everything would be okay, but you never expected it to be this way for everything to feel terrible even if you were free, for things to be this bad, to be haunted by the memories like a house would a ghost.  

- You look like a ghost, wan and thin and pale, soaked to the bone.

- Namjoon tugs you inside feeling his heartbreak when you go into his arms limply and easily, like you don’t know how to do anything but follow his hands. namjoon a benevolent puppeteer. He gets you inside, gets you warmed up with a bathtub waiting. when he goes out to the kitchen to get started on some tea he sees that he left a light on out in the barns, twinking dimly with the others down at the bottom of the hill. 

- As he hovers his brain turns over all of the empty and unused space, the barns, the chicken coup unused, even the sturdier show room. There is so much room on the farm, so much space.

-  Inside his head, an idea blooms like a flower. small and yellow and hopeful. 

- He dosne’t say anything at all when he helps you out of the bath, still in a fog, dries you off with a warm towel, he’s a little detached But inside his chest, crackling in his lungs, buttercups take root like hope as he thinks. 

- Even as he dries’ your hair and you dry his, your hands lingering over his ears and rubbing. “you take such good care of me” you say, but he’s barely paying attentionl. Would it really be so easy? could it really be done?

- It’s not until later, with you streached out on the bed beside him, your hand lingering an inch away from his on the bedspread. Both of you have been awake for a while, just listening to the thunderclaps outside and enjoying the quiet warmpth indors that Namjoon murmurs the words into open air.

- “I think have an idea, something that we could do to...help I guess. to make this good” you sit up and look down at him. and he lets himself cradle your cheek in one palm. “i want to make this better for you.”

- You swallow, and prod, and namjoon talks quick, words fast and puncy as they come out freely. Suddenly the idea takeing form as you nood along. a bright understanding blooming in your eyes. and your replies- fast with excitment as you realize, and build upon his idea. 

- “We could change the barns- we could make it like- bunk rooms-” “yeah and then we could get the kitchen like- we don’t even use the second sitting room- make it bigger-”  - You decide to open up your farm property as a home for wayward hybrids, strays, and those fleeing abuse. you’ll take anyone really, anyone who needs a safe place. 

- The barns on your property are already half renovated, nearly ready and easily transformable from being a garage for your late husband's expensive car collection to housing. You sell the antique car collection for no small amount of money, and even sell his newer car too, keeping only the old red truck, and a smaller more fuel-efficient sedan for what you might need. 

- It’s a good thing your late husband had a penchant for things expensive, the barns are already refurbished and winterized (the winters don’t even get that bad here- it rarely ever snows in any significant amount). They’ll be warm enough you think for the winter, but seeing as its early spring. You know It will be a while before you’ll find out. It’s easy to turn the lower floors of barns into common space and the above hayloft into rooms full of bunk beds. 

- There is a set of train tracks a few miles behind your property, and you and Namjoon chart a path through the woods, drawing arrows on the trees with white spray-paint back in the direction of your farm. At the place where the forest breaks out into train tracks, you hang a sign. “Safe place for hybrids this way: free food and shelter.”  You put up a few other signs along with a shitty map that Namjoon draws at bus stops and along the bridges of major interstates.

- Namjoon rests a hand on yours as you drive away from another truck stop.  letting you know that he’s proud of you with his soft smile and his dimples poking through. You reach over prodding at them with a soft look on your own face.

- “I didn’t know you had dimples,” you say, because in truth- you don't think you've ever seen him smile so wide. he makes a noise on the back of his throat and keeps looking at you like that. 

- There might be a little bit of blush on your cheeks as namjoon keeps looking, soft and gentle, but you keep your eyes on the highway in front of you. 

- It takes a few days, but then the first few start trickling in. You think you might be a little overbearing, a little over Eger to open up your home, because the first few hybrids don’t stay for more than a meal, eyeing Namjoon and the scars on his face With wary eyes. Even if he’s just an over-excited little puppy, he is a little too intimidating looking. 

-  The disappointment when they eventually move on crushes you and Namjoon. And after a little, while he makes himself more resigned, a little colder and shyer around the other hybrids. 

- And then one afternoon while Namjoon helps you in your garden on the edge of your property (which has been completely unattended in the last month since your husband's death) you hear it, someone wading through the stream. Muted chirps of “ow ow ow- stay away from me-” Namjoon comes upon the person on the riverbank, his arm swelling from countless bee stings, face scratched up by brambles and two curved ears sitting furry in his long tangled hair.

- “I’m Taehyung,” the bear hybrid tells you as you give him an ice pack and Benadryl to put on the bee stings (which he got when he tried to raid a bees nest for its honey). He eyes the fresh teal paint and mortar dust disaster of your kitchen (in the process of being renovated and widened substantially, made larger for a future you only hope you have). 

- You feed him and give him a cleaner pair of clothes to wear. You offer him a spot in your house or in the barns after dinner, and none to surprisingly- he picks the barns. Makes him more comfortable he says, makes him feel like he’s not intruding. 

- The next day you meet him out in the field, early in the morning before the sun hangs high and shines hazy and golden. You’d been Intent on waking him for some breakfast Only to find that he’s already standing looking out over the backfield, twiddling a daisy over his fingers. Looking out in wonder at the sheer magnitude of flowers. 

- But there is a sadness and longing in his expression, Taehyung looks at everything around him that is lazily and quiet and simple and wants to be apart of it with every fiber of his being.  

- “Is it really okay if I say here more than you’ve let me? Are you sure I won’t impose at all?” he turns- half panicked with worry that you’ll turn him away. “I can help you with things around the house? To pay my rent and my food if you only let me stay- just please,” 

- You can’t help but notice the darkness in his eyes, and the paler band of skin around his neck that must have been from a collar. You don’t know what Taehyung’s coming from, but it’s obvious he needs a place to be safe, to take a rest and be still. You saw his shoes yesterday, how worn out on the bottoms they were- you don’t know how long he’s been running, but he’s certainly running from somewhere. You want to give him a space to heal a little, from whatever put that darkness in his eyes.  

- “Of course! you can stay as long as you want Tae.” Taehyung swallows past a thickness in his throat, as you both watch a little bird flicker from out of the woods and land on a nearby fence post. small and blue, it trils a brief song in search of a companion and then flutters off. (You can’t remember ever seeing a songbird on your ex-husband's property. Maybe they too have returned along with the flowers.)

- Taehyung’s hands shake as he gently tucks the daisy he cradles behind your ear, and then shyly stuffs his fists in the pockets of Namjoon’s old shorts. “No one’s called me Tae in a long long time.”

#bts hybrid au #bts fanfic #kim namjoon x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #hybrid! kim taehyung #hybrid! kim namjoon #hybrid! namjoon #hybrid! taehyung #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid fanfic #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #bts bangtan #bts #bangtan sonyeodan #bts fanfiction #bts fic #hybrid au #bts poly hybrid au #bts poly au #bts polyamory #bts poly fic #bts poly #bts hybrid #bts hybrid fluff #bts tw #tw:rape

[lemonysharkbait]

Here for Me - Mo Guan Shan x Zhan Zheng Xi

A year after Jian Yi's sudden disappearance and He Tian's subsequent mysterious departure, Zhan Zheng Xixi and Guan Shan start hanging out. Feelings get complicated.

Made this because I have headcanons about how the relationship between Mo and Xi will be after the other two disappear (it's only canon that Jian Yi will disappear, but it seems heavily implied that He Tian might depart at some point as well.) I think they genuinely like each other (in a bro way) in the Manhua. Add in a dash of angst and some feelings and you've got yourself some delicious fanfiction.

Tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, non-typical pairing, minor violence, aged up characters, there was only one bed, feelings

Read on AO3

---

Guan Shan gripped the banner tight, too tight. His knuckles went white and She Li’s words seemed to go white too.

Which way do I go?

Sweet snake with a tongue like honey. It had been lashing him with words, threats, ever since Jian Yi and He Tian disappeared like the pop of a chewing gum bubble.

“Well? It’s a year since graduation, Guan Shan, and where are you now?”

He knew he shouldn’t slide there. It was the last little gift that he grasped onto. Images of a cut palm and blood soaking a white jacket flooded his mind.

Guan Shan turned to answer and face the torrent of cold rage. But instead a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, sending his heartbeat off in a flutter. He Tian?

No, this hand was different, the scent of the person different. The voice had a different rumble and cantor.

“Guan Shan, there you are. Let’s go.”

Zhan Zheng Xi’s grip was strong and sure as it turned Guan Shan, tugging him away. She Li, surprised at the intervention of a friend– god, when was the last time he’d had one of those?– took a minute to catch up.

“Where are you going?”

Zhan Zheng Xi’s voice was even and flat as he spoke, brokering no argument. “Playing video games.”

She Li looked like he wanted to argue but they were in the midst of a crowd now and he was unbalanced. His eyes, sharp and angry, made contact with Guan Shan before he walked off in the other direction. Diverted. For now.

They walked in silence through the crowded streets like floating underwater, both slipping through the eddies. After awhile, Zhan Zheng Xi’s hand slipped from Guan Shan’s shoulder. They didn’t speak.

“Well, here’s my place, you can come hang out if you want.”

Guan Shan looked up at the nondescript block of apartments stretching high and long into a too bright sky. “Only if you’re ready to be obliterated in Super Smash.”

This brought back memories. Sprawled out on the floor, junk food and soda scattered around, the only light coming from the television. Guan Shan’s thigh was warm where it pressed against Zhan Zheng Xi’s.

Xixi’s little apartment was equal parts sterile and dirty. An unused kitchen next to a living room strewn with old carryout cartons. A neatly made bed next to a night stand filled with half-drunk water bottles. An uncluttered bathroom sink that needed to be wiped down.

He had never seen this space, having only spent time at Zhan Zheng Xi’s family house. The smell was still comforting. A hint of sweat, a touch of generic men’s body wash, no cologne. It brought him back to that summer.

The game pinged defeat. Guan Shan tossed his controller down in mock annoyance.

“You cheated fucker.” He shoved Zhan Zheng Xi.

“Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are.” There was a little pause and a smile that you would only see if you knew Zhan Zheng Xi.

Guan Shan sat up “Ok, that’s it!” Arms locked around in a tackle, an embrace that was a struggle for control. Flailing, a bottle of coke went rolling across the floor and Guan Shan’s world flips. Zhan Zheng Xi is more solid than he was even a year ago, hours spent at the gym between college classes. Guan Shan’s wiry strength, culled from working on his feet at three different jobs, is no match. Flipped on his back and pinned, Guan Shan finds himself laughing. He can’t remember the last time this sound has come out of him.

They still.

“What were you doing with She Li?”

Fuck, now isn’t that a question.

“Nothing. He approached me. Fucker keeps finding me.”

“Are you going to work for him?”

“No.”

“Is he bothering you?”

Guan Shan looks up into those intense blue eyes, represses a shiver. “What would you do if he was?” It’s a challenge. Always is.

Zhan Zheng Xi releases Guan Shan’s wrists and sits up a little. His lips are pursed and he looks at Guan Shan like he already knows enough.

“Don’t get involved Zhan Zheng Xi. She Li’s not a nice guy. He’ll leave me alone when he gets bored. Always does.” Guan Shan sits up on his elbows. Looks around. Sighs.

“I should go, I got work early tomorrow.” He reaches for his phone. Notices that Zhan Zheng Xi hasn’t slid off his thighs yet. Doesn’t mind except for the tricks it’s playing on his mind. It’s been awhile and having someone so close is sending signals he’s working hard to repress.

“You can crash here.”

Guan Shan glances at him from the corner of his eye. Wishes he hadn’t as soon as he sees that intense stare. His eyes dart back to his phone, pretending to be entranced by the time. “Thanks man, but I really should go.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Guan Shan barks out a laugh “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind.”

God, the weight of this man’s stare is too fucking much. And they’ve spent an awful long time pressed together staring at each other. It’s the only reasoning Guan Shan can come up with for his stupid impulse, surging forward and capturing a taste. Warm lips and a moment where nothing happens. And then Zhan Zheng Xi starts kissing back and that’s when Guan Shan’s sense comes flooding back to him.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t– I’m sorry.” Guan Shan scrambles out from under Zhan Zheng Xi, snatches his jacket and keys and starts slipping on his shoes.

“Guan Shan–”

“Thanks for everything today. Text me some time.” And with that he slips out the door and nearly jogs down the hallway, a chorus of “stupid fucking idiot” running through his mind.

*** They hang out again and Guan Shan successfully keeps his hands to himself. He does not think about the way Zhan Zheng Xi siddles up next to him, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. He does not consider staying when it’s late and his eyes are heavy and maybe they could share the one bed. And he definitely does not linger on Zhan Zheng Xi’s lips when the other man sees him to the door.

They don’t say much out loud. That was what Jian Yi and He Tian were good at. But they text. A lot. They text about video games. Work, school and basketball. And when they’re really feeling bold, they text about them.  

“Who are you talking to?”

Guan Shan looks up from his phone, his mom’s question cutting into his little world. “No one.”

“You were smiling at your phone.”

She has the all-knowing mom smirk sitting lightly on her features. Guan Shan shovels more food in his mouth. Bounces his leg. “Just looking at stupid stuff on the internet.”

She looks like she wants to say more but doesn’t.

“Work’s supposed to go late tonight, so don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you, it’s my job.” She says it fondly, lightly teasing. Guan Shan pushes away from the table grabbing his duffle.

“I’ll see you later mom.”

“Be safe Shan-Shan.”

*** This wasn’t exactly safe, but that was the thrill of it. Hands wrapped tight, lights in the makeshift ring blaring down on him, Guan Shan bounces on the balls of his feet and lets the energy of the crowd roll through him. There’s something hot and vicious prickling under his skin, the kind of feeling that keeps him up all night, makes his heart flutter when he gets a message notification and has sent him on long jogs with no relief. Time to release the tension, relieve some of this pressure that sits in his belly.

He passes a hand over his face, then balls them up in front of him, ducking into a defensive position. His opponent is pretty like a quarterback, chin chiseled like Clark Kent. Guan Shan snarls, bearing his mouth guard, spits out an insult and tenses for the bell, the signal to the start of this dance.

It comes and he goes.

He doesn't feel most of the blows as they happen, high on adrenaline and something else he doesn’t have words for. Maybe it’s all the late nights finally catching up with him. The other guy has a size advantage but Guan Shan feels unhinged. They go all three rounds and by the end of it, both can barely hold up their arms. Guan Shan wins by decision. He clasps his opponent’s wrapped hand and thanks him. The guy raises his eyebrows.

“This your therapy kid?”

Guan Shan barks out a harsh, unhinged laugh. And that’s when he finally feels the shooting pain in his right hand.

*** The call to Zhan Zheng Xi rings twice before he picks up.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

There’s a pause before Zhan Zheng Xi answers. His voice is flat as ever but it sounds strangely controlled. “Where are you?”

Guan Shan feels his stomach clench in a funny way, like he’s done something wrong. “Uh, actually, it’s ok, sorry if I woke you.”

