#my step brother got arrested again

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Dean’s Girl

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: When you get in trouble, you know just where to turn.

Your big brother was more than just your big brother. He was your best friend, your confidant, the one who raised you, and the one constant in your life.

When your mom died, Dean was there. When Sam went to college, Dean was there. When dad disappeared, Dean was there.

But now, Dean wasn’t here, and you had no idea what to do.

You had just gone out to get some food, that was it! Dean and Sam had been hunting a vampire nest, and since you were out of food you were going to go steal some for the guys, knowing that when they got back they’d be hungry. The one time you tried to be useful, and you just ended up getting caught.

The worst part was that you hadn’t been caught right away. Nope, you’d run all the way to your hotel, and you’d hoped that you could get into your room before the cop saw which way you turned, but it didn’t work out like that. Instead, the officer caught you with one foot in the door, which meant that he saw the wall covered in pictures and clippings of the victims of the vampires your brothers were hunting.

That predicament led to this one; you sitting in an interrogation room, your hands handcuffed to the table. You tried to imagine how Dean would be in this situation; would he be sarcastic and ornery, or would he be stoic and silent?

Not that it mattered what he would do; it was all you could do to keep from going into a panic attack, you definitely couldn’t pass for sassy or stoic at the moment.

“You’ve got a lot to explain, kid.” That was the first thing the officer said to you after he stepped into the room. “Look, we know you didn’t kill those people. But we also know that you checked in with a couple of men, right? Well we can get you off the stealing charges if you tell us what they did.”

“I want my phone call.” You didn’t even acknowledge the man’s words; the only thing you’d been able to think about since the second you got caught was ‘I need Dean.’

“Well maybe if you gave me some information I could arrange that for you.”

“I want my phone call.”

“I understand that.” The officer’s voice rose in agitation. “But I need you to tell me what those men did.”

You again ignored his words. You didn’t—couldn’t—think of anything but your big brother right now.

“I want my phone call.”

…

“Y/N? Gosh, kid, we’ve been calling you! Where—“

“De-Dean I’m so sorry,” you whimpered. “I-I didn’t mean to, I just—“

“Hey hey, slow down.” Dean’s voice lowered, trying to ease your panic. “It’s alright, we’re almost at the motel. Now—“

“No, no! Dean, don’t go back to the motel.”

“Why not? Baby, you’ve gotta tell me what’s going on.”

“I got—I got arrested,” you mumbled, blinking back tears.

“You what?! Y/N, what happened?”

“You can’t go back to the motel! They-they saw all the pictures, they’re waiting there!”

“Ok, ok baby we’re not, calm down. Me and Sammy are gonna figure it out, ok? We’ll come and get you. We might need a diversion, can you do that?”

“I-I…” your voice quavered when an officer returned to the room, tapping his watch.

“Y/N, listen! I need you to pull yourself together, ok? Can you do this?”

“I-I can,” you breathed. “De, I’m—I’m scared.”

“I know baby,” Dean sighed. “We’re coming to get you, ok?”

“Time’s up,” the officer interrupted.

“I gotta go,” you said shakily into the phone.

“Ok, that’s ok,” Dean soothed. “I’m gonna see you in just a little while, ok?”

Before you could say anything, the officer took the phone from your grasp and hung it up.

…

When it was clear that you wouldn’t speak without a lawyer or guardian present, one of the nicer officers suggested that you could wait in his office where it was more comfortable. Even so, you were so wound up that when a branch hit the window you just about jumped out of your skin.

“Things would go so much easier for everyone if you just told us about the guys you were traveling with,” the officer said. You didn’t respond.

Bang! Scrape! The branch continued to hit the window.

“You’re just a kid. You probably won’t even serve jail time if you just tell us what those guys did.”

Scrape…bang…bang.

You sat up straighter in your seat as you began to listen more intently to the sounds the branch was making.

D…

Bang! Bang! Bang!

You knew it! Morse code!

E…

Bang! Scrape!

A…

Scrape, Bang!

N.

Dean. He was here!

You tried not to let your emotions show on your face as fear once again clenched in your gut. If Dean was giving you this signal, that meant it was time for your diversion. You had to get this guy out of the room.

“I need another officer,” you said suddenly. The man’s eyebrows rose in surprise; he hadn’t expected you to speak.

“Another?”

“A woman,” you clarified. “I…I have a problem. If-if you get me a women officer, and she helps me with my…problem…” you made sure to make your pauses as awkward as possible so that the guy would get the message. “Then I’ll talk.”

“Oh!” That got the guy’s attention, whether because he wanted you to talk or because he was uncomfortable, you didn’t know. Either way it worked, and he disappeared out the door, closing it behind him.

As soon as he was gone, you jumped up on the chair you’d been sitting on and pulled open the window.

“Hey baby,” Dean‘s voice came from outside. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you muttered nervously. “I-I don’t know if I can get out the window, the chair isn’t high enough.” The chair was just high enough for you to grab onto the window sill, but you weren’t strong enough to pull yourself up.

“That’s ok, I’m coming to get you.”

You looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of Dean through the window. He was climbing a tree just outside the window, and you jumped back in surprise when he leaped from the tree branch to the window. He pulled himself in easily, and dropped to the floor without making a sound.

You knew you were on a time-sensitive mission, but you couldn’t help yourself. As soon as Dean was in reach, you threw yourself into his arms. He staggered back slightly, lifting his hands to steady you by your shoulders.

“Ok, you’re ok kid,” he promised. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

With Dean’s boost, you managed to climb through the window, but once you were through you became dizzy looking at the ground so far below.

“Kid come on, we gotta go!” Dean insisted.

“It-it’s too high,” you whimpered.

“No it’s not. Just lower yourself down by your arms and drop, it’s not too far I promise.”

You took a deep breath. If Dean said it was safe, then it had to be safe. It had to be. You put your palms on the windowsill, gripping it tightly as you slowly lowered yourself down. You were still a long way from the ground, but you could already hear Dean climbing up onto the chair. You couldn’t let him down, not after he did all this to save you from your own mess.

You closed your eyes tightly, took a deep breath…and dropped.

The second your feet hit the ground, you rolled in the grass, lessening the impact of the fall. Dean was right; you were ok.

Speaking of Dean, he followed right behind you, shooting you a grin as soon as he was on the ground next to you.

“See? That was easy. Now let’s get going.”

You were in the Impala and on the road before anyone had any idea you were gone.

To your surprise, Sam was sleeping soundly in the passenger’s seat. When Dean saw Sam was sleeping, he spoke up.

“Alright, let’s talk. What happened, kid?”

You lowered your gaze to your lap as you struggled to speak, the adrenaline of your capture and escape still making your heart pound.

“I just wanted to get some food.”

“Why didn’t you just wait?” Dean demanded, still annoyed.

“I wanted to help.” You mumbled.

“Ok,” Dean sighed, relenting. “But you can’t just do that, ok? We had no idea what happened to you.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was thick as you blinked rapidly.

“Ok, ok.”

You looked up in surprise when Dean pulled the Impala over.

“What—“

Dean stepped out of the car and pulled open your door.

“Come here.”

You stepped hesitantly out of the car, your legs shaking.

“Am I in trouble?”

“Baby,” Dean sighed, shaking his head as he pulled you into his arms.

You didn’t know where this sudden affection came from, but you decided to run with it.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, your tears suddenly spilling over. “I-I didn’t mean to make it all harder. I just—I just thought I could help.”

“I know you did,” Dean sighed. “But next time you gotta tell us, ok?”

“It was just a stupid supply run, and I couldn’t even do that right!”

“Ok, ok,” Dean cradled your head with his hand, pulling you against his chest as you cried harder. “It’s alright. We all screw up, ok? It’s not important. You’ll do better next time, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I will, I promise.”

Dean smiled as you pulled away.

“That’s my girl.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy

@mrvlxgrl

#dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #the winchesters #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐏𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭-𝐈𝐧-𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝

Summary ➳ With a suspended license, you took the risk of picking up your brothers from a bar and when caught, Officer Walsh gives you a choice.

(A/n) ➳ I just realized that I’m still on season 3… I might end up rewatching season 1 and 2… Yeah, I’m rewatching it.

Word Count ➳ 1.4k

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, NO OUTBREAK, DARK SHANE, DARK CONTENT, DUB-CON/NON-CON, sexual content, , heavy profanity, mentions of drugs, alcohol use, oral (M), abuse of power, face-fucking, dacryphilia, hair pulling…

DARK CONTENT UNDER THE CUT. MDNI 18+

“Don’t be blamin’ me you damn dipshits!” You shouted over the phone as you struggled to boot your boots on. “How the hell did he even get kicked out?” You threw on your jacket.

“The hell was I supposed to know he was gonna get drunk?”

“You’re with him!”

“Jus’ get yer damn ass over ‘ere!”

“My license is suspended! Where’s your car?!

“The piece of shit broke down! It’s late, the cops ain’t gonna do anythin’.”

“Easy for you to fuckin’ say.” You groaned, grabbing Merle’s truck keys and walking out of the door. You angrily hung up on him, cutting off his cursing at Merle and loudly crashing.

You shoved the worn out key into the ignition, and felt that familiar click. You turned the key and waited for the engine to turn on. There’s a low rumble but then a silence.

You grumbled and turned the key again, it grumbled a little louder this time but nothing. “For fuck’s sake!” You shouted and tried it again, finally it turned on.

You changed gears and backed out of the driveway, and hurriedly drove to the only bar closest to where you all lived.

You again changed gears and turned on the radio as an attempt to calm down, but you knew it wasn’t helping when you were still cursing about Merle. You gripped the worn out steering wheel, trying to tune out the strange rumbling from the engine.

Urgency ran through your veins, and you didn’t pay attention to how fast you were going. It was nearly midnight, barely anyone was on the road.

From the familiar signs, you were at the outskirts of the town, just a couple of minutes away.

“Dammit!” You smacked the steering wheel as the red and blue lights appeared right behind you. A wave of uneasiness overcomes your anger, the last thing you wanted to was be arrested for evading the police.

The flashing lights illuminated the dark road as you pulled over, bringing the truck to a park. You can see from the mirror the officer leaving his car and speak to his radio.

You rolled down your window as he approached the truck, leaning towards the window. “Evenin’, ma’am. What brings you out here so late?”

You contained your frustration and put on a smile. “Just tryin’ to pick up my brothers from a bar.”

You felt like he stared longer than he should, you could see him scanning the inside of the truck, taking note of various Merle’s stuff scattered across the back seat.

“License and registration.” He asked.You reached over and opened the glove box and handed him your registration. He took the paper and lifted an eyebrow. “License?”

“Look officer…?” You looked at his badge but he beat you to it.

“Walsh.”

“Walsh, I don’t have it.”

You could see the disappointment in his eyes, he pulled out his pen and notepad. “Name and birthdate?”

“(Y/n) Dixon-”

“Dixon? Which would make you related to Merle Dixon?”

You reluctantly nodded. “Yes, he’s my brother. Look, I ain’t got time to talk. Can’t I just-”

“I’m assumin’ this ain’t your truck.” Before you could say anything else, he began to circle the truck with a lit flashlight in hand.

“Fuck me.” You mumbled, knowing Merle, he probably had some illegal substances hiding in wherever. “Fuck you Merle.” You cannot have a drug charge on your record, you could not have that.

“Can you step out of the vehicle for me?” He said out loud, coming back to the door.

“Officer-”

“Don’t make this difficult, Dixon.” He took a couple steps back, a hand on his hip as he waited for you. You unbuckled your seatbelt, turned off the truck and stepped out of it. “You have anythin’ you hidin’?” He questioned you.

“Nope.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

Shane smirked, turning off his flashlight. “You know what happens when you drive without a license?”

“Officer Walsh, my brothers need me to pick them up. Just write me a ticket and let me be on my way.”

“Drivin’ late at night, without a license? You know how dangerous it is?” He said. “Givin’ you a ticket ain’t gonna be enough.”

“Officer-”

“I’ll give you two choices.” Shane maneuvered around you, shutting the truck door, blocking the door. “I can arrest you and get you booked which could take…” He counted using his fingers. “A hour to a couple hours-”

“Then arrest me-”

“Minus waitin’ for your case.” Shane lowered his hands, grinning. “Or…” His hands reach for his belt, ready to unbuckle it. “You can get on your knees.”

“The hell I am-!”

Shane loudly hushed you. “You want me to turn a blind eye?”

You stumbled over your words, a mix of excuses and curses. But the shit eating grin was still on his face and when you took a glance at his crotch, he was already hard.

“You’re disgustin’.”

Shane shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Be a good girl, Dixon. Don’t be keepin’ your brothers waitin’.” He pulled himself out of his pants, and pumped himself slowly. “Get on your knees.”

“Fuck me.” You muttered under your breath, doing as he said.

“Don’t tempt me.”

You rolled your eyes and took him into your hands, jerking him off with a disgusted look on your face. You refused to look at him or his cock, keeping your gaze on the ground.

From base to head, you stroked, twisting your hand around it.

You wished to yourself that he would quickly cum and get on with your night. You tried to focus on something else and hoped that if anyone did pass by they wouldn’t see.

Shane grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it back roughly, a gasp lifted your lips. He shoved his thumb into your mouth as the rest of his fingers held your face.

He breathed heavily and plunged himself into your mouth. He forced you down to the base, his pubic hair itching your nose, making it scrunch. His hips began to buck and your jaw slacked.

Your hand clutched his pants, your nails digging into them. Your eyes shut tightly as each time he touched the back of your throat, you gagged.

Your saliva dripped down your chin, and when he tugged at your hair, you whimpered. The pain was unbearable as he took joy in seeing you in pain, your hot tears spilled from the corners of your eyes.

“You’ve done this before?” Shane sneered at you, throwing his head back and moaning quite loudly. It was like he didn’t care if he got caught. “You sure have a fuckin’ talent!”

Shane didn’t care for any discomfort you were feeling, all the stress that Merle and Daryl caused in the past was being taken out on you.

He pulled back until it’s just the head of his cock in your mouth then thrusted back in. Again and again, his hand tight in your hair, thrusting as hard and deep as he could and his cock glistening with saliva.

“Look at me.” He panted. “C’mom, look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, your eyes snapped to his, watery and wide, full of anger.

He cursed at you, biting down on his lip as the orgasm builded in him. He then held your head still as he was so far deep that your body jerked.

Shane gave out a loud grunt as he came inside and down your throat. You started to choke, you punched his thigh a couple of times before he threw you off him.

You hit the ground, coughing. You hissed and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. The salty and bitter taste in your mouth made you retch.

He let out a sigh of relief, tucking himself back into his pants. “Drive safely ma’am.” He laughed once again as he walked to his car. Once you were sure he drove off, you picked yourself up from the ground and quickly drove to the bar.

“Took yer sweet ass time!” Daryl shoved an unconscious Merle into the backseat before getting into the passenger side. “The hell happened?”

“Cops.” You packed out of the parking spot and drove, trying to focus on the road.

“Anythin’ happen? Ya alright?”

“Yeah, let me off with a warnin’.”

“Seriously-?”

“I’m tired Daryl. Just let me get this asshole home.” You couldn’t focus, not without the bitter taste in your mouth, drowning out Daryl’s attempts to wake his brother for his phone.

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission

#x reader #x female reader #shane walsh x y/n #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh #shane walsh x you #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead shane #the walking dead #The walking dead smut #shane walsh smut #twd smut #twd shane #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal x you

[inkykeiji]

character: hanemiya kazutora x fem!reader genre: smut warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (step siblings), naughty photographs, mentions of naughty letters and phone calls, coercion/guilt tripping, just general ickiness words: 1.3k

Your big brother is a sick, depraved man. 

He always has been.

You’ve always known it, a truth buried deep at the very core of your soul where it has begun to rot, to infect—you knew it when he killed Shinichiro, knew it when he stabbed Baji, knew it when he beat the boy who had been picking on you in first grade to near death, only a few days after you and your dad had moved into his mother’s dilapidated little house.

It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid anymore, he had said to you as his clumsy thumbs swiped through the streams of tears on your cheeks, leaving streaks of blood painted in their wake. I’m your big brother now, I’ll always keep you safe. 

And keep you safe he did, until he got sent away, and then got sent away again, and you were all alone once more.

They shaved his head down to his scalp when he was incarcerated, but it’s been several years since he was arrested now, moved from the juvenile detention center to a real prison, and his hair has begun to grow out again, fluffy onyx tufts curling over the tips of his ears and around his cheeks. 

He’s beginning to look like himself again. 

“Hi,” he pants as you reach his table, the breath released from the confines of its lungs, where you’re sure it’s been festering since your last visit, exactly seven days ago. 

“Hi, Tora-nii,” you nod politely, taking a seat across from him. 

Your knees knock together, and he scoots closer to the edge of the bench, the chains adoring his ankles jingling delicately. Your toes overlap his own as he wedges them beneath the soles of your feet, wiggling a little in his slip-on shoes. 

“I missed you,” the words surge from his mouth, as if he can’t spit them out fast enough, as if they need to be heard, immediately, clawed their way to freedom and left his throat raw. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” your fingers interlace with his, palms pressing together tightly, the silver cuffs shackling his wrists scraping against the metal tabletop.

“It’s fucking hell in here without you,” he admits, eyes downcast, calloused fingers playing with your own, folding and unfolding them. “I keep thinking about the day I’ll finally get out of here, the day when I’ll finally be able to be with you, to have you, but then I remember...It’s still years away.” 

He looks up, eyes suddenly bright, shining through a torrent of tears in that special way that is so uniquely him. 

“But the photos help. The photos help a lot.” His voice is husky, bordering on a ragged whine, and his knees bump against yours again. “I’m sure they’re nothing compared to your body, but...”

“I’m glad I can help, Tora-nii,” you whisper, gazing at him through your lashes, his stare too brilliant to meet head-on, to hold for an extended period of time. 

“Still so shy, my precious little sister,” a knuckle traces the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the bow of your lips, topaz eyes enraptured by its trajectory. “Will you still be this shy when I...”

And he can’t even say it, either—too vulgar, too naughty, too illicit to even be uttered in the breath between the two of you.

He swallows thickly, his words turned hoarse, raw, steeped in sick desire. “I hope you are.”

“Kazutora,” you whimper, sounding more like a plead to continue than an order to stop. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” he clears the grit from his voice. “I—I can’t wait to see what you’ve got for me this week, baby.”

Pricks of heat ripple across your face and you duck your head, nodding to yourself as you pull a hand free from his, sifting through your bag for the small collection of polaroids tied prettily with a piece of silk ribbon.

You’d think, after doing this for so many years, that you’d be used to it by now, but it still feels just as grimy and gross as it did three years ago, when he had begged you for a few photos—nothing crazy, he had promised, nothing too wicked or sinful, just a bikini photo or two, that’s all. 

That’s all he needs, he said, swore up and down, cross his heart, pinky promise. 

You were fucking stupid to have believed him. 

Because that’s never all he needs, when it comes to Kazutora. 

Because it won’t ever be truly enough; no matter how much of yourself you give to him, no matter how many shards of your body and slivers of your soul he pries from you, he’ll always crave more, devouring piece after piece until he’s consumed you fully, made you whole, made you one.

Please, sweetheart, I’m going fuckin’ crazy in here, he had told you with tears in his eyes, hands grasping yours so tightly your knuckles cracked, only a few months later. I—I’m so lonely, and I miss you so much, and I’m just so sad and, really, this is the least you could do to make your big brother feel a bit better, isn’t it?

A few pairs of panties and a single naked picture—you could part with those, couldn’t you? You wouldn’t miss those too much, would you? 

Of course not. 

The panties were short-lived—they were too stringy to be considered safe, and someone had already stolen a pair and tried to strangle another inmate with them, but the polaroids were deemed harmless, and so the polaroids stayed.

And so the polaroids grew, in numbers and in frequency, until you were delivering up to ten in one visit, doing your best to take into account all of Kazutora’s requests, as outlined in his previous letter from the week before.

And even though nothing will ever truly be enough for him, you continue striving to please him anyway; diligent, dedicated, desperate. 

Because you’re a good little sister, a kind little sister, an obedient little sister, the best little sister, he’s told you several times now—over this very table when you slip the polaroids across the scratched up metal surface; breathed out as a broken little whine into the phone receiver during his weekly two minute phone calls, when he inconspicuously stains the inside of his jumpsuit with thick, hot cum; in his letters, scrawled across the soiled page in his sloppy handwriting, when he details all of the things he wants to do to you, when he responds to all of the things you said you’d do to him.  

The guards know, of course—you’re pretty sure they know all of it, all about the nasty, naughty pictures you routinely deliver to your nii-san every Monday, the grotesque phone calls the two of you have perfected, the devilish letters you send one another, filled with vile thoughts and foul promises. 

You’re pretty sure they get off on it, too. They must; why else would they allow it to continue otherwise? 

The notion inspires a rush of shameful thrills to shoot through you, leaving your blood tingling and your chest giddy and heat seeping through the floor of your tummy, and you know it does the same for Kazutora, too. He’d at least try to hide it better if it didn’t. You know he would. 

And as perverted and nefarious as it all is, as horrible and sordid as you feel, it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t look forward to taking those photographs every week for him, if you said you didn’t feel a dizzying anticipation when coming up with new poses and angles, if you said you didn’t anxiously await his weekly letter, eager to know his thoughts, to read his praise.

Your big brother is a sick, depraved man.

He always has been.

You’ve always known it, because you are a sick, depraved little girl, too. 

You may not share blood, but those family roots run deep, twisted and tangled at the pits of your souls, irrevocably knotted so long ago that they’ve fused into one mangled mass, unable to be undone. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Neither would he. 

