#obsessed with him i am. need someone smarter than me to pull him apart for me to digest properly.

[helennorvilles]

"you should have shot me when you had the chance" is delivered in such a way

#like one second genuinely terrifying yaz and a second later he's groaning like he's in pain and then saying that??? #obsessed with him i am. need someone smarter than me to pull him apart for me to digest properly. #it's just such a cool fucking idea that we'll never see explored deeper :( like in a way that i Get but i have latched onto it now #my post tag #dw spoilers #nia watches dw

[fansformentalydistroyedmen]

The Intern and The Sociopath Tw-Attempted Suicide

I was very content till “Lizzy get down here. Elizabeth!” My mum yelled.

Elizabeth is what I am usually called. I am a quiet kid, but inside my mind I am as loud as ever. Every time I look at something my brain fills up with details that a common eye would miss. I could easily tell you whose phone it is by just touching the camera, even if they are the same model. I used to be an outgoing kid, but once my dad was sent to jail I shut myself away in my mind. My Mum barely hears a peep out of me. It doesn't help when I'm trying to open up and help someone with my big mind they tell me to shut it because I'm a girl who doesn't know anything, that I should keep my nose and my glowing teal eyes out of it. I am a pale and a thin girl. I pull my long, thick, platinum blonde hair in a loose and messy bun whenever I am thinking. My eyes are intelligent and big. My nose and lips are fair. A single necklace around my neck. It is a bullet, the bullet that killed my brother. It was my late brothers favorite color. I never take it off. I have side bangs that dangle down my small face. I like my cozy sweaters but whenever I go out I am forced by society to wear my corsets and dresses. I hate it, it makes it so hard to breath. I have journals filled with what I like to call my deductions. The things that people usually miss. I live in a big house, some would call me rich but, I just call myself fortunate. Fortunate that my Mum won the case. The divorce case, the case that sent my dad away for the death of my brother, the case that keeps him away from me and the case that gave us our riches. Some would wish to be in my situation, the money, the brain, some for even my looks. I wish it wasn't this way. I was so close to him. He was my best friend. I look like my dad and people that know me tell me I should change to not look like the person who killed my brother, my dad was the person who killed him. I resent him of course but I still miss him. I like my appearance and how it looks like him. It lets me remember the days before his addiction and anger issues. They always tell me I am going to be like him. I'm not, I know that I won't, I am smarter. I am calm because of my dad, he was so angry when he started doing drugs, screams echoing in our hours, I don’t like being mad, so I try to stay calm, I don't want to be like him. I want to prove them wrong. I will be myself and no one else. I was never close to my Mum. Don't get me wrong, I love her but she is obsessed with my appearance and it drives her crazy that I resemble him. She hates the bullet scar on the back of my neck. She is so old fashioned that she makes me wear corsets. Not to mention she believes girls shouldn't think, just spend money. I hate it, I don't want to focus on my looks, I want to go to school and learn. I learned everything from my dad who wanted me to beat stereotypes. Whenever I go to my internship, I lie to her. She thinks I have an internship working for two guys cleaning their house. You can easily tell by their apartment I don't clean. I am growing my mind and I'm striving to keep up. I am, sometimes I am even faster. It took me a long time to start opening up to these people. They took me in and they realized my potential when no one else did and I am forever grateful.

“What is it Mum!” I called down.

I groaned as I rolled over and stood up. I started to walk out of my room. My room was a nice magenta color. With bookcases that lined my walls. It was plain besides that, I am rarely at home anymore. I ran down the spiral staircase and into my big kitchen.

“Yes Mum,”

“Oh good you're here, you need to do your chores.",

“ I did them earlier.",

“Well you need something to do something other than reading or whatever else you're doing up there. You know my saying, A girl-.",

I interrupted. “A girl's work is never done until the house is clean. I know, I know. Instead can I go to my internship with the Wilsons?” I asked urgently, wanting to leave. Wilsons was the fake name I told her. I had to hide the newspapers because I keep appearing in them. If she saw the newspapers and read the names, she would instantly realize what I have been up to.

“Fine at least that's something lady like. Now go throw some clothes on that are more femenine.",

“Mum!” I glared.

“Now you can't be seen like this in public.",

“Fine!” I yelled storming up the winding staircase. I ran into my bedroom and went into my closet. I went to the back and grabbed a black corset and this light purple dress. I threw the dress on and then put the corset around me. I buckled it so it stayed on and rang for a maid. My maid, Amanda, walked in.

“Hello miss.",

“Hi, could you please tighten this?”

“Yes of course.", she made it so tight I could almost feel it squeezing my lungs. I took a big gasp for air even though barely any air came in.

“ Thanks Amanda.", the maid walked out. I went to my closet and grabbed a pair of boots and put them on. I also grabbed a pair of flats and put them in a bag as well as a sweater and leggings. I threw the sack of clothes over my shoulder. Walking down my stairs trying not to faint from the lack of air and not to fall from my stud boots, I made it to the kitchen and grabbed an apple. I started to walk towards the door when my mum came over.

“Aww beautiful, now hold still.",

My mum grabbed my hair tie and pulled my messy bun down.

“Mum!'' She ignored me. My mum grabbed a hair brush and started to brush my hair. I sighed. Soon she finished with the hair. I was just about to leave when she grabbed my makeup bag.

“Mum!”

“Stop moving!” I groaned. Finally she was done applying makeup.

“Bye Mum” I leaned backwards and grabbed the door handle.

“Bye.", I turned around and closed the door quickly walking. I rolled my eyes in disgust, slowly taking bites of my apple every now and then. Soon I arrived at the front door of the apartment.

I was immediately taken back to that stormy night. My Mum had just screamed at me because she was trying to dye my hair, I refused,

She was saying, “You're just like your father! You should be ashamed, ashamed you act and look like him, he killed your brother."

She grabbed my hair and lifted it up.

“This should be a reminder to you.", she pointed to my bullet scar. From when my dad had gotten mad at me. My brother stepped in front of me. The bullet passed right through him and into my neck. Killing my innocent and heroic younger brother. I was sent to surgery. I ripped my hair out of her grasp and ran out of the house, in my leggings and thin sweatshirt, her yelling at me all the way down the street about how I need to change. Once I got off the block I saw the Hospital. I looked at how tall it was. I started running towards it, tears burning my eyes and blinding me. I ran until I saw the hospital back doors that lead up. I burst through the door. I passed a room with two men and a woman inside. The taller man watched me as I ran up the stairs. I heard the door burst open.

“Sherlock! Where are you going?” I heard the other man yell. I ran up the rest of the steps and burst through the roof door feeling the cold air surround me, the soft rain falling on my head, the tears running down my face forming with the rain to create puddles. I walked slowly towards the ledge, putting one foot on the ledge and standing on it like a balance beam, staring down at the car lights that seemed to go as fast as my mind, staring at the sidewalk that seemed like a path to a happier life. I didn't want this. The grey walking path seemed like a siren that just kept calling me, ringing in my ears. I just stared down until I heard the door behind me swing open, I could almost hear it come off its hinges, it was the tall and short man.

“Hey”, the taller guy said in a gentle tone.

“You don't want this. Let me help you." he reached out a hand. I looked between the two. The two options were like a close race you had to rewatch many times.

“Trust me, this isn't what you want, come with us and we can help.", the shorter man begged desperately.

“Please let us help you," the taller man said once more trying to keep his voice steady. But I could hear a hint of despair and sadness lurking in his voice. So many words were flashing through my mind like they do everytime I look at something. The words give me a headache and overwhelm me. I turned back around staring down at the concrete below me. I thought hard one more time.

“Please let us help you." The taller man was no longer hiding his desperation. I looked back at them one more time with a sorry face. I looked forward and leaned feeling the air swoosh aside me as if I was an airplane I could hear the short man scream.

“Shoot Sherlock!” It all ended so fast I felt a shock rush through my arm. I was dangling.

“John! John! Come help me!”, he yelled. I was panting like a dog on a hot day. My cries grew louder and my breathing became unsteady. John reached down, reaching for my other arm. I reach up.

“We got you." I looked down and saw how high up I was, I felt sick, I could feel the bile rushing up my throat, burning it all the way up.

“Just look at us. Don't look down.", I looked at them and they were pulling me up. Once I got over the ledge. The taller one fell over, I fell into his lap, and I just started to cry. My clothes were soaked to the bone. I could feel him looking at the shorter guy, his eyes were wide asking what to do, I could see through the tears and his coat, gesturing to be honest... I don’t understand what he was motioning. So the taller guy started to awkwardly stroke my hair.

“It’s ok.",

“Shhhhhhh” After a little my tears slowed down and my breathing settled.

“Come on love let's get out of the rain.", The tall man directed gently. He stood up and gestured for me to take his hand. I reached out and he grabbed it and helped me up. He opened up his coat and pulled me to his side so I was also inside it. To help me stay as warm as I could, the shorter man came over with an umbrella that shielded us from the storm. We walked in silence, as we walked down the stairs, the woman came out.

“Sherlock, what's going on?”

“Not now Molly, later.", Sherlock responded. We walked for a little longer until they called a cab and gestured for me to get in. I slowly slid inside and we drove once again in silence, except for my occasional sniffle.

Soon we arrived at an apartment building. We walked inside and we were greeted with a nice older lady.

“Sherlock, who is this?”, she asked, taking a slow step back.

“Mrs. Hudson could you grab us nice hot cups of tea please and bring it up to the flat.", the short guy asked.

“Yes of course.", we continued upstairs to I guess where their flat was. We walked inside. The small apartment is messy. Papers were scattered everywhere. The bedroom was locked even though no one was inside, the smell of burning cigarettes lingered in the room, a single yellow smiley face above the couch with bullet holes in it. If you walked towards the fireplace on the mantle there was an animal skull with headphones sitting on its head. Next to it there is a stack of papers stabbed onto the mantle. A couple of windows show London, Baker Street. The cabs are driving everywhere while people are running to get out from the cold. The knocker is somewhat crooked. They guided me towards a pair of chairs. They pulled another chair from the side of the room. They gestured for me to sit. I walked over and sat. They sat in the chairs opposite from me. Mrs. Hudson brought cups of tea up.

“Thanks.", I said.

“Anytime deary.", she said as she tapped my cheek and walked off.

“I am Dr. John Watson and this is Sherlock Holmes. What's your name?”

“ I…. I am Elizabeth but please call me Lizzy.", I stuttered.

“Ok Lizzy, what's going on.", I explained my dad and brother, then my Mum.

“I am sorry Lizzy.", they both replied seeming sympathetic.

“Then my mind just fills with words. I like to call them deductions.", at that they looked at each other then motioned for me to continue.

“It just gets loud sometimes. I don't know how to calm it down. I feel like I am spinning in circles. I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels like people are screaming words into my head. It could be from looking at something, smelling something, and even tasting something. I just try to stay inside but even then my mind doesn't stop or slow down. I can never sleep. It's just so loud.", I wailed. For the first time Sherlock spoke instead of just looking at me.

“How old are you?”

“Uhhh 13.",

“Listen kid, Sherlock has the same thing, he makes deductions, that's his job, he is a consulting detective, the only consulting detective. He understands how you feel. It's hard, you just have to practice controlling it.", John comforted.