The voice on the other line is tighter now “Mo, tell me where you are, I’ll come get you.” There’s a pause then “Please.”

*** Guan tries to clean himself up as best he can. There’s more cash than he’ll make all month in his duffle bag. The water in the shower runs red for awhile before finally clearing up. He looks at his face and it’s not pretty. They taped him up, but it’s gonna take awhile for the swelling to go down on his left eye. There’s also a cut on his forehead that keeps opening and dripping thin rivulets down his face. Nothing will leave permanent marks. Guan Shan prods at the swollen skin and grimances. The worst part is his right hand. His knuckles are split– that’s normal –but the stiffness and strange way his pointer finger now sits are not normal. Pulling on a shirt takes a little more work than he’d like but at least now he finally feels hollowed out, completely empty, all the fire and flame gone. The restlessness is replaced with a bone-tired ache.

Zhan Zheng Xi pulls up in a little beater, a hand-me-down of a car that looks like it’s nearing its last leg. The brunette hops out the car as Guan Shan walks up. The spike of excitement at his presence is completely involuntary. Guan Shan tries his best to taper it down and go for relaxed and normal. As though his face doesn’t look like ground beef right now.

“Hey.”

“Who did this to you?”

That was not the first question he was expecting. Maybe a “what the fuck did you do?” or the classic: “Guan Shan, what did you get into this time?” But the look Zhan Zheng Xi was giving him was making his belly do funny little flips.

“No one.”

Zhan Zheng Xi raises an eyebrow. His normal thousand yard stare somehow looks absolutely murderous.

“It was just a friendly fight. I won.” Guan Shan grins and his taped lip splits open. “You should see the other guy.”  

A muscle in Zhan Zheng Xi’s jaw jumps but he seems to swallow whatever impulse has him staring daggers into the exterior of the building. Wordlessly, he slides the duffle bag off Guan Shan’s shoulder and heads towards the car.

***

City lights pass by in a blur. A soft summer storm breaks across the sky. The air smells like ozone and the night feels still.

“Which hospital do you want to go to?”

It’s another question Guan Shan was not expecting. “None of them. I’m fine, really, I just, can I crash at your place tonight? I just want the swelling to go down a little before my mom sees me.”

There’s a long controlled exhale but Zhan Zheng Xi turns onto the highway toward his place. Guan Shan settles into the seat feeling warm from the free alcohol he drank– winner’s choice –and comforted with the rocking of the car.

*** They arrive and Guan Shan finds himself feeling stiff. His ungraceful exit out of the car has Zhan Zheng Xi by his side gingerly lifting and guiding.

“I’m really fine, just gonna be sore.”

“You were drinking.”

Their faces are close as Zhan Zheng Xi supports Guan Shan. He’s also holding his bag.  

“Oh, yeah, winner gets a bottle. The rest is in my bag if you want it.”

Zhan Zheng Xi doesn’t say anything at that, just smoothly maneuvers them inside to the kitchen and leans Guan Shan up against the counter. He busies himself with getting a glass of water. Guan Shan watches with his good eye appreciating the other’s sure build.

“It’s probably best if I just crash on the floor, this thing keeps busting open,” Guan Shan points to where he thinks the cut is. It’s hard to tell now that his left eye has completely swollen shut. “I don’t want to make a mess–”

Zhan Zheng Xi is suddenly there, filling his vision. Guan Shan realizes a moment late that he’s inspecting his wounds. He blushes despite himself.

“It’s really fi–”

“Stop. Stop, stop saying it’s fine.” A muscle jumps in Zhan Zheng Xi’s jaw.

Reflexively, Guan Shan narrows his good eye and tries to jerk away from the inspection. Zhan Zheng Xi boxes him in.

“Mo. Please. I lost him. And then He Tian disappears. I can’t just, don’t ask me to think this is fine.”

Oh. oh.

Guan Shan stills and the little butterflies that flit in his stomach any time he’s around Zhan Zheng Xi kick up into a feeling that has him exhaling unsteadily.

Zhan Zheng Xi leans his hands on the counter on either side of Guan Shan and he hangs his head. He stays there for a moment, breathing unevenly. Guan Shan wants to reach out and touch him, comfort him, let him know that he’s really ok.

Zhan Zheng Xi pushes up suddenly and hands Guan Shan a glass of water and an ice pack. “Drink this and hold this on the worst parts of the swelling.

Guan Shan obeys. He lets Zhan Zheng Xi wipe the dried clots of blood from his face and smear more antiseptic on the cuts. He lets him lift off his shirt and tries his best to not reassure Zhan Zheng Xi that it’s really fine. He lets him brush gentle hands over the bruising on his torso. He lets him look into his eyes for a long moment. Lets the frustration seep between them.

“I’m not, I’m not cut out to help with this, Guan Shan. I’m not like him.”

Guan Shan mentally fills in He Tian’s name. No one is like He Tian, a kid who could stitch a wound, fight off a group of grown men, survive a landslide.

“I know you’re not. And guess who’s not here right now. That’s why I’m here, with you.”

The words are a little too raw but they do the trick. Zhan Zheng Xi pulls himself together. 

“Let's get you settled in bed.”

“Just let me take the couch, I don’t want to mess up your–” Guan Shan cuts himself off at the stern look that Zhan Zheng Xi gives him. He follows him over to the small bed, taking his ice pack and water. Zhan Zheng Xi is watching him like any moment he might collapse.

The TV is on a pause screen, whatever game Zhan Zheng Xi had been playing when Guan Shan called stopped without hesitation. Guan Shan gingerly lowers himself onto Zhan Zheng Xi’s bed, propping himself up on pillows. The smell of the other man overwhelms him surrounded as he is by his bedding. Zhan Zheng Xi fusses with the blankets before grabbing something from the bathroom.

“Take this.”

Guan Shan takes the pill without protest. It’s not long before a relaxing warmth spreads throughout his body and the pain fades into the background.

Zhan Zheng Xi is applying ice to Guan Shan’s hand and Guan Shan suddenly feels giddy, watching wisps of soft hair fall over Zhan Zheng Xi’s brow.

“I thought you just tolerated me for Jian Yi.” It’s the first time he’s utter the other’s name. It feels wrong somehow.

“You’ve always been nicer than you let on.”

Guan Shan feels like his body is thrumming, levitating, the adrenaline crash and painkillers making everything feel unreal. “You’re more perceptive than you let on.”

“Do you miss He Tian?”

Guan Shan exhales like he’s just taken a punch to the gut. “That fucker. I know he’s alive out there somewhere and he’s just going to fucking show up like nothing happened. And I’ll, I’ll let him.” Guan Shan says the words like he’s been dumbfounded. It’s the first time he’s ever admitted the hold He Tian has on his past. His future. But not his present. Because He Tian isn’t here.

“Xixi, that fucker left without a word and hasn’t been in contact with me since. I don’t care if it was to protect me or because of duty, it was shitty. It is shitty. I’m tired of putting everything on hold for him.” Guan Shan grasps his face with his hands, winces, watches the colors bursting on the backs of his eyelids.

And Zhan Zheng Xi, the practical ass, gently takes Guan Shan’s hands and places the ice back on the right one. Condensation soaks through the sheets and Guan Shan sighs, gives in, snags Zhan Zheng Xi’s face with his left hand. Searches his face. “I remind you of him?”

“Yes.”

Guan Shan snorts “How? Blonde asswhole was actually nice.”

Xixi’s stare is so flat Guan Shan feels lost in it. Anchorless. Like shopping in a new grocery store– everythings in the wrong spot and he’s wandered through the entire building.

“You’re both very bright. He covers himself with happiness. And you do,” he pauses, continues. “Something similar.”

Guan Shan knows what he means. His anger. His sharp looks and resting bitch face. He Tian had seen right through it too. Their memories are all mixed up together and Zhang Zheng Xixi is the only person on this earth that knows what it’s like to have your crush ripped from your life suddenly without a trace. But not dead. Just gone.

It didn’t feel like hanging in indefinite space. It felt like falling. And where was the fucking bottom of this fall? Being around Zhan Zheng Xi felt like setting shoes on stable land. Guan Shan dropped his hand.

“Come on. Turn off the lights and get in bed. Don’t give me the “I’ll take the couch shit”. There’s enough room here and I don’t want to keep you from being comfortable.”

Zhan Zheng Xi moves around the apartment flipping off lights and putting things away like it’s just a normal night and there isn’t a man taking up too much space in his bed with a swollen face and a hand that might need more than tape.

Guan Shan is relieved when he crawls into bed next to him, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Just don’t do anything. This is just sleeping. Totally normal. Just crashing at a buddy’s house. Think about things that make you tired. Go the fuck to sleep.

All of Guan Shan's efforts are blown out of the water when Zhan Zheng Xi’s leg presses against Guan Shan’s and it’s just south of innocent. The only acceptable solution is to escalate. Not like Guan Shan could ever just leave something be.

So he shuffles into the touch, rolling onto his side and using the movement as an excuse to press more of himself against the other man. The movement also jostles his hand and he sucks in a little breath, waiting for the jolt of pain to subside.

“Your hand.” Zhan Zheng Xi sits up and leans over Guan Shan to look and Guan Shan feels his heart flutter– which is absolutely ridiculous. It’s middle school all over again only confusing for entirely other reasons. “Guan Shan, are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It’s not my hand that’s the problem.

“It’s not?”

Shit. Zhan Zheng Xi has an eyebrow cocked and a little smirk on his face. Guan Shan looks away. “Just, lay down.”

Zhan Zheng Xi does, but with an arm wrapped around Guan Shan’s waist. He noses into Guan Shan’s hair, breathing deep.

And it feels so comforting.

Every line of taunt question, curled like the curve of a question mark, relaxes in Guan Shan’s body. “What do we do when they come back?” He whispers it into the dim room, half expecting for some reason for no answer.

“They’re not here. We are.”

---

Notes: And then He Tian and Jian Yi come back and they all make one giant angsty poly family. The end.

I know this is not a normal or even popular pairing. But I saw the potential and just had to go for it! It just sort of flowed out into the word vomit you see here. I don't think I have the timeline perfect, but I'm shooting for when Zhan Zheng Xi has started college right before Jian Yi reappears.

Thanks for your likes, reblogs and comments! They feed my little crushed soul during these strange strange times.

#Canon? Never heard of her #19 days #19 days fanfic #Mo Guan Shan #Guan Shan #zhan zheng xi #Xixi

[aster-aspera]

Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds

CW's for this chapter: minor character death, semi-graphic descriptions of injuries, parental death, unsympathetic Remus

Relationship: romantic logince

This prompt was suggested to me by the lovely MizzMarvel on ao3

Chapter title is from thistle and weeds by Mumford and sons

This is Logan’s backstory in my superhero AU. You can find the whole thing on ao3 here  or on the masterlist here

As Logan walked home that morning, he felt invincible, untouchable. All the grey days at school fell away, all the teasing and bullying and all the fear was suddenly gone.

He felt like he was soaring, floating somewhere high above his life. He was so much more than himself in that moment.

Maybe, he didn’t want this to end. However terrifying chasing after criminals was, that particular high almost made the danger worth it. He mourned the fact that it would be over soon. That they would put the gang away, file away the info they had collected and go back to school, alone in the knowledge of what they had done.

The ecstatic feeling faded when he entered his garden and noticed the front door was open. His blood ran cold.

Logan dropped his bag to the floor, frustration written in the lines of his posture.

“Hey sweetheart, how was your day?” His mother called from her office.

“It was uneventful as always and I am not in the mood to discuss it further.” He replied shortly.

His mother rounded the corner and took in his drawn face and the force with which he set his books down on the table.

She held out her arms invitingly and Logan let himself be wrapped up in her embrace, savouring the feeling of safety it gave him.

“Are the other kids giving you trouble again?” She asked.

The other kids were the least of his worries, currently. He could handle their childish taunting. His other problems were related to the more dangerous, night time aspect of his life. But he couldn’t exactly burden his mother with that.

She would worry too much and while he wouldn’t exactly blame her for that, he didn’t need her nagging atop all his worries about Roman and Remus.

So he just nodded and left it at that.

His mother didn’t pressure him to say more. She understood that he didn’t always feel like talking.

Once he was finished with his homework, he locked the door to his room and grabbed the locked box he kept hidden away at the back of his dresser. He opened it and carefully arranged the papers inside into orderly stacks.

The box contained a wealth of information, information that could likely get him in serious trouble if it got into the wrong hands. These files were the fruit of months of research and careful surveillance.

Supply routes, lists of buyers, lists of couriers, the entire ledger, even the names of the most elusive members.

This information could dismantle the entire gang and that was their goal. A few more weeks and they had all the evidence they needed.

Public scandals that would knock the leaders off their thrones, accounts of crimes and evidence so solid no judge would be able to refute it.

They would just have to drop it off at the police station and the gang’s fate would be sealed. It made Logan feel a little better whenever he looked at it. Despite the dangers, they were doing something good, something that would make this shithole of a city just a tiny bit more liveable. And hopefully, would help Remus.

Logan had to admit, he didn’t have that much faith in Roman’s plan. In theory, rolling up the drug rink so Remus lost his debts and could leave without fear of repercussions made sense.

But that theory was heavily relying on the fact that Remus even wanted to leave. He seemed way too comfortable in the criminal environment than Logan cared to see.

His phone started ringing and Logan picked it up without looking away from the supply route he was copying onto another paper.

“Hey erlenmeyer trash, you ready for tonight?”

Logan sighed at the nickname.

“Hello Roman, I told you at school I have everything prepared for tonight. I don’t see why you felt the need to call.”

“It’s just...something feels off. I’m scared something’s gonna go wrong.”

“Did something happen to make you feel like this?”

“No, not really. Well, I haven’t seen Remus in a while and he was acting weird the last time I called.”

“Remus dropping off the map or acting strange is not usually a cause for concern. He is prone to doing things like that.”

“Yeah, I know. I just…” Roman sounded uncharacteristically quiet. He must really be nervous.

“Is there anything else that caused this concern?”

“No…”

“Then we will be alright. We know what we do is dangerous, but there are no signs the gang is aware of what we are doing. We have gone undetected for months, it is improbable they would suddenly know now and not give us any sort of indication. But, if you really are worried, we can call tonight off.”

“No! No, the sooner we get this done, the better. And if you say we’ll be alright, I believe you.”

“So you’re listening to me for once. How novel.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it, specs.”

Logan rolled his eyes.

“Just don’t forget the flashlights this time.”

“You’ll bring back up ones anyways. I don’t see why I bother.”

“It’s important to be prepared, definitely if you’re trying to fight crime with someone as scatterbrained as you.”

“You sound like Batman.”

“Good, that’s what I’m going for.”

“Well, caped crusader, I gotta go make dinner. See you tonight.”

“Yes. Don’t forget your scaly panties, robin.”

Roman signed off with a snort and Logan continued looking through the documents. But Roman’s words kept running through his head and his feeling of unease grew. Maybe it would be better to call it off for tonight.