#kazutora smut #hanemiya kazutora smut #kazutora x you #kazutora x reader #hanemiya kazutora x you #my mac tried to autocorrect his last name to anemia lol?????? #anyway AAAAAH FIRST TR PIECE WEEEEEEEEEE #can't believe it was with tora n not the haitanis but alas #the haitanis piece is quite a bit longer than this one #inky.tr

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Hi! Hope you’re doing well, I saw that you wrote for Leo Valdez and I was wondering if you could write one for Leo with an F!Ares S/O who’s also half Japanese

⋆⭒˚.⋆ leo valdez x daughter of ares! japanese! reader hcs

content: leo valdez x daughter of ares! japanese! reader hcs warning: language, we back on our cringy writing shit tn yall this was bad and i have literally no idea why deepest apologies author's note: i had big expectations of this one but i think i legit shit all over it. tried to rewrite it like four times but this is the best it got so clearly it's not getting better. it's decent and i'm happy with parts of it so whatever.

leo was slaving away in the forge, taking a small break to drink some water when someone knocked on the doors before peaking her head in

"hey, do you think you could...you could fix these?" the girl questioned as she walked into the forge, holding the broken nunchucks out to him, the metal chain between them completely smashed. "my idiot of a brother broken them."

"yeah- yeah, i could give it a shot," leo replied, offering her a tilted smile.

"thank you! i'll give you something in return, don't worry," the girl told him, waving over her shoulder as she left the forge.

leo instantly shoved all of his other projects to the side, focusing on the pretty girl's nunchucks

he wanted to see her as soon as possible again, these broken weapons were his easy in

leo could have fixed the damn thing in his sleep but he went the extra mile, polishing and perfecting some etchings before tracking the girl down again

she was training with her siblings, sliding between one of her older brother's legs before shooting up and kicking his back, sending him sprawling

"bravo!! way to go!! stick it to the man!!" leo called, jokingly, causing the girl to laugh as she pulled her brother back to his feet

"get lost, valdez!" her brother spit out and instantly the girl's glare was on him.

she shove him once more, sending the boy hurtling to the ground once more

"watch your tone with him, idiot, or you'll be sleeping with the fishes, got it?" she hissed, shaking her head before approaching leo, who was weak in the knees

if he loved anything more than women who could actually kill him, it's those women defending him

someone call an ambulance, i think he's going into cardiac arrest.

"h-here, all fixed! oh, and i made those engravings deeper, so they stand out more," leo explained, pointing them out while he passed it off to the girl

he looked away from the weapon and found her eyes looking at him like he hung the sun in the sky

"...thank you. that was- that was very sweet, leo," she muttered, clutching the weapon to her chest before swallowing and shaking her head

"right, i owe you. c'mon," she told leo, nodding her head for him to follow.

he did, waiting until she turned her back to pat out the flames at the top of his head.

she led him to her cabin, having him wait outside while she grabbed his reward or whatever.

he stood there, rocking on the heels of his feet before the girl came back out, holding something behind her back

"okay, okay, these are some of my prized possessions but it only feels fair for your labor. here," she mused before holding the box of pocky's out to him.

they were one of the harder snacks to get around camp half blood, even travis and connor struggling to sneak them in. the harpies acquired a taste for them a few years back and it was over

"Oh, thanks, y/n!" leo cheered, taking them from the girl before biting his lip in thought

he looked back up at her, allowing a smirk to take over his lips

"wanna split 'em? we can hang out in bunker nine?" he offered, a flash of worry in his eyes that he's over steps

that all went away with the small smile she gave back

"sounds like a good time, fire boy. i'm in."

also, i think there would just be this sharing of culture between them??? ya know??

like leo get's to share all his hispanic culture stuff, like the food and the holidays and the language and in return he gets yours???

just this soft exchange of generational love that produce the two of you???

and i just know you'll start learning things in each others language and it's the most attractive thing either of you have seen. like, ever.

i dunno, just soft leo with his hardcore gf that def would trade him for a pack of gum and a nickle

and he wouldn't have it any other way

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #percy jackon and the olympians

[wolfjackle-creates]

Answer My Call

As promised, this is the first chapter of @gilbirda's Wrong Number AU all fixed up. A lot of it is the same as the original version, but a lot has changed. It went from 3,059 words to 5,392. I'm gonna try and get somewhere with the next chapter of this, but no promises on time-frame. Also working on transferring at least the first chapter of all my WIPs over to AO3. This'll be the only time I tag a bunch of people for this as I'm gonna set up subscription posts.

Find the original prompt and fill here.

Find the Subscription Post here.

And the AO3 version here (locked to logged in users, reach out if you need an invite).

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

----------

Jazz sat in a Nasty Burger booth and stared at her food. She'd ordered Danny's favorite, but her stomach was so in knots she didn't think she could eat.

All of this was her parent’s fault. If they weren’t so close minded and horrible, if they’d just accepted they were wrong…

Her circling thoughts were interrupted by a balled up napkin landing on the table next to her tray. Jazz was half to her feet ready to yell at whomever threw their trash at her when she saw Sam in a frilly yellow dress walking to the counter with her grandmother.

Huffing as if annoyed, Jazz settled back down and straighted the napkin. In messier-than-normal writing, Sam had scrawled the message:

I got him an old phone before he ran. His number is XXX-XXX-XXXX.

As surreptitiously as she could, she pulled out her own phone and saved the number to the encrypted folder Tucker had set up. Then she destroyed the napkin by soaking it in her unfinished pop and throwing her entire tray away, uneaten food and all.

Well, there was nothing else she could do in Amity. Might as well start the long drive back to Boston.

Upon reaching the edges of town, however, she realized leaving wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought. A GIW checkpoint had been set up and all incoming and outgoing traffic was being questioned.

Two agents approached her car before she could turn around and try a different way out. She did make them knock on her window before deigning to lower it just an inch, however. After what they’d done to Danny, she would never willingly play along with their games again.

“Ms. Fenton,” said the agent as soon as she realized she wasn’t going to open the window any further, “we need to search yourself and your vehicle. You are a known ecto-entity sympathizer and are suspected of assisting in the escape of subject P1. Vacate your vehicle immediately.”

“All I did was come back to my hometown to find my missing brother. I’ll need to see a warrant before you search my car.”

“Ms. Fenton, I don’t think you understand the situation. Due to the escape of the highly dangerous specimen P1, the town is under our a state of emergency. Mayor Masters has instated martial law to ensure the safety of all citizens. You can either vacate your car or you will be under arrest.” He grabbed a packet of papers from an inner pocket of his suit jacket and pushed one end through the crack in Jazz’s window.

Jazz took them and skimmed. The agent wasn’t lying; anyone caught breaking curfew or suspected of harboring or otherwise assisting a ghost would be arrested without bail immediately. All because her brother escaped that torture chamber. She stepped out of the car.

It took over an hour for the agents to search every inch of her car, purse, and luggage and convince themselves she didn’t have Danny hidden away somewhere. By the time she was allowed to go on her way, her jaw hurt from how hard she was clenching her teeth and her eyes stung with tears.

She hated Vlad. And the Guys in White. And the US Government. But finally she was free to leave.

And then she realized the white van was following her out of city limits. Really? Was she going to have to deal with them tailing her, too?

She ground her teeth and eased up on the gas pedal, moving to the right lane. Her father had taught her how to drive, but she’d learned better from the internet and recorded driver’s ed classes. She followed the speed limit exactly, only changing lanes to pass or allow others to merge on. Through it all, her focus remained on the white van behind her. She recognized Agent O as the driver.

Every so often his attention would slip and he’d wind up closer to her than intended. And then, finally, forty-five minutes after she started her perfect driving, she saw him yawn.

“Eat dust, creep!” Jazz shouted as she slammed her foot on the gas and jerked the steering wheel to swerve into the next lane. A chorus on horns followed her as she crossed the median and began going in the opposite direction. She had learned some things from her dad.

Two exits closer to Amity, she got off the highway and stopped at a Target for a burner phone which she activated at a local library. Then she got back on the highway east.

To her satisfaction, it took Agent O three hours to find her again.

-----

That night at a motel in who-knows-where Pennsylvania, Jazz double checked the locks on the door and that the curtains were closed before pulling out her new phone.

Her fingers trembled as she typed a message and sent it to the number Sam had given her.

Hey, Danny, it’s Jazz. Sam passed on the number for the phone she gave you before we were all separated. Please let me know you’re safe. Love you.

Jazz stared at the phone, hoping for a reply.

She woke with the phone clutched to her chest, but no new messages. Her breath caught and then she was curled around the phone crying.

“Danny, you’d better be okay,” she mumbled through her sobs.

But then her main phone alarm went off and Jazz forced herself up from the bed and into the shower. She could get through this. She had to.

An hour later, with her makeup applied and secret phone well hidden in her bag, she was back in her car and getting on the highway, a white van keeping pace behind her.

That night she was back in her dorm room in Boston. Her roommate tried to ask her questions about how her trip home went, but Jazz brushed off the concern. If she’d been honest, her roommate wouldn’t know how to reply anyway.

Instead, she waited until the other girl was taking a shower to pull out the burner phone and send another message.

Made it back to Boston. They’re following me now. Please don’t come here. It’s not safe. I know they’re keeping close tabs on Sam and Tucker, too. But they don’t know about this phone. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

The next day, she got a phone call from an unknown Amity number during her Literature class. With a hurried apology to the professor, she gathered her supplies up and rushed out of the classroom as she answered the phone.

“Jazz speaking.”

“Hello, Ms. Fenton. My name is Detective Ramirez. I’m calling regarding your brother, Daniel—“

“Danny,” Jazz corrected automatically. “He prefers Danny.”

“Right, Danny. It appears he’s missing.”

Jazz’s breath hitched. She knew that, of course. But hearing a stranger say it so bluntly hit different. She walked faster, there was a single stall bathroom just a floor up.

“His teacher, a Mr. Lancer, reported his disappearance yesterday and your parents admitted they didn’t know his location either when we went to check on him. Do you know where he may be?”

“I don’t.” Finally, there was the bathroom. She rushed in and shut the door behind her, locking it before sliding to the ground. “Have— Have you figured out how long he’s been missing?”

“Near as we can tell, it’s been a week. Do you know why your parents wouldn’t have reported him missing?”

Jazz let out a mirthless laugh. “Are you from Amity, detective?”

A pause, then he said, “I am.”

“Then you know my parents. They were probably too busy trying to torture a ghost to notice Danny.”

“Would it be possible for you to stop by the station to answer some questions?”

“I’m in Boston for school, detective. You can come here or I can answer any questions you have on the phone. I will not be going back to Amity unless it is to see Danny.”

“Very well. Did your brother have any motivation to or history of running away?”

And so began an hour long interrogation. Jazz played her part to perfection. She cried, she begged, but she didn’t give him anything.

That night, after her roommate went to bed, she sent another text.

A detective called today to see if I might know where you are. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything. Maybe next time I’ll let slip some lies, send the GIW on a wild goose chase. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

It became a ritual. Every day she’d keep her head down and go about her classes ignoring the agents following her and once a day when she could guarantee her privacy, she’d send another text to Danny. Each one ended the same way.

It’s been a week since you escaped. Did you make it to the realms? Love you. Let me know you’re safe. The detective actually came all the way to Boston to interview me. Can you believe it? I cried on him and begged him to find you and may have mentioned how much you loved visiting Aunt Alicia who lived off the grid. Hopefully that’ll distract them. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. Agent K tried to wait for me outside my Psych class today. I just met his eyes and glared until he said something into his walkie talkie and left. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. Today is your birthday and you're still not responding to me. I don't know what I'll do if you die a second time on me. Love you, let me know you're safe. Sam, Tucker, and I can't talk. We're under too close of surveillance. I think Sam is being home schooled now and Tucker got a scholarship and his parents sent him away from Amity. I don't know if it was the GIW or Vlad, but promise me you won't return to Amity. Love you, let me know you're safe. I got a call from the detective. They've basically given up the search. Of course they couldn't find you. I guess mom and dad made the call to have you declared dead. You're funeral is next week. Strangest part about this is it's 3 years too late. Love you, let me know you're safe. Dani was able to visit today. She’s safe and trying to find a way to the realms. We worked on finding ways to mask her ecto-signature and we’re finally happy with the results. I think she’ll be safe now. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

Jazz didn’t mention how the study room they’d been practicing in was raided by GIW agents less than twenty minutes after Dani had left.

I’m back in Amity. Your funeral is tomorrow. I hate it here. I hate even more how much it still feels like home. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. They didn’t even show up. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. I miss you so much. I hate how useless I am. I’m not you. I can't build a portal or boo-merang to search for you. You'd better come home soon. Love you, let me know you're safe.

-----

The first thing Jason did upon returning to his Gotham apartment was shower. The second was sleep for a solid eleven hours.

And when he woke up, he made himself a huge breakfast, reveling in the opportunity to put a kitchen through it’s paces for the first time in months.

But the first non-essential thing he did was plug in his phone and turn it on. After months away, his notifications would be insane and he wanted to be rested and full before bothering to skim through the family group chats.

Unsurprisingly, his messaging app showed over two thousand unread texts. What was surprising, however, was that 71 of those were from an unknown number.

He opened that thread first and skimmed the most recent message.

Agent K tried to pull me aside to question me and search my bag twenty minutes before an exam. Asshole almost made me miss it! But I managed to run and got to my classroom just in time. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

Jason raised an eyebrow and scrolled to the top of the thread. By the time he’d finished reading, his vision was tinted green.

Looked like he wasn’t going to have those relaxing few days before his next big case.

With a sigh he turned on his laptop and searched Amity. All he could find was a generic government website proclaiming it “The Most Haunted Town in America!” Every link on the page was broken when he tried to click it.

He ground his teeth and searched for “GIW” and “Agent K.” Neither yielded any useful results either.

By five o’clock he was nearly ready to scream in frustration and the green wasn’t leaving the edges of his vision. Looks like he was going to need backup.

He stomped out of his apartment, got on his motorcycle, and ignored all speed limits as he rushed through Gotham.

Traffic and noise decreased the further from Gotham proper he got until city streets were replaced by McMansions with their fancy landscaping and long drives.

He continued until he got to B’s home and made his way up the long drive. Though he quickly turned to the smaller path that lead to the kitchen entrance rather than continue up to the main doors.

After cutting the engine, he continued to sit on the bike for a moment as he stared at the door to the kitchen. Was he really going to do this?

He closed his eyes and phrases from the desperate texts filled his mind. With a deep breath he stood up and walked through the door.

As expected half an hour before dinner, Alfred was in the kitchen getting everything ready.

“Master Jason!” he exclaimed. “Give me just a moment.”

Jason watched with a slight smile as Alfred stirred the gravy and lowered the temperature. “Hey, Alfie.”

Alfred made his way towards Jason and pulled him into a hug. “Welcome home, my boy.”

“Got in yesterday. There enough food for one more? Who else is around?”

“There’s always enough food for you. Now, help me stir the vegetables. Masters Bruce, Damian, Duke, and Tim are all home.”

Jason hummed as he got to work helping with the last of dinner prep. “Is the replacement up to anything big right now? I was thinking of asking for his expertise on something.”

Alfred clicked his tongue. “You’ve only just returned from an extended mission. I haven’t even had the chance to check you over for new injuries yet. Can’t you rest for even a day?”

“Come on, Alfie. Don’t you know us better than that by now? No rest for the wicked as they say!”

Alfred gave him a Look. “You are hardly wicked, Master Jason.”

Jason looked back down at the vegetables he was helping with. “I think these are done. And you know I wouldn’t ask Replacement a favor unless it was important.”

“I know you know his name is Timothy,” Alfred said as he passed Jason a bowl. “But he is not working on anything time sensitive at the moment that I know of.”

“And you know everything.”

“Hardly. Now, help me set the table.”

Jason did as instructed and the two fell into an old routine.

Bruce walked into the dining room as they were laying things out. “Jason. When did you get back?”

Jason took a deep breath forced himself to stay relaxed. “Yesterday. Figured I’d grab some of Alfred’s cooking tonight.”

“How did your mission go? Have you filed a report yet?”

God, couldn’t he just ask how Jason was like a normal person?

Alfred stepped in before Jason could snap. “Master Bruce, you know I do not allow shop talk at the dinner table.”

“I’m doing great, B,” he said with fake cheerfulness. “Had the best breakfast this morning and slept amazingly, thanks for asking.”

“Jason—”

“I’m gonna get the last of the dishes from the kitchen, Alfred,” said Jason before Bruce could say anything more.

In the kitchen, Jason leaned over the counter and breathed as he counted to ten. He shouldn’t have come here. Not with the pits so close to the surface after seeing those messages.

But he was bat-trained and he couldn’t leave a mystery alone and he needed someone with better computer and hacking skills than he had. So here he was.

He could do this. It was just dinner then a question.

He grabbed the last two platters of food and returned to the dining room. Duke and Tim had arrived in the meantime.

“Hey, Jason,” greeted Duke.

“Hey, kid. How’s Gotham been treatin’ ya?”

“Same old, same old. Glad to see you’re back and in one piece.”

Jason grinned at him. “The other guys aren’t so lucky.”

Duke laughed. “I’ll bet.”

Tim piled food onto his plate. “You should’ve said you were back. Dick would’ve made the trip out here to join us. Barbara, too, probably.”

“It was a last minute decision. Where’s the demon brat?”

“Here,” said a voice from behind him. “Todd. You appear to be healthy.”

Jason blinked at the kid a few times as Damian walked around him and took his own seat. “Uh… yeah. Thanks. You appear… healthy, too.”

Nonplussed by the lack of aggression, Jason took his own seat and began serving himself as well.

Over dinner, the others filled him in on the major family drama as well as what had happened in Gotham while he’d been gone. Even Bruce seemed to be trying after his initial missteps.

But then they were finishing dessert and Tim got up to leave.

“Hey, Replacement, by the way, can I get your opinion on something? My computer skills don’t seem to be enough to get me the information I need.”

“Really? You’re gonna call me ‘Replacement’ at the same time as you ask for help? Fuck you?”

“Language, Master Tim.”

“Sorry, Alfred.”

“Look, Tim,” Jason corrected himself, “apparently someone contacted me months ago for help and I only just found out because I’ve been gone. It seems to be time-sensitive. Now, I can spend days or weeks more trying to figure this out on my own or you could probably do it in an hour or two.”

And of course Bruce had to butt in. “Who contacted you and what is this case?”

Jason shrugged. “Dunno. Looks like a case of wrong number, actually.

“A wrong number?” That caught Tim’s attention.

Jason hid his grin. Hook, line, and sinker. “Yep. She thinks she’s texting someone named Danny. I’m the one getting the messages.”

Tim sighed. “Fine. Give me a ride back to my place and I’ll see what I can do.”

-----

“What the fuck, Jason.”

Eight hours later and they were both tired and Tim still hadn’t gotten anywhere with his search. But he had fried two computers.

“It’s not supposed to do that, is it?” asked Jason staring at the Lazarus-green screen covered in bright blue gibberish. “Is that color combination even legal?”

“You’re worried about the colors? Dude! This isn’t even code. I don’t even recognize half these symbols!”

The computer let out an awful screeching-wail that had Jason covering his ears. Then it started to smoke and the screen when black. When Tim tried to check out the hardware, it had overheated so badly the plastic casing was melted.

“I think it’s time we try calling this Jazz woman.”

“Yeah. Would it be better to call her as Jason or Red Hood?”

Tim just raised and eyebrow at him and Jason sighed as he opened up his messages and hit call, setting it to speaker phone.

He winced when a woman picked up instantly with a cry of, “Danny!”

“I’m afraid this isn’t Danny,” said Jason.

He counted the seconds until the woman spoke again. Seven. “Please, just delete all the messages. If anyone finds out about them, I’ll be arrested. And the guys in white aren’t gentle with prisoners.”

Tim’s eyebrows rose and Jason bit his cheek to hold back the curses.

“You’ve got the wrong idea. I might not be Danny, but I want to help. You’ve reached Red Hood. I was unconctactable for the last few months while on a mission and I only just saw your messages. Red Robin is with me and we plan to help you and Danny. But we need more information.”

Another pause and then Jazz spoke again. “I’ll need some proof you are who you say you are.”

“Seems reasonable,” agreed Tim. “Give us fifteen minutes to get into costume. We’ll take a selfie. You can even specify the pose and any features you want included. Sound fair?”

“Fine. I want Red Robin to give Red Hood rabbit ears and Red Hood to give Red Robin Moose antlers."

Jason groaned. “Seriously? Can’t it be literally anything else?”

“Nope. I want to be sure you’re not just stealing something off the internet. I’ll also be doing a reverse image search on whatever picture you send, just to confirm.”

Tim laughed, the asshole. “Smart. We’ll send the photos soon as we’re changed and in position.”

“Very good. I’ll also have some questions for you, you understand. My record with those associated with the government has not been very good. Which is why my brother, his friends, and I never contacted the Justice League.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t associate with the government then, isn’t it?” asked Jason.

“That’s the only reason I’m even considering telling you the truth, Mr. Hood.”

-----

It ended up being half an hour before they could both get in uniform and agree on a spot where they could take the pictures. Jason finally convinced Tim they should pose next to his favorite grotesque and the pictures were sent off.

Five minutes later, his phone range.

“Cute gargoyle,” said Jazz before they could even get out a greeting.

“It’s a grotesque, actually,” corrected Jason on autopilot. He could feel Tim’s eye roll even with the mask.

"Why can't I access anything from the town of Amity or find any information on the GIW you mentioned? I fried three computers trying to track down information. Literally. Had to disable the smoke detectors."

Now it was Jason's turn to roll his eyes. Tim always got so intense when it came to research.

“You certainly don’t waste time. But before I answer your questions, I need to ask my own.”

Tim frowned, but there was no sign of frustration in his voice when he spoke. “Of course. What do you need to know?”

“What do you know about ghosts?”

“One of my teammates is a ghost,” said Tim.

“And there’s another one who works with Justice League Dark,” added Jason.

A pause, then a surprised, “Really? I didn’t know that.” She hummed and Jason wished he could see her face to see what she was thinking. “Do you know about the Anti-Ecto Acts?”

“The what?” asked Tim even as he started typing into his watch. “Wait, if I search for this, will my device burst into flames?”

For the first time, Jazz laughed in genuine amusement and Jason felt he was getting a glimpse into who she really was. The sound pushed the green back from the back of his head and his breath seemed to come a little easier.

“No, the acts are fine. Here, I’ve got the code number.”