“Can Sherlock and I talk?” John asked.

“Yeah go ahead.", they walked out of the room. I could hear the conversation.

“13 Sherlock! 13 and she tried to…” He trailed off.

“I know it's terrible… I think we should hire her as an intern. Then she can learn and get out of her house.",

“Sherlock we do some very dangerous things.",

“I know.", I fell asleep after that. They walked back out of the room with a firm decision. They walked out and saw me fast asleep. They threw a blanket over me.

The next morning I woke up and they told me their plan and I was ecstatic. That's the day I started my internship, that's when I started to lie to my Mum, and when I started going on thrilling adventures. I smiled at the thought of how far I had come in only a few months and continued inside the flat. I was greeted by Mrs. Hudson. She pulled me into a hug.

“They are upstairs with a client.", I wanted to change into more comfortable clothes but I needed to get to work.

“Ok, thanks.", I walked up the creaky steps and into their flat.

“Hey Lizzy come here.", they pulled out a chair and I sat next to them. While Sherlock continued talking I talked to John.

“What's his problem.", I pointed at the crying client.

“Says his wife was eaten by plants.", My eyes widened and you could see the shock on my face.

“Geez", I said.

“I know.", we started listening again.

“We were walking by this plant and I looked away for a split second and when I looked back my wife was gone. The only thing left was some drool and the plant was slightly turned.", said the man. Sherlock seemed to be thinking.

“Maybe a dog.", I intergined.

“Possible.", Sherlock responded with.

“Alright get out will take the case.", Sherlock said as he got up from his chair.

“Thank you.", the guy whispered as he ran out.

“So when do we start?”, I asked.

“Lizzy, it's a dangerous one and it's far.", John stated.

“I can still come. I will be helpful. Where is it?” I asked frantically.

“Finland."

“That's ok I will just tell Mum I am away to help one of your friends move. Please!”, I begged.

“Lizzy, you're 13, I don't know. Sherlock, what do you think?”, said John as he glanced at him. Sherlock was quiet for a minute.

“She can come, we can ease her in. It will be good, if this goes well she can start with bigger cases. We always like having her ideas. She has really grown in the 4 months. A lot better. She will be out of the house."

“Alright I guess you're coming. Go pack we will meet you outside your house. Your Mum cannot see us."

“Yay! I know.", I was about to rush out when John stopped me.

“Did you do your exercises today?”

“Yes I deducted my ceiling. I concentrated on the words coming slower and they did.", I stated proudly.

“How are the headaches?”, John asked.

“They are getting better and less frequent.",

“Good. Go pack.", I ran out of the flat and down the stairs. I burst out the door and ran home.

“Mum I am home.", “

Already?”

“Yeah so, I have to go to Finland."

“What! Why?” “I am going to help their friend move.",

“That's far, I don’t know if I am comfortable with that. Can I meet them?”

“No!”, I yelled. She gave me a look.

“Please mum!” I begged.

“Fine go pack and I want to check your bag before you leave.", I rolled my eyes and I made my way upstairs and into my room. I started packing a fake bag full of the clothes she wants me to wear and a bag full of clothes I want. I walked down the stairs very quietly and hid the bag I didn’t want her to see outside the front door.

“Here Mum.", I gave her the fake bag. She inspected it.

“Alright it's good. I love you, see you soon.", she gave me a hug.

“Bye Mum love you.", I ran out the door and saw a cab,Sherlock and John were already inside. I threw the clothes bag that I didn't want into the bushes and grabbed my real bag. Then I jumped in the cab.

“All good?”

“Yep!” We drove to the train station, bursting with energy the whole time while we discussed the case. We got onto our train and I went and changed out of these uncomfortable clothes and into a sweatshirt. I returned to my seat. I thought about all of the man eating plants I could think of.

“Kid, you should take a break.", John crossed his arms .

“I need to think and Sherlock is doing it.", I retaliated.

“First off are we supposed to do what Sherlock does? And Mr. Sherlock should stop too.", he finished with. Sherlock still didn't stop holding his hands to his temple.

“If I have to stop then you have to as well.", I threw a notebook at him.

“What?” Sherlock asked.

“You two need to take a break.", John repeated very sternly.

“Ugh what else are we supposed to do on a train.", Sherlock complained.

“I don't know what about, eating, playing games, drawing, reading, or talking.", John responded with.

“We aren't five.", I responded.

“Why don't we play Clue?” Sherlock suggested.

“No! Whenever we play, you always respond with “it's not possible.", Watson complained

. “Because it's not!”, Sherlock responded with.

“Ok what if we order some food and we could go over our notes."

“Food sounds good but let's play the deduction game.", Sherlock squealed. John and I both looked at him with an odd stare.

“What's the deduction game?” I asked.

“It is where you look at something and see who can get the most information."

“Cool!”

“While you play, I will order food.", once John left we got up to walk around the train. We walked by someone and hid behind a wall.

“Okay you first.", Sherlock insisted.

“Okay this guy is on his way to file divorce papers, he is not happy about it, I’m guessing he had an affair since he has a notepad with the names of two women, one of them has the word wife written around it but it is crossed out while the other has the name Jolian and Girlfriend. So I am guessing the wife found out or he wouldn't have crossed out the word wife. The girlfriend didn't care very much about his wife, so they are going to get married right after the signing of the divorice. The ring is sticking out of his pocket. The guy has children. 2 wait no, 3 kids. Two girls and one boy. The girls are older. The girls are already married. The boy is young 7.", I proudly said.

“Very good little one except you missed some key points. Well you so the reason his wife found out is because he told her he was taking a business trip. He actually was taking his girlfriend to Miami. The wife found out because of his tan and sunburn, a tan is easy to hide but a sunburn can be red and/or pink and itchy. She also later found the girlfriend's sun hat. The wife couldn't bare to tell him in person so she wrote him a note explaining, which is sticking out of his pocket. Knowing it wasn't hers she confronted him. He gave in and she filled for a divorce taking all of his access to his children away. His wife is an accountant and he is a banker. He is not organized at all and he usually has 3 cigarettes by 5 o’clock but since he is on a train he can't. You can tell by his shaking hands and the fact he keeps reaching up towards his mouth, this guy also enjoys counting money. He has a bag of coins in his pocket. He was fired after they heard about it. Causing him to have no house, no savings, nothing is his. The girlfriend is very rich which is why he still has a suit.", Sherlock put out very quickly.

“Oh I see."

“You kids having fun?” We turned around and saw John. We tried to shush him. But the guy turned around the corner and saw us.

“Whoops.", we ran down the hallway back to our compartment.

“Well…” I started to laugh.

“Stop laughing and eat.", John laughed out. I tried to contain my laughter but every time I took a bite I laughed a little.

“Stop laughing or you're going to choke.", John once again laughed out.

“I can’t stop laughing!”

“Eat your food so your mind can stay sharp.", now Sherlock was laughing at me for not stopping.

“Oh you guys are kids.", we turned around to see the train attendant.

“Can I help you with anything?” She asked.

“No we are good."

“Well good.", she walked off.

“When will we get there?”

“A couple days.”, They said. The days went on, eating, sleeping, deducting random people, we got a few cool people. There was one cop that stood out to me but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. He was watching us. I decided to send Sherlock a message in a different language.

“ Шерлок, он наблюдает за нами. Послушайте, он не переставал пялиться на нас с тех пор, как мы сели в поезд. (Sherlock, he is watching us. Look, he hasn't stopped staring at us since we got on the train. ) I moved my head towards him.

“What's going on?” John asked. I glared at him and nodded again towards the cop.

“В самом деле! (Really!)” He yelled really annoyed.

“What!” I asked. Sherlock stormed off towards the cop.

“Lestrade!” Sherlock yelled. The cop turned around.

“What?”

“ Why are you here?”Sherlock asked, really annoyed now.

“I am going away to see my family."

“You don’t like your extended family! Obviously you have already called them and cancelled. So why are you here? I don’t need a handler!”, Sherlock screamed.

“I am not your handler, I just came to watch.", the man said.

“Yeah to watch me!”

“Don’t get full of yourself.", said the man now rolling his eyes.

“Microft sent you.", said Sherlock squinting his eyes.

“Maybe."

“Why?” Sherlock’s eyes were now completely shut and you could see his forehead lines growing, he was thinking..

“I don’t know, maybe because he saw you bring a 13 year old girl onto a train with you and usually you don’t like or care for children. You know there have been rumors about her. A secret child of yours. People keep seeing her pop up around cases a lot. People saw her get on the train with you. People also saw you running away from that one guy you were deducing.",

“Geez Lestrade, Lizzy, would you like to introduce yourself." Panic immediately rushed through me. I don't like new people. Not people who I may have to get to know. I shook my head.

“Alright, Lestrade meet Elizabeth, she likes to be called Lizzy, so don’t be an idiot and call her that. She is not my secret child, she is my prodigy.", he smiled at me. I immediately felt proud. Sherlock Holmes, the best detective, thinks I am a prodigy.

“Nice to meet you Lizzy.", he stuck out his hand. I felt John push me a little. I shook his hand.

“Hello.", I greeted him politely. I looked at the man. He was older and tired. A non rule follower, he follows his gut, he is trying to quit smoking so he has patches, he respects Sherlock, his team doesn't he tries to get his team to cooperate with him even when he is being difficult and insulting people. Except he does get frustrated by Sherlocks unwanted deductions and when Sherlock doesn't give an explanation to his conclusions. Despite all of this he has a lot of respect for him and often asks for his help.

“Now why are you working with a lot like them.", before I could say anything John cut in.

“She is amazing, almost as smart as Sherlock, she will probably be smarter than him in a few years.", I blushed at this compliment.

“Wow, so you're like this buffoon.", I laughed.

“I don’t know what your definition of buffoon is, but Sherlock is not a ridiculous person or a clown. He can be a very straight face person as you know it, since you have known him for over five years. Now if you wanted to quit smoking, try it slower than what you're doing. You are more likely to get tempted. Also sorry about your cheating wife.” I spat out. He looked at me and then Sherlock. Then at John.

“Wow, that was great no wonder he took you.", I half smiled at the compliment knowing I completely just invaded his privacy.

“So she's your intern?"

“Yes."

“Alright, so tell me about this case.", I was filled with excitement.

“So, this man came in claiming a plant ate his wife and now we are going to figure out what happened. Since it doesn't make sense that a plant would eat something that big, I have only heard of bugs eating plants or small mammals not a whole woman. This seems like the Hounds of Baskerville case, where they used a drug to stimulate the brain and its fear. So you would see what you thought you would see. You never know though, I hope we find something good.", I basically squealed with excitement while going over my case notes.

“Wow that's a lot, so how long till this train stops?",

“About a day.", John replied.

“Well I have a few calls to make so you should go back to your compartment. It was nice meeting you Lizzy."