No, Roman was right, they had to get this done as soon as possible. The longer they waited, the more time the gang had to discover what they were doing.

He decided to head downstairs. He had done all his prep work for tonight and sitting in his room feeling anxious wasn’t helping anyone.

Downstairs, music was playing and his mom and dad stood in the kitchen. They held each other close and were sloppily slowing along to the music, horribly off beat.

His dad noticed him standing in the door opening and beckoned him over.

They took him up in their embrace and his dad kept trying to dance, even though Logan was tripping over his own feet and his mother was laughing too much to follow along.

“Logan! Don’t tell me you don’t know how to slow.” His dad exclaimed as Logan bumped awkwardly into his mother again.

“It’s not like I’ve ever done it before. Nobody slows anymore, dad.”

“What a disgrace. My son should at least know how to slow. What if a pretty boy asks you to dance?”

Logan rolled his eyes but his dad was not to be dissuaded and grabbed him.

“Just follow along to the music.” He instructed.

They ran through the steps slowly and after a while, Logan felt himself loosen up a little. His steps became less mechanical and more like an actual dance.

He smiled as he imagined himself dancing like this with Roman, the other boy was sure to enjoy it, always one for outdated romantic gestures.

His mom laughed and then grabbed his father.

“As important as teaching our son outdated school dances is, I still need your help with dinner.”

They finished making dinner together while Logan set the table.

“ Lettuce eat.” His dad called as he set a bowl of salad down on the table and Logan groaned and hid his head in his hands.

“That pun was souper bad.” His mom groaned.

“Stop.” Logan whined.

“What, don’t you loaf my jokes?” His dad asked.

“They’re terrible.”

“I think they’re sub lime. ” His mom laughed.

Logan lay in his bed, the light from his phone lighting up his face as he waited for his parents to go to bed.

Finally Logan deemed it safe enough to leave and he slunk out of the house.

He walked through the silent neighbourhood till he reached the busier, less ideal parts of town.

There, he found Roman leaning against a wall, in a red leather jacket and heavy black boots, blending in with the crowd of people out on a friday night. Logan felt his heart stutter at the careless way Roman was slumped against the wall, his face cast in stark shadows by the neon lights from a nearby club.

He reminded Logan of the devil, of the incarnation of pride, everything about him inviting yet dangerous.

Logan stopped staring and walked over to join him, trying to lean against the wall with the same graceful abandon but only managing to look like an awkward stick.

“Hello, my dark night.” Roman said.

“You forgot the panties.”

“Oh no, what a tragedy. Guess I can’t be your Robin tonight. Maybe I can be your batwoman?”

“Batwoman’s gay, you dolt.”

“I mean, same.”

“And they’re cousins.”

“Yeah, nevermind.”

“Come on, we have a job to do.” Logan reminded him.

They stayed out all night. Skulking in the shadows and trailing couriers all over the city. Logan felt a strange thrill every time he looked over at Roman. His eyes glinted with excitement and adrenaline.

During the day, they were just teenagers, being pushed and shoved and keeping their heads down as they walked to class.

But now, they were so much more. They became a part of the city, let her bustling energy envelop them. They slipped out of their skin under the streetlights and let themselves disappear into the hubbub and danger that prowled the city streets.

They were angels bringing her justice, they were devils tearing her apart.

They hid behind dumpsters in cold alleyways and walked along the busy promenades, holding each other and pretending to get lost in the others touch, all the while keeping their eyes trained on their mission.

Finally, when the sky was turning a murky gray and Logan’s eyes felt gritty with sleep, they ended up on a bench two streets from Logan’s home. In the suburban neighbourhood, nothing was stirring and, even in the city, it was too early for even the earliest risers.

Roman curled up on the bench and stared at him. Logan stared right back, too tired to care about being seen as weird.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Roman asked, his voice breaking the quiet of the park.

“The evidence we have collected is irrefutable, as long as we take care to deliver it to the right people, there is no reason it shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, I know that. I meant Remus. You said he might not come back, even if he is relieved of his debts. What if he’s really just in it because, I don't know, he likes it? Or he just feels like he fits in there?”

“I don’t know your brother as well as you do. If you have faith in him, then I believe it will work.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know if I have faith in him. He’s just… So different nowadays. It’s like I don’t even know him anymore.”

“Roman, it will be alright. Your brother may have made some mistakes, but it doesn’t mean he is changed forever. Sometimes people just have trouble figuring themselves out. And either way, whether he makes the right choice or not, at least we did our best.”

Roman smiled at him, his mascara smudged and the glow of the street light lighting up his frizzy hair in a halo of golden light.

“You’re a great friend, you know that right?”

“I try my best.” Logan said with a soft smile.

Roman sat up and leant forward. He reached out and gently traced his thumb over Logan’s jaw. Logan looked up into his eyes, his breath stopping somewhere along the path from his lungs to his mouth. Roman’s thumb came to a stop on his lips.

“Is this alright?” He whispered.

Logan just nodded, his usual eloquence rendered mute.

Roman moved in closer and gently, ever so gently, slotted his lips onto Logan’s.

It was soft, and sweet and when he drew back, he pressed his forehead to Logan’s with a bubbly laugh. He threaded his fingers through Logan’s hair.

Finally, after a long moment of his brain incoherently looping the last moment over and over again, he managed to regain some mobility and placed his hand over the one Roman had cupped around his cheek. He turned his head and placed a kiss on Roman’s palm.

“We’re going to change the world.” Roman breathed, ecstatic with sleep deprivation and adrenaline.

“Together.” Logan whispered back.

As Logan walked home that morning, he felt invincible, untouchable. All the grey days at school fell away, all the teasing and bullying and all the fear was suddenly gone.

He felt like he was soaring, floating somewhere high above his life. He was so much more than himself in that moment.

Maybe, he didn’t want this to end. However terrifying chasing after criminals was, that particular high almost made the danger worth it. He mourned the fact that it would be over soon. That they would put the gang away, file away the info they had collected and go back to school, alone in the knowledge of what they had done.

The ecstatic feeling faded when he entered his garden and noticed the front door was open. His blood ran cold.

Had his parents noticed his absence? He had no idea how he would explain this to them.

He entered the house quietly, trepidation burning in his stomach. Should he call out? Maybe he had just left the door open?

But Logan distinctly remembered checking it was locked before leaving.

Downstairs, all was quiet. Everything looked as it should have been except that muddy footprints tracked in from the door to the stairs.

That was disconcerting, there was a very strict ‘no shoes upstairs’ policy in the house.

Logan’s unease grew. He crept upstairs.

“Mom? Dad?” He called out hesitantly.

The house stayed dead quiet.

With a deep breath, he kept moving. He looked in his room first, as it was right next to the stairs.

The door was pulled open. Strange, Logan could swear he had closed it.

His breath hitched when he saw his room. All his drawers were pulled open. His papers were strewn out over the floor.

The box!

Logan found it upturned and shoved in a corner of the room. All the papers were gone. All the evidence they had collected missing.

Ice cold terror clenched around his heart.

They knew.

Without a second thought, he tore out of his room and ran to his parent’s room.

“Mom! Dad!” He choked off when he entered the room.

No! No, no, no, no!

This wasn't real. This was just a nightmare. He would wake up any second. This just couldn't be real.

Blood painted the walls and bedsheets. It looked like a scene from a horror movie, almost comical in its goriness. If he had seen this in a movie he would have scoffed at the overuse of fake blood.

He hesitantly stepped closer and kneeled next to his mother, who was sprawled out on the floor, her entire back a mess of torn flesh and blood and glistening things Logan didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Mom?” His voice came out waveringly.

He reached out. A pulse, he should look for a pulse. He tried to take her arm but recoiled from the blood that covered it.

It was warm and sticky and already seeping through his pants.

“Mom, wake up.” He whispered.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here, I’m sorry I stayed out all night, just please, wake up.” He begged, like apologizing would fix anything.

She still wasn't moving and neither was his dad. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Logan was aware that begging wasn’t doing him any good. He needed to call for help.

But all that came out of his mouth were more pleas.

“Mom! Stop ignoring me! Just wake up!” He yelled and then he started crying, great gasping sobs that tore all the air from his lungs.

He needed them to wake up, he needed to feel their arms around him, needed their comfort. They couldn’t be gone. Not like this, not now, not when just an hour ago, Roman had kissed him, not when outside he could hear the trucks thundering by. This wasn’t real. It just couldn’t be.

He screamed, desperate and heartbroken.

Wake up .

His eyes got caught on a flash of green on the walls and he looked up.

On the wall, painted in a bright neon green, was the symbol he had been studying for months, the gang's symbol, a sword pointed downwards, and underneath it, like an artist’s tag, a sloppy R.

Remus.

Logan felt anger curl in his gut. After everything they had done to help him, this was his answer.

He would pay.

This wasn’t the end. If they thought they could stop him with this, they were wrong. He would get his revenge, he would burn that gang to the ground and he would destroy Remus.

This was personal now.

#sander sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #ts logan #roman sanders #ts roman #u!remus #unsympathetic remus #logince #romantic logince #superhero au #ts superhero au #my writing #tell me if i forgot to tag something

[ashintheairlikesnow]

For the one word asks - Peter + "drift"

CW: Whump involving a minor (character is 16) - although no direct physical harm is done to him during the drabble. Sickness, isolation, referenced shock collar. Captor bonding. Referenced abuse at the end.

There was an ache that settled into the boy’s bones and resolutely refused to leave. It dug itself into the marrow and lived there, a pounding, throbbing pain that was with him whether he was shuffling through the hallways with a handler at his side or curled up in his room praying to fall asleep just so he didn’t have to feel it hurt any longer.

He went to training, and the scrubber and broom seemed to fall out of his hands, and he kept missing when he tried to pick them up. They punished him for it, in all the ways they punished the ones like the boy, with their black sticks and the shock collar around his neck and with their hands at his hips and his face pressed into the floor, but the pain inside his bones was worse, after a while, than the pain they could inflict on him.

Eventually, they left him in his room.

He was dragged out to the bathroom and the showers, but left otherwise to lay on the cold tile shivering in his thin white shirt and black shorts, curled in around himself as tightly as he could get to stay warm. 

Handler Todd was the first one to care that he was sick.

Todd had been gone for two weeks, on vacation with his daughters - he told the boy all about it, they took a trip to Yosemite National Park, and the boy didn’t know what that was any longer but the words sounded sort of familiar, anyway. The boy got sicker and sicker and while he was sick, he thought about Todd, and how much he missed a kind touch and a nice voice, and he hoped Todd would show him photos when he got back, the way he’d shown him photos of Disneyland.

When he heard the soft beeping and the ssshhhh-click of his door unlocking and opening up, the boy didn’t move. He didn’t look up - the white light hurt his eyes now, and he kept one arm over his face all the time, desperate to find some kind of darkness to hide in. 

“435689, you up?”

It didn’t matter. When handlers spoke, you were awake, whether you actually were or not. The boy made a soft sound that he’d meant to be words but the words didn’t come, and stirred a little, keeping his hand shading his eyes as he slowly looked up, wincing at the sharp stab of pain in his head. 

“Oh, shit. You okay, kiddo?” Todd glanced over his shoulder, then shut the door behind him, dropping down into a crouch near the boy. “You look like hell.”

Did he? The boy hadn’t seen a mirror since he’d been brought into the Facility. He didn’t know what he looked like any longer. His eyes felt like sandpaper and he knew he’d been sweating, off and on, sick-sweat smell that needed another shower but he’d already had his shower, he wouldn’t get another one for a couple more days.

When Todd took his hand and slowly moved it away, the boy’s fingertips dropped onto the cold tile, and he sighed in relief at the press of Todd’s hand to his head.

Oh, sweetie, you’re burning up. No school for you mister, it’s cartoons on the couch and some good old-fashioned chicken noodle soup. Get the Tylenol, Greg-

He groaned at the spike of pain in his head. 

“Kiddo?” 

“Mom, I don’t feel good,” The boy said, softly. His voice sounded weirdly far away to him, as if hearing himself from a distance. “I think I’m sick.”

There was a silence, and Todd withdrew his hand.

The boy whimpered and tried to grab at it, to pull it back. No one had touched him in days because he might be contagious, and he was alone in his tiny white room until they used the catch-pole to make him go to the showers or the bathroom and he just, he missed it so much, he just missed someone touching him even just a little bit.

Even the ways that hurt would be better than being alone in here hurting by himself. 

“Stay right here, kiddo. I will be right back, I promise. I promise you.”

Todd pushed to his feet and was gone, and the boy’s pleas for him to stay were ignored and then unheard.

The boy drifted, for a while. The world was flat white light and white floor, white walls. He was sweaty but he shivered at a cold that would not cease, drying sweat on his skin only for it to grow clammy and gross again moments later. His hair stuck to his forehead, flopped around in greasy clumps. He couldn’t curl up tightly enough to be warm. He couldn’t cover his eyes well enough to make it dark. He couldn’t sleep or stay awake, and all he could do was drift.

Don’t you worry. I’ve already called the doctor, we’ll get you in by noon. I’m sure this is just some kind of flu or something, honey, I’m sure of it. But you have to eat something.

When was the last time the boy ate? He had no idea. He’d started throwing up the Facility shakes and they’d stopped giving them to him. All he got now was water. At least the water stayed down.

He had no idea how long Todd was gone.

He was pretty sure Todd was probably just him seeing things from the fever, anyway.

But then there was the ssshhhh-click again, and Todd came in with a bag in one hand and something big rolled up in the other. He let both hit the floor and dropped back into his crouch. “Okay, kiddo. Can you sit up for me, please?” He reached out, hands on the boy’s shoulders, and with effort they got him back up, leaning his back against the wall, tears running down the boy’s face from how much it hurt to move. 

Greg, I think he needs the ER, he’s really badly off. What’s our copay?

“Mom, I n-need a doctor,” He groaned, and cool hands settled his head back a little bit, let it rest against the wall. “I’m so sick.”

“I know you are, kiddo,” A voice sound, not his mother’s voice. He remembered her smell and her voice and her hands, but he couldn’t remember her face. “I know. Look, medicine first, yeah? Just drink what’s in this little cup.”

He drank. It tasted like flat grape soda made thick into syrup and he nearly gagged on it, but the hands gave him water to wash it down with. Then he was dipped forwards again, and he cried more at the ache, but something infinitely soft and warm wrapped around him and then was pulled together at his front, and he managed to crack his eyes to look down.

A blanket, soft fleece, and already he felt warmer in the chill air in the white room. The boy ran his fingers back and forth over it, looked slowly up through eyes bleary and blurry with tears and the ache, and saw Handler Todd watching him with concern and what the boy thought must be real affection on his face. “I can have this?”

He’d never had a blanket before.

Never been good long enough to earn one.