Tim searched the number Jazz related. Thirty seconds after pulling it up, he let out a low whistle. “What the fuck. The League has no idea these laws exist. I can promise you that. Martian Manhunter and all Lanterns would leave immediately.”

“What’s it say?” demanded Jason, trying to read the tiny screen over Tim’s shoulder.

“These Ectoplasm Dependent Entities, are they the ghosts you mentioned?”

“Yes. More specifically, the ghosts referred to are sapient creatures from a parallel dimension called the Infinite Realms by its residents and the Ghost Zone by some humans. Ectoplasm, and this is an oversimplification to the point of being incorrect, is required by ghosts the way living creatures on Earth need carbon. Hood, the Anti-Ecto Acts declare all Realm Ghosts as non-sapient, excluding them from the Meta Protection Acts. It also states that they are to be turned over the to Guys in White, more formally known as the Ghost Investigation Ward and abbreviated to GIW, for experimentation and elimination.”

“Well shit. And I assume Danny is targeted by this group?”

“Got it in one.”

A chill went down Jason’s spine. “That’s what you meant by his funeral being three years too late.”

She sighed, all hints of laugher gone and Jason wished he could bring it back. “My brother is different. I won’t tell you more than that. He’s still alive, though. Or at least he was when he escaped the Guys in White about three months ago.”

Jason and Tim exchanged glances. She was definitely holding a lot back. So Jason decided to change tactics. “You mentioned another Dani, too. With an i?”

“She’s my brother’s clone. We consider her our little sister, but our parents don’t know about her. We haven’t been able to provide a stable home for her and she loves to travel and is more than capable of protecting herself, so we just keep in contact and hope she’ll come when she needs help.”

Tim perked at the word clone. “We can offer her safety,” he promised. “One of my teammates and best friends is a clone.”

Jazz hummed. “I'll let her know the next time she reaches out. No promises, though. She's even less trustful than I am.”

Jason took deep breaths. “How old are you, your brother, and sister?” She sounded young and had mentioned college many times in her messages.

Jazz hesitated. “We’re all teenagers. Dani was created three years ago, but was aged up.”

Jason spun and kicked the wall hard. Tim caught his arm to keep him from overbalancing. “Okay. Of course you are. Because adults can’t help but force children into roles they should never have to take.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Bit hypocritical of you to say that.”

“Yeah, well, look where it got me,” Jason retorted, voice a growl.

“I feel like I’m missing some context,” said Jazz.

“It’s nothing,” said Jason. “I just hate when adults put kids in danger or don’t help them get out of danger.” And it was definitely time to change the subject. “You mentioned two other people? A Tucker and Sam? Do they need help?”

“They’re not in danger like the Dannies. But the Guys in White suspect the three of us of collaborating with ghosts and are keeping a close eye on us. Our main phones are tapped and any messages we send will be read and all calls recorded. The instant they have proof we’ve assisted or plan to assist ghosts, we’ll be arrested and detained.”

“What can I do to access information on these Guys in White and Amity?” asked Tim.

“You need a computer that’s ectoplasm-compatible. I don’t have a spare, but Tucker would. He’s at a tech school in San Francisco.”

“What’s that mean, ectoplasm-compatible?” Tim was still typing away at his watch and Jason was jealous of his ability to read and listen at the same time.

“Tucker can explain it better than I can. But basically, things from our world don't work around ectoplasm. It gives off it's own form of energy and our gadgets, and bodies, can't handle it. But if something is exposed to low quantities over a long period of time, they begin to change. The ectoplasm is incorporated. This allows the device to display video and pictures of ghosts. Computers that are not ecto-compatible can't even connect to ones that are. An ecto-compatible computer, on the other hand, can access information from a non-compatible one.”

Jason couldn’t help but latch onto one specific word. “What do you mean bodies? Can humans become ecto-compatible?” The idea sent a shiver down Jason’s spine for reasons he couldn’t quite name.

“It’s complicated. Ectoplasm is dangerous for humans. Really dangerous. My brother and friends and I have done some research on how it interacts with living matter from this dimension and… Well, its far too complicated to discuss over the phone with people I don’t know if I should trust and who don’t have the requisite background knowledge to understand it anyway.”

Tim hummed in a way Jason knew meant he wasn’t satisfied and wouldn’t rest until he got all the information he could. “Would Tucker be willing to sell me an ecto-compatible computer if I reach out to him? How much would he want for it?”

Jazz laughed, but this time there wasn’t any happiness in it. “If you’re really going to help Danny, he’d give it to you for free. And if you can get him to trust you, he’ll show you all the backdoors he’s made into the Guys in White’s servers.”

“Fantastic. How can I contact him?”

Jason let them talk specifics as he stared out over the city. Not even twenty-four hours home and he was right back in the thick of things. When it seemed like Tim and Jazz were wrapping things up, he added, “I’d like to speak to you in person.”

“I’m in Boston,” she said with a laugh.

Jason made the calculations, adding time for a ninety minute nap. “I can be there in seven hours.”

“I’ve class in seven hours.” She sighed. “But I’ll text you a time and place. I need to make sure I get somewhere the Agents following me won’t be able to find right away.”

“I can go in civvies,” offered Jason. “I’ve more than a few fake IDs. Might be easier to hide what we’re talking about.”

She hummed in consideration. “I’ll let you know. I have your number after all.”

“That you do. I’ll head your way sooner than later so I’m at least close by when you manage your escape.”

“Very well. Then I suppose I’ll be seeing you soon. Will you both come to Boston or are you going to Tucker first, Red Robin?”

“I’m going to go to Tucker. I need that computer and access to the relevant information. Then we can start to plan. Before Red Hood leaves, I’ll make a few communicators so you can contact us on a secure line. And I’ll give one to Tucker, too. At least then you’ll be able to talk to each other.”

“Thank you.” Jazz’s voice was quiet and filled with emotion. It made Jason’s heart clench. No way was she faking that. But she gathered herself and her voice was strong again when next she spoke. “And Gentlemen?”

“Yeah?” asked Jason.

“If it turns out I was wrong to trust you? Your bodies will never be found. My friends and I have been keeping Amity safe from ghosts and ghost hunters alike for the past three years on our own. We have access to resources you can't even imagine. And if we are no longer held back by the fear of putting both Dannies in more danger, well, we can do a lot of damage."

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Jason. “You can trust us.”

“I hope you’re not lying,” she said before disconnecting the call.

Jason let out a whistle. “I like her.”

Tim huffed a laugh. “Of course you do. You know, this could only happen to us. What are the chances of a wrong number text reaching one of us?”

-----

Far away, in a tower in another dimension, a being smiled. His appearance changed from child to middle aged to elderly and back as he watched the lives of many on the mirrors that covered every surface of his home.

“Just a little longer, my Prince,” he said as the threads of time wove a pattern that glowed just a little bit brighter.

----------

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@dragonsrequiem, @saltyladynightmare, @thewondersoflebanon, @ashleysmshley-blog, @severedleftie, @vythika96, @kota412, @fuck-you-too-world, @overtherose, @jojo-fanatic, @undead-essence, @ashleysmshley-blog, @emergentpanda-blog, @wolfeyedwitch, @riot-ghost, @britcision, @gennydreams, @annameibunniealsoartist, @hailsatanacab, @ghostadjacentfae, @stormhaven257, @longlivethefallen, @boredomfarie, @notmuchtopost, @deeterzz, @chemical-pepis, @rin1sakami, @marivictal, @letoasai, @shykitten28, @addie-lover-of-stories, @ambiguouslyominous, @clenastia, @sleeping-squire

#dpxdc #answer my call #wrong number au #anger management ship #my writing #edited first chapter #ao3 link

[wen-kexing-apologist]

IS BROTHER ANURAK THE ONE ARMED MAN?

OKAY! SO! 

I feel like I am teetering on the edge of delulu for this fucking show, but…because I just wrote a post about the Left Hand Path and all the left hand/left side imagery, and because I’m…well, me, and hands in shows are My Jam. When I was watching the promo trailer for Episodes 8-14, I noticed something. I never once saw Brother Anurak’s left arm. So I went to the teaser trailer for the whole show, just to see if it was coincidental that the like 5 seconds total of screen time Brother Anurak had in the Part 2 trailer just happened not to show his left arm…but uh…

Brother Anurak holds his rosary with only his right hand…

And Brother Anurak’s left hand just hangs at his side, rather than resting on his lap like his right hand is doing…

And Brother Anurak is shoving Trin with only his right hand…

And Brother Anurak’s left hand is hidden from view by some books…

And this, naturally, started me thinking about the One Armed Man. We don’t know much about this man, only that lost his left arm in an accident and then engaged in some homosexual and substance use activity, he was arrested and executed. We know that Dan, after losing his lucid dreaming stone, had some sort of dream or vision about this one armed man. 

We do not know what purpose he serves to the story yet, we do not know if he is truly evil or just presented that way by the villagers. I mean, if the One Armed Man truly is a wild ghost, the Venerable Monk gave a few theories himself: a) The wild ghosts in the village got angry when the school was built and floating bodies down the water in sacrifice was banned after World War II or b) the wild ghosts take those who ask them for help, and who they like. 

And we do not, currently, know the One Armed Man’s identity. Or…do we, cause you see, I was thinking about the fact that in just these trailers alone, I had not seen a single instance of Brother Anurak using his left hand. 

And so…I did what any completely reasonable, totally non-obsessed, definitely completely normal human being would do….

…and spent the last few hours watching every single scene that involved Brother Anurak in Episodes 1-7 to see if he ever uses his left hand. (I don’t have photo evidence for all of these because trying to screen shot them all would be impossible but, trust me or you can verify for yourself. I also recognize this is a lot, so you’re welcome to just like, choose at random which ones you read).

Episode 1

Welcoming Dan The first time we meet Brother Anurak is when Dan first steps foot on campus. Anurak is the person who gives Dan the school tour and walks him to class. When Dan arrives, he does the traditional ‘wai’ hands that we have come to expect of any Thai show, that is, he presses the palms of both of his hands together when he says hello. Brother Anurak, whose arms are both tucked behind his back, does not return the ‘wai’ and instead just nods. When Rerng, the groundskeeper, runs in to Dan and Anurak, he does the ‘wai’ hands at Anurak and uh…once again Anurak just nods, he does not return the ‘wai’. When he introduces Rerng to Dan, he gestures at Rerng using only his right hand. Otherwise his hands remain tucked behind his back out of view. 

Rescuing Dan from Anan  We are introduced to Anan in the locker room where he immediately establishes his Utter Irrepentant Douchebag status and tries to control all the boys. Anan comes in at some point and puts a stop to Anan’s hazing, and you don’t really see his body at all, the camera mostly focuses on close ups, but if you watch closely you can see only his right shoulder moving because he’s gesturing with his right hand. His left shoulder stays relatively still. 

Talking to Dan about the Shadow

Brother Anurak has been working with Dan and his mother since Dan was about 7 years old. When Brother Anurak is talking with Dan in his office after his first Shadow dream, you can see Anurak’s left hand stays staunchly at his side, he does everything in this scene with his right hand. 

Visiting Dan in the infirmary  Dan spent the night in his dorm away from his dorm…the infirmary, after he faints in class. Brother Anurak comes to visit him, and both of his hands are hidden by the bed for the entire scene. 

Episode 2

Finding Dan at the lake  At the end of Episode 2, Dan collapses near the lake while coming face to face with the Shadow. Anurak and Rerng find Nai and Dan, and Rerng helps Nai carry Dan, Anurak takes the flashlight from Rerng with his right hand and that is his full contribution for Getting Dan Out of There.  

Talking to Nai  When Brother Anurak is scolding Nai about being off school grounds with Dan, his hands are once again hidden behind his desk, and he only gestures with his right hand. 

Visiting Dan in the infirmary → transitions to his office

Brother Anurak is standing on Dan’s right in the infirmary when he wakes up after his collapse at the lake. Once again, Brother Anurak’s hands are hidden behind the bed, so you can’t see them, and then when, out of nowhere, Dan and Anurak are talking in Anurak’s office, his left hand is hidden behind the arm of his chair. 

Dan wakes up from his dream

During their office session, Dan is shunted out of his dream and realizes that he has been in teh infirmary the entire time, and was not actually in Brother Anurak’s office at all. What has snapped him out of his dream is Brother Anurak shaking him awake, but… he is only using his right hand. 

[Side Note: I am taking careful notice of the fact that Dan’s ability to remain present and conscious in reality seems to slip often when he is in Brother Anurak’s presence. Then again, he also sees the Shadow a bunch when he is around the theater teacher, but I have already looked at his hands, and his left hand is real and he does use it so I at the very least I don’t think he has any relationship to the one armed man.]

Episode 3

Dan, Josh, and Nai are punished for coming back late.  At some point, Anurak appears to observe, but not deliver, the caning of Dan, Josh, and Nai for missing curfew after going to see the Venerable Monk. We get a wider shot, which means Anurak’s left hand is visible, but it is held in exactly the same position it always is, and he continues to only gesture with his right hand. 

Telling Dan not to wear the ring   Brother Anurak runs in to the boys in between classes, and he notices the lucid dreaming stone around Dan’s neck. Anurak reminds him that accessories are not allowed in school, and while standing there, his left hand still in the same position it has always been in, and he only points to  Dan’s necklace with his right hand. 

Teaching class 

Brother Anurak is writing on the white board with his right hand, this in and of itself is not all too suspicious because he could just be right handed, but when turns to face the class, his hands are covered by the students so you can’t see either one of them. He moves to the podium and his left hand, which continues to hang at his side, is hidden behind the podium, so we can’t see his left hand. But he places his right hand on the podium, and whatever brief glimpses of the left hand we see when it peeks out the side of the podium, it is in exactly the same position as it always is. 

Episode 4

Grabbing Dan from his room to take him to visit his Dad  When Brother Anurak visits Dan and Josh’s room to bring Dan to the hospital to say goodbye to his father, not only is Anurak’s left hand hanging at his side, but he is shot from the right side of his body so any potentially visible part of his left hand is hidden by the open dorm room door.

At the hospital Anurak is standing on Dan’s father’s left hand side, making his left hand visible… in exactly the same position it always is, his fingers never even twitch. When Anurak leaves the room to give Dan some time alone with his father, he uses his right arm to comfort Dan even though his left arm is closer to Dan’s shoulder. 

Outside the hospital room, after the flashback to Dan’s homelife  Left hand visible, in exactly the same position it always is, cut to talking to Dan outside the hospital room, his left hand is hidden between his legs. We get the best close up we have had of Anurak’s left hand and it is too smooth, and is lacking in any pores or spots, and it’s weirdly shiny. (Unfortunately like the one above, the way my computer works for screenshots, the play bar covers the part of the screen I would need to take a photo of).

Flashback to Anurak talking with Dan’s mother

When we see Anurak interacting with Dan’s mother, because she was his patient, his left hand is visible, still in the same position. AND HOLY SHIT, ANYONE READING THIS, YOU NEED TO GO TO TIME STAMP 18:27 AND WATCH HOW BROTHER ANURAK STANDS UP FROM HIS CHAIR. THAT LEFT HAND IS FUCKING FAKE. IT’S FUCKING FAKE!!! He gives the rosary to Dan’s mother with his right hand. 

Dan’s mother’s funeral  Anurak is sitting on a bench outside the temple, and we only see him after Dan drops the coin he has leftover from buying ice cream, and it hits Anurak’s right foot. We pan out into a wide shot, and Anurak’s right side is visible. Both his hands are in Anurak’s lap but his right hand is covering his left hand so we can’t actually see it. Then, Dan sits on his left side so we never 

Baby!Dan sees the Shadow and Anurak comforts him

Shortly after his mother’s death, Dan wakes up in the middle of the night and sees the Shadow looming over him. He runs screaming from his room, at which point Brother Anurak appears on the stairwell. (What he is doing in their home after Dan’s father accused his mother of sleeping with Brother Anurak, is beyond me but I digress). Brother Anurak’s right arm is hugging Dan while his left arm stays at his side, in the same position it always is 

Right before Dan fights his father

Dan’s Father’s funeral  Anurak comes up to talk to Dan at his father’s funeral, and as he does he places his right hand on Dan’s shoulder. Left hand? Does nothing, as usual.

Episode 5

Dan confronts Brother Anurak

We get the scene from the trailer where Dan tells Brother Anurak that he thinks Trin was murdered after seeing the visage of Trin’s dead body in the pool. This is one of my favorite instances of the hidden left hand, due to the creative use of binder placement. You get a little bit of skin from Brother Anurak’s right hand because it is further away from the camera, but in the foreground? We are not entitled to see what Anurak’s left hand looks like. 

Flashback: Talking to Trin in his office after his Student President Win

After Trin wins the student body president race in a unanimous vote, he is taken first to the Headmaster’s office and then to speak with Brother Anurak about the policies he hopes to institute (read: the traditional systems Trin is hoping to change). Like always, both of Brother Anurak’s hands are initially hidden behind his desk, but as he gets more engaged, more serious about the conversation at hand (haha) he leans forward and he only brings his right hand on the table.

Anurak gets a phone call about Trin’s medical records

I don’t remember if this is the first phone call where Anurak is told that Trin had bipolar, was off his meds, and was treating his bipolar with narcotics, or if this is the second phone call where Anurak is calling an unknown person, angry because he didn’t know how Trin’s medical records got leaked to the press. Either way, and in both cases, he answers the phone with his right hand, and never uses his left. 

In his office with Trin’s parents 

Trin’s parents (one of whom is an MP) are naturally, pissed that Trin’s medical records got leaked and storms over to the school threatening to sue. Brother Anurak speaks with them in his office, and he offers them tea, using only his right hand, his left isn’t even in frame.

And while he is speaking with Trin’s parents, trying to calm them and sort things out, he once again, only puts his right hand on the table. His left is hidden from view. 

In his study, listening to old recordings of his sessions with Trin  Anurak is thinking more about Trin, and digs out old files of his using only his right hand to pull the files out of his cabinet. When he sits in his chair to listen to the audio tapes, his left arm settles in to the same position at his side as it always is when he’s in that chair, and he hides the hand very quickly underneath the file folder when he opens it.

Episode 6

Brother Anurak does not have a lot of screen time in Episode 6, but he is at the student org fair where he meets the husband of the homophobic teacher that is sleeping with Anan. And here again, the people he is with all do the ‘wai’ hands, while he just nods.

Episode 7

Taking Dan from the headmaster’s office after Anan beats him up

Dan is the unfortunate victim of Nai’s decision to blackmail Anan, and gets beaten up once again. He and Anan are called in to the Headmaster’s office to talk about what happened as Dan left the Funhouse, when all of a sudden Brother Anurak appears, asking to take Dan away since Dan is under his care. Brother Anurak’s left hand is visible, but it is once again, still held in the same position, and his right hand is the one he is using to place a comforting hand on Dan’s shoulder.

Talking to Dan in his office 

We reach the final scene with Brother Anurak in the first half of the show, before the One Armed Man is introduced to the story. And it is, once more, the same deal as it has always been throughout the entire show so far. Brother Anurak’s left hand is sitting at his side, in the same position is has literally never changed from. And then he is gone from the rest of the episode, so we don’t have any visual reminders that he exists while the One Armed Man is being introduced and discussed. I have gone through every scene, I have watched to see if his fingers even twitch. They do not, his left hand, whenever it is in view, never moves. You cannot convince me at this point that Brother Anurak and the One Armed Man aren’t connected somehow. This man does not have an actual left hand. 

I do not know if Brother Anurak is the One Armed Man, if he is the scapegoat for the One Armed Man, if he is possessed by, a reincarnation of, or a legitimate ghost of the One Armed Man we learn about at the end of the episode. I do not know what the Shadow is, what it wants, if it is malicious, neutral, or good, I do not know what the ghosts of Trin or those two boys want, who the dead bodies are, what happened at this school. I don’t know any of it, I don’t know if all the pieces of the puzzle we need to figure it out have been revealed yet. 

But the one thing I do know, is that Brother Anurak does not have a left hand, and the level of detail that the show has done to both reveal and hide that is truly fucking impressive. Utt Uttsada who plays Anurak is doing a fucking phenomena job. I do not know how much time and effort went in to consciously never moving that arm. Like he has not once, not ever moved it. His shoulder remains completely still, his arm swings precisely as much as someone with no lower limb to control will swing. He has to be wearing some sort of prosthetic glove to keep his hand exactly in place, to make sure that his fingers don’t twitch. 

It is so incredibly clever to hide his hand like this. To give us enough glances at his left hand from a distance so we don’t question it. I mean, we see his hand, right? We see it is there, it looks real, and there are so many other things to figure out about what the fuck is going on, that the last thing in our minds is the fact that Brother Anurak never uses his left hand. 

Anyway, I don’t even know if this will end up being BL, but I need the entire rest of the BL fandom to deal with the occasional jumpscare and creepy smiles and stares and watch this show, so that I can scream about this with more people. Because holy fucking shit, if this show maintains the quality it has given me with the first half of the story all the way to the end, it might make a last minute grab for Show of the Year for me, with how intentional it has been. 

#clown checkpoint #screaming crying throwing up about this show #shadow the series #I NEED MORE PEOPLE TO WATCH THIS FUCKING SHOW IMMEDIATELY #PLEASE #I NEED MORE PEOPLE TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS SHOW WITH #wka long post #singto prachaya #fluke natouch #utt uttsada

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

I don't know if you're taking requests right now

And if I'm bothering I apologize :'D

But I have a request to make! You can ignore if you want

So it's with skellies

So, their s/o was chilling inside their hom, and some random stalker break into the house and ries to kill them for dating a monster, but s/o kill the human before in self-defense

What would happen if the skellies came home and saw the mess, the dead stalker's body and a panicked s/o not knowing what to do?

(Sorry for my terrible writing, english it's not my first language :'D)

Undertale Sans - First, he checks on you to make sure you're alright, and then asks you to explain what happened. He's not too worried about you getting in trouble since it was self-defense, so he calls Undyne to explain her the situation. He tries to keep his calm so his natural chill rubs on you and helps you to calm down. He's just glad you're ok, the rest can wait.