“Nice to meet you too, bye!”, We waved and walked towards our compartment and I sat down in my seat. John and Sherlock were conversing about something unimportant. So I leaned against the window and started to go through my case notes once more hopping to catch something I hadn't before. This case rattled my brain. I closed my eyes and started to focus very hard on every little deduction I would've missed. The guy was sweating a lot, so he was obviously scared. He got on a very late train which is why his under eyes were so baggy and purplish in color. I assume he didn't get to sleep on the train. Who would sleep if a plant ate his wife right in front of him. By his anxiousness you can tell he is not lying unless he is an amazing liar but nothing popped up in my head that shows he is a liar. He seemed very general. So let's think about plants. There is the venus flytrap and the Nepenthes which is supposed to be the largest man-eating plant in the world but they don’t eat people. After a while of thinking I just couldn't find anything relevant to the case. Soon I found myself drifting into a slumber.

After a while I heard,

“Lizzy, Lizzy.", someone was shaking me. I bolted up off the window and I was sitting upright now.

“We are here.", I heard Sherlock say.

“Oh ok."We jumped in a cab and drove for a little, until we arrived at a small town. We thanked the cabbie and got out. It was cold, so I pulled my coat tighter around me.

“It sure is chilly.", John complained. We continued into town until we stopped at a small motel. We walked in, it was very dark. The windows were covered with dark purple see through curtains, making the room seem very gloomy. The walls were old and the wallpaper was peeling. There were cobwebs peeking out from the dark corner. We heard something scury behind us causing us to jump and turn around very quickly. Then we heard a bell ding causing us to turn back around causing our coats to swish behind us. Behind the black counter there was a thin and old woman.

“Good Morning youngins."

“Good Morning miss, we booked 3 rooms. For 3 nights, and 4 days.", Sherlock recalled.

“Yes you are the Sherlock person and his crew.", she said with her voice was scratchy and harsh.

“Your rooms are on the 3 floor. Now be careful of the rats.", her voice made me crawl in my skin.

“Thanks." Sherlock motioned us towards the stairs. They creaked as we took steps being careful just in case they were to fall through. Once we got upstairs we went our separate ways to unpack. Once we were done we met in the creepy lobby.

“Alright we should start by going to the scene. We walked out the door and towards the forest. The sun was setting with beautiful colors. As we walked deeper into the forest we heard more and more animals. Some singing, some growling, and some scurrying. John had brought his flashlight and was shining towards the ground so we could see where we were hiking. Sherlock was far ahead while John was trailing behind me. It was definitely colder now it was dark. The trees hid the moon. I bundled myself into my jacket. I heard something crack so I stopped walking for a second. I looked down at the wet soil underneath me and saw it cracking. It slipped under me making me scream. I fell into a deep ditch, a pain shot up my leg.

“Lizzy!” I heard footsteps running above me.

“I am down here!” I looked up and saw John shine the light on me. Sherlock and him were standing away from the ledge.

“Are you ok?”, John asked

“Yeah, just some scrapes and bruises.", I dusted myself off.

“Anything down there?”, Sherlock asked.

“Let me check.", I wandered around the surprisingly big hole. I saw a light at the end of the tunnel.

“I see a light!”

“Do not engage, do not. Lets get you out of there.", John yelled down.

“I am pursuing the light.", ignoring John's instructions. I continued walking towards the bright light, hearing muffled talk from John and Sherlock. A shiver rushed through me and it was even colder down here than it was up there so pulled my coat tightly closed. After I walked for a little I saw something move. I froze feeling terror rush through my body. I heard something run behind me. I quickly turned around to see a shadow. I was about to look further till the lights went out and everything went pitch black. I felt something brush past me again. Followed by a high pitch scream so I reached for my ears. Soon the lights turned on blinding me from the sudden brightness. I rubbed my eyes but they were blurry. My sight is still blurry. I fell over from trying to walk off. Soon I put my head up and my eyes adjusted. I looked up and saw a giant shadow standing over me. It looked like a giant plant, like the plant the client described. My mouth fell open in shock and terror. I heard something move behind me, and suddenly the lights shut off. I sat there frozen. The lights quickly turned back on. The plant was gone except I could hear someone behind me. Too scared to look at the source of the noise, till I heard their voice. It was Sherlock. He rushed over and picked me up by the elbows and placed me back on my feet. Except my feet gave away making me fall back down. He once again picked me up by the elbows holding me up this time.

“Lizzy.", he whispered. He let go of one of my elbows and patted my cheek trying to regain my attention. I was lost in my brain, Frozen, I couldn't respond.

“Lizzy!” He whispered yelled. Again tapping my cheek but also grabbing my chin and moving it back and forth as if he was trying to get a good look at me.

“Lizzy what happened, are you ok?” He asked.

“I seemed to understand that question but I couldn't answer. The only way I could respond with was my big dazed eyes letting a few tears drop and a whimper escaped my lips.

“Oh Liz, come.", he gained hold of my shoulders and guided me to the hole which I had fallen through.

“I have her!”, he yelled up. John appeared and put his hand down. Out of instinct I grabbed hold and he pulled me up. Once I was up I crumpled to the floor and sat there trying to process what had just happened. I could hear John pulling Sherlock up.

“What happened, is she ok?”, John asked.

“I think she is in some sort of daze or shock.", they both offered their hands to help me up. I looked at the hands for a few seconds before grabbing on and standing up. Sherlock wrapping an arm around me so I would not fall back down. John walked ahead shining the light for us. Quiet tears escaped my eyes while every once and awhile a whimper or a sniffle would be heard from my lips and nose. Every now again Sherlock would pull me closer when he heard an animal. After a long and quiet walk we arrived back at the motel. Sherlock guided me inside and checked if the scary lady had retreated to bed yet. Luckily she had. They took me to the common room where the visitors could relax in front of a fire. They sat me on the couch and Sherlock sat across from me. John had gone to make tea. I just stared at the fire trying to evaluate what happened. Nothing made sense. Usually I can make sense of things like this, but this time it was just pure fear. I could feel my body still shaking and my heart still pounding in my throat. Soon John came back with tea and handed it to me. He sat down next to Sherlock and they just stared at my shaking hands. I put the cup down before I could spill it.

“Drink, you will feel better." I followed the order and grabbed the cup moving slowly so it would be less likely to spill. We sat there for a while till I finished drinking and my shaking had stopped.

“So, what happened?", John asked while Sherlock stared at my face. I took a shaky breath.

“It was cold, and the light went out and then turned back on quickly. Causing my vision to go blurry, and I could hear something moving. Soon my vision caused me to fall. When I looked up there was a large plant-like shadow in front of me. Then it disappeared just as fast as it came. I..I usually can evaluate things in hard or scary situations quickly but this time it felt like all of life was sucked out of me. My mind froze like my body and I didnt know what was happening. Now I can't stop shaking.", I cried at every word. Sherlock stared at me while he was watching my slow movements. They had to be able to hear my heart beating against my rib cage. John seemed surprised and Sherlock showed no emotion; he was blank. Just staring at me, I wish I could read what was going on in his mind.

“Lizzy.", John mumbled after minutes of unbearable silence. I looked up from my shaking hands and bouncing leg.

“You are safe now.", John said trying to calm me. That's when I stood up very quickly making me feel dizzy and reaching backwards to try to grasp onto the couch to support myself. John and Sherlock quickly stood up reaching out to me.

“Do not say I am safe! There is something out there! It almost got me! What if it gets one of you! I have no one left who cares about me! Except you! I can’t lose you! We are not safe! It could be watching us right now! Just waiting to get us! To kill us! I can’t lose you! I can't lose you. I just can’t.", I broke down screaming as tears fell down my face. I hung my head in shame of being weak. I broke, I finally broke, they are going to see the weak side of me. They are going to think I am not strong enough to come. Instead of yelling at me like my mother or father would have done they embraced me in a hug catching me by surprise. I melted into the gesture and just let the tears and worries escape. My breathing still slightly harsh. John lifted my head up so I was looking at him and moved my hair out of my eyesight.

“We are not going to leave you, you are one of the strongest people we have ever met. You are brave, courageous, intelligent, and many other very important things. Everyone gets scared sometimes even if you're like Sherlock, Sherlock has gotten scared. So don’t put yourself down, we are going to stay with you. We were both terrified when you fell in that hole and we couldn't hear you anymore. We can’t lose you either, you are so important to us and our cases. You really do help. So it’s ok to cry, and your right we aren't safe. But when are we ever, we always go on dangerous cases. Except we are safe together cause we can problem solve. So, why don't we head off to bed and tomorrow we will check more clues out.", John spoke softly.

“Yeah Lizzy we really do like having you around.", Sherlock finished.

“Thanks.", I gave them a hug.

“Now head off to bed and try and sleep."

“Alright. I walked up the stairs but stopped to listen in.

“Are you sure she will sleep tonight?”, Sherlock asked.

“Yeah I added a bit of melatonin in her tea.", John replied. I laughed finally realizing how tired I really was. So I retreated to my bed.

The next morning-

I woke up and I blinked a couple of times. Looking around my dark and tight room feeling deflated and exhausted, I got out of bed and went to my bathroom to freshen up. Once I was done I blow dried my hair which made it fluff up. I tried to flatten my hair but it just wouldn't stay down so I just left it. I threw on a sweater and leggings. I went to my window to see what the weather was like. I tried to open it right until I realized it was fake. My mind and myself is still a little slow and groggy. I focused really hard and noticed a few things that hinted at the fact it was raining and cold. So I grabbed my Classical Lapel Swing Woolen coat. Putting it on my arm and walking out the cream and creaky door. I walked down the stairs and saw the scary lady.

“Rough night?”

“Uh yeah, do you know where Sher-", she pointed down the hall where Sherlock was. I couldn't see John, which was strange.

“Morning Sherlock."

“Morning.", he was very focused on something. Probably playing ideas in his head.

“Where's John?”

“He went on a stroll."

“In this weather?”

“He said he was looking for something."

“Oh, alright and what are you doing."

“Analyzing the exact words you said last night."

“Oh alright.", I sat down next to him and watched as gears turned in his head. I stared at the wall. I didn't really want to think about last night, but I knew I had to. I stared at the wall as flashbacks started to riddle through my head. Shaking my head to fast forward through my memory. I got the part where I saw the plant shadow. I saw something glistening on the neck of the plant. I put my hands to my temples and mentaly zoomed in. I looked hard until I could see what it was. It was a necklace. It was a dog tag! I couldn't see the numbers but I knew we had to go to a nearby army base.

“Sherlock, I found something.",

“What?”

“The plant had a dog tag! There is an army base about ten minutes from here. I think it is closed for good though. So we have to get in."

“Brillant! Let me call John.", Sherlock left the room, leaving me feeling very proud of myself. He soon came back with his coat.

“John is waiting outside, lets go.", he beckoned me. We walked outside and got into a car I guess we rented.

“Were the numbers noticeable?”, John asked.

“No, I couldn't read the numbers.", I replied slightly disappointed about that. After the car ride we got out and threw on our coats. We walked up to the tall gates, you could see electricity still pulsing through it.

“If the base is closed why is the gate still on?", I asked.

“Cause they are hiding something.", Sherlock said as he went up the gate and found a loose wire. He pulled scissors out of nowhere and cut the wire and then it shut off.

“Lizzy, do you have your phone?”, Sherlock asked me.