“Sure you can, kiddo. Just til you heal up. Now, you’ve got medicine - that’ll take down your fever in a little bit. Then I brought you what I give my little girls when they’re sick.” He pulled a six-pack of something out of a bag, and the boy stared at the little blue bottles. “It’s not… great, but these have a bunch of vitamins and shit, you need that. Technically it’s kind of a nutrient shake for toddlers who won’t eat, but hey, food is food. And also, this.” He pulled out another six-pack, and the boy knew Gatorade even though he couldn’t remember having had any in his whole life. He felt a thin smile find its way onto his face.

“You brought so much for me,” He whispered. “Is it, is this just for me?”

“Just for you, kiddo. I ran home and picked it up from our food stash in the house.”

“Cool. Th-thank you,” The boy said, and took the Gatorade the man offered him, drinking its cool sugar-sweet flavor in little sips that somehow, miraculously, stayed down like water. “Can… can I see a doctor?”

Todd sighed and sat down next to him. “I asked, they said no. Not sick enough.”

The boy blinked at him, still sipping the Gatorade, holding it in both hands like it was precious. “If I… if I get sicker I’ll be dead,” He said, softly.

“No you won’t, you’re probably past the worst of it by now.” Todd shrugged. “Just keep hydrated, and try to drink two of those little Pediagrow things each day. I’ll get you some peanut crackers once your appetite’s back. Just takes time, this flu is all over the place in the Facility right now.”

The boy wanted to argue, but he’d used up all his energy in the words he had already said. Instead, he pulled his blanket closer and leaned sideways until his head rested on Handler Todd’s arm. 

They sat there like that for a while, until Todd said, “Want to see my pictures from Yosemite?”

The boy smiled and looked up at him, grateful Todd had come back, that he cared that he was sick, that he had had fun on his vacation with his family. The boy didn’t have one any longer. It was nice that someone else got to.

“This is what you do for your kids when they’re sick?” He asked.

Todd laughed, pulling up a photo of the sunrise over mountains. “Sort of. My babies lay on the couch watching cartoons all day.”

“I think I got to do that, before,” The boy said.

Todd glanced at him and then shrugged. “Maybe. But you don’t remember any of that, right?”

There was a warning in his voice, an edge. Todd was still a handler, and memories weren’t allowed. The boy quickly shook his head, and settled in to look at the photos Todd had taken of places that looked so terribly familiar but the boy could not remember ever having seen.

***

Later, when he is sick - the whole first year he was sick all the time - he’ll lay on his mattress on the floor in the tiny little room he calls his own, and Dex will be the one who sits with him. 

The room isn’t any bigger, but it stays dark when he needs it to, and it’s his own. The sickness lasts just as long, but there is medicine right from the start, and there are other people who care.

Peter knows to be grateful for this, even when being sick doesn’t stop her from leaving bruises on her bad days.

When Peter cries for Todd in his sleep, Dex holds his hand and knows it is a handler he is calling for. It is Dex who combs his hair back from his forehead and lays the blanket over him when he kicks it off. It’s Dex who tips the little cup of syrupy liquid to his lips. It’s Dex who feeds him Gatorade and saltine crackers and Sebastian makes him chicken noodle soup to sip from coffee mugs he can barely hold in shaking hands.

Still, he cries for Todd, in his sleep.

He can’t remember if there was ever anyone who cared before him.

#sickfic #whump #whump involving a minor #tw: whump involving a minor #hurt/comfort #sick whumpee #fever #isolation #loneliness #captivity #tw: referenced abuse #referenced shock collar #captor bonding

[things-we-used-tc-share]

Candy bags of Lollipops

Warnings: Minor character death, single parenthood, adoption, (If you want to skip over the sad stuff just scroll to the -- mark and read from there)

Ship: Moxiety, Logince

Plot: Patton is 19 years old, a university student, he loves kids, but he never really thought this day would come. Desperate to save his sister’s child from being put in the care system, or worse, with their parents, he takes her on into his life and watches as his entire world flips upside down. 

The call came at 1PM on a Wednesday afternoon; he’d been walking back to his apartment after class, his satchel banging against his hip as he walks and the cool summer air washes down the back of his neck, sinking against his skin. He’d been happy, a lollipop hanging out of his mouth, one of those 25¢ ones, the music died down and his phone played his ringtone. 

He pops the lollipop out of his mouth, squinting at the number on his phone before answering it, holding the microphone up to his mouth “Hello?” The voice on the other end tops, his lollipop slides between his fingertips and shatters on the concrete. 

“Are you sure?”

Patton had always been close to his elder sister. The two of them had been raised in a household where they’d clung to each other for most of their life. Patton had left when he was sixteen to go to boarding school, whilst she’d moved down the road two years prior once she realized she was pregnant, not wanting her parents to ever have any sort of influence on her child.

It was hard to imagine her like this, skin so pale and eyes so dull, he identified her and cried. Slinking out of the room. “You were registered as her next of kin,” He nods numbly, “Her legal will states that you’re...you’ve been assigned to foster her child,” Patton’s head rests against the wall, of course, she would never let their parents anywhere near her little girl. He nods.

“There will be forms you have to sign and such,”

“Yeah, I get it can I just...have a minute alone please?” He mutters, not unkindly, but in that exhausted tone of voice. His sister is dead. And now he has to tell a five-year-old little girl that she’s never going to see her mummy again. 

At 3PM he gets the bus down to her school, he walks to the reception and starts talking, he had it planned out everything he was going to say, he’d had the entire half an hour ride to breakdown. But the moment he starts to talk, he can feel the tears welling up. The receptionist hands him some tissues and he pulls himself together as she goes to get the teacher. 

When the little girl comes into the room, her hair still tied in the ponytails that he mum had put them in this morning, blue eyes wide and scared. Patton takes a deep breath, he has to keep himself held together. “Hey monkey,” He says softly, holding his arms out for her, she sidles into them. 

“Uncle Pat? Why’s everyone sad?” He swallows back his tears as the teacher steps out of the room with the receptionist. 

“Bri, there’s no easy way to say this,” he swallows “Your mommy, she’s gone to a better place, up into Heaven,” Brielle, her hair bouncing behind her as she steps back, her tiny body slumping slightly as her eyes welled with tears “Did mommy tell you about people who go to Heaven?” She nods, and Patton doesn’t believe in a God especially not now, but if it gives this little girl some hope, for now, that wherever her mom is she’s happy, then he’ll let her believe. 

“So I won’t be able to see her again?”

“No, monkey, I’m sorry.” ‘monkey’ a nickname Patton had given the little girl for inability to stay in one place at one time and her love for climbing up things that aren’t meant to be climbed up. Right now she looked like nothing more than a scared little girl who wants her mother, no energy or light left in her as she buries her little face into Patton’s jumper and cries. Unreserved tears that only children really have, loud and angry and full of anguish. But this isn’t a broken toy that Patton can fix, no matter how much she cries, for once he really cannot take away her pain. 

--

“Brielle, stop climbing on the counter!” Patton’s only half upset really as he stares up at the six-year-old who is grinning mischievously at him. “The babysitter is going to be here in fifteen minutes,” He sighs in exasperation as she leaps into his arms and allows herself to be sat on a stool, he places a comb, brush, and bobble on the counter. “You’re going to need a hair cut soon monkey,”

“Nooooooo!” Brielle squeals, pouting “I like my hair!”

“Only the ends kiddo, they’re started to split, I’m not planning on getting it all shaved off don’t worry,” She giggles in response as he sprays some water on her hair and starts to comb it. Brielle, who hates having to sit still, begins to kick up a fuss and complaining that it hurts, so Patton just goes slower and gentler until she realizes she played herself by lying. 

“Hurry up Pat!” She whines.

“Make up your mind,” He chuckles in response, tying her hair up in a bun and letting her shimmy down from the stool. “Alright so, when he gets here you know the rules and so does he, no chocolate or sweets until you’ve finished your homework and then you’re only allowed one packet or bar out of the tub, you can watch TV whilst you work and highlight what you don’t understand for me to go through when I come home, or ask him he has a phone, no swearing, don’t climb on things because not everyone has my reflexes and yes that does include the table, okay?”

“Are you going to bring me some lollipops on the way home?” 

“Only if you’re good!” She’s always good really, one of the most well-behaved kids he’d ever met. 

Well, the only kid he’s ever met really. 

Getting a job had been hard, he’d had to drop down to part-time study, apply for single parent benefits, pay for a babysitter and then find a job that he could actually do. Oh and learn how to cook something that isn’t pizza. 

There’s a knock at the door and Patton squeezes Brielle’s hand as she slides behind him shyly whilst he opens the door. “Hey there!” He beams at the stranger, who has immediately attracted the young girl's attention as she peeks around from around Patton’s legs. 

“Purple...” She gasps, staring at the iridescent hair that’s splayed into the stranger’s dark eyes, he chuckles in response, a low sound that has Patton’s lips curling into a smile just a little too. “Pat his hair is purple!” She’s giddy now, sliding from behind her uncle to make grabby hands “Can I have purple hair?”

“Maybe when you’re older kiddo,” Patton lifts her up “This is Virgil, he’s going to be looking after you whilst I go to work, okay?” He gets the feeling that thanks to the taller man’s hair, she was going to be more than okay with this situation as she wriggles in Patton’s arms to try and touch his hair. “You can’t just grab people’s hair kiddo,”

With a huff “Mr Virgil can I touch your hair please?” The laugh this gets in response tells Patton that these two were going to be getting on just fine. 

--

“Was she well-behaved?” Patton asks, holding a candy bag behind his back as he enters the room, Virgil, who is in the midst of having his hair braided by a six-year-old, looks up with a grin. 

“Excitable, but the most well-behaved child I’ve ever looked after,” Brielle seems to like this, cheering. This meant she gets lollipops. 

“After dinner kiddo,” He grins, shaking the bag of lollipops, she jumps off the couch to bounce excitedly. “Has she finished her homework?” He asked Virgil as she sits down to collect up all her toys and put them away in time for dinner. Virgil nods in response and holds out the little plastic wallet for Patton to go over with her later. “Would you like to stay for dinner, we’re having spaghetti bolognese, and I have a habit of making too much for everyone,” 

Virgil’s a little dazed by these two, a little girl who seems so happy and excited to learn and interact, who is possibly the kindest and strangest little girl he’d ever met. Then a man with really sad eyes who doesn’t look a day over 19 years old who looks tired and yet so happy with this little girl. And then, he’s asked if he wants dinner? This might be the first babysitting job that didn’t end with him needing to sleep for a day. “If it’s not a bother,”

“Not at all!”

--

Every Saturday and Sunday Virgil comes to babysit whilst Patton goes to work, every Saturday and Sunday he’s offered dinner. One day, Patton asks if he could come and babysit on a day that’s neither of those days. He’s quiet, and he’s sad and his eyes look like he’s seen a ghost when the day comes. Bri doesn’t seem any different, completely in her own little world as she draws over blank pieces of paper. 

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,”

Virgil asks Brielle if she knows where Patton’s going because he’s curious and worried. “To see my mommy!” She replies, her smile faltering “I’m too young to go see her yet, Patton said when I’m a bigger girl he’ll take me,” 

oh.

He had a feeling when he noticed Patton looks so young, too young to be the parent of a six-year-old, and how Brielle didn’t call the other ‘dad’. He looks at the little girl as she draws, she’d lost her mom, but she still seemed so full of life and Virgil doesn’t want to ask why he doesn’t want to put the little girl through that. So he sits down and draws with her, creating worlds full of princes and princesses and vampires and witches. 

When Patton comes home he makes dinner quietly, he puts Brielle to bed earlier than usual and Virgil knows the talk that's about to happen. “How old was she?”

“Twenty-six,” 

“And she was your...”

“Sister, and best friend,” Patton takes a sip of his tea, his eyes ringed red from the crying he must have done today and then simply collected himself for this little girl who he adored so greatly. “Last year,” He exhales deeply and swallows “But, it’s okay,” He says softly “It has to be okay for Brielle’s sake, she knows she’s never really going to see her mother again, and she needs me to stay strong for her, but if Sophia were here now she tells me I spoil her rotten,” He laughs tearily “But what else are you supposed to do? She was my entire world and she was Brielle’s everything,” He chokes on his words “I’ll spoil her until I’m too old to do so because if I can’t give her her mother I’ll give her everything else,”

Virgil’s hand reaches out across the table and squeezes Patton’s, it’s the first time he’d seen the man cry or really anything less than radiant sunshine. “Have you ever talked to anyone about it? It must have flipped everything upside down,” 

“I haven’t, my parents aren’t...they aren’t kind people, they started a fight with me at her funeral, demanding that Brielle go with them, I told them that Soph wouldn’t want them anywhere near her child, she didn’t, she ran away from them once she found out she was pregnant and never even let her near them,” He intertwines his fingers with Virgil’s. “And up until then I just never made friends, always had my head in my books, I couldn’t afford a counselor with a child to feed,” 

“You’ve got me, now,”

Patton believes him.

--

Virgil turns up one day with a friend, a friend that has bright red hair and freckles and green eyes and is possibly the gayest man that Patton has ever encountered in his life. “Does the little one like makeup?” He holds up a case, Patton is baffled and nods. 

“Roman, Patton, Roman...Brielle!” 

The little girl is flinging herself at Roman, “I want hair like that!” She exclaims, her little body trying it’s very best to climb up the newcomer. “Pat can I have hair like that?” Patton sighs, a smile on his lips. 

“I don’t think anyone else can have hair like that,” Virgil muttered. “Roman’s my brother and I have a question to ask you,” Patton allows himself to be pulled aside somewhere quieter as Roman picks up the little girl and allows her to yank at his hair with an amused expression. “Can I take you out tonight? Somewhere nice, a break from you being holed up in work or here, Roman’s got a kid of his own so he knows how to deal with them and he’s happy to look after Brielle for free,”

It’s hard to imagine this guy with a kid, heavily lined eyes and glitter on his cheeks, wild red hair pushed back from his face. He looked like a bachelor, and yet, as Brielle yanks particularly hard and he only pouts in response, he knows that sort of patience only comes from a guy with kids of his own. “Believe me, it’s harder to deal with his husband than it is with children,” Virgil mutters. Patton gets the feeling that’s an explanation for another day. 

“Okay, sure, why not?”

So Virgil takes him out on a date. They wander around an art gallery and get coffee at a cute little cafe that has fairy lights strung up from the ceiling. Patton’s not had a chance in his life to have a proper date, he’s not had a chance to kiss a man or hold their hand. 

Tonight he does. 

Even Brielle can see the smile as wide as the open expanse of the summer sky. Roman wolf whistles on his way out of the door, somewhere down the hall he can hear an excited cheer. “Did Roman teach you how to do makeup?” he asks Brielle once they’re alone

“Yeah, but he said I have bad...c-coo-ordimination,”

“Coordination?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah, I can see that monkey,”

--

Roman at some point comes a little bit more part of their lives, especially as apart from at school, Brielle doesn’t really get to interact with other kids. So Patton and Roman arrange for Roman to bring his children over to see how Brielle gets on with them. There’s two; a ten-year-old named Remy who had dark eyes and messy black hair and a penchant for dark clothing (”He takes after his other dad”) and a little girl at 8, called Josie, who was extremely intimidated by Brielle at first, shyly hiding behind her brother’s jacket. 