Undertale Papyrus - He's not really helping as he's freaking out as soon as he gets home, first because you almost got killed, and second because there's a human corpse in the middle of his kitchen and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do? After going outside to run to calm down a bit, he comes back with the head more clear and calls Undyne for help. He's angry when Undyne says she has to arrest you, but he trusts his friend who told him she's sure you'll be out in a few hours. He's turning in circles while waiting for you, until he gets kicked out of his own house because it's a crime scene now. He goes to tell everything to Sans, who is now freaking out as well.

Underswap Sans - He stays calm, and quickly calls his colleagues to ask them to come. He then takes his S/O in another room and asks them to explain what happened. He's clearly horrified they probably escaped a terrible fate, but he tries to stay calm, and explain you what's going to happen next. As a police officer, he knows these things, and he promises he will find the best lawyer for you and that he'll be there every steps of the way. It's self defense, you're probably safe, but he knows how difficult these cases can be.

Underswap Papyrus - When he sees all the blood on the floor and covering you, Honey freaks out completely, unable to hold his screams and making sure you're ok again and again. You stopped counting the times he asked you if you're injured. He's so scared right now. Eventually, he calls Blue for help, who is quick to take action and takes them in another room. An ambulance comes to check on both of you, as you're in a state of shock. It's alright though. Blue has your back and will make sure everything is fine.

Underfell Sans - Well, shit. Red is not even shocked actually. He calmly calls his brother to ask what to do with the body, which Edge comes to take care of. The brothers make the corpse disappear. That's not the first time, and they don't have much remorse about it. Red makes sure you're alright and assures you that you don't have to feel guilty about this. It was them or you, and you made the right choice. You can tell Edge is respecting you a little more after that as well, which is rare.

Underfell Papyrus - He feels terribly guilty you had to face that alone. Even if you managed to call him during the attack for help, he arrived too late. He's glad you're ok, even though you're trembling uncontrollably. Edge keeps telling you he's sorry and that you're not going to have any problem. He's taking the matter at hand and getting rid of the body. He will make sure it never happens ever again. He's also going to be a little overprotective for a few days.

Horrortale Sans - He's badly triggered by the body, but he tries to stay calm to not freak you out more. It's just a body, he saw plenty of them already. What matters for now is that someone intruded his house to hurt you and he couldn't prevent this, which is bothering him so much. He takes the body in the forest, and then works for a few days on the farm to make sure no one can intrude it again. He's a bit silent, you're not sure if he's doing ok or not. He keeps telling to not worry, but you can tell he's more affected than he pretends he is.

Horrortale Papyrus - He's having a panic attack when he sees the body. You're pretty much on your own, as Willow is completely lost in the past and thinks he killed the man, despite how many times you told him he didn't and you did. A bit panicked, you decide to call Toriel and Grillby to explain the situation, as you know they are the only people the skeleton brothers are trusting. Toriel comforts you saying you did the right thing, while Grillby goes to burry the body somewhere in the forest so neither Sans or Papyrus has to get into trouble. With Willow, you're both going to live at Toriel's place for a few days, the time Willow calms down and you recover from the shock.

Swapfell Sans - He won't lie, he's quite impressed you managed to kill that guy all alone. He's twice your size and he was armed. He understands how bad you're feeling, but he assures you there's nothing to worry about. He's going to install more cameras to make sure it doesn't happen again and throw the body in a river. If it can make you feel better, he can teach you a few self-defense fight techniques as well. It's kinda his job. Knowing what to do in these situations can be very useful, even if he hopes it will never happen again.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's angry at his brother it happened, even though it's not really Nox's fault, since it's not even one of his rivals who did it. Rus can't help it though, he needs to find someone responsible for this and he's going to scream at his brother for this. Now you're even more tensed as Nox obviously didn't react well to the accusations. You try to explain what happened to Nox, but he assures you he's not mad at you, or at Rus. He's playing along because he knows that's how his brother is going to realize he's wrong. Rus apologizes a few hours later, calmer. He will still be on edge for a few days, jumping at any sound and always close to you in case someone tries to attack again. It was a pretty traumatic experience for everyone.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He did as fast as he could but lost contact with you after a bit. He runs home, scared to see you injured or worse, but loses his jaw when he sees the man dead and you bruised, but fine. He's so relieved you're ok. He doesn't care that much about the body. He apologizes to you for not being here to protect you and promises it will never happen again. He's going to get rid of the body later in the day, making sure to ruin its face to make sure no one recognizes them. He's going to be very protective for a few days.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's... Freaking out as well when he's coming home, asking what you did again and again as he's wondering what he's supposed to do. You killed a man! That's crazy! He doesn't want you to go in prison or anything, how else is he going to cuddle? He can't cuddle in prison! When Wine comes home, it's the apocalypse. Coffee somehow convinced you that you both need to leave the country and you're packing your stuff in panic. Wine asks them why none of them even thought for one second to call him to get rid of the corpse. Is he a joke to you?

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

[muxshwriting]

from eden

Will Graham x sister!reader

summary: Will tries to protect his sister from himself and his life, only to push her even closer to it || warnings: knives, blood, gore, graphic injury, death, murder || words: 985 || masterlist

You're sitting on your brother's porch, watching the sun rise as you wait for him. The ground is frozen over, as it often is during winter mornings and your breath forms a mist in front of you. The front door opens and Winston comes running to greet you. Will follows him out and you turn towards him.

"Morning."

"Good morning." His voice is stilted, like he's on edge. "Listen, this isn't a good time..."

"Oh, have you got work or-"

"Yeah. Something like that."

Your mood drops at his rejection. "Ok. I've got the book you asked for and some stuff for the dogs." You offer the bag that was beside you.

"Thanks."

~~

You're sitting outside his door again, waiting for Will to arrive home. Life hadn't been great recently and sometimes all you need is your brother. A car pulls up to the house and two men get out. Will and someone dressed in a very fancy suit.

"Will!" You call out to him and both men turn to face you. Will walks over to you and offers you a hand to stand.

"Hannibal, this is my sister Y/N. Y/N, this is Hannibal Lecter, we work together at the FBI."

"It's nice to meet you." You begin.

Will interrupts you. "What do you need?" He glances back to Hannibal and then to you.

Is this why Will was so distant lately? Becuase he made a new friend? "It's fine Will. It's nothing. I was just leaving anyway." You bite back your emotions and wave a goodbye before getting in your car and driving away from your brother and his new friend Hannibal Lecter.

~~

Jack Crawford calls.

Will's been arrested for a string of murders. Your heart is in your mouth and you find yourself running to the bathroom and emptying your stomach in the toilet. You can hear a muffled question through the phone but the words aren't clear and your head is spinning.

You find yourself on his porch again. Winston's head is laying across your lap and it's the only thing keeping your grounded. Stray tears run down your chin before you can wipe them away and the wind makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

~~

Will was released and aquitted from prison months ago. You know he's seen you walking in the woods near his cabin but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't call and he doesn't text you back anymore. It's like he isn't your brother.

"What's going on Will?"

He's standing outside your door, sweat glistening on his forehead and a distinct bloodstain on his cuffs. The pain in his eyes is immeasurable and his hands shake slightly.

"We need to go. Hannibal is crazy, he's going to try and kill you. We need to go."

Before you can reply, his phone rings. He shows the contact to you and it's Hannbial ringing him. You can't get your head around what Will is talking about. Hannbial is trying to kill you? You've met the man once. Maybe Will is going crazy like Alana said he was. Maybe he's not your brother anymore.

Will is pushing you out of the door, telling you to meet him at his place before he picks up the call and starts talking.

You're running. The woods are so familiar to you, bringing you a sene of comfrot as you reach the beaten path you alway take. The cabin draws nearer and a dog comes to greet you as you run towards them all.

Someone's already on the porch, standing stall and shrouded in darkness.

Your steps come to patterned stop as you stare at the figure. Tentatively you reach for you phone and switch on the torch. Hannibal is standing there, knife in hand, blood dripping from his fingers.

"Hannibal?" Your voice is quiet, afraid.

He smiles, sending a shiver down your spine as you turn and run back towrds the wood. In your panic, your foot twists and you fall to the ground. Hannibal stalks towards you, his smirk growing wider as the knife is raised.

You fumble to your feet, heart thundering as footsteps follow you into the woods. Your phone rings. It's Will.

"Will! Help me. Hannibal's here." You're yelling into the phone, not caring if Hannibal can hear whre you are. Will is yelling back down the phone telling you to run and try to loop back to the house towards him.

You dash to your left, ducking under low branches and trying to quiet your panting breaths. An arm wraps around your neck, holding you against a body. You struggle against his hold but a knife is quickly pressed against your cheek.

You're dragged back through the woods to the cabin where Will is waiting. His face is filled with worry, then replaced by fury as he sees Hannibal holding you.

"I didn't want this for us Will."

Will shakes his head. "Let her go. She doesn't know anything."

Hannibal traces the tip of knife from your temple to your chin and you try to lean away from it. He digs into your skin as you gasp in pain.

"Will-" A sharp pain in your chest cuts you off as you're unceremoniously dropped to the ground. You glance down to see a pool of red soaking into your shirt. Will is by your side in an instant, pressing hard against your chest as you gasp for air you can't seem to get.

"Will." You mutter. He meets your eyes, tears springing in his own. "It's okay. It's okay."

You're fading fast, Hannibal knowing just where to stab to hurt you the most and leave Will unable to save you. The corners of your vision blacken and you reach a hand to Will's face.

"It's okay..."

The world goes black and the last thing you hear is your brother's cry of pain as you fade from the world.

I slithered here from Eden, just to sit outside your door.

let me know what else you want to see by sending me a request! likes and reblogs are always appreciated x

#will graham #will graham x reader #hannibal #nbc hannibal #muxsh #muxshwriting #from eden

[inafieldofdaisies]

Ship Art | John Seed x Sabrina Donovan | sketch by @felrija ❤️ || a scene from my WIP In Hope Of Tomorrow, snippet below the cut

"I won't lie, I was planning on killing you." "And yet you didn't. Why?" "A change of circumstances."

It felt like at least 2 hours had passed before the door opened again. Sabrina kept her eyes casted downward as a pair of boots came into view, crossing over the threshold, their owner humming a familiar tune. I know this melody. It was the song she sang in the cell. He was there, listening. The realization made her look up, her hazel eyes met John's as he neared, stepping into the light that spilled from the chandelier above. He was wearing jeans, a blue dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up and way too many buttons undone, on top of it was a vest that belonged more in a courtroom than in a bunker in the Middle of nowhere, Montana. "Kept you waiting, didn't I, Deputy?" A dark smirk marred his handsome face, his posture exuding confidence, like he was about to slip into an opening statement any moment. Only in this room he had full reign, assuming the role of judge, jury and executioner. "Probably should consider serving some tea, maybe redecorating your dungeon. Red's a bit on the nose, don't you think? And I wouldn't rate your goon very highly on any scale either." The comment made him chuckle, and she tried to ignore how familiar it sounded, how it pulled on her soul. "Now, I'm not usually late, but someone decided to attempt to derail my Cleansing.", at that he unconsciously went to smooth out his dark hair, making Sabrina realize it's damp. Sabrina narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching, "Did someone try to drown you, Seed?" Don't laugh again. And he didn't, sending a smirk her way instead. "Now, Deputy, enough jokes, there are more pressing matters.", his head tilted slightly, his expression almost... giddy. "What's a joke is you thinking holding a Deputy hostage is a good idea, you of all people should know it's far from it. Aren't you supposed to be a hotshot lawyer?", she couldn't stop her sneer. "Deputy-" Sabrina cut him off, "I have a name." "Yes. Sabrina Blythe Donovan.", he said it matter-of-factly, but Sabrina could tell he took pride in that knowledge. It didn't shock her he knew her full name, with Nancy being on Eden's Gate side no doubt information about the whole Sheriff's Department was leaking like a sieve. A dry laugh escaped her, "Next you're going to tell me the name of my first boyfriend." John crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, "Knowledge is power after all. And, Sabrina, you wouldn't be here if you didn't try to arrest my brother. You all had choice and it led to this." She pushed down the feeling at how familiar her name sounded on his lips, the twinge of longing it caused in her was nothing. It had to be.

"There was an arrest warrant. I was just doing my job. Your brother is a criminal, and now so are you and all of your people." "I'm doing MY job, Deputy. You're a sinner and so are your friends.", he retorted, his words full of conviction as he headed for his torture table. Sabrina froze, expecting him to notice a knife was missing, when he said nothing, she continued, "Why am I here?" The words came out sharper than intended, carrying the tone she used when interrogating suspects back in Portland, the one that got her straight answers and stripped away all the nonsense. John turned, a look of amusement flashing across his face as he leaned against the table, legs crossed at the ankles. "I should be the one asking questions here, Deputy." "Old habits die hard, I was a-" "A detective back in", a dramatic pause, he raised a finger, "Portland. And you left it all behind to work for Whitehorse. Can't wait for you to tell me why." "I'm not telling you shit. I don't know what you think you're doing-" John stalked towards her with swiftness that took her aback as he grabbed the armrests of her chair, the force behind his movement making the wheels skid across the floor. His face had grown serious, piercing blue eyes boring into hers as he loomed over her. "You will talk, confess every sin, no matter how small. I know exactly what I’m doing here."

Their proximity sent a shiver up her spine and she tried to tell herself it was the bad kind. He was so close to a point Sabrina could smell the musky scent of river that clung to his skin. He had indeed taken a dive, her amusement at the confirmation died down quickly. His nearness, the position of his hands as he held onto the chair allowed her to see his tattoos in detail for the first time. In seconds her whole world came crashing down, her blood froze. No. She knew these tattoos, had seen them countless times in her visions, had drawn them over and over to the point they were embedded in her memory. NO. The hand holding hers as the world ended. The man that called her "Butterfly". It was John. John fucking Seed. His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "Hm. A butterfly." He was looking at her tattoo, at one of the butterflies that wasn't hidden by the strap of her top. As if she needed any more reminders of the tragic realization she had just came to, John said the damned word again as he backed away, "Why a butterfly, Deputy?" He was back to being nonchalant, like the outburst hadn't even happened. All she could do was blink, wishing her eyes were lying to her.

"You still with me, Sabrina?", it had finally hit him she wasn't replying, that she wasn't talking back. Breathe. Focus. Snap out of it. "Wish I wasn't, won't lie.", she tried to hold onto her composure. Silence took over as John went back to his table, picking up a tool, looking it over then placing it down with care and grabbing another one, repeating the process. It felt mechanical, like a show. Her own knife felt heavy in her hands, the tip prickling her skin, a wake-up call. She knew what she had to do in order to get back to Savannah, imagined it in the hours he made her wait on him. Plunging the blade deep, ending a life. But doubt was creeping in... Her plan, the dark path she planned to take, there was a chance she would fail, she had seen him alive too many times. And her most recent vision... from the sounds of that one he was breathing and pissed off. John spoke up again, his attention still on the table in front of him, "My brother's church. Let's start there. You saw something." It wasn't a question, he sounded sure of it. She hadn't been able to hide her distress, even tried to stop the arrest. A new path became visible. A plan with a giant leap of faith. Probably the most dumb and risky decision she has ever made in her life. He wanted answers, and she was going to play along. For now. "I will tell you what I saw, but I doubt you'd believe it, they never do." Another smirk, making her feel nauseous. "Try me, Deputy." "I saw the crash. Before it happened, I mean." "A vision.", he nodded mostly to himself, "Joseph has them." "You believe then?" "They're from God. Of course I believe him." John believed Joseph, not her. She was used to people's scepticism, but she had a way to prove it this time. "There's more, John." Something flashed across his face at her saying his name outloud for the very first time, but the mask was back in place too quickly for her to figure out what. Focus. Her mother was good at selling any con, always knew how to approach a person, what they'd want to hear, which buttons to push.

"Say his name. Look him in the eyes and sell the idea, make him think it's his own, darling. There's always an offer a man won't be able to refuse, one he'd throw himself in the deep end for, willingly. And when he's about to sink, you offer a hand, pledge your loyalty. He'd be a goner before you know it."

A part of Candice lived in Sabrina, and for once she let it take over.

"I will tell you what's coming, but I will need something in return.", her voice sounded unshakeable, certain, the exact opposite of how she felt inside. John didn't break her eye contact, nor interrupted her. Sabrina got up from the chair, discarding the ropes as her hands dropped to her sides. "You've been untied this whole time, Deputy?", his eyes shone with amusement again. She took a few steps until she stood almost in front of him, her hand holding out her knife. Surrendering her weapon. "And you had a knife?" When he made no move to take it, Sabrina placed the blade on his "work" bench and walked back, sitting down in the chair and rubbing her wrists. "I won't lie, I was planning on killing you." "And yet you didn't. Why?" "A change of circumstances."

#look at them ❤️❤️❤️ #i love love love how the background brings everything together and the LIGHTING! #excuse me while I stare at this for far too long :D (no regrets) #thank you Alek for bringing them to life! #oc: sabrina donovan #john seed #john seed x female deputy #ship: the diviner and the baptist #john x sabrina #john seed x sabrina donovan #wip: in hope of tomorrow #fc5 ocs #fc5 deputy #far cry 5 oc #far cry 5 deputy #art #character art #my ships #art appreciation #fc5 #far cry 5 #fc5 fandom #far cry 5 fandom #far cry 5 art

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Heretic's Confession, Chapter One

CW: Captivity whump, some... implications... references to branding. This is just me getting a feel for the idea and character, though, really.

-

The robes he once kept pristine are caked in dried mud around the hem. Grigory frowns as he inspects them, rubbing along the seam. It flakes away, leaving imprints of itself behind. 

Maudlin, certainly, but it feels like the stain of their sins painting his soul.

Maybe suffering can give even a man of the Goddess the sentiment of a poet. His lip curls in disgust at the very thought.

Please, please speak to me, Dromada. Tell your priest what he must do to escape this nightmare.

She is, and has always been, silent to his pleas for Her assistance. 

The Goddess the people worship may be a paragon of compassion and forgiveness, her sculptures solemn and grave with hands outstretched to embrace even the lowest-born of Her children, but Grigori is beginning to suspect the holy men have got it wrong. 

She isn't gracefully wise. She does not reach Her hand out to hold Her children. No, as each day passes without Her so much as whispering a reassurance, he begins to feel She is th goddess of laughter, and he is Her current favorite joke.

A knock at the door to his room - his cell, really, but of course they all like to pride themselves on keeping him in high style in his gilded cage - has him looking up, a little startled. The moon has only made half of its trek across the night sky, through the looping swirls of galaxies far, far beyond the reach of mere mortal men. That milky spin of stars, everyone knows, is where the gods live.

He wonders how many of them are looking down on him, sipping crystalline waters, and mocking his pain.

He would spit on every last temple step, if he could.

If he could just leave the fucking room-

“Brother Grigori,” His guest singsongs, half-dancing into the room. Grigory turns away from him, laying one palm over one of the iron bars that blocks any escape through the window. His fingers close slowly around it. 

“What do you want.” His voice is curt, it cuts short and sharp. “Bastard.”

“Oh, see you got my name all wrong again.” The leader of this little gang is tall - too tall - and all knees and legs, lean muscle making him heavier than he looks. Grigori is tall enough for a man, but he seems like he’s half-grown, compared to the bandit. The man’s hair is a shock of white atop his head, shaved on the sides, while Grigori’s curly brown grows to the bottom of his ears, as is prescribed for the priests. He swaths himself in black kohl around his equally dark eyes and shining black leather worn back to brown from age and ill-use at the knees and elbows. Grigori’s hazel and his dirtied robes look like a joke, placed next to the bandit’s appearance.  “It’s Bohli, remember? Or that’s what my mother calls me, anyway. Or she would, if she were still alive. She probably uses that when she curses my name from the heavens above, granted. I mean, probably, unless she really is suffering in the Dark After, like she deserves-”

“What do you want, Bohli?” Grigory’s head is already starting to hurt. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Nonsense. You have all the time in the world. You have nothing but time.”

“Not for… you. Please leave.”

“Nope. Not going anywhere. This is my house, remember? I just let you stay here.”

“Let me.” The words are sour in Grigori’s mouth. “Right, of course. Let me. Because I asked to be branded and trapped here in this room-”

“Hush. I take you for walkies every day, little god’s dog.” Bohli winks, and Grigori - who took a vow of pacifism, once - imagines stabbing his own knife through his eyeball until it comes out the other side of his head. “If you don’t want a leash, you just have to prove you won’t run off.”

He would, of course. Run. Outside, the woods stretch far and wide. There’s a path he could take to find a village, to find freedom...

Or… more realistically… to get arrested for being in league with Bohli and his bastards, which he isn’t, but everyone knows the goddess would save Her most faithful, and he’s been here too long. He would be branded a heretic. Everyone knows he’s a heretic. His own fellow priests would turn their backs on him. The people would burn him at the stake, for being defiled, degraded, a paragon of nothing but the filth they have covered him in. Little more than a bandit himself. 

Maybe he is one.

Dromada would have saved him if he were truly Hers to save. And instead, here he is, the infamous giver of absolution to the men and women who massacre whole towns in defiance of - in direct insult to - the power and might of His Majesty, the King.

No. he would be burned as an enemy of the King's, and he would have no standing to defend himself. A captive this long isn't a captive at all, in the eyes of the world.

Just a man who no longer wants to be saved.

Tears prick at his eyes, and he struggles not to let Bohli see them and mock him even more. It’s not like he hasn’t already been marked. It was one of the first things they did. Bohli had given the order and watched while they tied him down. Grigori himself had been made to look as they put the iron in the fire, made to watch them heat it to red. Bohli had been whispering in his ear when when they pressed it to his pelvis, and Bohli had cooed over him while he screamed, stroking through his sweaty hair.

“Just leave,” He whispers, the area aching all over again. They branded him over the symbol of Dromada tattooed, a mark of his vow of chastity.

Another one broken.

Maybe that was when She stopped listening.