“Yeah”, I quickly said as I pulled it out of my pocket. Sherlock took my phone and looked at it. He then turned my flashlight on.

“What are you doing?”, John asked.

“Lizzy has been experimenting with her phone. Dangerous work.", he jokingly clicked his tongue at me.

“Well what did she do to it?”John asked, now sounding concerned.

“Made a blacklight out of it, among other things. A really strong black light.”

“How does that help us?” John once again asked.

“Just wait and see.", Sherlock put my phone in his pocket and started to climb the fence. John motioned for me to climb once Sherlock jumped onto the ground. I started to climb while John stayed under me just in case. I got to the other side and reached out for Sherlock. He gave me his hand and I jumped down. John quickly followed.

We walked towards the tall and creepy building. We got to the door and Sherlock motioned for me to kick it. I kicked it right in the right spot making the door burst open.

“Nice!” They yelled. I laughed at their enthusiasm. We walked through the now broken door and into a dark hallway. The lights turned on as we walked deeper. The emergency door shut with a loud bang and the alarm started to blare. Causing us to turn around and I ran towards the door.

“Ugh! Why do they always make it so complicated.", I mumbled. Sherlock and John laughed at my commentary.

“Well guess we have to shut the thing off.", someone yelled. I couldn't tell who it was. I was trying to cover my ears.

“Come I know the way!” Again someone yelled. We followed John and he led us to a bright room full of buttons. He walked to a control panel and he started to type something in.

“We need a password!”, he yelled in a panic. Sherlock put his fingers to his temples and started to spin around.

“The password is spaghetti.", I yelled. Sherlock looked at me with a confused look. John typed it in and it worked shutting the alarm off.

“How?” Sherlock asked.

“There is a sticky note over there that says the password.", John laughed at Sherlock's face of confusion.

“Alright you took my phone why?”, I asked

“Do you have your powder?” Sherlock asked, completely ignoring my question.

“My makeup powder, well I left it at home since I don’t use it."

“Check your pockets.", Sherlock instructed. I checked my jacket pockets and there was powder.", my mouth fell open in shock.

“Your Mum snuck it into your pocket."

“Ugh! Why do you want it?”

“Just give it.", I handed it to him. He opened it up and dumped a little around the room. He then took my phone out of his pocket and turned my blacklight on. You could see footprints.

“Wow!”

“Come.", we followed as he dumped more. We continued until we stopped at the door. I took a deep breath and kicked the door again. It was dark, and small. We heard something shuffle around so John and Sherlock slowly moved me so I was behind them and they were covering me so I couldn't be seen. Then we heard the door slam. Making us all turn around quickly and for Sherlock to grab ahold of me so I was once again behind them. We stood there anticipating the worst. Who or what was here in this facility. Whatever it was, it wanted us dead. Then a crash echoed in front of us. The lights turned on and blinded us. We blinked a couple of times. Until our eyes adjusted to the bright light.

“What are you guys doing here?” Someone asked. We turned around and it was Mr. Lestrade.

“George, why are you here?"Sherlock said, sounding asaperated.

“First off it’s Greg, secondly where else would I be if I got an alert that someone broke into a closed Military Base.", Lestrade sounded interested,

“Why are you here?” We stared at each other not knowing what to tell him.

“We are researching.", I blurted out. Lestrade's face turned into confusion.

“Trying to see if they did an experiment here that could have caused the plant rumor to start.", I finished.

“Did you find anything?”

“We thought so, but it was just your footprints.", I was annoyed. He made a face.

“So nothing?”

“Nothing.", I shook my head.

“Well let me escort you out before you get arrested.", he motioned with his hands.

“Wait, what's in that backroom.", I asked. I started walking towards the door.

“Lizzy don’t.", John instructed.

“Then come with me.", I stated. They followed me towards the door. I ran my fingers down the hinges. It was metal, too hard to kick down. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a screw driver and a bobby pin. I started to pick the lock.

“3,2,1.", there was a click and the door was open. The room was dark and large. I felt around the wall and felt a lightswitch. I turned it on. Inside were tables with old computers. I walked over to a computer that was on. Staring at the bright white screen. It was asking for a password again. Of course it wouldn't be the same. No if this was important then it would be harder. Everyone walked around the room in circles. I saw a door and walked over to it and jiggled the door knob. It was unlocked. I walked in very cautiously. There were books lining the wall. I ran my hand down the spine of a book. It felt odd. I pulled it out and pressed hardly on the middle section of the spine. The book opened and revealed a notebook. I took the notebook out and opened it. Inside there were many passwords. I narrowed it down to 3 passwords but I had a pretty good idea about which one it was. I put the notebook back in my pocket and walked back towards the computer. I typed in Passwort, which is German for password. Simple people. I laughed. The computer turned on. I clicked on a file called plant. It opened but the only thing inside was pages on how to clean the plant. I felt my smile fade and turn back into a frown.

“Lizzy there's nothing here, let's go.", John yelled out. We walked out of the facility feeling disappointed. Lestrade got into his cop car and left. I jumped into the back of our rental and we drove off. While we were driving I pulled the notebook out and started examining it. I read through each page. On the 10th page there was something that caught my eye. It was a list.

“Step one, dig a hole. Step two, make a bright light, Step three, learn how to do shadow puppets. Step four, make the hole not obvious to the eye so people will fall in. Step five, make a cell. Step six, plan done.", wait, it's all made sense.

“Stop driving!”, I yelled.

“Lizzy what.", Sherlock asked, seeming increasingly worried.

“We have to go back to that hole, NOW!.", I stumbled going through the pages in the book.

”What! Why?”, John asked.

“Look.", I showed them what I found.

“Brilant!” John made a U-turn and just like that we were on our way to the forest. To say I was terrified was an understatement. I could already hear my heart beating out of my chest. I took steadying breaths. Looking down at the notebook on my bouncy knee. I knew I had to do this. I had to go back. Soon we arrived at the forest. We got out of the car and started walking towards where the hole was.

Soon we arrived. I looked down at the hole. I wish I could say I got a better look but the sun was already setting. I took a shaky breath and Sherlock put a hand on my shoulder. They both grabbed my hand and lowered me into the hole. They then jumped in and we started off. Every little noise makes my heart pound even faster. With every pace we took I grew paler and paler. Soon we arrived at the light. We stood there for a couple seconds. Till the light shut off and instant terror ran up my spine, making my legs feel like jelly. I felt hands shuffle pushing me to the back. I wish I could say they were Sherlocks and Johns but in all honesty I have no clue. I took a couple breaths knowing what was just about to happen. I looked around for the shadow but I could not see it. Then the lights turned back on instantly giving me a major headache and Deja Vu, remembering and feeling like the other night. I held against a dirt wall for support and waited for my eyesight to settle. That's when I saw it again. The giant over looming shadow.

“ It's not real, it's not real, it's all shadows.", I whispered to myself. If I wanted this to end I knew what I had to do. I took one last look at the shadow and took off running using all of my strength to hold me. I heard someone yell my name but it was too late . I was determined to end this once and for all. I kept running till I ran into someone. Causing both of us to fall backwards, and hit the floor. *Thump* Was the sound our heads made while hitting the ground. I sat up rubbing my head. I saw Sherlock and John running up to me.

“Are you ok?”, John asked urgently.

“Yeah, I am ok.", we all moved our gaze onto the young man laying on the floor. Sherlock walked over and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, making him stand up.

“Who are you?”

“I am Joe and you are my prisoners."

“What, that's not how it looks. Now show us where you keep the people.", Sherlock demanded.

“Why should I do that.", Sherlock pulled his arm behind his back so he was groaning in pain.

“Ok, ok, I will show you.", we followed closely behind the guy as John sent a text to Lestrade telling him to meet us here. Soon we arrived at a room full of bars and people.

“Why would you do this?”, I was mortified at all the people laying on the floor half dead from starvation.

“I wanted to see how far people's imagination would go and of course after they figure it out they can’t be let out. That stuipd guy who escaped told you about his wife didn't he.”

“I am not going to answer that.", I strictly said.

“Well the cops will be here any second so it's over for you.",

“I don’t think so.", the guy grabbed John and held a gun to his head.

“Come any closer I dare you.", I stood there in shock.

“Just then there was a loud explosion overhead. Cops came flooding in and the guy released John. The cops quickly grabbed hold of him. I ran over to John and embraced him in a hug.

“Are you ok?” I asked, scared.

“Yes, not the first or last time it has happened.", I laughed. We walked towards Lestrade.

“Well my detective crew you did it once again. Except we still have to check you out, so go to the ambulances.", we all walked towards the ambulances. They took me to a separate one and started to ask me questions. They looked me over. Nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises. They did put a blanket on me. I guess for shock but I enjoyed the warmth it provided. Once we finished we got a thank you speel from Lestrade and the people who were held captive. We were able to watch as the man and his wife got united. Plus all of the other people. It filled my heart with joy.

“Pack up, we are going to Iceland.

#sherlock holmes #ao3 #sherlockbbc #sherlock imagine

[beigehearts]

Yandere adult trio when you break up with them (as in they were pretending to be innocent boyfriends but then you’re like okay bye) drabbles

CW: physical abuse

Hisoka

You’ve been thinking about this for a while, his behavior has gotten out of hand. He’s so protective and possessive that you can barely have a conversation with someone on the phone without him sitting right next to you. As much as you love him, you can’t keep living like this, with him constantly asking you where you’re going or what you’re doing even if you’re just getting up for some water.

When Hisoka gets home from whatever it is he does outside, you ask him to have a seat across from you at the dining table. He raises and eyebrow but does as you ask.

“Is something wrong pet?” He slides down in the chair and bounces his leg.

Hesitantly you clear your throat and nod, “You know I love you right?” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips when you ask, and he hums a yes.

“I’ve tried talking to you about this but you’re not very receptive...” You look down at your hands in your lap. “It’s hard to be around you now that you’re so... protective. I think it would be bes-”

He cuts you off with a cold voice, “To break up?”

“Yes. I’ve already packed my stuff so I’ll be leaving tonight.”

He stands up abruptly, knocking his chair over. “Don’t say such dumb things, you’re smarter than that y/n.”

Something in his usual sweet self has changed, dramatically. His eyes are icy and his facial expression expresses something of... malice.

“Hisoka I’ve been telling you I want to break up. I need to break it off at some point.” Your heart begins to pound as he slowly makes his way over to you, his shoes clicking against the ground.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” He’s standing behind your chair with his hands on your shoulder. His grip begins to tighten until you wince in pain.

You jump out of your seat and away from him, “Why are you acting like this?!”

He chuckles, until it turns into full on laughter. “Why am I acting like this? I’ve given you so many chances!” He begins to walk towards you, and with each one of his steps forward you take one back. “This is ridiculous. Just say you’re sorry and this conversation will be over.”

“No!” You yell at the top of your lungs, “I’m leaving tonight, no- no, I’m leaving now!” You turn on your heel and book it for the bedroom, grabbing your bags. When you turn around though he’s standing right in front of you. A frown is very present on his face.