By the end of it, the girls are teaming up to chase Remy around, until he’s scrambling on the kitchen counter, assuming himself to be safe up there. Patton doesn’t quite need to break it to him that there’s a reason they call Brielle monkey until she’s leaping onto the stool to engage in a pillow fight. 

“Alright that’s enough beating up Remy, he’s too scrawny for this,”

“Dad!”

“It’s true!”

The two adults sit at the table with a cup of coffee once the kids settle down a little, watching TV together. “I’ve never seen her so happy,” Patton sighed “Thank you, Roman,” Roman smiles in response. 

“Yeah well, I’ve never seen my brother so happy, so I guess I should thank you too,” Patton blushes and sips his coffee, a small smile on his lips. 

At 7PM that day there’s a knock on the door to reveal a very tall and skinny man with curly black hair and piercing cobalt eyes. He smiles “Salutations,” 

“And that’s my better half here to pick us up, oh who am I kidding, I’m definitely the better half, come on kids coats and shoes, oh no, not you Brielle you live here!” The newcomer leans against the door with a quiet chuckle on his lips, he looks like the sort of man that wasn’t soft often, but he watched his husband with such a loving smile, shaking his head as he trips over Remy to try and give Josie her coat. “We’ll see you soon cheesy Brie,” Roman chuckles as the little girl gives everyone hugs goodbye. “Logan can you grab Josie for me, Remy take your eyes off your phone for two minutes,” 

Logan shakes his head fondly at his husband and picks up the little girl. “It was nice to meet you Patton, oh hello,” Brielle had rather decided she wanted to give Logan a hug too, he bends down to do so, ruffling her hair “And it was nice to meet you too Brielle, I’ve been hearing a lot about you from Roman,”

Patton almost feels like he’s at home for the first time in his life.

--

Logan is a strange man, and as the four adults sit at a slowly getting cramped breakfast bar, Patton is starting to see what Virgil had meant. He’s...enigmatic for lack of a better word, Roman seemed to have no trouble keeping up with him even if everyone else couldn’t, and in the end, Patton supposes that’s what’s most important. 

Virgil, whose head is leaning on Patton’s shoulder as he sips his coffee, watches the two with amusement; they’d been together since Virgil was ten so you’d think he would be used to their dynamics but honestly, he’ll never quite get used to it. Patton kisses the top of his head gently “You okay darling?” He mutters, Virgil smiles and nods, nuzzling his shoulder. 

Patton wonders if this is what love feels like. 

The kids play, well Josie and Brielle play whilst Remy watches TV, leaning left and right to see around the playing children, a cup of decaf coffee in a cup that he sips slowly. “He’s used to noise,” Roman hums “Josie can be quite excitable,”

“I can see that,” Patton chuckles as the little girl leaps up onto her father’s lap, “Oh hey monkey,” He chuckles as Brielle also begs for her parent’s attention. Logan hums in amusement as he drinks his black coffee, poking his child’s nose playfully, she giggles and bats his hand away. 

“No booping!” She declared “No boops allowed,” The adults dissolve into laughter. 

--

“So, what are we?” The two men sit at the window, staring out at the city lights. Logan and Roman were half sleeping on the couch, which can be pulled out into a bed, Josie and Brielle curled up on the bottom bunk of a bed whilst Remy (plays on his phone) lies on the top bunk. “I’ve never really had the chance to explore romance, but I would like too with you, Virgil,”

“I’d like that too Patton,” 

There wasn’t much more that needed to be said there, as Patton leans forward to capture Virgil’s lips in his own, his careful hand cupping the other’s face. Lips moved sweetly against each other, gentle, innocent, the first time any of them had felt fireworks like this; as the city sang itself to sleep in a hum of care engines and police sirens, and the lights started to dim in the dark, Patton knows that he’s going to be okay. 

That the little family, he’d managed to build with the shattered pieces of his heart, and Virgil’s love and care for those around him, from Brielle’s teary eyes and Remy’s phone addiction. From Josie’s shy loudness and Logan and Roman’s eclectic relationship. From candy store bags full of 25¢ lollipops. This little family, strange and wonderful, was going to be okay.

@analogical-mess // @unikornavenger // @mycatshuman // @creativity-killed-thekitten// @theresneverenoughfandoms // @charmingprincey // @aclickonapostwillchangeyourlife // @heck-im-lost//@k9cat//@stilljittery//@romansleftshoulderpad // @sanderssideslibrary // @max-is-tired//@therealmoshar//@punsterterry// @trashypansexual// //@demigodnamedathena//@sevencrashing//@misunderstood-shadow//@aphriteblack//@jemthebookworm//@sandersandthesides//@penguinkool//@georganabanana//@importantrunawaystudentstuff // @ao-koshka // @dangerous-doodle // @river-waterfall // @hell-or-high-waters // @no-sleep-gang-posts//@wxlcomxtothxjunglx

#sanders sides #moxiety

[whumpitgood]

Lay Your Weary Head to Rest

Title: Lay Your Weary Head to Rest Author: whumpitgood Fandom: Supernatural Relationship: gen Rating: T Word Count: 9,038 Warnings: major character death, blood, minor language Spoilers: none Summary:  Sam and Dean quit the family business.  This is Sam and Dean’s last hunt.  (Or, How their story should end when season 15 ends.)    Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters don’t belong to me.  Just writing for fun. Note: 1) When they announced that the show ends with season 15, I tried to imagine how they could wrap it all up.  This is what my mind came up with.           2) This story contains death.  Don’t read it if that bothers you, but I promise it ends well.           3) Title inspired by “Carry On Wayward Son” by Kansas.

*********************

“Find anything?”  Dean slammed his book closed and rubbed his temples. He glanced over at Sam who sat across from him in the bunker’s library.

“No,” Sam sighed deeply. “Still nothing.  It’s been nearly two weeks and we still have no idea what’s out there, steadily wiping out half of that town.  We can’t keep sitting here doing nothing.  We’ve—“

“Hey, we’re not doing nothing.  We’re doing research.  Your favorite,” Dean said with a smile.  “Besides, I’m sure Cas has found something by now.”

Just then, there was a loud, metallic clanging as the bunker door was opened and shut.  Both brothers turned and watched Castiel walk slowly and somberly down the stairs before meeting them in the library.

“Speak of the devil. Here he is now,” Dean said, giving Cas a pat on the shoulder.  Cas looked at Dean, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.  

“But, I’m not—“

“Never mind, Cas. What do you have for us?  You figure it out?” Dean asked.

“Sadly, I have not. Whatever this creature is, it continues to elude me.  I can’t find any lore on it, and my contacts were no help, either.  I’m afraid we still have no idea what’s killing all those people.”

“That’s it,” Sam said, closing his laptop lid with a sense of finality.  “We need to head out.  Let’s go there and track it down.  Maybe if we get a good look at it we can figure it out.”  He stood up and began putting his jacket on.  

“Let’s not be too hasty, Sam,” Cas stated, holding out a palm in a placating manner.

“No, he’s right,” Dean said, also getting to his feet.  “While we sit here trying to figure this out, more people are dying.  Let’s go find this ugly son of a bitch and see what kind of clues we can pick up about it.  Then we’ll have more to go on to figure out what it is and how to send its sorry ass to purgatory.”

“Coming?” Sam asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“’Course,” Cas answered. ”I’ve got a couple more leads to follow up on and then I’ll meet you two there.  Is it alright if I take Jack with me?  He could be of some help.”

“Sure thing.  We’ll meet you guys in a couple of days, then. Keep in touch,” Dean said.

Sam and Dean gave Cas a pat on the shoulder as they passed by him to grab some things and then head out on their way.

The trip was long, but neither Winchester minded.  Music turned up, they sailed down the open road, taking it all in.  Sitting side by side in the Impala was where they belonged. The bunker may be where they lived, but Baby would always be their home.

They finally reached the small town some time later, or at least, they reached what was left of it. The majority of its residents had either turned up dead, missing, or fled in fear of being the next victim to whatever was plaguing them.  The few townspeople who remained watched warily as a shiny black car roared through their streets.  People had stopped coming to their town weeks ago, so they weren’t sure what to make of these new strangers.  

After checking into a hotel, the Winchesters began their search.  Most people wouldn’t talk, but they were able to gather a little bit here and there.  The deaths had been spread out over the last two weeks, the bodies showing brutal abuse before their deaths.  It wasn’t clear what was causing the damage.  There were no missing organs, bite marks, or any other telltale signs of what creature could be the culprit.  In fact, there weren’t many similarities other than being littered with wounds.  They were stumped.

The boys were just getting into the Impala when Dean’s phone rang.  Dean slammed his door closed before fishing it out of his pocket.

“Yeah?” he said gruffly, jamming the keys into the ignition with his free hand.

“Jack and I are almost there.  We shouldn’t be long,” Castiel said over the line.

“Good.  That’s good.  Did you guys find anything?”

“I’m afraid not.  I have a feeling that this may be something ancient.  We must be very careful,” Cas answered.

“Hm.  Probably.  Wouldn’t be the first time.”  Dean paused for a second, thinking.  “Well, anyway, me and Sam are about to head over to check out an old, abandoned house on the edge of town.  There hasn’t been any pattern where the bodies have been found, but there are rumors of strange things happening down in that area.  Thought we’d give it a look, see if there’s any trace of a creature squatting or something, “ he explained.

“I don’t advise that, Dean.  You two need to wait for Jack and me to get there.  Don’t go alone.  You guys need back up.”

“I’ve got Sam’s back and he’s got mine.  Relax, Cas. We probably won’t find anything, anyway. Just thought we’d give it a look before heading back to the hotel for the night.  Not a big deal,” Dean said casually.

“When is it ever ‘not a big deal’, Dean?  It’s never simple.  Just give us about a half hour.  Or we could get some rest and go in the morning,” Cas nearly pleaded.

“Nah, we’re already close by.  Our hotel is across town.  We’ll check it out and then meet you guys at the hotel,” Dean said, then added, “And while you’re at it, pick up some grub along your way.  There was a diner a few miles back.  Grab some burgers.  And pie. Don’t forget the pie,” Dean said with a small smile, tuning the keys and starting the engine.

Castiel sighed over the line.  “Okay.  Just be careful.  Both of you.”

“Yeah, yeah.   See you in a bit.”  Dean hung up and set the phone beside him on the seat.  He glanced over at Sam before backing out of his parking space and pulling onto the road.  “Cas and Jack will be here soon.”

“Good.  Maybe we can compare notes and figure this out,” he said, gazing out the window.  The sun was going down.  It would be dark soon.

A few minutes later, the boys pulled up to an old, rundown house.  No one had lived there in over a decade.  The large, two story was covered in vines and ivy all along its walls and the porch was caving in on itself in places.  There didn’t appear to be a single window still fully intact.

Dean shut off the engine and the two Winchesters got out of the car, slamming closed the doors with their signature squeak.  They rifled through the trunk, grabbing anything that they thought would be useful in case they came across some unknown threat.  With a flashlight in one hand and a knife in the other, Sam led the way into the decrepit home.

The old wooden floorboards groaned with the job of holding the boys’ weight.  Dust and dirt gave the floor a gritty feel as two sets of boots littered it with imprints of the bottom of their shoes.

They searched thoroughly, looking in closets and behind furniture, trying to find anything to help them figure out what had been killing people these last few weeks. After an extensive search of the first floor turned up nothing more than rat droppings and dust bunnies, they made their way carefully up the rickety steps to the second floor.  

They explored the rooms meticulously, double checking each room before moving on to the next.  Sam approached the last room down the hall while Dean checked out the room next door.  The door was closed, so Sam reached out a cautious hand and slowly turned the knob before giving the door a light shove.  

Dust swirled in the wake of the opening door and Sam held an elbow over his mouth and nose to block it from reaching his sinuses.  Even so, his eyes began to water and he internally groaned at the thought of getting hay fever from this.

He took a step into the room and stopped.  Something didn’t feel right.  He didn’t know what.  There was nothing to see or hear to suggest that anything was off, but his instincts were telling him to turn back around and get out.  They were rarely wrong, but he knew he couldn’t do that.  If he felt like he should leave, then he was in the right place.  This must be what they were looking for.

He used his flashlight to do a quick sweep of the room but didn’t see anyth…wait.  What was that?  Sam took a few steps into the room and swept the flashlight again.  Yes, there it was.  The light seemed to bend around the far corner of the room, like it couldn’t touch that area.  Something was going on.  Something was there, but he just couldn’t see it.

A whole list of possibilities was rushing through Sam’s mind too quick to keep up.  He thought he might have a vague idea of what this could be, even though that would be impossible.  He had only seen it mentioned a few times in the lore, but each entry was barely a mention.  From what he could gather, it killed in order to feed off of life energy to sustain itself. Not souls, fortunately (he’d had enough soullessness to last a lifetime).  It would mean that this thing was older than Chuck himself.  If he was right, then they were in deep trouble.

“Dean?” he called out not too loudly.  He didn’t want the creature to react to his presence, but he couldn’t not warn Dean. This was serious.

He took a few steps closer to try to see better, to try to reaffirm his suspicions, but in that same instant, a light exploded where the creature was.  There was a bright glow emanating from it, but its form was too indistinct to make out.  It seemed to undulate like that of a jellyfish, but without such a tangible body. It was large, nearly reaching the ceiling and occupying around a four-foot radius from the corner of the room.  It was also mostly translucent, like it was made of pure energy, but again, it was hard to really tell much about its appearance other than it was bright and it was undeniably beautiful yet terrifying all at the same time.

He wasn’t sure if calling out had startled it or if it had intended on preying on them the moment they entered the house, but at that moment, it didn’t matter.  In an instant, several things happened at once: Dean called Sam’s name as he neared the bedroom door at the same time Sam opened his mouth to tell Dean to stay away.  In that same moment, the creature glowed impossibly brighter for a fraction of a second as it released a toxic energy that visibly pulsed outward. There was a crack like thunder and then all was still once again.  The silence was deafening after the loud boom and the brightness dimmed to resume its ethereal glow.

The first thing Dean noticed afterward was that he was lying on the ground and any attempt he made to get up resulted in terrible pain.  One look at his hip and leg, though, showed that even if he did get up, he wasn’t going anywhere.  Whatever that blast was had knocked him into the wall with terrible force, causing pain all along the right side of his body.  His head also hurt and he could feel the blood flowing down the side of his face.

The next thing he was aware of was the half a dozen or so dead rats lying scattered around him. They hadn’t been there before, so they must have been tossed as he had been, but also perished in that blast. Dean’s mind was sluggish to realize that if that had happened to the rodents, then what had happened to Sam who was closer than he was to whatever the hell that blast was?

Scared, Dean began to half-crawl, half-drag his battered body over to his little brother.