“Oh, but I can’t, darling Grigori. I’ve come to make a confession.” Bohli laughs, and his laughter could make you bleed even better than his blade. But somehow Grigori can’t seem to die from the loss. “Isn’t that why I keep a priest of Dromada around, anyway? For to save my poor mortal soul?”

Grigori fights the urge to wish aloud someone would poison the asshole’s food. “You would burn if you touched the Hem of her robe.”

“Maybe.” Bohli shrugs, kicking a chair over and dropping down into it, loose-limbed. His eyes spark with delight as he takes in Grigori’s misery. “But you wear Her robes, and yet I never burn when I touch you-”

“Speak your confession,” Grigory snaps, his heart twisting and going briefly silent and still in his chest. He feels blood rush to his face, and Bohli’s peal of bright, brittle laughter tells him the flush isn’t going unnoticed. 

“Say it.” Bohli watches him, and it’s like being watched by one of the terrifying big cats that roam the woods just beyond this hideous prison. Unblinking, a predator’s stare. “Say the words, priest.”

Each time he does, they feel more bitter on his tongue. 

But still.

Grigori draws the ruins of his robe closer around himself, and sits up straight. He swallows and sets his jaw. “Bohlinde hir Maksma en Ygridsen, the goddess Dromada hears and forgives all from those who love Her. You have only to ask. Speak, child, and be forgiven.”

Bohli licks his lips, leaning forwards. Somehow, Grigori can’t make himself look away. The bandit leader’s teeth are sharp - those canines can rend skin from bone. He’s part-elf, they say, somewhere in his bloodline the half-mindless shrieking hordes of the elven race lurk. You can always tell, so it’s said, from the sharpness of their teeth. From how little they care for the lives of men.

Maybe he’s half-elf.

It would explain why he’s so fucking smug.

“Forgive me, Dromada’s Chosen, for I have sinned against Her,” Bohli says, and he doesn’t even try to feign sincerity. Why he even plays this game, when Dromada isn’t a goddess for the elves of their wretched offspring to begin with, is beyond Grigori’s understanding.

Grigori fights the urge to sigh. He makes Dromada’s Sign, wondering if it even calls to Her any longer. If She even feels the spark of a follower’s call, or if he’s cut off from Her entirely. Who hears him when he prays?

Does anyone?

“How have you sinned against Our Mother, She Who Gave the Waters?” 

Bohli licks his lips. His smile is a little too wide, shows too many of those sharp, sharp teeth. He'd be blisteringly handsome, if it weren’t for the sight of fangs where none should be. “I won’t lie, Brother Grigori. I set some stuff on fire yesterday. And I’m going to do it again. Will I be forgiven?”

Grigori imagines the mud climbing higher and higher up his robes, pulling him into the earth, forcing itself down his mouth and pressing over his eyes. He imagines the gods in the sky, looking down from their stars.

The image shatters with the memory of first sitting at the table with the dozen or so of Bohli's favorites, each of them smiling at him, while he sat in his pure white robes and felt himself bared, as if naked, before them.

Until Bohli had given the order for what to do with him.

“Dromada forgives all who seek Her,” Grigori intones, thoughtless. The words memorized before he was even thirteen years old, before he was old enough to take his vows. Before he was taken, and they were all broken, one by one. Bohli loved breaking Grigori's vows. “You have only to ask.”

“Good.” Bohli’s voice drops low. He has to focus to hear it, which is probably the bastard’s entire point. “Because I really, really love asking, and I love the sound of your answers.”

The bandit stands, walking over to him, putting one finger under his chin and forcing Grigori to look up - and up, and up, and up - to see the demon smile.

Grigori is sure, as Bohli watches him with his head tipped to the side and his black eyes as bright as the stars, that he can hear the goddess laughing.

#whump #new whump #the heretic's confession #captivity #captivity whump #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #fantasy whump #some weird fantasy race stuff happening here #just go with it #religious whump #religion whump #fantasy writing #bohli is a bad bad man #grigori is just a tired blorbo

[bluedinosaur8]

acting cool

match : remus lupin x pettigrew!reader

summary : Remus moved away for Uni, you find him again at a boring house party, he walks you home but you both forgot how to act around each other

warnings : mentions of alcohol, smoking, swearing, kissing

word count : 2.9k

heavily inspired by the song Cool About It by Boygenius

"YOU WANNA DITCH?"

Remus shakes out of his daydreaming, pulled back to the real world by your voice. You are standing in front of him, sour expression on your face and arms crossed over your chest. Even though you look annoyed, Remus can't help but let his eyes linger.

"What?" He asks eventually. He thinks he has forgotten what you said.

"This shit is boring and I don't wanna walk home alone," You say.

Remus looks around. You're right. This party is boring. No wonder he has been zoning out for the better part of his time here. He can't even remember what he did since his friends left to hang out with some other friends they made at Uni.

So this time it doesn't take long for him to answer. "Yeah, sure,"

He follows you out of the house of a guy he doesn't know the name of. You look like you know your way around, though, and only look back once to see if he's still following you. He is, close enough to almost touch you if he just reached out.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

The air nips at his skin as you two step outside. It's late and December and maybe not the best idea to walk home, but he was here now, with you, and there was no way that he's giving up this chance, only to get back to the warmth he had abandoned.

You slow down a little, he notices. Taking the hint, he takes an extra big step, catching up with you in no time. You look up at him and smile.

It dawns on Remus that the two of you don't know each other well enough anymore to keep the conversation flowing after two minutes of silence. His hands feel empty.

"Y'don't mind, do you?" He asks, pulling out his pack of cigs and a lighter.

He thinks that you may be a little tipsy, because it's taking you longer to answer than normal. When you look up at him, he already has the cigarette placed between his pink lips.

"Nope," you say and eye the cigarette. Remus notices.

"You can't have one, your brother will kill me," He says, bringing the lighter closer and closer to his face. The moment the cigarette catches fire, he feels a little sense of relief washing over him.

"He won't mind," you say, but you both know that you're lying. "Okay, yes, he would mind. But, who cares, he's my bloody brother, not my mum. At least he doesn't tell her anymore when I do stuff,"

"Stuff?" He asks. He never heard you talk about stuff before.

"Stuff," you repeat.

Remus flicks his cigarette and holds it out to you. It almost feels illegal to him, giving you a drag. Like the police could come around the corner any second and arrest him on the spot. When did you grow up? Are four months really that long?

You take a drag. Expertly, he observes. You don't waste any time giving it back to him, which he is glad for. He still doesn't know what to do with his stupid hands.

When he places his lips around the orange end again, he can't help but constantly think about how your lips were wrapped around it only seconds prior. He shakes his head. He feels weird. Sometimes, you still feel fourteen to him. He has to remind himself that you're not, and that even when you were fourteen and he was fifteen, he felt awkward around you.

A good kind of awkward, he used to say. Now he's not certain anymore.

"Where's your jacket?" He asks. He doesn't know why though, he doesn't have a jacket to offer you.

"It's the alcohol," you reply.

Maybe he's a little tipsy too, because it takes him a while to process what you said. It clicks in his brain only a second later. It's the same thing the girls used to say last year when they all got down to the pub on Friday night with their fakes. None of them ever took a jacket from anybody. Except Lily, who stopped being cold on a random day in October of last year, when she finally said yes to James' offer. Since then, her shoulders were always covered by James' red jacket.

He flicks his cigarette. You ask for it again and give it back just ask quickly.

"So," Remus begins, "How's school going for ya?"

You shrug. "Y'know, good," you say. "I'm doing good,"

It wasn't the question he asked. He still saw through the lie though, your eyes giving you away. Once, before, you had your walls built way up. Too high to reach for anyone, even your family. Then, one day in the two weeks that both of you were sixteen, the walls came tumbling down a little. Not all the way, not even close, but just far enough to see your eyes and the bridge of your nose.

"The teachers are being fucking annoying, though," You say, "Always reminding me of A-Levels coming up. Like I don't remember myself every single day,"

Remus chuckles a little. He remembers how shit A-Levels were. He also remembers how much pressure your brother was under this time last year. He can imagine it's the same with you.

"Yeah, but you're gonna do great," Remus says. He doesn't know what else to say.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Trust me, I know. I've got like a sixth sense for this shit,"

You giggle. When the light of the street lights illuminate your face, he can see your flushed cheeks.

The two of you pass the corner shop a second later. Your house is five streets away, his six. He stubs out his cigarette.

"So, yeah, shit's great on my part," you blow out a low breath. "You? How's London treating you?"

The question makes him nervous. He pulls out a second cigarette.

He gives the same answer as you. "Good. Different, but good," He lies too.

Remus moved to London for University about four months ago now. The first few weeks he had expected for it to feel weird, for him to feel out of place. He missed his friends, who, unlike him, all stayed around Liverpool. He missed his parents, his little sister, his room, his footy team.

When he was still homesick after two months, with little to none new friends around him, he had started to think that maybe Uni wasn't for him. Maybe London wasn't for him, even though it was the place he had been dreaming about since the start of secondary school. He was sure that London would be his place, where he would bloom.

Now, four months after the start of Uni, he's not even sure if he wants to go back after the winter holidays.

"You sure?" You test him.

"Of course," he says, but he can see at the way you make a face at him that you don't buy his bullshit. He has never quite been capable of lying to your face, of passing this hard test you give him every once in a while.

"Really." He continued, persistent in making you believe him. "I actually got this job at this fancy restaurant. Gotta wear an all white dress shirt and all that jazz,"

A laugh blows out of your nose. "You? A job in a restaurant?" You look up at him like he's crazy.

"What?" Remus laughs too, cig hanging from the right corner of his mouth, though he's not really sure what you find so funny. "You find it so unbelievable that I found work?"

"No, no," you chuckle, "I just never saw you as a server, y'know, with your grumbling and frowning and all,"

Remus thinks you're crazy. And he wants to say so, but then he kicks childishly at a pebble with a frown plastered on his face, and maybe he can see where you're coming from.

He visibly tries to relax before answering. "Trust me, I didn't peg myself as one either," this is a truth he tells, maybe the first complete one, "But I'm not really a server, just a runner,"

"Ahh," you say. He can see in the way your face twists that that makes more sense to you.

He blows out a cloud of smoke and holds the fag out for you to take. You do. You don't give it back immediately.

Remus doesn't know what to say next. He can't ask you about your school anymore, you've already told him about how your boss was a bloody bitch right when you arrived at the party, before the two of you had lost sight of each other for the rest of the night — well, until now. He racks his brain for a new conversation topic, not wanting to end the walk in silence.

( Even though he could watch you take drags of his cigarette in silence for hours. )

"Did you see James' outfit?" He asks, breaking the silence.

A bark of laughter comes out your mouth, along with the smoke, as you nod your head enthusiastically. "Oh my god, yes. That shit was terrible!"

Remus hums, an amused grin on his face. You give him back the cigarette. The two of you walk into your street, on the sidewalks you used to run after him, your brother and the rest of his friends, hoping to tag along.

"Like, I saw him, and I was like: 'A cowboy hat, James? Really? Did you listen to too much country again?'"

"James thought he looked amazing," Remus grinned.

"That even makes it worse," You shake your head, comically looking over at Remus who was already looking at you.

"Wait, no, no," You start to giggle uncontrollably before even having the chance to share your new thought. "The worst thing is, is that Lily liked it!"

"No way,"

"Yes!"

"Lily liked it? I would've thought she would've thrown it in the fire by now,"

"Na-ah," You say. Remus takes a last drag and stubs the cig out. "She was wearing matching cowboy boots," You squeeze his arm for the dramatics.

For two seconds, Remus doesn't answer.

He shakes out of his pretty quickly. "Okay, now I've lost complete faith in both of them," He chuckles.

"Honestly," you agree. Your house is in view now, a light on the first floor on. "I still don't see how James has a fucking girlfriend and you don't,"

Remus must be more sober than you are, because he seems to grasp the intensity of what you said right as the words leave your mouth.

You think he's worthy enough of having someone love him. Even more worthy than James, who has always had the biggest heart and had been looking ages for someone who could give him back the same love that he deserved, the same love he gifted to everyone else.

You think that Remus is lovable.

Remus doesn't know if his heart is breaking or blooming. It feels the same.

A few seconds later and he sees your face twist into one of horror and realisation from the corner of his eye, finally realising your comment held much more than you initially thought. He's afraid to look you in the eye. You seem afraid too, because for the first time tonight, you let your head hang.

"I'm sorry..." You whisper. Remus thinks that maybe you think that he's offended by your words. Yet, he doesn't know how to feel.

He wishes you hadn't apologised. That you could've been a little cruel about it by just carrying on, but he knew you were too kind for that.

Trying to forget about it, he shakes his head and gives you a small smile. You look sad, maybe a little unsure what to do with yourself. He sees your hand twitch and he wonders if you feel the need for a cigarette, too.

You stop your twitching hand by putting it in the back pocket of your jeans.

Your house is a few steps away and Remus watches how your face falls.

"Shit," You mumble.

"What?" Remus asks.

"My mum is home," You stop in front of your garden, not opening the gate. There's a blue car in the parking spot, one that Remus recognizes to be your mother's. He looks over at you, at how you make no move to enter your home.

"Good luck," he says quietly.

You turn to him. Fully standing in front of each other for the first time this evening. Finally eye to eye. You give him a kind smile, a head tilt, and something Remus does not expect; a hug.

Your hands wrap carefully around his neck, your chin resting against his shoulders since you're standing on your tippy toes. It's the closest the two of you have been in ages, ever since the night when both of you were sixteen and you had hugged him thanks then, too.

Remus does not know what to do with his hands. He's overloaded by his feelings. First, you're closer than ever. Second, you smell like cigarettes and coconut shampoo. Third, he's afraid that when he does puts his hands on you, you'll immediately break the hug.

But you don't step back, and Remus can not just stand there with his hands in the air, so he places them softly against your back. He doesn't try to pull you closer, or hold you tighter, he just holds you gently like you're made out of glass.

"Thank you," you say.

He nods into your hair. "You're welcome," he says. Both of you had started to talk quietly, this close to your house.

You step back, your arms falling back to your sides. "For dropping me off, I mean,"

Remus nods again. "I know,"

Maybe you're both lying now. You both don't point it out.

"When will you go back to London?" You ask as you struggle to get your keys free from the loop of your belt.

"Third of January," He says. It's now the twenty-ninth of December.

You smile. "See you with New Years, then?"

Remus' eyebrows pull together in confusion.

"I heard Mrs Potter is planning that street party again," You help him and gesture to the house at the end of your street, the only one significantly larger than the others. "Peter and I are there,"

"Oh, yeah," Remus says, "Yeah, I'll see if can make it,"

You nod. "Right," You look back to your house. "Or we could just go for a smoke sometime,"

"Yeah," Remus nods.

"Yeah," you say.

Remus thinks that you're stalling. But he can't say that he minds. He would stall with you until the sun comes up, as long as you keep staring at him like that.

"I don't wanna go in just yet," You whisper.

"I know," he whispers back.

Your gaze falls on his lips. Remus notices and tries not to think about what's going on inside your head right now. His own head is busy enough on its own.

Are you really going to kiss him? Are his lips chapped from the cold? Would he kiss you if you didn't? Is he going a little crazy? Has he imagined you two kissing before?

Yes.

The answer is yes.

You place your hands on his cheeks and quickly place your lips against his. So hastily, that Remus had hardly any time to process your face coming towards him. Now all there was his lips on yours, yours on his, your hands on his cheeks, his hands softly coming down on your waist.

Yes, Remus had imagined the two of you kissing before. The first time when he was fifteen, then when he was sixteen, and every year since then. When he was young, he would wonder about dramatic make out sessions, his hands near your butt, your body completely pressed into him. The perfect scenario back then.

But this, the delicacy of the soft touches, your lips not even moving, bodies close but not yet touching, was so, so much better than his young, wild dreams.

He doesn't keep count of how long the two of you stand there, in front of your house, lips interlocked. He's in a trance, a moment of bliss, until you pull away.

Remus opens his eyes to see you staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. As if what you had just done was the worst decision ever. And Remus wanted to tell you that it was fine, that there was nothing to worry about, that he enjoyed himself, but you beat him to it.

"Oh, Remus, I'm so sorry," You say quietly, eyes rimming with unshed tears that had started to well up in a seconds notice.

He doesn't know what's going on in your head, but he can't imagine it's any good.

"Hey, it's cool," Hey says, trying his best to comfort you with his words. "It's cool," he whispers.

You don't look any better. "Uhm," You say, fumbling clumsily with your keys, which are still around the loop of your belt. "I'm gonna go inside now. Thanks for... walking me home,"

"Yeah, of course,"

Remus wants to tell you that he liked the kiss. That you could kiss him again, if you wanted to. But he doesn't know where to start. He doesn't want to make you anymore upset than you already are.

"See you with New Years," you say and open the gate, taking big and fast strides towards your front door while still struggling to free your keys.

Remus doesn't see you enter your home. He's already walking away before you have the chance to look back, a third cigarette in his mouth.

first ever time posting, kinda nervous

english, as you may have noticed, is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!

I am seriously in love with Remus Lupin and with Boygenius so I had to combine them

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #Remus lupin x pettigrew!reader #marauders #harry potter #fanfic #imagines #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders x you #remus x y/n #remus lupin x y/n #remus imagine

[shamera]

An Oar Upon the Water (MLC ficlet)

Fandom: Mysterious Lotus Casebook Character/Pairing(s): Di Feisheng / Li Lianhua / Fang Duobing Rating: PG Warning: none? fluff! DreamWidth link

"There are some people who leave impressions not so lasting as the imprint of an oar upon the water." -Kate Chopin

Despite his reputation, Li Lianhua didn’t always work as a physician for money.

Of course he didn’t, not when he saw sick children lining the streets or parents offering what little they had if only someone would help— and he could help. Perhaps it was unwise to use his Yangzhouman in those cases, but he once tried to make the world a better place and it turned out to be a habit hard to break.

For the poorer families, he often got cases of vegetables (he would accept seeds for payment as well) or whatever homemade kits of items they could afford to give away. Once, a young girl gifted him with a tiny wood carving for helping her injured brother.

“It’s my favourite,” she lisped in a mock-whisper, holding it up for him with both hands. She was missing at least two of her front teeth, and had her hair barely contained in a childish bun on the side of her head. “Brother made it for me.”

Li Lianhua had knelt before her to keep her at eye level, a little tired but not overly so from his session. “You should keep it, then. It must be worth more than anything in the world.”

She brightened at his acknowledgement, all but thrusting the little wood piece at his chest. “It is! But you have it, okay? Brother can make a new one for me now.”

And thus Li Lianhua ended up with various knick-knacks in Lotus Tower that he just couldn’t bear to throw away.

—

After the cumulation of everything, Li Lianhua returned to Lotus Tower filled with trepidation. With nothing else to do (he had practically been ordered under house arrest! He was rarely left alone, and even when he was, Hulijing barked loudly every time he walked outside the door!), he found himself organising boxes and drawers in an attempt to keep busy.

By the time Fang Duobing came back, slouching a little from exhaustion from dealing with angry officials who could hardly believe the results (and arrests) from a case, he found Li Lianhua in the middle of a chaotic mess on the ground, piles of random trinkets thrown atop the table and chairs and floor.

“What are you doing?” The younger man asked, mentally despairing at the idea of cleaning all that up in order to make room for dinner. He crept close, toeing the mess warily.

It was Hulijing, sprawled across Li Lianhua’s lap for a nap, who twitched an ear and acknowledged Fang Duobing’s presence first, opening a single eye and then huffing a breath before going back to her nap.

Li Lianhua, on the other hand, took a long moment before he looked up from his inventory, ink dotting the edge of his sleeves as he examined several wooden objects before picking up the wet brush that was resting a little too close to his clothes and writing something down on paper. He looked up only after he was finished.

“Xiaobao,” he acknowledged warmly. “How did it go?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Fang Duobing replied, raising his chin proudly. He leaned over a large stack of books on the table. “What are you doing?”

“Organising.” Li Lianhua responded absentmindedly, and then paused. He gestured Fang Duobing forward with a hand. “Come here.”

It took him a moment to carefully step over the mess, and then lean down as Li Lianhua gestured him closer again, waiting as the man took one of the small wooden pieces and pressed it against the nearly empty plate of ink set on the side of the floor. Then Li Lianhua grabbed him by the hand and pressed the wooden bit against his skin.

“Good job on the last case.” Li Lianhua told him, and then lifted the wooden piece, making a pleased noise at what it revealed.

Fang Duobing lifted his hand, at first bothered by the ink stain and then amused as he saw the six petal flower impression left on his skin. “Thanks. What’s this?”

“I couldn’t figure out the shape of it.” Li Lianhua told him, setting the wooden stamp back down on the ground.

Fang Duobing gave only a moment’s dubious glance at the paper next to Li Lianhua, and then decided to ignore the small lie. He was coming to realise how Li Lianhua would speak, truth and lies mixed together in the grand scheme of things at all times, and this was one of those moments where he was deflecting with a small lie, one that was far too easy to pick out. It had taken him months originally to realise: Li Lianhua was actually a pretty bad liar.

“Is that a seal?” Fang Duobing asked, lifting his hand to better examine the shape. The petals were roughly carved, and the ink was slightly blotchy, bleeding a bit onto his skin already. It was cute, the size no bigger than a fingernail. “Did you make it?”

Li Lianhua shook his head absentmindedly. “Given to me, I think.”

Fang Duobing made a considering noise, and thought about Li Lianhua pressing the stamp against his skin to tell him he did a good job. “I’ll get you a better one. Something lotus-shaped. And cinnabar ink.”

“What use would I have for that?” Li Lianhua asked. He was already examining something else in the pile next to him, head turned away. “I have no official documents to sign.”

Fang Duobing gave a considering hum as he examined the flower on his hand, and smiled. “I’ll get you one, anyway.”

—

Wuyan paused in his daily report as Di Feisheng turned his head slightly to read the document next to him with the same apparent disinterest as usual.