His hands grip your wrists and you drop all of the bags. Before you can react he’s on top of you on the bed. You writhe in his grasp but he’s too strong. His grip on your wrists are only getting tighter by the second and you’re sure that your hands are purple by now.

“I said apologize. You didn’t listen. Do you really think you can just leave? You must be dumber than I thought.”

Illumi

His family has just become too much for you. And quite honestly so has Illumi. Illumi is obsessed with you becoming the perfect spouse, and perfect house servant for him. His mother is constantly on you about the way you act or speak. Quite honestly the only time you get a break is with his grandfather and occasionally his father. Everyone else in the house including the butlers have something to say about you. Except for Killua but he hasn’t been home in many months, maybe years.

You’re sitting on the bed while watching Illumi shine his needles. He’s surprisingly very interested in keeping them clean. His back is to you while he sits on the floor.

“Illumi.” You call out. He doesn’t respond but you know that he’s listening. “I don’t think this is working for me anymore. I wish I could say I have the same feelings I had for you at the beginning but I don’t.”

He stands but stays silent so you continue speaking.

“Maybe in the next two weeks I can get my stuff out of here and, I don’t know... Find an apartment somewhere.”

“And who will open the gates for you?”

His words cut through you like a knife.

“Huh?” Is all you can manage.

“Who is going to open the gates for you? No one will open them unless I tell them to.” He turns towards you and his eyes bore into your own.

“You won’t do it?” You ask, almost scared now. You’ve never been scared of your boyfriend despite his occupation.

He shakes his head, “No.” He sighs and begins walking towards you until he has a needle touching your forehead. “It seems my kindness was not enough for you. I really did try to be nice to you. But it seems that training is in order.”

You scramble back on the bed, your hands are clammy and your feel a bead of sweat trickle down your face. “What are you talking about?”

The hand that was holding the needle against your forehead falls to his side. “You can comply, or I can use force.”

Chrollo

He’s never home and you never see him. You’ve asked him so many times to try to come home more often and he never does. The both of you have begun having arguments when you do see each other, it’s just no longer enjoyable for you. He is coming home tonight but is leaving in the morning, he hasn’t been home for 3 weeks. You’d rather not break up with him over the phone, you feel like he deserves better than that.

It’s 11:43 pm when he gets home. He walks over to you on the couch and kisses your forehead, which only makes this harder. “Sorry I got home so late, things ran a little long.”

You nod and he flops down next to you on the couch with a big sigh.

“Hey Chrollo there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

He cocks his head towards you, “Of course darling, what is it?”

You clear your throat and sit up straight, turning towards him in your seat. “It’s just that you’re never home, and when you are home we just argue.” He nods, listening to your words intently and letting you speak. “I need someone who is available to me and honest with me, you don’t even tell me what you do when you’re gone for weeks on end.”

His silence motivates you to keep speaking, “I don’t think that either of us are getting anything out of this relationship. So I think it’s time we break up.”

He sits up and smiles, and you’re left very confused by this.

With that big smile on his face he says kindly, “No.”

“Excuse me?” You stutter.

He leans forward and runs a hand through your hair. “I said no.”

His words make you angry, this is always how the arguments start, with him just flat out disagreeing with you. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. We just argue, Chrollo we are breaking up.”

You stand and move to leave the room but he grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap. When you try to stand up again he secures you in place with his arms.

He leans in close to your ear and whispers, “If you ever say that again.”

A chill runs up your spine and your blood runs cold.

“I’ll kill everyone you have ever loved.”

#hisoka #hisoka morrow #yandere hisoka #hisoka x reader #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere illumi #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #adult trio #adult trio x reader #yandere adult trio #yandere

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

You’ll Have To Come and Find Me - fic

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne Summary: Damian runs into someone on his way to the League of Lazarus’ tournament. The last person he wanted to see. The last person who should have been looking for him. A/N: Just a thought in my brain that wouldn’t quit. Dialogue heavy. Shittily written idk. ‘Polarize’ by TwentyOne Pilots is such a Damian song to me, and was in my head while writing this, so inspired the title. Might continue this idea a little bit as the Robin series continues, who knows.

~~

He was counting the money from his fight with King Snake as he walked into the café. That’s why he didn’t notice. That’s why he didn’t see.

That’s what he told himself.

But after he walked in the door, he found himself freezing as he looked up.

No.

He’d been so careful, so deliberate. He didn’t leave any traces. He knew he didn’t. There was no way they could find him.

And of course, he couldn’t even back out now. Couldn’t sneak back out of the restaurant, back into the darkness. Because Timothy Drake was already lowering his cup of tea and raising his head to look at him.

They stared at each other for a second. Two. Three. Four. Five. Faces blank, mouths shut.

Then Tim smiled, turned towards the café’s counter and waved. The barista nodded and started on a drink.

Nope. No turning back now.

“How did you find me?” Damian demanded as he stomped forward. Tim motioned to the empty, waiting, chair across from him. A glass of water was already there, as was an empty plate.

Tim shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard.”

“Liar.” Damian spat. “I covered my tracks. I made sure-”

“You made sure Bruce couldn’t find you.” Tim countered, pulling his napkin onto his lap. “And I am not Bruce.”

“…Oracle is smarter than you.” Damian tried.

“Absolutely.” Tim took another sip of his tea. “But I know you better.”

“You don’t know me at all.” Damian crossed his arms. He nodded a thanks to the waiter as he brought Damian’s drink, and a basket of bread. It was tea, like Tim’s, and he could see two sugar cubes dissolving in the bottom.

…His preferred preparation.

He never told Tim how he liked his tea. He never told Tim he liked tea at all.

He glanced up to the elder. Tim smiled behind his own cup and raised his eyebrows. See?

Damian huffed, taking the drink. “What do you want?”

“To find you. Duh.”

“To what, mock me? Remind me of my failures? Rub it in my face that once again you prove you’re better than me?” Damian listed. But as he spoke, Tim’s amused face fell back into stoic, blank.

“No. I wouldn’t do that in the first place. Not…” He lowered his cup once more, stared into the liquid. “Not now, anyway.”

Damian narrowed his eyes, gaze bouncing around Tim’s face, trying to read it. Trying to figure his predecessor out.

“Really?” Damian drawled in disbelief. “So, you’re not here to gloat about how Father gave you Robin back?”

Damian was surprised to see Tim’s face darken, just a little. “I didn’t want it back. He forced it on me in a weird grief-fueled crusade after you disappeared.” Tim glanced up. “A lot’s happened since you left.”

“I’ve been back since I renounced Robin. All this tracking me and you didn’t know that?”

“No, I mean, even since then.” Tim sighed. “…Did you know Dick had regained his memories before you helped save him and the family?”

Damian pursed his lips, stared at the basket of bread. “…No.”

“…How are you feeling about that?” Tim asked softly.

“I don’t need your pathetic brand of therapy, Drake.” Damian snapped.

“I’m not trying to play therapist, I’m just trying to make sure my little brother is okay.” Tim shot back just as harshly. “Especially since he’s running off to some secret tournament that he could die in.”

Tim’s mouth clamped shut then, and Damian watched him. “…How did you know about that?”

“That’s not important, here, okay, I just-”

“It is to me.” Damian countered. “Tell me or I’m leaving.”

Tim glowered back at him. “I’ll follow you.”

“Not if I break your leg.”

“Why do you…!” Tim cut himself off in a sigh, slumped back in his chair. “I got word Talia was in town, followed her tracks. Saw the security footage from her apartment when you went and met her. Heard about that League of Lazarus thing and looked into it.”

“How did you look into it?” Damian asked. “Even I didn’t know about it. And if Mother wasn’t forthcoming with me, I can’t see her being a source of information for you.”

Now it was Tim’s turn to cross his arms and look away.

Damian studied him for a moment, then let his eyes go wide. “…You didn’t.”

“Look, I said it didn’t matter-”

“You did not contact Grandfather for information.” Damian practically begged. “Drake!”

“You know as well as I do he’ll give me anything I want if I’m the one to reach out to him.” Tim reassured quickly. “And sorry if my brother’s safety is a good reason for me to contact an enemy!”

Damian glared at him for a moment before looking at the clean white plate. “…Stop calling me your brother.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Damian-”

“Because after what I’ve done, I don’t deserve the title.”

Tim paused then, stared right back. Sighed and leaned forward to grab his tea again.

“What happened wasn’t your fault.” Tim whispered. “Definitely not Dick, not Alfred…especially not Alfred…I know you think it is, and trust me, I get that. I felt the same back when my dad died. Bruce.” A moment. “…You.”

Damian glanced up at him.

“I get that you think it was. Because you were there, because you’re supposed to be a hero, that’s what the world thinks you are, but…It’s not, Damian. It never was. You’re just a kid. A kid in a shitty, traumatic situation.” Tim hesitated, and Damian watched as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “And we just want you to come home.”

“Why?” Damian asked quietly. “I’ll do nothing but hurt all of you.”

“Can I make a counterpoint to that?” Tim asked. “What do you think you’re doing to us now? Disappearing? We don’t know how you are, or if you’re even alive. Don’t you think that’s hurting us too?”

“…It shouldn’t.”

“Well. It does.” Tim sniffed. “That’s why I’m here. That’s part of why Babs became Oracle again. That’s why Dick wants to use the fortune Alfred left him to find you.”

“Forget about me.” Damian shook his head. “You’ll all be better off. Grayson especially.”

“A matter of personal opinion. An opinion I highly disagree with.” Tim shrugged. “And just because Dick, arguably, loves you the most, therefore is the most heartbroken with you not there, doesn’t mean he’ll be better off if you just…vanish from his life like you weren’t ever there in the first place.”

“He thrived without any memories of me as the cab driver, so we have proof that he would be.” Damian explained. “Besides. Time heals all wounds. Or whatever. You’ll all forget about me if you give yourself the chance to.”

“And I think you dying is proof that we won’t, and can’t.” Tim leaned forward more, reaching for Damian’s hand. Damian allowed him to take it. “Which is why I’m here.”

“I’m not going back to Gotham, Drake. I can’t.” Damian murmured, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m not…I can’t be there. Right now.”

“I know. I know I said we want you home, but I never said I was taking you back. I told you I’m out here to find you.”

“Well. Congratulations.” Damian said bitterly. “You did.”

Tim smiled. “Great.” He squeezed Damian’s hand and released it. “So, where’s this island? For the tournament?”

Damian furrowed his brows. “What?”

“I’m not taking you home. I promise.” Tim let his grin widen, become just a little too shit-eating. “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you.”

“…You’re not serious.”

“My goal was to find you. And not lose you again. The only way to do that is to not leave you, in my deductions.” Tim winked. “Besides, you were right – this Lazarus Tournament sounds interesting. And concerning. You’re gonna need backup. More than the folks we know who are gonna be there already, anyway.”

“…How do you know who’s in the tournament?” Damian asked slowly. Tim just pursed his lips, blinked, and grinned. Damian sighed. “After this tournament, I’m making sure my grandfather never contacts you again.”

“Hey, sometimes it’s nice having a super-villain obsessed with you.” Tim shrugged. “Helped me get you back, after all.”

“All the more reason I’ll have to kill him.”