“Sam!” No response. “Sammy!  Answer me, damn it!” he yelled through his fear.  He had to be alright.  He just had to.  Dean didn’t stop to think about the danger he might be putting himself in by going closer to the source of the blast.  He didn’t care.  He just needed to be near Sam.  

Dean ignored the sense of dread he felt as he crossed the threshold into the room.  He ignored how debris and furniture looked unaffected by the force that had shoved him hard enough into the wall to put a hole in the plaster, how the force only seemed to affect living creatures and not the furniture or other objects.  All Dean could see, all that consumed him, was the sight of Sam lying on his back so still, so unmoving on the hardwood floor. Cold unease flowed through him, his chest tightened, and his stomach was in knots.  It was like Cold Oak all over again.

Dean army crawled the last few feet and stopped beside his brother.  His heart clenched when he finally got a good look at him.  Sam had cuts and gashes along his hairline, his face, even along his chest, visible through the rips in his clothing.  Blood poured from them, his flannel already becoming saturated.  His chest looked uneven, undoubtedly due to broken ribs, and Dean noticed then how labored Sam’s breathing was.  He was barely getting any air in or out.  It was little more than a wheeze as his chest rattled with the effort.  Dean felt tears prick in his eyes from the sight.  He knew this was bad.  Worse than bad.

Propping himself up on an elbow, he reached his free hand over to his little brother and gently stroked his face, removing some blood soaked strands of hair from his eyes.  

“Sammy,” he said softly, giving his cheek a light pat.  “Sammy, I’m here.  Big brother’s here.  Open your eyes, man.  It’s okay.” Dean felt like a jackass for saying that.  Sam wasn’t okay.  This situation wasn’t okay.  Nothing about this was even remotely okay at all.  He just couldn’t bring himself to say anything to the contrary.  Sam needed him now more than ever.

Sam’s eyelids fluttered, then finally opened half-mast.  His pupils weren’t quite the same size and his eyes didn’t seem to fully focus, but they were open, so Dean would consider that a win.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said with a smile.  Sam’s eyes sluggishly looked around before settling on Dean.  Dean could tell that he was trying to focus and keep his eyes open. There were times when his eyes looked like they were going to roll up, but Sam stubbornly clung to consciousness and tried so hard to keep his gaze toward Dean.

“It’s okay, Sam. We’ll figure this out. Everything’s okay.”  Dean had no idea what to do or what to say.  He just kept talking because he knew Sam needed it.

Sam opened his mouth and Dean thought he was going to speak, but a cough tore through Sam instead.  It was a deep, hacking cough that rasped itself out of his chest.  Blood bubbled up his throat and spilled out the side of his mouth and chin, making it even harder for him to breathe.  Dean seriously worried he’d choke on it.

Carefully, Dean tilted Sam slightly on his side and pounded his back.  The coughs continued, but he wasn’t gagging on blood anymore.  Each cough took a toll on Sam and with each one, Dean worried he wouldn’t take another breath.  When there was a small puddle of blood on the floor, Sam was finally done, so he laid him gently back down, only then noticing the blood pooling on the floor around his other injuries, injuries he hadn’t even triaged yet. He sighed wearily.  Even without looking, he knew he couldn’t fix this. He felt it in his bones.  His gut churned with the thought.  

“There you go, Sam. That’s right.  Just breathe, okay?”

Sam’s tired eyes found Dean again, his face paler than any ghost they’d ever come across in their hunts. He opened his mouth again, but this time, he spoke.

“D-dean,” he said, barely a whisper, barely a breath at all and would have been missed had it not been for the rapt attention his brother gave him.

“I’m here, Sam, I’m here,” he said desperately, taking Sam’s hand and holding it in his own.  Sam was too weak to grip it back, but he could tell he appreciated it.

“’m s-sorry,” Sam continued. Dean had to read his lips to fully understand.  Air was barely passing through his lungs anymore.  

When Dean realized what he said, he felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest.  Leave it to Sam to feel guilty about dying, to always finding some way of blaming himself for something completely out of his control. If this was anyone’s fault, it was his own for not listening to Cas and waiting until morning, but that was irrelevant now.  This was happening and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.  Tears began flowing freely down his cheeks.  

“No, Sam.  I’m sorry.  I’m your big brother.  This should never have happened.  I should’ve protected you.  I should’ve—“ he cut himself off as a sob wracked through him.

“Dean,” he whispered. He let out a couple more coughs. More blood.  His next breath rattled and rasped into his abused lungs. Dean knew he was fighting to pull that air in with everything he had left.  Sam’s face scrunched with the effort, and Dean could see the pain written along each one of those lines etched there.  He hated seeing Sam suffer like this.

“Dean…love,” a pause as Sam tried for another breath, “…you,” he finished, reaching out his hand not clasped in Dean’s to reach out and touch Dean’s chest.  Dean suspected that he wanted to clutch his shirt in his fist, but lacked the strength to do so.  He held his hand there for a second before letting it fall.

“Sammy,” he sobbed. “Sammy, I love you.  So much, man,” he said through his tears.  Dean swore he saw a faint smile on Sam’s lips just before his eyes slipped closed.  “Sammy?”

The only response he got was a single breath rattling from Sam’s bloodied chest.  Dean paused and waited.  Waited.  Nothing. Sam didn’t take another breath in. Dean shook Sam, gently at first and then harder when he got no response.  Sam’s hand was cold in his own.  

Dean pulled Sam close to him and cradled his lifeless body to his chest.  He kept mumbling “no” and that he loved him.  He told him he was sorry for all the times he yelled at him and didn’t trust him, for not being a better big brother.  He hoped that somewhere, Sam heard him.  He regretted not saying it all earlier, when he had the chance.

When the tears ran dry, he carefully, gently, laid Sam back on the floor.  For the first time, he took a look around the room.  Something here killed his brother and he wasn’t about to let it go unpunished.  Putting thoughts of his own safety aside, he turned to the still-glowing presence in the corner of the room, which, until now, he hadn’t even noticed.

“Hey, you bastard!” he said from his seated position on the floor, still unable to get to his feet. “Why don’t you come fight me like a man!”  He reached for his gun and got a shot off before there was a deafening roar and he was pushed back by a wave of energy, a repeat of what had happened before.

When it passed, he felt unimaginable pain, but he didn’t care.  It barely registered to the pain he already felt squeezing his heart.  He used what little strength he had left to scoot his body closer to Sam.  He reached out and held his hand once again.  He could taste a metallic tang with every strangled breath he took, but it only made him smile.  

He looked over at Sammy as his vision dimmed.  “I’m coming, Sam,” he whispered, and let his eyes slip closed.

*

Sam found himself in a white space.  There was no floor, ceiling, or walls.  There wasn’t anything but whiteness all around.  He was confused.  Where was he? Was he dead?  Wait…yeah, he thought he probably was.  He shuddered as he thought of his last few moments.  If he was dead then this had to be, what, the Empty?  But he’d always assumed that the Empty would be darkness, like an absence of all things, but this place was bright.  Still, there was nothing, but it didn’t seem empty.

Sam felt a presence before it materialized in front of him.  Chuck stood there, smiling.  

“Hello, Sam.  We meet again,” he said, his eyes bright and cheery.

“Chuck?  What are you doing here…I mean, where are we?” Sam said in confusion, giving the place another once over.

Chuck held up his hands in a calming gesture.  “All your questions will be answered shortly.  We’re just waiting on one more arrival.  Shouldn’t be long,” he explained, glancing at his wrist, at a watch that wasn’t there.  

“One more arrival?  Arrival to where?  Death?” he paused.  “Is it Dean? Is he going to die, too?” he questioned, stressed.  He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.  As much as he didn’t want to be without his brother, he didn’t want his life to end, too. But, really, would Dean really want to live alone, without him?  Sam knew he wouldn’t want to live without Dean.  He sighed.

“Relax, Sam. Everything’s fine.”  Chuck continued to smile in such a way that appeared so genuinely happy that Sam couldn’t help but feel a bit calmer just by looking at him.

Just then, the air beside Sam began to shimmer, and a second later, Dean stood there, looking just as confused as Sam felt.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his brother and squeezing him tightly.

“Sam,” Dean said softly. “Is that really you?” he questioned, gripping onto his brother as well.

“Yeah, man, it’s me.”

Dean felt lighter than he’d felt in a long time, like a weight had been lifted off of him.  Sammy was okay.  He was right here with him.  He hadn’t lost him, after all. Dean felt tears begin pooling in his eyes and he wiped them away as they began to fall.  He wasn’t embarrassed, though, because Sammy was back.

Chuck cleared his throat. “I hate to be rude and interrupt this family reunion, but I’ve got other things to do.  If we could just wrap this up, that would be great,” he said, the smile still firmly on his face.

Dean pulled away from Sam and noticed Chuck for the first time.  He wiped away the last of his tears.

“Chuck?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” he said, not quite annoyed.  “Anyway, you two bought the farm, again, and it’s time to move on.”

“Wait, no,” Dean said. “We’ve gone back before.  Just send us back.  I know you of all people can do that.  There’s a creature out there that needs to be put down.  We’ll figure out how, just put us back. Besides, Cas and Jack—“

“—Will be fine,” Chuck finished for him.  “That creature is not your responsibility.  They’ll work it out.  From this point on, guys…nothing is your responsibility.”

“Wha…what do you mean?” Sam asked.

Chuck sighed.  “Look, I know you Winchesters aren’t used to the idea of staying dead, but you do realize that it’s going to have to happen sometime, right?” he asked, looked at each brother, who nodded.  “Well, this is your time.  Those other deaths…you two still had business to do.  The world still needed the legendary Winchesters. Now it’s time for you two to be at peace.  The world will go on without you.  It will be okay now.  

“You two are heroes. You’ve saved the world repeatedly. You’ve sacrificed so much.  As hard as it may seem, your time is over. The world will adapt.  You two deserve more, but I think I’ve got a pretty good heaven set up for you guys,” he explained, getting excited.

“Wait, just like that, and we’re done?  Just…done?” Dean questioned.

“Yes, Dean.  Just like that,” he said with the snap of his fingers.

“We’ve made it to heaven?” Sam asked incredulously.  “But Billie said—“

“Forget what she said, Sam. I’m in charge.  I make the rules and I would never let you two spend eternity in the Empty,” he shuddered.  “Besides, you guys fixed my relationship with Amara.  I owe you guys.”

“What about Cas?  He can’t end up there.  He’s family,” Dean stated.

Chuck sighed again. “I know.  I figured that’d come up.  I’ll pull some strings.  Don’t worry about it.”  He put his smile back in place.  “Now, are you guys ready to come with me or do you want to continue admiring the scenery?”

Sam and Dean looked around again, seeing nothing but whiteness all around.  They nodded.  Chuck nodded in return, and then the three of them were gone.

*

Castiel could feel dread and despair in the pit of his stomach.  He didn’t feel that way often, but when he did, he knew something was terribly wrong.  He’d never felt it this strongly before.  He was extremely worried for his friends.

Jack could pick up on Cas’s worry, but Cas refused to say anything when Jack questioned him on it. Cas just pushed harder on the pedal and flew down the highway, no regard to anything but getting there as soon as he could.  

When they pulled into town, Cas didn’t have to ask anyone where the strangers in the black car had gone. He could feel their presence and he followed his instincts to an old house on the edge of town.  

Sure enough, there was the Impala sitting there in the driveway.  He pulled up alongside it and quickly shut off the engine.  Throwing open his door, he raced out of the car, not bothering to close it or to wait for Jack to follow.  He raced up the porch steps and into the house, calling out to Sam and Dean as he went.  

Jack followed closely. He felt something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.  He knew Cas knew, too, but he would talk about it.  He felt confused and worried.  It wasn’t a combination of feelings that he liked very much.

Taking the stairs two at a time, the angel and the Nephilim quickly reached the second floor.  Cas didn’t bother searching each room.  He could feel a presence in the last room down the hall.  That’s where they needed to go.

Reaching the door, he froze, Jack nearly plowing into him.  

“No.  No no no!” Cas said in anguish, rushing to the brothers’ side.

Cas reached out to check their pulse, but knew from their cold skin that he wouldn’t find any.  He could clearly see that Sam went first by the way Dean cradled his hand in his own.  Tears burned in his eyes.  He was too late.  He wasn’t there for them when they needed him most.  

He reached out his hands again, placing an index finger on each of their foreheads, hoping beyond hope he could fix them, heal them, bring them back to him.  His fingers wouldn’t even glow.  Nothing happened.  They were gone.  If only he’d been a few minutes quicker and reached them before they passed he could have saved them, or at least eased their pain in their passing.  It was obvious that they had died very painful deaths and it tore his heart to know that.  

Jack, who lingered just outside the door, was afraid to enter.  He knew something was wrong, that something major had happened, but a part of him wanted to remain unaware to the events to save himself the stress, while the rest of him needed to know what had happened.

Deciding that it was inevitable, he stepped inside.  

Jack’s world spun.  He felt dizzy with surprise, shock, unimaginable sadness, and unquenchable rage.  Lying there were two of the three people who meant the most to him.  They were two of the few people in his short life that he had learned to trust.  They were people that he loved.

“NO!” he screamed, the single word tore through his throat in a bellow that physically shook the room.

“Jack—“ Cas, distraught, tried to calm him.

“NOOO” he shouted again.

The creature in the room, which had remained invisible up to this point, chose this moment to expose itself, giving the room an eerie glow.  

Jack’s eyes lit up yellow in response, seeing this creature as a target.  He squared his shoulders and curled his hands into fists.  Anger coursed through his veins.

“Jack!  Stay away from it!  We don’t know—“ Cas tried, but was cut off.

“YOU STOLE THEM FROM ME. YOU KILLED MY FAMILY!” he raged, shaking with the emotion.

The creature, this monster, glowed just a little brighter.  Jack closed his eyes, feeling the power surging through him and harnessed it, focusing it to his will.  His eyes opened and his fists glowed with power.  Taking a deep breath, he released it all toward the beast.  When it made contact, the creature exploded, blasting raw energy outward.  The whole house shook from the impact.  

When things settled down, Cas lifted his head.  A split second before the blast, he had wrapped his wings around himself and the Winchesters, knowing that Jack was unstable and there was no telling what would happen, especially with such an ancient creature.  

Surveying the room, he saw that the creature was gone.  There was no trace of it left and he had no doubts that it was really and truly dead. Next, though, he saw Jack.  His heart plummeted for a second time that day.

Jack lay on the floorboards, looking not much better off than the Winchesters’ bodies.  

“Jack!” He ran to his side, cradling his head on his arm and pulling him close.  “Jack, open your eyes,” he said, giving his cheek a pat.  

Jack complied, and looked up at Castiel’s face hovering over his own.  

“Did I kill it?” he asked in a soft voice.  He gave a small cough, which left his teeth coated red.

“Yes, Jack.  You killed it.”