“Ahh.” He blinked as his leader’s gaze turned toward him at the uncharacteristic hesitation. “Apologies, Director. You have, ahh—”

Di Feisheng was dressed impeccably as always, deep violet robes underneath a thick patterned black overrobe held tightly together by black leather wrist guards and belt, both sewn with silver edging. Everything was put together well, perfectly groomed, and his hair was in its familiar crown, yet—

Wuyan pointed to his own cheek and said, “You seem to have something here.”

The ‘something’ was barely more than a smudge of ink, but one that formed the shape of a six petaled flower, only the slightest bit smeared.

Surprisingly, the Jinyuan Alliance leader smiled slightly. “Yes.”

Wuyan cleared his throat, and decided not to comment on it further. Considering Di Feisheng had come back for the reports directly from Lotus Tower, very little was going to actually surprise Wuyan at this point.

He’d just have to ensure no one else commented on it later.

—

When Di Feisheng made his way back to Lotus Tower just after the sun set, the floor was cleared of clutter once more, everything orderly and tidy and wiped clean. The fire under the kettle was lit, the flame small but bright and warm in the autumn evening. There were several pots bubbling happily, emitting smells of herbs and medicine that stung his nose slightly.

Li Lianhua was seated next to the pots, hunched over slightly and mending a rip in some dark green robes, rattan fan set down next to him.

“Where’s the brat?” Di Feisheng asked in lieu of a greeting, seating himself next to Li Lianhua.

“Xiaobao took Hulijing down to the stream,” Li Lianhua responded, not bothering to look up from his task. “And since you have your hands free, you can help me fan the pots.”

Di Feisheng thought of refusing for only a moment (mostly to see Li Lianhua's reaction) but then took up the fan, keeping his movements slow enough to feed the flames but not fast enough to agitate. He watched as Li Lianhua carefully mended the rip with a dark thread, and then finally tied off the end with a clumsy double knot before snipping the excess and smoothing out the fabric triumphantly.

“That should do it,” Li Lianhua said. “Before I put this away, did you have— A’Fei.”

Di Feisheng raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement, still fanning.

Li Lianhua raised a sleeve to hide his smile. “You didn’t wipe it off? I thought you were angry at Fang Xiaobao for that. Should I—?”

“Leave it.” Di Feisheng said, halting Li Lianhua’s movement toward a rag. “It’s fine.”

“Did anyone else see it?”

Of course they did. Di Feisheng hadn’t exactly hidden from his meetings. None other than Wuyan dared to comment on the flower mark on his face.

“I should have hidden it,” Li Lianhua continued, tone amused.

“Where did you put it, then?”

Li Lianhua indicated toward the dresser by the door, close enough they could reach it without getting up. “I covered the ink earlier.”

Di Feisheng leaned over, reaching across over Li Lianhua’s warm back to grab the little wooden stamp, and then took a moment’s deliberation before grabbing the ink plate as well, pulling it back toward the table. Li Lianhua was watching him with a quirked smile, heading tilted as if questioning what he was doing.

He put the fan down and uncovered the ink plate to dip the stamp in, and then reached toward Li Lianhua even as the man leaned away with a huff of amusement.

“Oh no,” Li Lianhua said. “You don’t get to turn this around on me! I wasn’t the one who left that on your face!”

“Why not?” Di Feisheng asked, taking it as a challenge as he moved to keep the man within reach. “Fang Duobing has this mark too, doesn’t he?”

“He’s probably washed it off by now— A’Fei!”

Di Feisheng darted to reach around the mended robe Li Lianhua was using as a makeshift shield, and feinted in one direction only to push into the other man's personal space, leaving him no room to retreat if he didn’t want to get up from the chair, until Li Lianhua laughed from the sheer absurdity of it and Di Feisheng managed to slip a hand to cup the bottom of his head and gently press the stamp between his brows.

Li Lianhua's smile softened, “A huadian? Really?”

Di Feisheng found himself smiling in return. “It suits.”

Outside, the sounds of paws running on the road reached their ears moments before they heard Fang Duobing call out, “I’m back! We got a lot of fish in the traps— should we smoke it overnight?”

Li Lianhua gave Di Feisheng an amused, challenging look as the latter let him go and pulled back just as the door opened to let both Fang Duobing and Hulijing inside from the cold.

“Lao Di!” Fang Duobing greeted cheerfully. He was carrying a stick laden with fish tied to the end, arm bracers missing and his sleeves rolled up slightly to expose his forearms. “When did you get back?”

Then he took in the scene and stopped in his tracks, laughing at the two men with flower stamps on their faces sitting on the same bench.

Di Feisheng was gracious enough to let the young man laugh for several long moments before he handed the wooden stamp to Li Lianhua and commented casually, “I’ll hold him down.”

Li Lianhua accepted the object graciously, also taking the entire ink plate as Di Feisheng stood up. “Alright.”

“Wait, wait, wait! You’re not serious, are you? Wait!”

Li Lianhua smiled and made sure to press the stamp down extra hard in the ink.

#Mysterious Lotus Casebook #Li Lianhua #Fang Duobing #Di Feisheng #ficlet #this is one of the ones that might just end up on my DW only and not make it to AO3 #no edit no second look I LITERALLY WROTE THIS WITHIN MY NANO OUTLINE #...also that fan is apparently known as a Satay fan but I am not going to refer to it as such #I had the mental image of Di Feisheng with a little flower on his cheek and ran with it

[vanfleeter]

Adoração // JTK

Pairing: Jake x reader Warning: Smut (minors stay away, i beg), mentions of arrests (if that's triggering for anyone), teasing, edging, shower sex, slight cursing, and of course a little fluff, please let me know if I missed anything. Author's Note: Hit writer's block with this one which is why it took me so long to get finished. I hope you all love this. I'm also debating adding more to this, so let me know. Summary: You tag along while Jake photographs Sam's proposal and you meet the family.

Part 2: Hot In Africa

“(Y/N)!” Jake calls down the hallway. “Are you ready?”

You come walking down the hall and buttoning up your shirt. “For someone who is usually the one that’s late, you’re rushing me.”

Jake flashes you a smile. “Today is important.” He says grabbing his camera and placing it inside of its carrier. “Sam threatened to kill me if I’m late.”

“Well yeah, you’re his brother. You have to be there.”

“Technically no,” Jake slings his bag over shoulder. “I don’t have to be there. However, he hired me to take photos of the whole debacle. So if I’m late, his whole planned proposal is out of whack and when Sam’s plans are out of whack, he’s out of whack which means everything is going to blow up.”

You rest your hands on Jake’s shoulders. “We’ve got an hour before you have to be there and it takes thirty minutes to arrive. We’ll be fine.”

Jake sighs. “I’m nervous.”

“I can tell.” You giggle.

“Can we please just leave?” Jake whines as he hangs his head back.

“Okay, okay. Let me just grab my purse and we can go.” You say kissing his cheek.

Walking over to the kitchen, you grab your purse and phone off of the counter top.

“Come on, let’s go get some people engaged.” –

Stepping into the fern conservatory, you look around in complete awe. All of the plants fill the room, lining the walkways and stretching as tall as the glass ceilings. You hear a shutter sound behind you and you turn around to see Jake lowering his camera. You cock your head and rest your hands on your hips.

“Don’t waste all of the film.” You say. “You have to save some for the proposal.”

Jake reaches his hand down to his camera bag that hangs down from his shoulder. He gives it a light pat and smiles. “I came prepared.”

You scoff and roll your eyes before turning back around.

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” Jake says as he follows behind you. You shrug your shoulders. “You know I don’t like it when you roll your eyes at me.” He says pressing his hand into your back.

“I know..”

“Ohh..” He laughs. “So that’s how you want to play it?”

He pulls you into him and lowers his mouth to your ear. “If we weren’t in public, I’d pull you into these trees and fuck you.” You feel your cheeks flush as the aching feelings begin to burn between your legs. “Don’t roll your eyes at me again..”

“There you are!” A voice calls from a few yards down the walkway.

A taller man makes his way in your direction. His hair is wavy like Jake’s but longer, stopping just a few inches away under his shoulders. His facial hair is a lot thicker than Jake’s, shaped perfectly around his chin and molding over his top lip like a fluffy caterpillar.

“Sammy boy!” Jake greets, a bright smile forming on his face.

“Glad to finally have you back in Michigan.” Sam says as the two of them hug. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been…great.” Jake says, nodding his head. He turns towards you and holds out his hand in your direction. “I’d actually like to introduce you to someone.” He says reaching for your hand and pulling you over to the two of them. “Sammy, this is (Y/N), my girlfriend.”

“Ohh..” Sam chuckles. “Josh wasn’t lying when he said you had a girlfriend.” He extends his hand out to you. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).” He says shaking your hand. “So.. Photos..” He claps his hands. “How are you going to hide in this place? It’s pretty small.”

Jake points to the window. “I’ll hide outside,” Jake says. “Snap photos through the window at the beginning and when she says ‘Yes’, I’ll come in and finish the photos with posed shots.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sam says. “I love it.”

“Are you nervous?” Jake asks.

“I wasn’t until you said that..” Sam says who’s now wringing his hands and shaking his shoulders.

“Sorry..” Jake mumbles.

You quickly jump in and grab Jake’s arm. “We’ll just be outside..hiding. You’ll be just fine, Sam.”

You shove Jake out of the conservatory and drag him behind the wall. You slap his arm with the back of your hand. “Are you nuts? You never ask if someone’s nervous right before they make the biggest decision of their life.”

“Wha–I’m sorry!” He says rubbing his arm. “Geez, did you have to hit me?”

“Yes, I-”

“Shh..” Jake hushes as he covers your mouth. “She’s coming..” He pushes you behind him and pulls out his camera. Slowly he stands up to peer through the window and starts taking snapshots of the couple. “Yes.. Calm and steady Sam. Calm and steady.”

“You know he can’t hear you, right?”

“Shut up..”

“Well, he can’t–”

“I swear, you better shut up.” Jake says quickly snaps more photos. “YES!” He shouts, throwing his hands in the air. Both Sam and his now fiance look towards the window. Jake’s eyes grow wide and he sheepishly waves at them. He grabs your hand and pulls you back around to the entrance and inside the building.

“Were you outside the whole time?” Sam’s fiance questions.

Jake nods his head and holds up his camera. “Uh, (Y/N), this is Sam’s now fiance–Haley. Haley, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

“Oh it’s so wonderful to get to meet you!” Haley says as she wraps you in a hug.

“You too!” You giggle. “Congratulations as well! From what Jake’s told me about Sam, it sounds like you got yourself a keeper.”

Haley gushes and nods her head. “Look,” She holds out her hand for you to look at. “Isn’t it so gorgeous? He definitely did a phenomenal job picking it out.”

“Okay, okay. You two can fawn over the ring later, right now we have to get these photos done before the sun starts going down.” Jake says as he waves his camera in the air.

“Right, right–of course.” Haley says. She grabs your hand. “We’ll finish talking later.” —

Walking up the steps of Jake’s childhood home, you pause on the porch, your body going rigid. Jake turns to face you and gives your hand a light squeeze.

“Hey,” He rubs his thumb over the top of your hand. “I promise everything will be great.”

“But your parents–”

“My parents already love you.” Jake steps closer to you and gently caresses your cheek. “There’s nothing to be worried about. Take a deep breath.” You do. “If at any time you get overwhelmed, just squeeze my hand and I will take you away from it.”

“Can you take me away now?”

Jake smiles and places a kiss on your forehead. “Give it a try,” He says. “For me.”

You nod your head. “Okay.”

Leading you inside the house, you hear laughter coming from the kitchen. “Joshua Michael! I can’t believe you said that!” Jake hangs up your purse and leads you into the kitchen where you two find his family gathered around the kitchen island joking and laughing.

“Jake!” His mother exclaims as she rushes over to him. “Oh my baby, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Hey Mom..” Jake chuckles as he hugs her back.

She gasps when she lays eyes on you. “You must be (Y/N).” She says as she pulls you in for a hug. “Jake has told us so much about you.”

“Good things, I hope.” You say making Jake chuckle.

“All good things.” His mother says with a smile. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Kelly just grilled a bunch of burgers and Sam’s working on cocktails for everyone.”

Jake leans down to you. “I’d avoid Sam’s cocktails at all costs.” He says making you giggle.

“Hey now, I’ve gotten better.” Sam says as he shakes up a new concoction before pouring it into a glass. “Tell ‘em Danny.”

A taller gentleman standing beside him shakes his head as a smile creeps across his face. He brushes his curls out of his face. Jake snorts and shakes his head. “(Y/N), meet Daniel. A longtime childhood friend who just seems to never go away.” He jokes and shoots Danny a wink.

Danny laughs. He claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I stuck around to make sure this dumbass stays out of trouble.”

“Clearly didn’t do his job very well.” Josh says. “Sammy boy got arrested in high school.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Let it go.” He grumbles. “Geez, you go to jail once and no one ever lets you live it down.” He looks straight at you. “Have you ever been to prison?”

“Samuel,” Their mother scolds. “Leave her alone.”

“Uh well,” You speak up and lean on the kitchen counter. “I actually have been.”

Sam perks up. “Do tell.”

You suck in a breath before exhaling. “It’s not as cool as yours but.. I was sixteen and got caught spray painting the high school gym.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding..”

A smile spreads across your face. “I wish.. No, I was arrested for shoplifting makeup.”

“She’s cool, I like her.” Their sister speaks up as she walks into the kitchen. “You must be (Y/N),” She says with a smile. “Great to finally meet you, I’m Veronica but everyone calls me Ronnie. Please don’t let my brothers scare you away.”

“Oh, pfft..” Josh slings his arm around your shoulders. “We can’t do that..” He says making you giggle.

The rest of the evening was spent telling stories, some embarrassing ones of Jake but also cute ones that still embarrassed Jake. Eventually he got tired of it and left the kitchen leaving you with his brothers. You politely excused yourself from the table and went to find him.

Finding Jake out on the front porch sitting on the stairs, you walk over and join him. He looks up at you before lowering his head again. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought the stories were cute.”

Jake scoffs and shakes his head. “No, they weren’t.”

“Yes they were.” You say. “Come on, imagining you as a little boy and running around dressed as a pirate? That’s too adorable.” Jake rolls his eyes. “But come on, I bet even now you’d be cute.. Maybe even sexy.”

“Don’t do it..” He says, his jaw clenching. “Not here.”

“Then let’s go back to the hotel.” You say.

“And what excuse would I give my mother for leaving? ‘I want to go fuck my girlfriend’?”

“Well.. Not exactly..”

“(Y/N)..”

“Oh come on Jake.. You’ve been teasing me ever since we left the gardens. The constant edging in the car. I would’ve grabbed the steering wheel to throw us off the road just so you could fuck me in a ditch.. Now you’re pissed at them for embarrassing you. Just say you’re tired and we can leave.”

You could tell he was getting antsy. His knee is shaking and his fists are balled up and hanging between his knees. He takes in a deep breath before exhaling.

“One hour..” He says standing up. “And then we can leave.” Your mouth opens ready to protest but he reaches down and closes it. “Not another word.” He holds his hand out to you and he pulls you to your feet. “You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you.” He whispers in your ear. He pulls away and heads back inside the house.

Who knew time would go so damn slow? It felt like eternity before Jake finally bid his goodbyes to his family and dragged you from the house. His knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove to the hotel. More like speed to the hotel.

You hadn’t been inside the room for more than a second before he already had you pinned to the wall and his lips pressed to yours. Grabbing fists full of your shirt in his hands, he rips it open and tosses it away before tearing off his own shirt. He pulls you in close to his body, your chests pressed together. You can feel his heart racing. He’s eager and impatient.

Hoisting you onto his waist he carries you over to the bed and lays you down, his lips never breaking from yours. He lays down and pulls away long enough to unbutton your pants and pull them off. His eyes grow wide as he sees just how soaked your panties are already. A low growl emits from his throat and his hands tighten around your thighs.

Pulling down your panties he tosses them to the floor before bringing his face back between your legs. Your head falls back into the mattress as a moan slips out when you feel his tongue graze against your center.

“Oh fuck..” You groan.

“Mmmm, does my baby like that?”

“Yes…” You moan.

He continues working you with his tongue before pulling away and inserting his fingers. Your back arches as you clutch tightly to the bedsheets.

“My pretty girl,” He says, pumping his finger in and out of you. “You always do so well for me.” He leans over top of you and holds your chin in his hand to turn your head to look at him. “Look at me, I watch to watch your eyes as your pupils dilate. As your body gives in.”

You can see the darkness fill his eyes like something has taken over him. Jake moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Fuck baby,” He says feeling you clench around his fingers. “Already?”

You nod your head as you hold tightly to his biceps. “Jake… I need to..”

“No baby, not yet.” He says before retracting his fingers.

“Jake..” You whine.

“Hold it..”

“But Jake-”

“I said, hold it.”

He climbs off the bed and pulls off his pants before heading for the bathroom. You watch as he closes the door behind him. Seconds follow and you hear water from the shower running.

“Jake!” You shout. You climb off the bed and storm over to the bathroom and throw open the door. You can see the silhouette of his body through the shower curtain. “Jacob! You’re taking a shower?!”

“Yes princess.” He responds. You watch as his arms raise by his head and drag through his hair.

“Right now?!”

He chuckles. “Was there something you wanted?”

You reach for the curtain and throw it open. He looks at you with his one eyebrow raised. “You can’t just work me like that and then walk away. And then to take a shower?!”

A smirk appears on his face. “Oh.. I was supposed to let you cum, right?”

Your hands slap your bare thighs. “No shit asshole.”

He laughs and wipes his hands across his face to rid it of the soap sliding down from his hair. “Well what are you waiting for?” He says. “Do it.”

“I can’t just do it on command.” You say.

“Oh no?”

“Jacob…” You watch him wash the soap out of his hair. He snaps his finger and points to a spot in the shower in front of him.

“Come here.”

You step into the shower and close the curtain. He pulls you into his body allowing the water to run down your head and body soaking your hair.

“Is that my only job? To make you cum?” He says, his hand gliding down your arms before coming to rest on your hips. He moves one hand back up to your head and he gently tilts it to the side to kiss your neck.

“N-No..” You respond in a shaky voice.

“No?”

“No..”

“So what else do I do?” He says. “Besides making your sweet little kitty pur?” He nibbles on your earlobe before lapping his tongue over it.

“You…” It was hard for you to concentrate on speaking coherent words while feeling his one hand on your hip slip in between your legs and cup your center. “You uh..”

“I what?” He says rubbing his palm in slow circles against your folds.

“You love me.”

“That’s all I do? Love you and make you cum?” He says. “What about when I make you breakfast in bed? Bring home flowers because I saw some in the park that I thought you would like?”

You feel his fingers tease the outside of your entrance before slowly inserting it. Your head falls onto his shoulder.

“Jake…”

“But I have to admit, pleasing you is my favorite.” Pulling his hand away from your center, he pushes you away from him and leans you against the wall of the shower. “I love feeling you squirm against my body as I send you over the edge.” He hitches your legs up and his waist. “But I love it even more, feeling myself inside of you.” He lines himself up at your entrance and slowly pushes inside of you.

Your head falls against the shower wall. “Fuck, Jake…” You claw at his back.

“You’re so warm..” He sighs. “So wet. So perfect.”

He pulls out slightly before thrusting back inside of you. In. Out. In. Out. His breathing becomes labored as he grips tightly to your hips to keep you steady on his waist. You can feel the twisting and burning feeling in your gut, filling your veins and paralyzing your body. He groans feeling your walls clench around his cock.

“Come on baby..” He says into your ear. “Let me feel you.”

“Jake…” You moan. “You… You go first.”

He pulls his head away as he stops thrusting. “What?”

“I want you to go first.” You say. “I want to feel you fill me up with everything. You know you want to. You know you can’t last any longer.”

He thrusts into you more harshly and his fingernails dig into your skin. You can feel his cock twitch inside of you as his grip tightens. One of his hands shoots up the towel holder on the wall above your head as he grips so tightly his knuckles turn white. Like always, he fucks you through his climax and keeps going as you release right behind him.

After allowing you both to calm your bodies, he pulls out of you and rests his head on your shoulder. He holds you in his arms, his hands open flat against your back. You can smell the woodsy men’s shampoo in his hair.

“Your hair smells good..” You say eliciting a laugh from Jake.

After finishing in the shower, you both go out to the bedroom and get dressed before crawling into bed and cuddling with each other. Jake’s arms wrapped around your body and holding you close as he nuzzles his face into your neck like he always does. It doesn’t take long before the two of you drift off to sleep.

The next morning you wake up to the smell of coffee and a breeze flowing through the room. Opening your eyes you find Jake sitting out on the balcony with his laptop resting on his thighs while he holds a cup of coffee in one hand. Stepping out onto the balcony, he turns his head to look up at you and gives you a soft smile.

“Good morning.” You say as you sit in the chair opposite of Jake.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “More like afternoon.” He says. “You slept in pretty late.”

You groan and hang your head back. “I did?”

“Mmhmm..” Jake nods as he sips on his coffee. “I’ve been working on Sam’s photos. You want to look?”

You jolt up right and nod your head. Jake smiles and moves the laptop off of his lap and to the table. He motions you over with a nod of his head and pats his lap. Going over to Jake, you sit on his lap and he begins to scroll through the photos.

“These are wonderful.” You say as you gaze upon the photos in awe.

“This one is my favorite.” Jake scrolls through the photos and stops on one in particular.

Sam and Haley are pressed close together. Sam’s hand rests on the nape of her neck as he cradles her face gently in her hands. Her hand rests on his wrist with their faces only a few centimeters away from each other. He looks at Haley with such love. His eyes worship her as he gazes into her own.

“It’s so beautiful.” You say as you lean closer. “Adoração.” You mutter.

“I’m sorry?” Jake questions.

“Adoração.” You repeat. “It’s Portuguese–means to worship or adore.”

Jake wraps his arms around your waist as he leans forward to lay his chin on your shoulder. “I love that.” He says. “Maybe this will be the photo I’ll display in my gallery.”

You turn your head to look at him. “Your gallery?” Jake nods his head. “You have a gallery?”

“I will soon.” He says. “I found a great space in Nashville not far from my loft. When we head back, I’ll have to show you. I think you’ll love it.”