Tim laughed at that, took a piece of bread for himself. “…You okay with me tagging along?”

Damian sipped his tea. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Tim glanced at his watch. “About an hour until your boat arrives. That’s enough time for you to rest a little while we figure out an outline of a plan to take out this League of Lazarus.”

At that, Tim turned, digging in the backpack he had hanging off his chair. Damian watched him as he pulled out papers and notebooks, dropping them on the table between them.

And he didn’t want it. Didn’t deserve it. His family deserved better. Drake deserved better. Drake had better things to do than chase him, a failure, across the world, and hardly for either of their own sakes. All for the sake of their family. Because Tim loved them. Because Damian loved them. Because Tim loved Damian too.

“…Drake?” Damian whispered. Tim glanced up. “…Thank you for finding me.”

Tim blinked, and let his face drop into a smile. “Any time, little brother.”

#Damian Wayne #Tim Drake

[elizaisthetruehero]

Singing Like a Bird 'Bout It Now Chapter 1

So, I started writing another Eureka fic. Even though I have a WIP that isn't finished yet. What's probably going to happen is I'll get stuck on one and then switch to working on the other to beat procrastination. That's the plan anyway.

But here's the AO3 Link, that I posted there last night, and forgot to put here and on FF.Net. I'm doing FF.net because Eureka is an older fandom, and I think there's a couple people there who never made the switch.

Summary: Jo rushes into the Sheriff's station after 1947, and is greeted by a Zane who does not remember proposing to her that morning. But they're definitely still together. It just seems that Jo can't figure out what they hell they are, and why he's still going on dates with other women.

Zane doesn't understand why Jo's suddenly done an about face, but if it gets her to stop acting like nothing's going on between them, he can work with that. He just wishes he knew why she looked so sad when she looked at him.

Chapter 1

Jo strode into the Sheriff’s station, heart hammering against her bruised ribs, terrified of what she would find. The statue had changed. God, she hoped that was the only thing they’d changed. It would be a ridiculous change they would have made, back in 1947, but one Jo would have no problem living with.

There Zane was, sitting in her cell like he’d been that morning, casual and cool, like she hadn’t ripped his heart out and thrown it in his face. Hope bubbled up in her chest, and Jo could feel it showing in her smile. Maybe they’d be okay. She could feel the weight of the ring still in her pocket. They could still have their happy ending, walking into Café Diem, congratulations from all their friends, phone calls from their parents. Everything would be okay.

“Zane. I can't believe you're still here.”

He didn’t even look up at her, just kept thumbing through his magazine, “Where else would I be?”

“I thought after the way that I reacted,” she broke off sighing, not sure what to say about what she did that morning, or how to fix it. She’d never been good with words. “I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I was just thinking too much. You know, I... I do that sometimes and...”

He cut her off, disinterest in his tone, “Lupo, what the hell are you trying to say?”

“I'm trying to say, ‘Yes.’”

“Yes? Yes, you’ll what, stop hogging the covers? Seriously Jo, what’s gotten into you?” he asked as he threw down his magazine.

“What we, this morning, you,” she cut herself off, dread filling her stomach like a weight. She looked around the room and saw that while Zane was in the cell, it was empty. None of the trappings or reminders of how they met that had been there when she'd first walked in that morning, before 1947. No framed poster, no bedding on the cot, no damn Panini press, no, no Liza’s box. And… Oh.

The cell door. It was locked, likely with the key that was on her belt loop. Why the hell was Zane in a locked cell?

“This morning you kicked me out of your bed at 3 am when I asked you to stop hogging the covers. And then this afternoon you threw me in jail.” Her bed. She’d kicked him out of her bed. Not their bed anymore. They didn’t live together?

Jo sat down at her desk, no able to look Zane in the eye while she tried to process everything that had happened. "Yeah, well, you shouldn’t bother me when I’m trying to sleep. You should be smarter than that," she said, forcing a smirk to her face, slipping into the familiar biting banter she and Zane had when they were fighting. Had she and Zane never gotten serious? He certainly wasn't looking at her the same way he had that morning.

“Look, Dungeon Master, when am I getting out of here?”

She played with her hands, picking the dirt out from under her nails, “I don’t know, what’d you do?”

“Nothing, you just like throwing me in jail,” she fixed her least impressed look in his direction, careful not to look in his eyes, but just above his head. If she did that, she might do something irrational and ill-befitting of a Deputy of Eureka. Like start beating prisoners. “So I unlocked a few cages, those monkeys deserved some freedom. Look, could you just let me out? I’ve got a date."

What? "Really? A date? With who?"

"Yeah, I'm meeting the blonde chick with the Ph.D. in Reproductive Biology. We're going to play doctorate," he smirked, without any of the soft and nervous affection he'd had that morning. Just the sarcastic bravado he’d had when he’d bought her lingerie to get under her skin. Did he even remember doing that anymore?

"Seriously?"

"Come on, Lupo, don't start acting like you care what I get up to or who with. We both know what's going on here, and what we’re not." No, I don’t know what we are, or why you’re sleeping with me but going out with other women. Why the hell wouldn’t I care about that!

She rushed to his cell door to unlock it, desperate to get him away from her, “Go. Get out.”

“You gonna taze me in the ass again?” and there was that grin, charming and handsome, that had caught her eye two years ago. Obsession with firearms can be a sign of an unfulfilled sexual appetite. I'm not saying that's you. But if it is, I'm at your service.She’d had to be talked out of shooting him back then. Now she wanted to shoot him, whatever blonde chick he was meeting up with, and maybe herself.

"Just get out," she snapped at him, blinking back tears that she couldn’t let fall. He walked out the door, facing her, clearly puzzled, his eyebrows drawn together in a way that she normally found cute, but right now, made her want to punch something. Anything would do.

The door shut behind Zane with a click, and Jo leaned against the cell bars, took a breath, and winced. She’d managed to clean up the blood on her face while Henry and Fargo were repairing the phones, but her ribs still needed to be taped, and the scrapes on her hands and head needed to be cleaned. She should still have an almost full tub of GD-grade bruise gel at home. Hopefully, it was still there.

Jo unlocked her door and stepped into her house, shutting the door behind her before leaning against it, letting her breath rush out of her. She took moment to close her eyes and just breathe after the chaos of the day that wasn’t even over yet. But she knew her peace couldn't last. She would have to go through her house to try to put together the pieces of the picture that made up her life, and figure out where everything went wrong.

Well, she had her minute. Time to face the music. She pushed off of the door, opened her eyes, and headed to the kitchen. She glanced around, her fingers trailing along the cool counter, taking it in. Didn’t look any different than it had when she had left that morning. Except…

She peered into the dishwasher and sighed in disappointment. Gone were Zane's plates with dried-on eggs, or his TARDIS-shaped mug, and she didn't think that was because he'd washed them already. They were probably at his old apartment, the one he'd barely spent any time at after they got together. Oh, they hadn't officially moved in together until after he'd gotten home from the Arctic, but that had been a formality, almost. Like he'd thought his question that morning had been. So let’s make it official. He’d really wanted to marry her. Spend the rest of his life with her, like she was the obvious choice.

Jo shook her head. She couldn’t think about that, the proposal that had never happened. She didn’t know how to fix the timeline, so she had to deal with this Zane in the meantime, if not forever. She really hoped she didn’t have this smarmy asshole forever.

She moved onto the living room. It looked like it had before Zane moved in, same décor, same pictures, and the same piano along the wall. The books on the shelves and her coffee table were just her books here, no physics journals or sci-fi novels or comic books. Just the thrillers and murder mysteries she liked to read on the rare occasion she had the opportunity. And, she checked the ottoman with the small storage space, some romance novels with shirtless men on the cover that she did notpull out in public. Zane had teased her the first time he’d seen her reading one, but she’d come home early one day and saw him on the couch, curled up with the blanket his mom had sent as a housewarming present, reading one. He insisted he was just being a good boyfriend, taking interest in her interests. And then he cracked a joke about the cowboy on the cover and positions. She’d been mad at him, but he made up for it.

She moved over to the stairs, heading up. At the very least, she would have to get changed and clean up, get 1947 off of her as quickly as possible. Hope that when she got out of the shower and back to town, Henry would have figured out a way to fix this.

Jo opened the door to her bedroom and stripped off her costume, heading straight for the en-suite bathroom. She showered quickly and efficiently, noting that, like most of the house, Zane's belongings were not there. She got out, wrapped the towel around herself, and headed to the sink to check the scrape on her temple. She applied GD's liquid band-aid to the cut, ignoring the sting, and went to put it away in the cabinet when she stopped, heart in her throat.

A used men's razor. She lifted it off the counter delicately, noting the short dark hairs caught between the blades. Zane's. Jo took stock of the rest of the vanity and felt a glimmer of hope that she hadn't felt since Zane spoke, back in the station.

Two toothbrushes in the holder. A can of his shaving cream. His aftershave, cap off because he could never remember to put the lid back on. She checked the shower again, and saw the bar of soap in the corner of the caddy, the kind that she never used, but, had clearly been used by someone.

Okay. Zane didn’t have any of his stuff downstairs, but he was over often enough that he had some space on her bathroom counter. Though not over enough for them to be exclusive. She really hoped she didn’t have to see him on his date. Her self-control was good, but not that good, she thought as she taped up her ribs and smoothed gel over her bruises. Those needed to fade, and quickly. The last thing she needed was someone asking what happened to her arms.

After giving the gel a minute to dry down, Jo walked back into her bedroom and got dressed, jerking open her drawers to see what was in each one. Her underwear, tank tops, T-Shirts and sweats all still in drawers. She yanked the last one open, wondering if it was empty if it was still being used for her sweaters, or…

Zane's clothes. Not all of them, his wardrobe probably had more than just a pair of jeans, two pairs of boxers, a couple of V-necks and, a crumpled-up plaid shirt. But he kept clothes here. Not enough to be living here, which the bottom floor had told her. But clean clothes for those rushed mornings when he wouldn't have time to run home before heading to work. He'd probably shown up to GD too many times wearing yesterday's clothes, thick stubble on his face.

Who had suggested it? Had she cleared it out and offered it to him? Had he brought them over in a backpack or duffle, slipping them into the drawer with a nervous grin? Were they the result of lazy weekends spent in her bed, ignoring the world outside?

She pulled her jeans on before picking up her dirty clothes and bringing them over to her hamper, and right on top of her clothes, was a pair of his boxers. Just more evidence that Zane was part of her life, but she didn’t know how she fit into his. If she went over to his apartment, would she find similar signs of her presence? Travel-size versions of her shampoo and conditioner, a change or two of clothes, maybe part of a spare uniform? Would her robe be there, or, no, she caught herself. He was fucking other women. If she got cold over there, she’d borrow one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweats.

And that was if she even went over to his place. She really needed to stop dawdling and get back to town so she could talk to Carter and Henry, see what was going on, and if they could fix this. And if they couldn’t, well, she’d been a Special Forces operative and was now a Deputy in Eureka. She could adapt. Maybe she could get Zane to adapt with her. Maybe, she thought as she slipped the ring onto a chain and placed it around her neck, not willing to be without it in case Henry found a way to fix this, maybe he’d even try to put this ring on her finger again. But that wasn’t happening tonight. Because she froze.