Jack nodded. “Good.”  Another cough.  “Couldn’t let it get away,” he paused to breathe, “with taking them,” a couple breaths, “or let it hurt you,” he finished with a few more coughs.

Castiel smiled at him. “Of course not.”  He lifted his free hand.  “Now let me heal you.”

“No, Cas,” he said weakly. “I should go.”

“What?  Why, Jack?  They may be gone, but I’m still here.  We have each other.”

Jack shook his head. “I feel it.  My time.  Besides,” he paused, pulling in another painful breath, “my mom’s waiting.”

“No, Jack.  She’d want you to live.”

Cas reached his hand out again and touched it to Jack’s forehead.  This time, his fingers glowed, but nothing happened.  He frowned, sensing that Jack was blocking it with his own power.  He dropped his hand.

“Jack, please.  You can’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he said with another cough.

“Jack…you can’t.  You can’t leave me.  Don’t leave me all alone, Jack.  I beg you,” he pleaded, tears burning his eyes.

Jack reached a hand out and placed it on Cas’s forearm.  “It’s okay. I’m done, but you…still have…work to do…before you go.  You’ll be okay,” he said between breaths.

Tears streamed down Cas’s cheeks.  “Then let me help you,” he said as he sobbed.

He placed his hand to Jack’s forehead once again, and this time Jack didn’t stop him.  He allowed Cas to take away the pain.  Cas could see Jack’s face ease away from the discomfort, his body relaxing as he held him close.

“Thanks, Cas…for everything,” he said and his eyes fell closed.  Cas felt his body still and go limp.  

Cas wasn’t sure how long he sat there cradling Jack and being surrounded by the only people he’d ever really learned to love throughout all his countless years.  Just a couple decades ago, he wouldn’t have been able to describe what love felt like.  Not really. But now, not only could he describe love, but he could also explain happiness, a sense of belonging, and of heart-wrenching sadness.  He questioned whether it was worth it all, just to feel how he felt now.  Maybe it would have been better to never have met them.

He dismissed those thoughts. To have never met the Winchesters or Jack would have meant never having a purpose, never having a family.  He couldn’t imagine giving all that up, even if it meant experiencing the torture he now felt.  

He knew he’d eventually give the three of them a proper hunter’s funeral, but for now, he allowed himself the time to grieve.  

*

It had been 172 years, three months, two weeks, and two days since he’d watched Sam Winchester type away on his laptop while researching their latest case.

It had been 172 years, two months, three weeks, and four days since he’d watched Dean Winchester scarf down a double bacon cheeseburger.

It had been 172 years, four months, one week, and five days since Jack Kline bombarded him with random questions, the kid always being curious about the big wide world that he didn’t have the chance to fully explore.

It had been 172 years, five months, two weeks, and six days since they’d sat around eating pizza and binging Netflix in the bunker.

It had been 172 years, one month, three weeks, and four days since Castiel lost it all.

In most of his innumerable years, Cas had been alone.  He’d done his duties without thought, without question to anything else.  It wasn’t until he had others in his life, people to fill the void he didn’t know existed, that he understood the meaning of being truly alone.  He learned that being alone and being lonely were two very different things.  

On his deathbed, Jack had assured him that he still had a purpose in this life, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what that was.  He didn’t want to doubt the boy, but he wondered if Jack only said it to make him feel better.  Cas didn’t feel like he had anything anymore, no reason to keep going.

He gave up hunting. He couldn’t bear to do it without them. He never stepped foot into the bunker again, either.  He couldn’t. That place held too many memories. It would be far too painful.

Instead, he spent his time replaying and replaying the events of that night, wishing he could change things.  He knew it wasn’t helping, that it was an unhealthy habit, but he couldn’t help it. It was the single most worst thing that had ever happened to him in his whole life, and he was a celestial being.

He kept to himself, even turning off angel radio.  He didn’t want to be bothered with the problems of others.  He had his own.  Much like Metatron, he hid himself away from the world.

He knew that his pain and grief would keep the Empty from claiming him and he should be grateful, but there were times when he wished it would come and swallow him up, to save him from this agony.  But, he supposed, that was the point.  The Empty wanted him to suffer, and he was.  

Eventually, Cas decided that he needed to do something.  A couple decades after the incident, he began going out and helping others.  He’d find those who were on their deathbeds and ease the transition for them.  He’d take their pain away.  Could he have healed them?   Sure, but he knew that that wasn’t his place.  He targeted people whose number was up and helped them pass painlessly. It was the least he could do after failing his friends.  No one else should have to suffer like they had.  

Years passed.  There were those out there who knew what he did and spread rumors.  He became known as the Angel of Death.  They most likely didn’t know that he was an actual angel, so it was ironic, but fitting. He didn’t care.  

Some worshipped him. Others hunted him, not really sure if his intentions were as good as people claimed.  Some thought he actually killed people instead of helping them.  

The Winchesters’ name had become a sort of legend among hunters.  Some believed they were actual people once, but others believed they were just tall tales.  Either way, many knew their name.

No one knew at the time, but before his death, Sam had been working on an online database for hunters to keep track of their information.  It was a way for them to communicate, a way for them to post their journals online for everyone to take note.  He had hoped that it would help save people.  And it did.

After a month of Sam’s neglect on the program, the site had a built in command to go public, in the case of his death.  Only hunters could access it, having to answer a series of questions only a true hunter would know in order to get on.  

When hunters found it, they spread the word, connecting hunters from around the world and sharing the knowledge they’d learned on the job.  Some hunters spent their time mostly organizing the info gained, almost becoming modern-day Men of Letters, in a sense.  

The site made hunting much quicker and simpler.  Many hunters gained longer lifespans because of it.  

When Cas found out, he was proud of Sam, but not at all surprised.  That was just who Sam was, always using his abilities to help others and save lives.  Even in death, he saved people.

He logged on himself once, and searched the creature that had claimed the lives of those he loved. There was only one entry, made by Sam himself a couple years before he died.  It was vague, but it was unmistakably the same creature that they met face to face.  Of course Sam would’ve heard of it.

He wondered if Sam thought about that before his life ended, thought about the fact that he had found this ancient creature thought to be extinct.  He didn’t doubt it, even though he, himself, had never even heard of it, even in all his many years.

Cas took the time to add what he knew of the creature onto the page, how a Nephilim could kill them. Maybe the information could help someone someday.  He shrugged.

Castiel found himself squatting in an old cabin in the woods one night.  It was out of season for camping, so he figured no one would need it for a while.  He had just helped another soul cross over, so he felt at peace.  Not quite content or happy, but close enough.  

He grabbed some logs and placed them in the fireplace.  He was reaching for the matches when he heard a noise.  He halted and turned around.  His skills as a hunter had gone rusty and he no longer had any care for self-preservation, so he was unperturbed when he came face to face with a man holding a gun pointed to his chest.

The man stared him down, daring him to try something, to at least beg for his life, but Cas just stood there, waiting for whatever was going to happen.

“You just gonna stand there?” the man said gruffly.  He wore jeans and a button up, not dissimilar to what Sam and Dean used to wear.  He was clean shaven with messy dark blonde hair. He was middle aged and had a stocky build.  In addition to the gun pointed at him, he also carried a knife at his waist.  Cas guessed this man was a hunter.  

Cas just shrugged. “What would you like for me to do?”

The man narrowed his eyes at him.  “Don’t get smart with me.  I’m the one with the gun.”

“So I’ve noticed.  Are you here for a chat or can I go ahead and make a fire?  It’s a bit chilly in here,” he said conversationally, taking a glance around while rubbing his hands together.

The man just stood there for a second.  “So that’s it?  You’re not gonna put up a fight?  The great Angel of Death is just going to lay down and take it?  I expected more.”

Cas sighed.  “Would I be right in assuming I ‘hurt’ someone you loved?  I was wondering how long it would take for someone to catch up with me,” he said wearily.

The man’s face grew angry and red.  “You took her from me!” he yelled.  “You took my little sister!  Why? She never did anything to anyone,” he said more softly.

Cas took a moment to answer, thinking back.  “When was this, if I may ask?”

“Six years ago you killed her.  We were in an accident.  A deer ran out in front of us.  It was dark and raining and I tried to get away…hit a tree.  It took me a few minutes to come to, but when I did…I saw a figure bent over her.  There was a light and by the time I got out of the car, they were gone and she….” He paused and sniffed.  “That was you and you killed her!  You took her life away.  She was engaged.  Had her whole life ahead of her and you robbed her of it!”

Cas remained silent, let the man get his anger out.  After a while of silence, he spoke.  “Yes. I remember her.  She was a beautiful spirit.  Such a short life, but she had a good one.  She—“

“SHUT UP!  SHUT UP RIGHT NOW!  Don’t talk about her like you knew her!” he screamed, the gun in his hands shaking.

“But I do know her, just as I know you.  Her death destroyed you.  You blamed yourself.  But more so, you blamed me.  You heard about the Angel of Death online and eventually became a hunter.  You devoted your life to finding me and getting revenge. Is that about right?” he said calmly.

“Who are you?  What are you?”

“It really doesn’t matter. If you want to kill me, go ahead,” he said simply.

“What?!  No.  I want to know why you did it!  What was she to you?”

“She was suffering.  I only meant to take her pain away.  It was her time.  It wasn’t my place to restore her when she was destined to move on.  Is that satisfactory?” “You were trying to help her?  Why should I believe you?”

Cas shrugged. “Believe me.  Don’t believe me.  I don’t care.  I simply made it my mission to save people from suffering.  I didn’t want others to feel what my friends did.  I failed them.  The least I can do is help others.”

The man just stared at him. “Friends?  What friends could a creature like you possibly have?”

“I’m not a creature. I’m an angel of the Lord.  And my friends died many years ago.  They were hunters like yourself.  They were the very best.  Saved the world a few times,” he said proudly.

“What kind of bull is that? No one saves the world.  Except in those stories everyone likes to tell.  You know, those made up stories about those brothers.  The Winchesters.  Sa--”

“Yeah, Sam and Dean,” Cas interrupted, a fond look on his face.  “My friends.  My family. It’s been too long.”

The man laughed.  “You mean to tell me that they’re real?  Man, you’re crazy.  Next you’ll probably tell me that your name is Casteel.”

“It’s Castiel, actually. No one’s called me that in a long time.”

The man’s smile fell. “You’re not saying those stories are actually real…like they happened for real…” he trailed off.

“Oh, yes.  They were very real.”

“Like,” he stopped to think, “Sam jumping into the pit or Dean taking the Mark of Cain?” he said, nearly laughing.  

“Yes.  Poor Sam was soulless for a while after that.  And that Mark was nothing but trouble.  But we finally got it off.  It was actually the beginning to repairing God’s relationship with his sister.  It worked out quite nicely.”

The guy sputtered. “God, like God God?  And his sister?”

“Yes.  He has a beard.  His name is Chuck.  Nice guy,” Cas stated.

“Man, you must be losing it. That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“If I’m losing it, then how did I know all that about you and your sister?”

“Maybe you can read my mind or something.”

Cas paused, thinking. “Well, I could, but that would be quite painful.  I’m a celestial being.  I just know things about people.”

“If you’re so important, why don’t you smite me, then?”

Cas shook his head. “I have no reason to want to hurt you. You are grieving.  I understand that all too well.  I have been grieving for 172 years.  Besides, your gun wouldn’t hurt me.  You cannot kill me.  And if you tried, I wouldn’t stop you.  I have nothing to live for anymore,” he said seriously.

“You don’t want to help people anymore?”

“I’m tired, Ethan,” he said, then hesitated.  “Is it alright if I call you that?  I know you didn’t formerly introduce yourself.”

“Look, man, this is weird. I don’t know what to think.”  

“Then don’t,” he said, sliding an angel blade from his coat sleeve.  He handed it to Ethan.  “This will do the job.”

Ethan set down his gun and took it, looking it over in confusion.

“It’s an angel blade. It will kill angels.  And demons, too.  It’s very useful.  It’s all yours, just please give me this mercy.”

“Wait, you want me to kill you?” he said incredulously.

“Yes.  I have wished for death for such a long time.  Spending an eternity in the Empty will be preferable to this existence, I think.”

“Yeah, but…what about…”

“Didn’t you come here to kill me?  Wasn’t that your mission, your purpose in life since your sister’s death?  Then kill me, please!” Cas nearly shouted.

“But this isn’t what I’d expected.  This isn’t—“

Cas reached out and grabbed the man’s shirt collar in a strong grip.  “I killed your sister.  Avenge her!”

The man pulled back, wrenching off Cas’s grip.  “But, but you didn’t, you…”

“PLEASE!” Cas said emphatically.  “I have tried so hard to keep going.  Maybe helping people like your sister was my purpose like Jack said, but I can’t do it anymore!  I’m done! I need to move on.  The pain doesn’t ever go away.  I can’t stop replaying that night.  I need peace.  I need for it all to be over.  Help me like I helped your sister, Melanie.  Like I’ve helped so many others.  Put me out of my misery.  Don’t tempt me with death and not give it to me.  Please,” he begged.  

Ethan stood there, clenching the angel blade in his hands while he looked over at Castiel.  He noticed for the first time how haggard he looked, how pain seemed etched into his very bones.  Whether he really was who he said he was, this was a man who had been through a lot.  This was someone who had reached his limit and then some.  

He was right; he did come here to kill this man.  Even if this stranger was trying to be good and helped Melanie, he was asking for mercy now.  It didn’t feel right.  It felt less like revenge and more like killing someone who didn’t deserve it, but yet was begging for it.  

He felt something deep down, something he’d never felt before.  He didn’t think that he’d be able to just walk away, knowing he’d allowed this man to continue suffering.  His pain may not be something he could see, but this man was broken. He told himself it’d be like killing a deer that got hit by a car.  Sometimes it can’t be saved, but it shouldn’t have to suffer any more.  

“Okay,” he said quietly, getting a good grip on the strange weapon he’d been handed.

He saw the angel’s shoulders relax as if a heavy burden had been lifted from them.  He looked lighter, freer.  

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.  

The man just nodded, unable to form words.  He stared at the angel, unsure.  Cas nodded back at him, silently telling him to go on.  He got closer, held it to the angel’s chest.  Closing his eyes, he thrust it through his chest.  The angel fell, the blade falling from his hands and clattering to the floor.  

He looked down and saw Castiel, dead, the shadow of his wings spread out majestically on either side of him.  He would have regretted what he’d just done if he hadn’t glanced at the angel’s face. Although his eyes were hollowed out, there was a trace of a smile lingering on his lips.

*

Castiel found himself standing on a black surface.  He shuddered to think of an eternity stuck in the Empty, such a dark place, but he didn’t care.  It was better than being on earth and being reminded of those he’d loved and lost.

He looked up and his breath caught in his throat.  Surrounding him was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.  This was surely not the Empty.  This was something wonderful.  All around him were trees and grass, all so green and lush and beautiful.  Flowers of every color were scattered around the tall grass, and the sky above was the bluest blue he’d ever laid eyes on.  