“Oh, I get to see it before anyone else?”

“Well,” He shrugs his shoulders. “Sam’s been helping me with the interior design and placements for photos but aside from him, yes you will get to see it before anyone else.”

You turn around on his lap to straddle his waist. “I can’t wait to see it.”

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka fanfic #josh kiszka #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fanfic #smut #photographer!jake

[useless19]

Still going with this.

Tw: vomit

...

Bowser curses as he fails to turn around. The palace toilets might be a step above most of the ones in the castle town, in that the flush works and they look clean. However, none of them have been built on Bowser's scale. His shell has gotten wedged every single time he's tried to use the loo.

Granted, that's only been twice so far (once during his armour fitting and now), but that's plenty!

Bowser grits his teeth as he twists around. He (stupidly) picked the stall at the end of the row, so now he has a rough stone wall on one side and flimsy wood on the other. The wood groans as his shell spikes gouge into it, bowing it horribly.

The bathroom door bangs open. Bowser freezes. The last thing he wants is to be known as the guy who got stuck in the toilet. He's not even officially employed yet.

There's some shaky breathing, then the other person retches. Bowser can hear the splatter of liquid into the sink. Eww. He'd been half considering actually washing his hands for once and now this? There's another cough and splutter and then a weak sob.

Okay, screw this. Bowser shoves his way out of the toilet (taking out the cubicle wall and knocking the door off one hinge).

Prince — very soon to be King — Luigi stares at him. He's unhealthily pale and his hands are shaking.

"How long have you been there?" Luigi asks in a thready voice.

"Your pre-coronation party was boring." Bowser waves at the destruction. "Petty vandalism is way more fun."

Luigi frowns at the splintered wood, but instead of growing angry and shouting for Bowser's arrest like his brother would have, his eyes widen in realisation as he looks at Bowser again.

"Oh, that's…" Luigi coughs into his fist, clearing his throat. "I'll have to speak to the architects about remodelling. Is there any other part of the castle that you think might need adjusted?"

Bowser crosses his arms, annoyingly embarrassed. "It's fine, it's big enough. Too big for stumpy humans like you."

"Stumpy? That's the first time anyone's called me short," Luigi manages the ghost of a smile.

"Get used to it."

"The castle doesn't feel big to me," Luigi says. "Maybe it's just because I grew up here and I'm used to it. Sometimes it feels too small for anyone. Claustrophobic, even."

How an entire castle could feel small, Bowser would never know. One thing's for sure; he doesn't need it rubbing into his snout that he didn't grow up in luxury. He can't stand up in his childhood house without bashing his head on the ceiling (that is, if it had survived the fire).

This is going to be a miserable job if the king insists on showing off his wealth and privilege at every opportunity. Bowser reminds himself that the pay is good as he turns away to wash his hands in a different sink.

"Are you done throwing up in sinks now?" Bowser asks gruffly.

"I…" Luigi loses what little humour he had when Bowser glances at him. "I'm sorry. I'm nervous about, well, everything that comes with my coronation."

"Everything," Bowser says flatly.

"It's a lot of pressure and I don't know if I'm up to the task." Luigi says. "It's a difficult job. What if I mess up and people think I'm a terrible king?"

"Oh, boo hoo," Bowser snaps. "I'm the king and I get to live in a massive castle and sleep in a feather bed and never have to worry about where my next meal's coming from, but I still worry that people won't like me! I'm so privileged I can't appreciate that my bathroom has consistent running water. I'll just whine about my petty little problems to everyone because I don't even have to play the social game because I'm the bloody king!"

Smoke hisses through Bowser's fangs with his words. He knows he's scary when his fire threatens. Prince Luigi's fists are balled and trembling as he glares up at Bowser. Good, let him fear.

"Are you finished?" Luigi says.

"Depends if you're going to complain about how hard such a cushy life is again," Bowser says, flexing his fingers.

Luigi looks at his reflection, anger blotching his cheeks. Bowser folds his arms, wanting… more, somehow, but he doesn't know what it would be. How hard can it be, really, being the king? You want for nothing and everyone has to do as you say. The last king knew that and —

Shoot.

This isn't Mario. This isn't the king that Bowser's spent most of the past five years railing against over petty laws and unnecessary arrests (mostly his own). This is someone unprepared for their new job and still grieving a family member.

Fine, whatever. Bowser knows how to be delicate. Or at least he knows how to get someone refocused on the job again. Same difference.

"So when do you need to be back out there?" Bowser asks, nodding towards the door.

"I should be there now," Luigi says. He splashes some water onto his face but only succeeds in making himself look like a drowned squeek.

"They can't have the ceremony without you. When do you want to go back out there?" Bowser says.

"It doesn't work like that," Luigi says. "Even if I'm royalty, I still have to follow the rules or —"

Bowser rolls his eyes. "I don't mean you have to order people to delay it. No one does everything on time all the time. If you want to put it off for another day, find an excuse."

"I don't want to put it off," Luigi says. "I'm not going to get more confident for waiting."

That's abundantly clear. Bowser tilts his head as he thinks. Has Luigi honestly never lied to a tutor to get an extension on his work? Or told his advisors he was meeting with someone reputable in order to sneak out to a party? What a straight-laced wimp.

"Alright, on your head be it," Bowser says.

"It will." Luigi coughs, hiding what Bowser is sure is a smile. "The crown, I mean."

Bowser can't help his snort of laughter. "That's terrible."

As awful as the joke is, it's at least wiped away the worst of the misery clouding Luigi. Bowser straightens Luigi's fancy fur-trimmed cloak before remembering that randomly touching royalty is the sort of thing that can get lowlifes like him a one-way ticket to the hangman. Well, he's never met a situation he couldn't brash his way through.

"Drink some water, go back out," Bowser says, shoving Luigi towards the sinks. "And I'll get a rumour spread that you narrowly avoided assassination so those poncy nobles think you look shaken because of that."

"Which would also highlight the importance of hiring on a bodyguard," Luigi says wryly.

"Now you're getting the idea."

Luigi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He splashes water on his face again and then takes a drink using one of the cups on the shelf behind the sinks (who puts cups in a communal bathroom, seriously?). He doesn't look ready to do anything as important as getting crowned, but he doesn't look a shade away from passing out like he had before.

"Okay, let's go," Luigi says.

He pauses at the door and turns back to face Bowser instead.

"Is running water still a problem in the castle town?" Luigi asks. "Mario had the pipes overhauled a few years ago; I thought —"

"Nah, not anymore," Bowser says. "But I bet you didn't have to worry when the urchin infestation was at its worst."

"No, you're right, I didn't," Luigi says. He sighs. "Sorry."

Bowser groans. "Stop that."

Complaining about the silver spoon in his mouth is one thing, being pathetic is another. Bowser refuses to put up with self-flagellation while he's working, it brings down the whole mood.

"Go knock 'em dead," Bowser says.

Luigi gives one last determined nod and then leaves.

Bowser runs a hand through his hair. He's going to have to wait a few minutes before heading out on his own and then he really should hang around at the ceremony for a bit. Mostly he needs to make sure he's a visible presence at court because half the job of being a deterrent is reputation, but also partly because assassination attempts are a legit concern. There probably won't be any (if Bowser's luck is anything to go by, this is going to be the most boring day of his life), but maybe it'd be fun to make it look like there's a threat to watch all the rich people panic.

Bowser counts to a hundred and then shoulders his way out of the bathroom after the soon-to-be-king.

#bowuigi #bowser #luigi #smb #fanfic #knight&king!au #part 4 #have rough ideas for 1 more part + an epilogue #(going to be fairly plotless overall) #~1400 words

[jaidens]

No words appear before me in the aftermath

pairing [s] : dallas (dally) winston x reader

warning [s] : death | mentions of dallys family and life | addiction

a/n [s] : requests are open

Dallas wasn't a breath of fresh air for most.

The gang was some of the people that allowed him to be around. Darry kept him around because he knew that Pony and Johnny were even more protected when he was around. Dallas never had a nice family. His father was a die-hard drunk and his mother didn't try very hard to help his gambling addiction.

He has been out of jail since he was 10 years old, holding a reputation of not wanting to be around people in case they could be arrested. Socs obviously hated him, alongside all of his friends. Buck was really the only guy who could stand him.

It led him to a dangerous, rocky path of drinking and smoking. Nobody cared about him enough to tell him he was wrong for what he did. That was until he met you. You made sure he relaxed on his black-outs from drinking and parties. You were the light that grew from within his darkness.

His life was slowly being dragged onto the correct road.

You took care of him on his bad days. Brushing his hair and helping him wash up before dinner. You had been the only one that gave enough shits about him to care. Admittedly, he didn't know what to feel every time you helped him out. Love was a hard word for him to say. He felt it in many ways, but he had never been told it himself. Only time he had was whenever he gave more money to his dad to gamble away.

“Dally, hey wake up.” You shook his shoulder slightly, waking him up to the sun that shined on his face. “Doll.. why you’ waking me up? Somethin’ happening?” He sat up, pulling the blankets off the side of the bed. His hands run across his face as he wakes himself up. “Nothin’s happenin’ but do ya’ wanna watch the sunrise with me?” You ask gently, grabbing his hand.

Dallas smiles at you, noticing how you're clad with your favorite dress and Dally’s jean jacket. “Yeah. I'll go.” Dallas had never told anybody about his fascination with the morning and night sky. The sunrises and sunsets in New York always made him feel like a kid again and it took his mind away from the gangs and people that crawled on the street. He knew that Ponyboy, Johnny and Sodapop always went to look at them, and that gave him a sense of happiness. Knowing that people younger than him realized how to be happy.

He got ready as you made his bed. Dallas walked up behind you, arms snaking around your waist as he kissed you. You pulled away and he smiled at you. “C’mon. Let's go watch.” You tell him and pull his hand to get him outside of Buck's house. The air is nipping at your nose and you cross your arms over your chest and you sit down on the steps.

You can see the sun that is peeking through the horizon and you let out a gentle sigh. Your neck twists as Dallas sits down next to you with a cigarette lit in between his fingers. “Real beautiful, ain't it?” The thick New York voice pierces your ears and he hands you the cigarette. You decline quietly and speak up. “My Mama would always sit out on the porch and just watch. I never understood her but I think I do now. It's so calm.”

Dally nods, taking another puff and letting it out. “My dad would yell enough to get my brother outta’ the house and sit on the side of it. I would go out with him and he would just cry. He was older than me too, but he got shot in an accident in New York.” You hear the way his voice cracks, and it makes your heart hurt. Dally was so young and had gone through so much more than everyone else.

You arm wraps around him, pulling him in. “You are so strong. You've gone through so much and you're only seventeen.” It seems like the world wraps around you as Dally pushes his head into your shoulder. “Man..I like the way you're always there for me, man.” It almost feels like nothing could push between the way you and Dallas act. You're his rock and savior, you're always there for everything he needed. He needed the support and the help with his life. Dallas was sure he would be dead and in the ground if you weren't there for him, coaching him to be his best self.

“I’ll always be there for you, Dallas. I love you.” The last words feel like a punch in this face to him. Dallas can't help but feel his hands shake and his leg begins to bounce against the porch. You're staring at him with a sense of hopefulness in your eyes and Dallas can't chalk up the words to say it back. “I love you Dallas, and I'm not gonna force you to say nothing.” He lays his head against your chest whenever you hold your arms open to hug him. Dallas always loved listening to your heartbeat as you held him close to you, gently stroking his thick soft hair after a bad night of his.

“Buck is having a party tonight. Do you wanna go to it with me or are we gonna stay upstairs hoping no drunks go upstairs?” You laugh and Dallas pulls always to look at you. “I don't know babe, I think tonight we can stay upstairs.” You show him your seductive smile he can't help but melt looking at and he kisses you with a relaxed turn to his head and his hand against your waist. “Man, I was hoping you'd say that..” You can't help but push further into Dallas and his lips are a delicious poison you want to drown in.

It ends up with the sunset being cut short and dragged upstairs with feverant kisses and palming of hands. Dallas leaves after a round to go get a pack of cigarettes and a magazine for you, however, he didn't take his wallet which made you a little upset. He comes back with two boxes of cigarettes and two magazines for you to flip through while you would share a smoke with him.

Dallas lights a cigarette on his necklace and takes a big puff which he lets out a moan and he throws his head back. He hands the cigarette to you while you're reading and you smoke alongside him. “I just chose the first broad magazine I saw. Is it good?” You looked at him and nodded. “Yeah, it's mostly stuff about shoes and the new models. It's interesting.” Dallas lays against your shoulder and continues switching the cigarette between your lips and then blowing it into the air.

Eventually your eyes get heavy and you stare at the man lying against you, his cigarette burnt out on the ashtray. Dallas is wrapped around you with his head laying once more on your chest. Your eyes closing end the moment of relaxation and comfort. You wake up whenever Dallas wakes up at Buck screaming Dally’s name above the loud music that plays. “Some kids named Pony and Johnny are here for you. They looked rough.” He says before hitting the door frame and leaving.

“Baby, what's happening?” You ask him as he tugs on a pair of jeans around his hips. “Pony and Johnny man. They're outside. They don't do this type of stuff. Go ahead and get some blankets and clothes for them, maybe they need a place to sleep.” in nod at him and he leaves quickly. You take out some blankets and go and steal some of Buck’s shirts and pants for the boys. You can't help but feel some worry about the life and you're hoping whatever is happening isn't that bad.

Dallas brings them upstairs and Ponyboy is shaking like a leaf while Johnny is sucking in angry tears. “Man, get out of them clothes!” Dallas almost yells when Pony sits down on your bed with wet clothes. Pony pulls off his shirt and Dallas wraps a blanket around his shoulders and he continues shaking even with the warmth of the thick cloth. Johnny is shaking whenever Dallas pulls out his gun and hands them to Johnny.

Your eyes widen and you pull Dallas away from hearing the view of the boys. “What the hell is happening?” Dally ran his hand down his face and put his hands on his hips. “Johnny man, he killed Bob Sheldon.” That makes you cover your mouth and you feel weak before you fall Dallas grabs onto you and tells you to go get money and some things to bring and bag for them. You nod and wipe the tears that start from your eyes and follow your boyfriend’s orders.

Nothing feels real as you think of the boys, people you practically see as your sons, killed someone. You knew about Dallas’ instances that happened in New York, but the boys were smart to go to him. You have the stuff and you set it down and begin to pack it into a small bag that's able to be easily hidden. You're trying to grab your breath before you hand the bag to Ponyboy and he smiles at you.

You shake your hands to come in, and you wrap your arms around Johnny and Ponyboy and let out a sob. “Please— if it's all I ask, be safe. For me, for everyone please boys. I love you two so, so much. Call me if you need anything.” You tell Pony and Johnny and they smile and Pony says: “We love you too. I promise we'll be safe.” Johnny still doesn't understand how you, a complete sweetheart and the nicest person he's ever met is dating Dallas Winston.

Dallas tells you to leave the room for a minute while he tells them something. You're biting at your fingernails as you wait to go back into the room. The loud music and screaming doesn't help you relax until Dallas calls your name. The boys sit there and they look terrified and it hurts you; they're so young. Only sixteen and fourteen years old and had seen so much more than anyone else. You remember when Dallas was like that, a new and scared kid back in New York playgrounds.

You hug Pony and Johnny one more time, giving a soft kiss to their hairlines and you smile at them. “Be safe, and don't be stupid okay? Come home to me, please.” Johnny smiles at you and hugs you tightly in his arms. You remember Dallas telling you how Johnny admitted that he loved you and would protect you at all times. He saw you as his real mother instead of the drunk lady who he lived with.

The boys left and you were left in Dallas’ arms, practically shaking. “Awe, Dal. I'm worried, I'm completely terrified. What if they're not going to be okay?” Dallas hushes you gently and kisses you. “They’ll be okay, they're smart kids.” It calms your worries by a small amount but you can't still but barely get any sleep thinking about them.

Then: it hits the news. Two delinquent Tulsa teens are accused of murdering Bob Sheldon. Every time you pass by the stores, their faces are plastered everywhere. It makes you sad, honestly. Your two boys faces are still so young, and are being accused of such a horrible thing. Even if it was true, it hurt to see.

You get home to your house and call Dallas' name and nobody responds. You rush upstairs and drop your stuff, no sign of Dallas. You're begging and hoping he didn't get back into the cooler again. You call the police station and you ask if Dally was there, and they say no and joke if he needs to be. Okay, at least you know he isn't in jail. Where else could he be? It hits you, he went to go see the boys while you stayed here scared for your boys.

You're left in the dark for a day, nobody has called or even chosen to tell you about anything. You cried the entire day in complete worry about the people you cared about. Until, you get the call, “Is this Mrs. Winston? This is the Windrixville City Hospital calling about an incident including Dallas Winston, Ponyboy Curtis, and Johnathan Cade?” You almost dropped the phone, but you hold it to your heart and let out a yes, this is she.

Whenever the situation gets explained to you, you automatically begin to cry. Ponyboy had some burns and bruises, and Dallas had the same. However, your boy, Johnny was paralyzed from the neck down and was burned horribly. In these conditions, you shouldn't have been driving but you didn't care. You're crying and as soon as you park, you jump out of the car and run into the hospital.

“Dallas Winston, Ponyboy Curtis, and Johnathan Cade?!” You ask the receptionist and she starts looking through the documents slowly whenever you hear your name being called out. “Pony!” You run over to him and hug him tighter than you ever have, hand going behind his head as you cried in his arms. “You’re okay, that's amazing.” You're smiling at him before he tells you he can show you to Johnny.

Ponyboy shows you where Johnny is being cared for, and it's the saddest and most heartbreaking scene you've seen. His back is exposed and it's absolutely horrible and all you do is cry into Pony’s shoulder until Johnny pushes out your name. “Yes– yes I'm here sweet boy.” You say and you stare into the mirror below where Johnny is, eyes barely opened and he's obviously hurting. “I saved the kids today. Their lives were more important than mine, aren't they. I wasn't being dumb— swear.”

His words make you cry. “You are worth so much honey. Soon, you'll get better and I'll take you to a lake where me and Dally used to go. It's beautiful.” You promise and he pushes out an uncomfortable smile. Ponyboy sits there in silence and stares at his best friend, in a position he shouldn't have been in. If only he didn't pick a fight with those Socs, if he didn't choose to sit with Cherry that night — this would have never happened.

“I ain't ever gonna get better, man. I can't feel nothin’ from the neck down.” Johnny says quietly, sobs softly coming out of his mouth and you can tears that drop on the mirror below him. You sit down and pull up a chair right next to him and you gently touch his hair. “You’re gonna be okay, honey.” Pony sits down next to you, sobbing and covering his eyes with hid hand.

“Yeah, Johnny. You'll be okay, you're tough.” Ponyboy says while holding his hands together. Johnny says your name gently, with the rest of the power he has. “Go see Dally, I'll be okay.” You blow Johnny an air kiss and mumble out an ‘I love you, Johnny.’ You kiss your fist and you go find Dallas, praying that he was okay. You walked into a recovery room, a nurse and Dally were in there while Dallas argued about his hospital gown being on.

You cried out his name and ran up to him. “Doll, hey, hello. How's Johnny man?” You kiss him after he speaks, it's long and breathtaking. “God, I missed you so much. Johnny is.. not very good. He's really burnt up, it's heartbreaking.” Dallas frowns and holds you in his arms and groans at the pulled muscle in his back. “Stop arguing with your nurses, please.”

—

You're sitting at the Curtis’ house as you like your fingernails. Sodapop sits on the floor when you hear the door open. There stands Ponyboy, bruised and blond-headed. “Johnny’s dead.” He repeats it a couple more times and you begin to cry into Sodapop’s shoulder and he holds onto you. Steve stands there completely shocked and Two-Bit is gripping onto his jacket in his hands.

The phone rings and Steve picks up the phone. He mumbles to Darry, telling him it's Dallas and he needs to speak to you. Darry picks up the phone and says that the gang will be there. You're worried and biting at your skin around your nails as you follow the gang. You're running with the gang and you can see your boyfriend, running with police sirens and cars behind him. The police get out and you can see the outline of a gun.

You scream out his name and you hear it: gunshots. The young, seventeen-year old falls down on the ground with a scream. Darry yells at the police that he's just a kid. Everything feels silent in your head, you can't hear anything. You recognize that you're crying, and tears are running down your face, but you're completely gone.

You're standing still in the lot, and you're just staring. You're stuck there, left there, alone and numb. He was just a kid, and now he is dead.

#dallas winston the outsiders #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston x you #dallas winston x y/n #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders fluff #the outsiders fanfiction

[rogue-durin-16]

SUNGLASSES AND LIPSTICK STAINS (part II/III)

Summary: After his punch-up with Billy, Steve is in need of medical attention. Going to the hospital isn't an option, so the kids take him to the closest thing they know to a doctor. Funny how the girl who mended his heart back at Tina's party would be the one mending his body.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff (hurt/comfort)

Tags:

Sunglasses And Lipstick Stains: @shycupcakealissa

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: blood, injuries, head trauma, brief mention of smoking, language

A/N: not so fun fact! I didn't have to do much research on head injuries because I've had my fair share of experiences. It's literally a miracle that I'm still completely okay lmao. Anyways enjoy<3

Part I

Part III

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Something was not right. I noticed straight up as I climbed off Samantha's car when she dropped me off —I just couldn't pinpoint what exactly was not right.

There were clear signs, though. The shed's door left ajar; a freshly dug patch of land that lacked grass; the storm cellar's gates wide open.

"Dustin?" My tone was wary when I called for my little brother from our front door.

No response.

"Dustin!" I tried again, setting one foot after another into our home.

Nothing. I felt my nerves beginning to rise. He should be home by now.

I stalked to our landline and picked the phone handle, pressing the number I had so many times called to when Dustin forgot his curfew.

That was probably it, but since Will's disappearance, everyone was on edge. The eerie screeches Samantha and I had heard on our way to my house hadn't helped either.