#eureka fic #eureka #jo lupo #zane donovan #a town called eureka

[wickedmilo]

DID YOU MISS ME? | MILO & DAMIEN

PLACE: A bar  TIMING: 1:38 AM SUMMARY: Damien and Milo cross paths after a previous ‘almost’ hook-up. They unexpectedly find themselves confiding in each other. WRITING PARTNER: @damienxsheppard​ CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcoholism, drugs, violence

There was something complex in the brew the bartender provided Damien, he had a hard time pinning down what flavors lingered on his tongue and which were easy to wash away in thought. A bright orange note burst by the back of his mouth while something smooth and sweet lingered at the front. He didn’t know much about magic or spells, all he knew was that this beer was crafted locally and whoever made it created one fine concoction. Damien sipped it as he surveyed the bar once more, he had ended up in the small pub for the same reason he always ended up there: he had been looking for someone. When he failed to find them, again, he began looking for a drink.  

Darkness seemed to leak through the cracks of the old building, its occupants didn’t seem to mind and Damien blended right into the crowd. No one took notice of him, that is, until he caught a body draw close in his peripheral to his table. Damien was not someone people frequently approached and for good reason. Turning to see who’d provoked his attention, a small grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he found a familiar face. “Well,” Damien took the time to regard Milo, something about him had changed since they’d last met but he couldn’t see what, “been a minute since I’ve seen you. Figured you packed up and left, or died. Seems to be a pretty common theme with this town.” 

Milo had never credited himself with the ability to function as a human being. It seemed his automatic response, regardless of the situation, was to look for a drink, or the closest hit. It had never been an issue before now, though he felt sure Dani and his parents would claim otherwise, but he was no longer human, he was something other, and this obsessive need to avoid his problems continued to draw him back into town. A place he shouldn’t be, a place he knew he could do an awful lot of damage. He was only a few drinks in, barely enough to warrant a buzz, and he had been careful to frequent the shadows, choose the tables furthest from the crowds. There were merits to this tactic, he felt more in control, less afraid of himself. But there were negatives too.  

He was given far too much time to dwell on the fact that he was dead. Clinically dead, as far as he could tell. He had spent days struggling to find any semblance of a heartbeat. The empty sensation was as uncomfortable as the bloodlust. But what else was there to contemplate when he was alone? His anxiety only weakened by the alcohol in his system, usually he liked to assume he would be smarter than approaching the first familiar face he saw. But he wasn’t thinking straight, and he didn’t exactly feel as though anybody could judge him for that fact. Desperate for company, he recognised Damien immediately. An almost hook-up from a few weeks prior. Jeez, had it only been a month? He scrambled out of his seat, downing his beer before making his way over to where the man was sitting. Attempting to keep his distance without drawing attention to what he was doing, he forced a casual smile. “Hm, something like that.” He muttered. “Did you miss me?”  

The grin on Damien’s lips grew to reveal a row of teeth, his mouth breaking open briefly as a sharp laugh cut through the air. He couldn’t help the piercing amusement Milo’s question brought on. Damien recalled the night they met, though it was starting to grow hazy as all memories do as they age. It didn’t help that he'd had a few to drink that night, same as now. He knew that Milo had noticed how his attention lingered longer than it should. “The bar was a little boring while you were out,” he admitted, though Damien had found plenty of things to keep himself occupied with. Most nights he ended up picking fights, others he pursued any information, they all usually ended him at the bottom of a glass.  

Damien took another drink of his beer, tilting his head slightly as he considered Milo where he stood. He didn’t remember the other trying to keep distance between them before, but some time had passed. Maybe he had learned more about Damien since last they’d met, discovered how chaotic he could be. It seemed unlikely, given the fact those who had learned what he was capable of belonged to the criminal climate of White Crest. That, and Milo didn’t seem to be the type to shy from danger before. “Did you just stop by to say hello or are you going to stand there all night?” Finishing what was left of his beer, Damien flagged the waitress down to request another, “don’t tell me you’ve found someone else to drink with.” 

“Everything is boring without me.” Milo teased, surprised by how easy it was to slip back into his usual speech patterns. When his life felt as though it was crumbling around him, it was almost comforting to realize he, as a person, hadn’t changed. He could still be sarcastic, still make a joke if he wanted to. “Well, lucky for you I’m back from the dead.” He added, leaning against the bar, tapping his fingers against his empty glass. It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, but surely there was no harm in a little wordplay. He was hyper aware of being in the centre of a crowd, hyper aware of the fact that his inebriation could work for him or against him. It didn’t exactly dampen the cravings, but it offered him an illusion of self control, one he was actively working not to trust. Damien was apparently the perfect distraction. It wasn’t as though they could pick up where they had left off, but he would settle for good company tonight. He missed good company.  

Feeling his smile falter just a little when he realized Damien had noticed his odd behaviour, he shifted awkwardly on the spot. His initial instinct was to move closer and prove he wasn’t acting strange, but that wasn’t an option. “Both?” He said instead, brushing off the question. “Look, my life has kind of become a shitshow, I haven’t showered in a few days and I’m not about to force that on you.” Wrinkling his nose, it was a surprisingly honest response. In fact, he was fairly certain he had never been more of a mess. Mentally, and physically, his self-care had taken a rapid decline, as if it wasn’t already lacking. “Why?” He grinned when Damien asked if he had found somebody new to drink with. The expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you jealous?” Glancing down at his empty cup, he lifted it, attempting to drain the dregs at the very bottom. “Actually, you’ll be pleased to know… drinking alone has kind of become my thing.” He set his glass back down, chewing briefly on his bottom lip. “I was planning to drink here until somebody is forced to drag me out of a gutter, you are a very unexpected treat.” 

It would have been easy to dismiss the change in Milo’s demeanor on the poor lighting, chalk up the way his smile faltered a little on the atmosphere or whatever other buyable environmental excuse one could produce. But Damien had spent too much time in the dark to be easily fooled by shadows. His gang had conducted most of their corrupt affairs at night, traded in illegal actions, provoked their worst enemies out into a fight till one pack finally chewed them apart. Damien listened as Milo confessed his life had been less than ideal lately, and there seemed to be some truth in that. Still, there was something unsteady about the man.  

Damien slid forward from his seat, slow enough that if Milo decided to leave he’d have the time to do so. Always, he had been bold, on the verge of carelessness really, and often enough he paid for it with a bruise he didn’t regret earning. Damien invaded the space between the two as he stood up, leaning forward and testing Milo’s boundaries. “You don’t smell funny to me,” he mused, giving way to a small grin. For a moment he lingered there before moving even closer to reach around Milo, freeing the waitress of the beer she’d brought to their table. A fresh glass was placed in his company’s hand before Damien fell back into his seat. “I don’t have a right to be jealous, you’re free to do what you want.” An honest answer, released with a small shrug before he continued, “a unexpectant treat? I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, but that’s a first. What the hell’s been going on in your week that makes you happy to see me?” Usually, he wasn’t classified as a sight for sore eyes, he was not welcomed company, but the residents of White Crest were all strange in the way they approached him.  

Milo hadn’t been expecting Damien to call his bluff. His entire body tensed as the man moved steadily towards him. He wasn’t sure how close he was intending to get, but he decided to stay planted. If he scrambled away from him that would only make him look suspicious. Holding his breath, tilting backwards just a little as he willed his friend to retreat, he swallowed, closing his eyes in an attempt to maintain control. “Please… don’t…” He muttered quietly, his voice strained as Damien leaned around him to pick up his glass. He felt guilty for saying anything the moment he saw the grin on his company’s face, but keeping his distance wasn’t exactly trivial. It was a matter of will power, and his will power had always been severely lacking. The moment Damien took his own seat again, Milo let out the breath he had been holding. A wave of relief washed over him, though he knew the sense of accomplishment would be short lived. Saying no to one temptation in an entire room of temptations wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. You could only be proud when you left the room. Wasn’t that how things worked? “I’m- uh, pleased to hear it?” He answered quietly, his heart not entirely in the statement. Usually he would have a comeback, something funny to say in response. But his mind was entirely blank.  

Staring down at the fresh beer in his hands, he used it as an excuse to avoid eye contact. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s a sign of just how terribly things are going.” He teased, attempting to fall back into his usual humour. “There’s a first time for everything, right? Really, nobody’s ever been happy to see you?” He struggled to believe that. From what he could remember of their past encounter, Damien had been entertaining, flirtatious, genuinely decent company. What could possibly make him think otherwise? “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Imagine the worst of the worst, times it by ten, and you might get somewhere close, but it’s… whatever...” 

The reaction he received was hardly subtle. Damien had always found value in what made people cringe, he regularly looked for a person’s weakness in combat, exploited what made them flinch to guarantee an upperhand. It was a practice that carried over into his conversations too. The plea that broke from Milo was so low it could have been buried in the regular commotion of the bar, and Damien might have missed it too, if it hadn’t been for that sharp hearing he’d inherited after being bitten. He couldn’t tell what brought it out of him, but it seemed to bother Milo less when he took his seat again. 

The temptation to push on the subject despite Milo’s reluctance pressed into Damien’s thoughts but he took a long drink of his beer instead of asking about it further. He didn’t have a reason to pry, at least, not yet. “No, not usually,” Damien began to answer, a few people in town had learned of him, seen what he was capable of and accepted him, like Solomon and Nell. The wolf’s eyes set on something past Milo as he remembered his family, they were the ones who knew him, truly understood him, and happily welcomed him into their ranks. Damien’s gaze focused once more on Milo as he added, “really, that’s my fault though. I’ve made few friends in town but not many. Been caught up in a few fights, and don’t always end well.” It had certainly been more than a few but he didn’t elaborate. Damien nodded as Milo conveyed he didn’t want to talk about what was clearly bothering him. “My week has been fucking great, thanks for asking,” his tone was not harsh, joking lightly, “we’ve got more construction projects being drawn up every day. This week I’ll be clocking in overtime. We’re working on some old house right now and all the guys swear it’s haunted. Hell, I swear every house in this town is haunted in some way. ”  

Milo wasn’t sure Damien managed to hear his quiet plea over the noise that was surrounding them. If he had, he was grateful the man decided to act as though he hadn’t. He knew his behaviour was odd, but he wanted to pretend otherwise. He wanted to live in the moment, even if just for the night, and pretend things were normal. He wasn’t dead, he wasn’t responsible for taking someone’s life. He was Milo. Just Milo. “I’ll make a habit of it then. For you.” He offered a smile, finally able to appreciate the beer he was holding now that there was some distance between them. Leaning against the bar, allowing himself to get comfortable, he raised his eyebrows at the mention of fights. It wasn’t difficult to imagine somebody like Damien getting caught up in trouble. He wondered briefly whether he was the type to start them or finish them.  