Stretching in front and behind him was an asphalt road.  He didn’t know where it led, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to find out.  Stepping forward, he followed it, taking in the sights and sounds all around.  The wind blew gently and the birds sung from the treetops.  

He didn’t know how long he walked.  It seemed long, but it wasn’t unpleasant.  Eventually, he came upon an old, two story home.  It had a nice wrap around porch with a swing, and each window had shutters on either side.  These details were great, but they weren’t what took his attention.  Sitting in the driveway was a pristine, black, 1967 Chevy Impala.  Baby.  

Cas ran to the front door, his blue tie flopping over his shoulder.  He pounded the door and rang the bell, feeling completely overwhelmed and impatient.

The door swung open, revealing Dean standing there, a beer in one hand as the other gripped the door.

“Hey, look who decided to show up!” he said, beaming.  

Sam approached, and his face lit up when he saw who it was.  “Cas!  You made it! You’re just in time, too.  We were just about to get started and everyone else is already here.  Just waiting on you, man,” he said, reaching out to engulf the angel into a hug.  

When they finally pulled apart, Dean reached out for a hug as well.

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” he said when they parted.  He stepped into the foyer and Dean closed the door behind him.  “Am I dead?  Where am I? Is this a dream?  Wait, no.  I don’t sleep, do I?” he rambled.

Dean laughed.  “No, you don’t, man.  And yeah, you kicked the bucket.  You’re in heaven.”  

Cas looked at him in confusion.  “But, angels go—“

“To the Empty, I know,” Dean finished.   “Chuck pulled some strings.  You get your own slice of heaven pie!” he said with a grin.

“This is our heaven, me and Dean’s,” Sam explained, “but ours are all connected.  I’m sure you have a house down the road.  Everyone else does.”

“Everyone else?  But…you seemed to be expecting me?  You knew I’d come?” he questioned.

“Nah, just a hunch. It just felt right.  Kinda how this place works or something,” Dean said. “Anyway,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “how ‘bout some grub?  I’m starving!”

Dean led the way to the backyard.  There was an insanely long picnic table set up with all kinds of food anyone could imagine. It was mostly barbeque, but with lots of sides as well, along with some fresh lemonade.  There was a general bustle as those seated around the table served themselves and passed platters of food down the row.  Cas realized that everyone was here: Mary, John, Bobby, Charlie, Kelly… everyone who’d ever made an impact on the Winchester’s lives.  

He saw Jody and Donna chatting away and Kevin helping himself to some fried rice, among others.

“Cas!”

Cas turned toward the voice. “Jack?!”

Jack ran over and gave him a big hug.  

“It’s been a while, Castiel. You took a while to get here,” Jack said.

“Well, it wasn’t really up to me, was it?  Besides, I’m here now, and that’s all that matters,” Cas answered.  Jack nodded with a big smile.

“Felix is here, too!” Jack said happily, indicating the red and black snake he had draped over his shoulders.  Cas heard Dean mumble something about snakes and heaven before walking away toward the food. “He’s much happier here, like I’d hoped he’d be,” Jack continued.

“Yes, he does appear quite content,” Cas replied.

“Well, come on, Cas. Dig in,” Sam said before joining his brother at the table.

Castiel took a moment to take it all in.  All his friends and loved ones were here in one place.  This really and truly was heaven.  Cas took his seat beside the Winchesters and dished himself up some food, more than happy to savor his slice of the heaven pie he was blessed to share with those he called his family.

#fanfic #fanfiction #mine #how it should end #supernatural #spn #season 15 #speculation #whump #death #blood #case fic #happy ending #winchesters #sam winchester #dean winchester #jack kline #castiel #oc #hurt sam #hurt dean #hurt jack #hurt cas #hurt #hurt comfort #pain #kansas #carry on wayward son

[luxexhomines]

DR1 Cast Post-Killing Game AU

This is a request from @princeasimdiya12​ on an AU of the Danganronpa 1 cast’s life after their killing game if the killing game was fictional and they were actors or willing participants. I’m sorry that it took me so long! 

The link below leads to the NDRV3 fanfiction the idea is from:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/13574421

I was unfortunately ultimately unable to write for all of the characters, but I wanted to write for characters outside of just the survivors, so I did half the cast. They all somewhat vary in length and most characters are extremely different from their canon characterization–some, almost opposites. This was my first request, so it’s somewhat special to me ♡♡♡ Thank you for requesting from me! It was a thought-provoking prompt. 

It includes Touko Fukawa, Kyouko Kirigiri, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Byakuya Togami, Celestia Ludenburg, Sakura Oogami, Aoi Asahina, and Yasuhiro Hagakure. However, there are mentions of other characters in a few of them. There are vague mentions of spoilers for DR1. Minor swearing for last one.

resolute

Touko stands in the bathroom, hands on the counter, staring at the girl who stands opposite of her in the mirror.

She’s decided.

Bearing a pair of scissors–although they make her shudder so when she considers the implications of her fake past when in the killing game–she grabs the two long purple braids, so long that they drag on the white, too-white tiles of the floor, and cuts them both close to her scalp.

Admittedly, it took a lot more effort than she initially had predicted to cut them, but, not surprisingly, she didn’t feel any kind of sorrow or remorse at getting rid of them.

Walking to the garbage can beside the toilet, she lets them fall into the plastic bag like long ropes, ropes she’s decided not to hang herself with and let herself be bound by to her time in the game long after the season ended, even though she knows the pain will remain until she’s stopped breathing.

She went in there resolved not to kill anyone in the game, despite her backstory as one of a serial killer, and came out resolved not to kill anyone, even if it was herself that she so desired to kill.

rejection

It happened one day as she was on her way out to buy groceries. She made eye contact with that man. She averted her gaze and side-stepped into a dark alleyway, hoping he wouldn’t attempt to follow her.

Kyoko had never liked Naegi.

Maybe never liked wasn’t quite the right phrase–rather, their element simply did not mix.

That’s why that time she had been forced to save him from the garbage disposal where he belonged following his supposed execution, trying to act like she had even an ounce of sympathy and affection for him when it was exactly the opposite, had probably been the most difficult course of action she had ever been requested of in the show. Except perhaps for their required weekly appearance together in the public when she was required to make a show of affection and love toward him.

After that, Naegi seemed to unquestionably believe in her and even–god forbid–love her.

He was like a hopeless little lovesick puppy, and probably the only person in the killing game whose personality stayed true from his usual demeanor in real life, and couldn’t see the difference between the cold facade she put up in the game and the coldness of which she reserved a special place for him in her heart.

It was sickeningly predictable, boring and hopeful that of all people, the protagonist was the one who kept their real personality.

And Kyoko hated it.

ready to let go

Ishimaru was tired.

The first few drops of rain were coming down, staining his black suit, and he knew it'd escalate into a full-on downpour soon enough. Yet, even knowing this and having brought an umbrella that hung on his arm, he had no will or energy to open the umbrella, much less lift it above his head and keep it there.

It made for an odd sight, a young professional strolling down the street as the clouds gathered over his head and conspired to make rain and drown him in their fluids, an umbrella loosely hanging from his arm, folded and with no signs of use nor the intention of being opened.

But then again, maybe it was all just what was coming to him. Back when he'd been a part of the killing game, too, he'd quietly accepted his fate of being killed off—perhaps too easily—letting whatever was coming his way simply come.

He was tired, though. The way he saw it was that there was nothing to be done about it—or anything in this world, for that matter. When he thought back on his self-righteous words about working hard regardless of talent, he scoffed. He hardly got to where he was today with hard work. Without his talent, he just as likely would have rotted away in some corner of the world, unknown and forgotten, without the motivation to live and ascend from the depths of such despair.

Ishimaru walked in his house and closing the door behind him, undressed sloppily, leaving his entire formal wear on the wooden floor near the entrance,  sopping wet, and wrapped a black bathrobe around his naked body. He was too tired to do anything else anyway, even to wipe his body dry, and collapsed on the couch, ready to pass out, but sleep not willing to come to him.

The rest of the evening, he was plagued with the artificial memories of his time and brotherhood with Mondo, another facet of his character that had been completely made up. After all, Mondo was just like him—too tired to deal with the bullshit of life—and in reality, the two of them only made for a depressing pair that made minimal effort. Yes, their relationship could be labeled as friendship. But being the kind of people they were, they barely had the motivation to meet up or keep in touch when they were exerting all their effort just doing what was required of them to stay alive. So they had drifted apart over the years.

Ishimaru's head hurt from all the thinking. Why couldn't he take a break from thoughts, too? If he was so tired, why didn't he just go rest eternally?

But he already knew the answer to those questions, too.

He was too tired to arrange a way to die either, so this was just going to be how he went about the rest of his uneventful and tiresome life. Alone and exhausted, day after day, until, hopefully, he'd die peacefully.

Ishimaru hoped that day came soon. He was ready. He had been ready for a long, long time.

twisted strength

Byakuya Togami sat on an armchair near the fireplace, leg crossed over the other elegantly. His suit was right in place, not a single wrinkle out of place, and he sipped a cup of coffee.

It was funny how so much was wrong even though he looked exactly the same as he had in the killing game. The trials and tribulations he’d gone through with the rest were going to stay with him forever, still had their imprint irritating his daily, normal life. He had to go to the therapist at least once a week. Once a week. And it had been years since the season had ended. That was time that he could be using to further his career, and–yes–the Togami corporation, which was not fictional.

He set down his coffee cup as he felt an onset of shivers and his heartbeats racing faster and faster. With the quickening pace of his pulsing heart, his breath became more and more shallow, and he struggled to keep control, placing his hands on his knees and squeezing tightly.

Even though he knew in his mind that this fear was irrational, seeing as he was no longer a participant–albeit willing–of the killing game, he could not calm himself down in the slightest. He gripped his elbows in a tight hold over himself as he shook uncontrollably, trying to prevent himself from hyperventilating.

All those years in therapy after the event. And he still couldn’t shake the fear that sometimes arose from within and consumed his ability to function like a normal human being. Sometimes he thought it would’ve been better if he had ended himself before he even went into that game. Now, nearly a decade after the fact, ending his life would be a joke in comparison to the suffering he went just to live.

No, Byakuya was not going to die. He was determined to live, even if he knew he wasn’t going to enjoy it.

a modest life

Celestia took a heavy box from the cart of items and stocked the shelves slowly, jar by jar, box by box. She knew it was slow going like this, yet she couldn’t bring herself to move any faster. She was just so tired. She didn’t know why she was still doing this kind of work, day after day.

Not that she wanted to be sitting on a throne with butlers serving her--no, no, that was only the dreams that had dissipated into vapor the moment they left her lips, the dreams that she had never truly held in her mind’s eye. She preferred the quiet, homely life here, hair pulled back into a ponytail, dressed in a simple red polo shirt and khaki capri shorts.

There was nothing to want for or chase after here. Nothing to make her want to act in unspeakable manners. Even if it had been fake, she shuddered at the thought of possessing the capacity to murder someone, take their life from their beating heart as they lay vulnerable to her every whim, or having the ability to manipulate others with such deadly accuracy and with such brutal ways.

No, the simple life here was all she’d wanted and all she’d ever want. Having such power in her hands again could only lead to disaster. She’d stay here, working at the grocery store each day, living a plain, uneventful life as much as possible until the day she died, which would be a similarly plain event.

physical reminders

Sakura had rolled up a sleeve and had been staring at her scarred arm for the past–oh, hour or so. It was just another memento of her time with the others–something that she had done to herself for the sake of the killing game. Looking back, she’s horrified and disgusted she had seen the killing game as such a momentous event that she would need to commit atrocities to herself in order to fully curate the most believable, scintillating experience as possible for both the viewers and herself.

But then she feels a smaller hand rest on her own, and she turns to face the girl beside her. It was Aoi, and she was looking at Sakura with eyes that drooped with sorrow and true empathy.

Sakura rolled down her sleeve on her tan, marked skin and took Aoi into her arms, who let her head fall on Sakura’s chest lovingly and stroked Sakura’s back silently. There were a lot of places she could be right now. But she didn’t want the killing game to be one of them. She’s made a real effort to focus on the present and face forward, after all, even if memories of what was still liked to make an appearance now and then.

inadmissible dreams

Aoi didn’t talk anymore. She had learned that her mouth only led to more trouble for herself and the people around her. That’s why she let all her actions do the talking. It was so much easier this way, so much better–or was it really? Maybe she had just convinced herself that it was better this way. Because it was definitely easier this way. No more having to worry over her words, choosing the right ones, phrasing them the correct way–because she no longer had to say any. Actions were simple, straightforward, and would never lie to you, would never cause misunderstanding. Turning away or walking toward someone spoke every and any language needed, provided they could see you or hear your footsteps.

She leaves a note for Sakura before she heads out, so Sakura doesn’t have to worry and call only to receive a silent answerer on the other side.

She walked on the pavement briskly and passing a bakery, stopped and did a double-take. Of course, the sweet, glazed rings of dough were present. She started walking again. Never again would she eat one. They were a symbol of her yearning, childish fantasies and hopes in the face of insurmountable grief and pain. She wouldn’t let herself harbor such naive hopes again in this bleak world in which it seemed the only source of comfort and camaraderie was Sakura.

reliability

He wondered if the only source of stability in this world was the shitty things that happen in life. As far as he’d come, he’d never found there to be anything he could truly rely on–not himself, not the goodwill of others, and much less the fluctuating market or weather. There were some things he could control, but so much would always lay out of his hands.

Thinking back on his supposed fortune telling rates, an actually rather remarkable rate of thirty percent, he laughed. If only even thirty percent of this world could be predicted or relied on.

As he sat at the table, sipping cold tea that had been steeped in the leaves for too long, he ran his weathered fingers across his newly shorn locks, which were cut dangerously close to his head. It was much easier to manage.

He tipped the cup as he tilted his head back, swallowing all that remained in the cup but the tea leaves. Upon setting down the cup, he stared at the tea leaves for a moment, only to laugh. An image of a car was vaguely eminent, supposedly approaching wealth in that language. It was ridiculous. Yasuhiro stood, scraped the leaves into the trash, and set the cup in the now-full dishwasher.

The only thing you could count on in this world was the shitty things. To think otherwise would only lead to a gross misunderstanding of life and a feeling of being wronged when it was just the way things were.

#danganronpa drabbles #danganronpa fanfiction #dr1 fanfiction #dr1 #danganronpa 1 #dr1 drabbles #kyouko kirigiri #aoi asahina #kiyotaka ishimaru #byakuya togami #sakura oogami #touko fukawa #yasuhiro hagakura #celestia ludenburg #danganronpa #drabbles #writing #lux writes #luxexhomines #request #princeasimdiya12 #my first request! #not the first one fulfilled but def the first one i received & started writing for #it took me some time...especially because it's hard when you don't have inspo aha #but i got half done! #some swearing #so #swearing tw #tw swearing #i don't believe i'll ever write for the rest of the cast especially bc i mention a couple of them here