It didn't take long for a gentle motherly voice to greet me from the other side of the line. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Wheeler! Y/n here. I know it's late but uh..." My leg bounced as I tried to sound as casual as possible. "I was just wondering if Dustin was still there by any chance?"

"Uhm... Dustin wasn't here today, Y/n."

"He... wasn't?" My brows furrowed, the cable of the phone being anxiously twisted on my index finger.

"I... think he might be staying the night at the Byers'?" I hummed at the information, a light relief settling inside me —though it was swiftly torn out by her next sentence. "I don't know what's wrong with these kids today. Billy dropped by a while ago looking for his sister."

"Billy... Hargrove?" My heart nearly stopped at Karen's confirmation, followed by a little ramble about how charming the boy was.

Charming. Well, now, I personally wouldn't have used that word to describe Billy Hargrove.

Thanking Karen for her information, I hung up and trotted to the door. I would walk to the Byers' if I had to.

Just as I got a hold of my set of house keys, the sound of a rear was heard in our quiet street. A peep through my window was enough to make me freeze, because that was Billy Hargrove's car.

Billy Hargrove's car had just mowed down our mailbox.

In the span of five seconds in which I lost sight of our yard in order to open the front door, the scene turned even more bizarre. From the crashed Chevrolet Camaro's driver seat, a petite red haired girl climbed off. To further shock, Dustin, Lucas and Mike scrambled out of the vehicle right after, practically dragging out a semiconscious Steve Harrington.

What the fuck was going on.

One Hour Earlier

DUSTIN'S P. O. V.

I had barely registered Steve's wince after the headlights' overcurrent had blinded us, so seeing the eldest of us stumble to the car for some kind of support, only for his legs to give in once he got to the vehicle, nearly put me under cardiac arrest.

"Shit— Steve?" I called, taking a tentative step towards him while I signaled the others to stay put. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, Dustin, I'm great." The sarcastic response left his lungs in a strained grunt. Before any of us could throw a carless comeback at our assigned babysitter, his torso contorted to the side, allowing him to not throw up on his lap.

There was a colorful variety of panicked gasps, spit as a rapid fire by the four of us who remained standing while I rushed to kneel besides Steve.

"Oh my god..." I exclaimed, tugging Steve's arm to drag him further from his vomit whilst trying not to stare at it. I would so puke myself if I spared the puddle a single glance.

"He has to go to the hospital." Max took a step forward with a concerned frown darkening her gaze.

"No!" Mike made us all jump with his negative. "We just went into the tunnels. Bet if they run tests on him, they'll know something's off."

I heard a very much lost 'Wait what?' coming from Steve as I raised to my feet, hands thrown on the back of my head. "Holy shit."

"Okay but we gotta take him somewhere." Max insisted with urgency. "I mean, look at him."

"Guys I think... I think might pass out."

"Shit..." I cursed under my breath, crouching down momentarily to make sure Steve's back stayed laid on the side of the Camaro. "Shit shit shit. Okay, let me think."

No hospitals. Okay, but he needed medical attention. We needed a doctor. Or at least something close to it. Maybe a medic or...

"She's gonna kill me."

"Who's gon-" Lucas mouthed a quiet 'oh'.

"She's gonna have to suck it up." Mike stated, picking up on who we were talking about and how she felt about people like Steve. Or Nancy, matter-of-factly.

"Who's gonna have to suck it up?" Max exasperated begging for an explanation fell on deaf ears.

"Can you drive us to my house?" I inquired.

She sighed, a determined yet exhausted look lighting up her irises. "Put him in the car."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

"Y/n!" I could barely process Dustin abandoning his friends to run to me, hands raised in surrender and an apologetic smile dancing on his face. "Y/n, hey. Have I told you how much I love you today?"

"What the fuck's going on?" I managed to question, my pitch as high as it could get due to the surreal situation before me.

"You remember what you learned in that first aid course, right?" He decided to ignore my inquiry as he moved my flabbergasted frame aside so Lucas and Mike could carry Steve inside.

"What?" My horrified eyes clocked the older teen's bloodied, swollen face. "The hell happened to him?!"

"My brother's an asshole, that's what happened to him." The ginger girl I finally recognized as Billy's little sister rumbled behind Dustin with folded arms. If I was not mistaken, it must have been the same girl my brother had a crush on— Max, I believed. "I... I think he might have a concussion."

"I'm sorry, how old are you?" She shuffled, sneaking my brother a begging side glance.

"It's okay, she's cool." Dustin whispered.

"Thirteen."

"THIRTEEN?!" I yelled, making them both flinch. "YOU DROVE THEM ALL THE WAY FROM—"

"Y/n! I'm gonna need you to calm down." Dustin's words were slow and clear. "We can't fill you in right now, but I promise—"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"I PROMISE" he reiterated over my words, a bit louder this time. "That I'll tell you everything, but now I need you to fix up Steve." I opened my mouth again, but no words came out of it before Dustin cut me off once more. "I know what you're thinking. 'Dustin, you know I wouldn't touch Steve Harrington with ten-foot pole', but he's a good dude." the oblivious confidence in his words was actually funny, but I couldn't find it in me to laugh.

"He saved our lives." The girl added.

"Is that why he's—"

"Kinda."

"Yeah!" Dustin shouted, though by the readhead's face, it must have been a half truth. "Now please, can you help him? Please."

A silence reigned among the three of us for a couple of seconds, in which I tried to assess the situation with the little information I had.

In all fairness there wasn't much of a choice to make. Casting my head down for a second, I re-entered the house, now with the pair of kids trailing after me.

"Alright, give him some space." I commanded Mike and Lucas, who were struggling to keep Steve sat still on our largest couch.

My heart clenched the moment I kneeled before my classmate, as I finally had the chance to fully take in his swollen face, peppered in purplish black bruises. "Holy fuck," I muttered, lifting my hand to move a rogue strand of hair out of the way. "He sure did a number on you, didn't he?"

"Henderson." There was some kind of surprise gleaming in his bloodshot orbs at the sight of me. "I'm alright. Just need a bit of sleep."

"You sure? 'cause a little birdie told me you might have a concussion." I whispered, taking my hands to the back of my pocket in order to fish out the half empty pack of smokes inside if which I kept my lighter.

"You smoke?!" Dustin screeched behind me, earning a chastising nudge from Lucas. "What."

"Yes, Dustin. I smoke." I confirmed in a hiss, rotating in the spot to throw daggers at my brother. "And if you tell mom, I'll slit your throat."

Dustin nodded rapidly at my deadpanning warning.

Once I was sure he had gotten the memo, I spun back to look at Steve. "Let me know if I hurt you." With a nod from him, I took a tender hold of his face, the pad of my thumb pressing on the skin beneath his left lower lid in order to open his eyes.

"Woahwoahwoah- what are you doing?" Steve slurred, trying and failing to slip away from my grasp by wrapping his digits around my wrist when he saw the lighter's flame moving close.

"I'm just— Stay still!" He winced at my loud tone, but complied nonetheless. "I'm just checking something. Keep your eyes on me, okay?"

There were a few seconds of expectant silence while I tested Steve's pupils' reaction time to the bright light of the tiny flame before him. It took the boy no time to break it with a soft whisper that surely made my cheeks flush.

"You have like, the prettiest lips." I should have seen something like that was coming by the look on his face.

"And you have a concussion." I declared in response, hoping in vain none of the kids had heard his statement, nor his enchanted tone. "Guys, he needs a hospital."

"No hospitals." Mike's statement held a finality that left me even more confused.

"What do you mean 'no hospitals'?"

"It's okay, Y/n." Steve agreed, which made it all more suspicious. "Just patch me up and I'll go home."

"How? Walking?" I countered, tilting my head to try and meet his avoidant gaze. I soon gave up on him, turning to the kids behind me instead. "Was he unconscious?"

"Yeah but for like, a couple of minutes?" Max asked with a tinge of anxiety in the back of her throat.

"How long's a couple of minutes."

"I don't know, maybe five?" I widened my eyes at Dustin's levity trying my best not to fume.

"Five?!"

"Then he was on and off." Lucas finished, his demeanor closer to Max's than it was to Dustin's.

I gathered all the patience I could find in me to not yell at the kids, and instead chose to return to Steve. "Listen, you need to see a doctor."

"Y/n, it's alright."

"No, it's not alright. What's wrong with you all?" I huffed, attempting to get up, only to be secured in place by Steve's lazy grasp. "I'm gonna call an ambulance."

"NO!"

"Y/N, PLEASE!"

"NO HOSPITALS!"

"Jesus Christ my head..." Steve groaned, bending over with the balls of his hands pressing against his eyes.

"Stop that!" I scolded him, taking his hands in mine. "Everybody SHUT UP!"

I immediately muttered an apology under my breath to Steve for the noise, whose forehead had come to rest on my shoulder.

"I'm gonna clean you up, and we'll... we'll move on from there." The boy nodded, messy hair bouncing at the movement and tickling my cheeks. "C'mon, Harrington, upsy-daisy. Wheeler! a little help here, please."

As soon as I began to pull him up with me, both Lucas and Mike appeared on either sides of my peripheral vision, scooping Steve's arms over their shoulders.

"Take him to the bath— actually no, take him to my room." I commanded them, walking over to the kitchen sink in order to wash my hands. "Dustin, go check if mom's still asleep."

At the lack of movement, I spared the two remaining kids in the room a look of urgency, only to be met by Dustin's baffled face.

"What."

"What was that?" He inquired in an accusative tone.

"I genuinely don't know what you're talking about." I lied, choosing to play stupid, keeping myself busy with filling a bowl with warm water and, right after, digging in our freezer for ice to avoid meeting Dustin's inquisitive eyes.

"You know what I'm talking about." I did my best to look clueless, which only seemed to exasperate my brother more. "The sexual electricity!"

"The what?" Max questioned, pulling a face at Dustin while my eyes widened because who the fuck taught him that.

Before I could get a word in, the two taller boys that had carried Steve to my room came back.

"Just check if mom's asleep, okay?" I insisted, taking backwards steps into the hall to reach the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

STEVE'S P. O. V.

The silence of Y/n's room was filled with the buzzing going on my head. As much as I would have loved to take a look around to hopefully catch a more solid grip of her already visible personality, keeping my eyes open with the light on was an effort I couldn't afford.

Due to being laid down on my back across the mattress with my forearm over my eyes, I didn't acknowledge Y/n's presence until she spoke.

"Hey."

"Hey." I reciprocated the greeting in the same soft, careful tone without changing my position. I was tempted to peek from under my temporary light shield when I heard her pacing around the room, moving from one corner to another, but I ended up waiting for her signal.

Soon enough, a two switches were flipped and a hand was patting my thigh. "C'mon, pretty boy."

I opened my eyes to see the room's ceiling light had been replaced with a warm toned night lamp by our side.

Without a word and some struggle, I propped myself forward and attempted to sit upright. The not so genuine smile I spared the girl before sitting on a chair earned me a sympathetic look.

She seemed to want to say a thousand different things, but stayed quiet instead, soaking a cotton cloth on an undersized bowl which rested atop her lap.

"Y/n?" She hummed, prompting me to go on. "You okay?"

Her irises shot up from her lap with incredulity. "Me?" She huffed, reaching to carefully remove the couple of colorful band-aids the kids had placed on my temple. "I'm peachy. You, on the other hand?"

"I'll be okay."

"I know." She raised the wet cloth to my forehead, and distractedly whispered, "Let me know if it hurts." before squeezing the piece of fabric above it, letting the lukewarm water run down the cut.

Instinctively, I raised the hem of my shirt to dry the droplets, but Y/n's expertise hands were much quicker. With a dry piece of toilet paper, she made sure the now dirty water wouldn't drip on my clothes, whilst beginning to ever so gently tap on the cut with the wet cloth.

I didn't realize how tense I was until the girl halted her actions, furrowing her brows at me. "Am I hurting you?"

"No- shit, not at all." I'm just not used to people taking care of me, my heart wanted to confess; my brain barely refrained it. And, had I kept my eyes on Y/n's for an instant longer, the sentence would have slipped anyway.

"Let's get you more comfortable, okay?" She suggested, moving the first aid items from her lap to the nightstand.

I simply nodded at her suggestion, chin still downcasted even when her grip secured my forearms to help me turn and slide backwards. An inpatient, mildly frustrated curse escaped her lips due to the struggle, stealing the ghost of a laugh from me when she had to abandon the chair and plant her knees on the mattress.

"I think I can do this myself." I teased, digging my heels on the blanket to push and help with my relocation.

"I think it's too late for that." She snapped back, releasing one of my forearms to cup the back of my head before it could hit the headboard. "Careful now." She muttered, only letting her fingers slide out of my hair when the back of her palm was pressed against the wooden piece of furniture.

I had to repress a mewl at the loss of touch, though I couldn't hide my pout when the warmth of her skin abandoned mine —nor could I avoid how I instinctively reached to hold her thigh in place when she attempted to retreat back to the chair.

Don't leave.

Instead of moving away, she lowered her own hand on mine, rubbing soothing circles on top of it with her thumb.

I'm not going anywhere.

After readjusting the lamp besides us and taking back the bowl and cloth, she repeated in silence the process carried out on the cut splitting my temple, this time on the one in my swollen lip.

"Did he only go for the head or...?" She questioned once she was done cleaning the open cuts.

Truth was, I didn't really know. After the third punch, everything was blank, but Y/n was worried enough as she was; adding that to the mix wouldn't do any good. "Pretty much."

"He's a fucking tool." She seethed, grabbing the antiseptic lotion to apply it on my temple. "Should've let Sam run him over at Tina's party."

"That would've made my night." I realized too late that the amused smile twisting my lips reopened the slit, and earned me some lighthearted chastising from Y/n.

"As if I didn't make your night." She taunted me, paying extra attention to my lips to make sure the bleeding was cut short before she brushed in the lotion with her fingertip.

The scene was too reminiscent of that one night, and I wondered if Y/n's intense stare on my mouth meant she was feeling the same urge to kiss me now that I had felt then.

"So uhm... Does Dustin know—"

And just like that, the spell was broken.

"Jesus, no." She snorted, straightening up her position. "And he's never gonna find out."

"Because you're embarrassed?" I furrowed my brows at the senior before me. She immediately mirrored my visage, and I felt the need to explain myself. "In the car, Dustin and Lucas were going on about how you despise me. And I mean, I got a complete different impression at Tina's party, but maybe you— I don't know, are ashamed of what happened?"

"What? No! No." She gulped, suddenly finding the clean gauze on her folded thigh very interesting. "I mean, I might have— I might have mentioned you weren't my uhhh favorite person to Dustin a couple of times, but— yeah, no." She shook her head to emphasize her words.

"Then why?" I hated the neediness in my tone; the way my voice broke. I blamed the lack of sleep and the adrenaline rollercoaster the last couple of days had been.

"First off, my little brother has no business in my love life." She fairly pointed out with a quirked brow. "And second, he'll tell Mike, and I bet Mike will tell Nancy."

"We broke up." I blurted out. With what intention? I didn't really know, and by the look on her face, neither did Y/n.

"You know it'll still piss her off."

"It was just a kiss."

She stared blankly at me for a second.

'No, it wasn't' was the sentence read on her expression —and she was right, it hadn't just a kiss. It was the best kiss I've ever had.

"And that's why no one needs to know." She said instead, with deluded resignation in her words. "Listen, Steve." Sigh. "We got more important... Matters to attend. Don't you think?"

"Right."

The following few minutes elapsed without a word. We drowned in the quietness of the room while Y/n finished patching me up. Hadn't I know better, I would have said she was lingering.

"You could use those sunglasses right now." She observed, taking my chin between her thumb and index to move me around.

"I'm pretty sure they're at the Byers'."

She gave her head a couple of slow shakes. I had earlier wondered if she would interrogate me any further about the events leading up to this moment, given how little she had asked about it, and the time had come. "How did you end up babysitting these assholes?"

"Your little shit of a brother got me mixed up in some dangerous business 'cause no one else was around." I explained, trying my best to give away nothing apart from the necessary. "It kinda kept escalating from there."

She dropped her hands on her lap, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before finally asking, "what's going on, Steve?"

I didn't have time to say a single thing before the door was shoved open, making us both jolt on the spot.

"I'M NOT LOOKING!" Dustin yelled from the entrance with covered eyes.

"Dustin, what the fuck?!" The girl turned to hysterically gesture at the kid, whose hand fell limply to his side with a relieved exhale when he was met with nothing but his sister handing me an ice bag. "What is it."

"Can Lucas, Mike and Max stay the night?" It took a hot minute for Y/n to give her brother an affirmative response. She probably wasn't a fan of Billy showing up at her doorstep looking for Max like he had done at the Byers'.

"I'll get Max pj's in a moment." The eldest sister relented, shooing her little brother out shortly after.

"This kid."

"I know." She agreed with a breathy laugh, giving me an up-and-down. "Okay, you're all good. Or as good as it gets."

"I'm all ready to go home?"

Y/n's slack jawed expression made it really hard not to throw a fit of laughter. "And how the fuck will you go home, Steve?"

"I'll walk to the Byers'." I began to explain in a Self-assured manner. "My car's there and—"

"So is Hargrove." She cut me off. "And then what, then you drive?"

I threw my hands up in surrender between us. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Stay the night." The girl before me put that out there as if it was the most logical response; as if we had been friends for so long that not crashing in unprompted wasn't even up to question. It certainly wasn't the case. "Take the bed. I have to watch over and see if I gotta rush you to the hospital anyway." She nonchalantly explained, trying not so subtly to reassure me.

"I don't wanna be a bother."

"I'm inviting you." She responded, rocking herself slightly forward.

"Why are you so sweet to me?" It was more of an out loud thought than a real question, but I obtained a reply nevertheless.

"It's called minimal decency, Harrington." Flashing me a quick half smile, Y/n abandoned the bed and walked to the barely lit dresser at the foot of the bed. "I think I have... Ah, got it." She wiggled a piece of clothing I could barely discern and threw it at me. "You'll be more comfortable in that."

"Thanks." I mumbled after unfolding the item and realizing it was a big soft t-shirt.

"No worries." Y/n's body was back to being folded to fish out something else from the drawers, which i figured would be sleepwear for Max. "Alright, I'm gonna go arrange the gang of toddlers I have camped in the living room." I nodded at her, not missing the way her eyes slipped down to my torso once I had discarded both my jacket and shirt. "I'll... be right back."

In the last couple of days, I had had a lot of bizarre experiences, but one I certainly did not expect was sleeping in Y/n Henderson's bed. In her shirt. What was life even.

I had just barely accommodated myself under Y/n's covers when the door was once more shoved open, nearly giving my a heart attack. Unsurprisingly enough, the figure entering the room was not the girl who had just patched up my wounds, but Dustin.

"Everything okay?" I questioned, sitting up again, but the kid did not respond — not until he was sat on the chair by the bed anyway.

"Steve."

"Dustin."

I gave the kid a puzzled look when he took a deep breath, as if he was about to break some horrible news to me.

"Do you have a thing for my sister?"

"What?" It came out in a high-pitched, panicked tone, which definitely did not playing in my favor.

"I'm not gonna be mad," Dustin on the contrary spoke calmly, like a parent who was about to scold their child. "I just want to know."

"Jesus, Dustin. No. I do NOT have a thing for Y/n."

I felt myself getting smaller under the thirteen year old's scrutinizing glare, praying for him to be convinced because I didn't have the strength to have that conversation with anyone, let alone a child.

Eventually, the youngest Henderson caved in and spared me, choosing to get up and leave instead of questioning me any further. Maybe he himself didn't really want to know, or maybe he thought I had been put through enough already.

With one last squinted, unconvinced look from the room's entrance, Dustin closed the door, leaving me alone with just the warm colored night lamp to illuminate the space.

Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, I slid back into the silky sheets permeated with Y/n's perfume, which lulled me to sleep faster than I would have ever imagined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

It took me longer than expected to set up a proper sleeping place for the middle schoolers, but not long enough for someone to fall asleep in the meantime.

Yet there he was, sound asleep, lightly snoring in my bed when I got back to the bedroom. The mere thought of having to wake him up again was breaking my heart a little, but it was imperative.

With a quiet whine, I dragged my feet to the side of the bed before plopping down on the chair. God, even after fixing him up, he was in an awful state.

'Billy hit him pretty hard.' Max had confided me in a whisper, face full of guilt. 'I thought he was gonna kill him.'

"Steve." I called for him in the most gentle voice I could. Nothing. "Steve." I tried again. Again, nothing.

He was completely knocked out.

I resolved to try from a closer distance, so I leaned on until my lips were inches away from him and... Nothing came out of me. How could someone look so beautiful all beaten up?

I didn't fully register my movements until my lips were lightly pressed on his cheekbone. The positive side is that that seemed to do the trick to wake him up. The negative was that he had definitely felt the kiss.

His initial confusion, however, was quick to melt into an entranced expression I couldn't fully decipher.

"Hi." He whispered under his breath, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Hi." I greeted back with what I was sure it looked like a smitten smile. "I brought you Tylenol." He muttered a relieved 'thank god', propping himself on his forearms to take first the medicine and then the glass of water I was offering him. "I'm gonna stay put for a little while." I informed him, taking back the now empty glass to place it on the cramped nightstand. "If I'm sleeping and you start to feel like you're dying, wake me up."

It was a half joke, but Steve only furrowed his brows. "Wait are you gonna sleep on that?" He pointed at my chair with disgust while going back to his previous position.

"Where the hell do you want me to sleep?" I asked rhetorically with the intention of pointing out the lack of free sleeping places in the house, but I got a response.

"Lay down with me?"

I would be lying if I said I wasn't tempted by the offer, but it just seemed wrong, so with a halfhearted smile, I shook my head no.

"Had to try." Steve clicked his tongue, poorly hiding his own disappointment. "Night, Henderson."

"Night, Harrington." I mumbled back, folding my arms over the mattress and resting my chin on them.

"Thank you." Had we not been in complete silence, the dozed off boy's words would have been inaudible. "For everything." He added, finding my fingers with his own and lazily intertwining them.

My heart skipped a bit at the touch and I silently cursed myself, because I was definitely crushing on Steve Harrington.

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