A laugh escaping him as the subject shifted, he surprised himself by grinning easily. His first genuine smile of the night. “Am I being self-absorbed?” He asked, only half teasing. “It’s kind of my thing, you don’t want to take that away from me, do you? Not when I’m so fucking good at it?” His eyes shining, he listened with sincere curiosity as his company began to talk about construction projects. It suddenly struck him that he wasn’t entirely sure what he did to earn a living. “You’re a construction worker?” He asked, his smile faltering at the mention of haunted houses. It had never even crossed his mind to consider whether ghosts might be real. If vampires were then what else could be out there? “Like, actually haunted? As in you’ve seen a ghost?” 

Damien wanted to discourage Milo from making that habit, ward off any sort of promise and the smile that trailed after it. The life he had chosen was threaded with chaos and ruin, his pursuit of revenge only promised bloodshed. No need to drag anyone else into it. Briefly, as the words were uttered by Milo, his jaw tensed as if any semblance of kindness struck him like a punch. Who in their right mind would give a fuck about him? Damien was quick to dismiss Milo, he considered himself good company for the night, but nothing more. It wasn’t like he had a reason to think Milo could endure him longer with the distance kept between them.  

“You can be as self-absorbed as you want, if the next round is on you,” Damien replied, masking his previous tension under a slack grin till all bothersome thoughts became a distant memory. The beer helped. He took another drink, his glass already half empty once more. “I am,” the answer came easy, construction hadn’t ever been his trade but he learned most of the tools to the business on site. The guys he worked alongside were friendly enough and never asked too many questions. It was for the best really, at times they’d discover past horrors in houses and didn’t know if it had always been there, or if someone from the crew added it. No one ever asked. “I’ve never seen any ghosts, I think they’re full of it. A guy the other day said he saw some woman walking about and then some of our tools went missing. He said she doesn’t want us to work on the house. Sounds like an excuse not to work, if you ask me.” Damien shrugged as if to say it couldn’t be helped and took another drink of his beer.  

Milo noticed the shift in Damien’s expression, but in the same way Damien had chosen to ignore his strange behaviour, he figured it was only fair to return the favour. “Oh, you’re gonna make me pay for the drinks?” He raised his eyebrows, a laugh escaping him. “Fine, but this may just financially ruin me.” He teased, pulling out some folded notes, sliding them towards the bartender. His company didn’t need to know he was already financially ruined, or that he had swiped the dollar bills from the coat of an unsuspecting patron. It wasn’t the first time he had stolen to support a habit, it probably wouldn’t be the last. Turning his attention fully back to Damien when their future drinks had been paid for, he listened to him elaborate with a quiet smile.  

It might look as though he was feigning interest, but after the worst month of his life, after being forced to re-evaluate his entire existence, having a trivial conversation about construction work, and ghost stories felt exactly like what he needed right now. “You do?” He asked. “Really? Some guy you work with saw a ghost?” Unable to hide how amused he was by the idea of a dead woman stealing someone’s tools, he took a long drink before offering a shrug. “I think I’d be pissed too, you know. If I was stuck in a house forever, I’d want it to stay looking how it looked when I was alive. Otherwise it wouldn’t feel like home anymore…” 

Damien’s grin cut just a little deeper into his cheek as Milo freed up some bills for their next round. Really, he hadn’t expected him to pay their way and wouldn’t have objected to contributing towards the tab, but if there was one thing he couldn’t say no to it was a free drink. “Next time I see you around here, the drinks will be on me,” it wasn’t so much as a promise as it was an offer, Milo was free to take it up or leave it. Damien lifted his glass and finished it, accepting the new one with a nod of thanks rewarded to his company.  

“I do,” Damien wasn’t much of a believer in the supernatural, he would have never thought werewolves actually existed until he was met with the proof of their teeth digging into his skin. The event didn’t make him a believer of other unnatural creatures, though White Crest had a way of challenging him on that front. “He said he saw a woman,” Damien leaned forward over the table as he made the statement, emphasizing his disbelief in his co-worker. It was there Damien was forced to feel the influence of the alcohol, his head felt light from the movement before his back crashed back into the seat. He’d have to pace himself through his next drink if he hoped to make it back to his apartment standing. “None of us have seen her though. I haven’t.” The wolf’s head tilted as he digested what Milo said, contributing a few moments after with, “well, that’s the hard part though. These old houses aren’t going to stand much longer without work being done. They can either change, or continue to decay.” A small smirk developed on his features, “if I had to be stuck somewhere in the afterlife I’d aim for a place in the city. Things would always be changing but they’d never be boring. Who needs peace when they’re dead though, right?” 

“Next time?” Milo asked, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. “So there’s going to be a next time?” It made him feel as though he might still be able to fall back into his old life. Parts of it, at the very least. If some things didn’t have to change then maybe, just maybe he would be able to stay sane. “You know I’m going to take you up on that offer. I never say no to a drink.” As if to prove his point, he took a sip from his glass, listening to Damien as he began to elaborate on the woman his colleague had seen. Never in his life had he been forced to take a stance on whether he believed in the supernatural. It had been meaningless, inconsequential. Now, it was something he considered more often than not. Almost every second of every day was spent grappling with the fact that he was dead. That he had no heartbeat. He craved literal Human blood. If he existed, then what else was out there? 

Catching the implication behind Damien’s tone, he laughed quietly, grateful to be drawn out of his thoughts. “Is this colleague not a reliable source?” He asked, his eyes shining with a quiet humour. “I know how that goes…” He was fairly sure he could approach almost anybody from his past and tell them he was a vampire. Without a doubt they would assume he was high, brush off his admission as the ramblings of somebody who couldn’t be trusted. “You’re the ‘see it to believe it’ type, huh?” He leaned backwards just a little as he waited for his company’s scent to fade. Every time Damien leaned towards him, or shifted in a way that created a draft, he was reminded of just how much he was risking. “Hm, I guess that’s true.” He took a moment to mull over the logistics. “Then maybe it isn’t about being pissed. Maybe she’s got a thing for builders.” He teased. “Maybe she likes to watch.” His tone was suggestive, he couldn’t help himself. Any opportunity to make a joke, to feel as though things were as simple as they used to be. 

Taking another drink when Damien began to talk about how he would like to spend his afterlife, the subject felt a little too close to the very thing he was trying to forget. He took in the words, making an effort not to fully process them so that their conversation could remain light, and easy. “I don’t think you get to choose where you end up.” He pointed out. “And I’d say a lot of people, peace is probably pretty great if you compare it to some of the alternatives.”  

“Then it’s settled, next time I’ll pick up the bill,” most of the money Damien earned that wasn’t spent on necessities was wasted on alcohol. He didn’t see a reason to save, if his revenge resulted in his demise all of  the belongings he’d obtained would just be put to the curb. There was no one around here to understand the value of his possessions. The idea of dying did not bother Damien the way it should, the way it unnerved most. He’d learned to live with death a long time ago, grappled with it the first time he washed blood from his hands. It had become so commonplace it no longer hung above him like a threat.  

Briefly, Damien thought back on his co-worker, their history on the site, and their claims. “I just don’t trust him,” the truth sounded harsh, but it wasn’t meant as an offense. Damien didn’t trust most people. “Last week he called off and left us short because of a family matter, then I saw him later that night at the bar.” It wasn’t like he had much of a reason to care what the hell the guy did in his free time, but he had to work harder to make up for the absence. Instead of answering the question Damein returned it to Milo, “you’re not?” Since moving to this town Damien had encountered supernatural creatures and events that had fractured his former beliefs. Still, he struggled to accept them until he was forced to. “A lot of things can happen in the shadows, it’s easy to blame a monster.”  

A huff of laughter came as a reply at the suggestive remark, “you might be right. Who doesn’t love a show?” He didn’t chase after the subject too much on the afterlife, instead he gave a wicked grin, “let’s hope we’re a ways from peace then, and the afterlife, for now,” and then took a drink of his beer as if to toast to it.  

Milo grinned, feeling himself steadily falling over the edge of tipsy and into the wonderful world of being drunk. This was what he had been hoping for, a night of pretence. A night of not worrying about the things he knew he should be worrying about. Good company, and some drinks. What more could he possibly ask for? “Hm, could he have been drinking because of the family matter?” He asked. “I know my family has driven me to drink on more than one occasion…” Tapping his fingers against his glass, he made it clear with his demeanour that he wasn’t taking sides. It more than made sense not to trust somebody who took the day off and then spent the night in a bar. But he also kind of understood how that might happen. A frown creasing his brow as he considered the unexpected question, it felt stupid to deny anything.  

Until recently, he had never given the supernatural much thought. But if something had made itself known to him, then what choice would he have but to accept it as truth? Wasn’t that essentially what he was doing right now? “Yeah, I guess I kind of am that way.” He admitted. “But it’s not like I didn’t believe in shit, I just never really thought about it… when stuff shows up it isn’t like you can deny it. Not unless you’re fucking insane...” Maybe he was being a little careless with his remarks, but his tongue had been loosened, and he always had been reckless. “Oh, yeah? What are you blaming the monsters for?” He asked, attempting to inject some humour into his tone. “It’d be nice to have someone to blame for my timekeeping skills, maybe my smoking- Mom used to hate the smell of smoke on my clothes.” 

Feeling a strange sense of satisfaction when he managed to make Damien laugh, he raised his glass. It felt twisted somehow, toasting to the afterlife. Didn’t this technically count as his? Or could he die again? Come back as a ghost or a zombie or some other creature he used to believe only existed in fiction? Using his intoxication to force those questions from his mind, he smiled, catching his company’s eye. “Cheers!” Downing the contents of his glass, something that was so much easier to do now that he didn’t need to breathe, he only set it down when he knew it was empty.  

The idea of his co-worker being unnerved by something at home then finding the bar for comfort received no sympathy from Damien, instead he gave a swift dismissive reply, “fuck if I know, I didn’t ask.” Then the alcohol quickly caused the man to fade from his thoughts as they moved to the next topic. Damien noticed he had to exert more effort to focus on Milo’s response, there was something odd there, “what kind of stuff shows up around you?” He hadn’t really considered what he was asking, didn’t think the answer could be more strange than the creatures he’d encountered lately. Damien’s voice was rough when he answered the inquiry, “everything,” it had been a slip, something released during his drunken haze that he couldn’t catch after it was set free. Damien did consider the werewolves that had killed his family monsters, but that wasn’t a topic he’d divulge in any setting.  

The rest of Damien’s beer is finished with the toast, the wolf moving to stand moments afterwards. It proved to be a hasty mistake. The drinks had finally caught up to him and Damien swayed just slightly, catching himself by snaring fingers into Milo’s shirt till the weight of his body felt more even. “Think that’s enough for me for the night. Better quit while I can still walk,” a loose chuckle left his chest as he released Milo from his grasp. “Come on, you can smoke outside with me, cool air might sober me up some, and I don’t mind if it sticks to your clothes.” A little unsteady, Damien moved his way through the bar, pushing past a patron when necessary till they found their way outside the pub.  

It was pretty clear to Milo that Damien had started drinking long before he arrived at the bar, and as time moved on he began to see the effects of the alcohol. Feeling drunk himself, it was too easy to smile at the offhand comment. So he shook his head as he realised his friend had picked up on his subtleties, regardless of his current state. Maybe his subtleties weren’t so subtle after all. “Nothing-” He hurried to take his words back. “I mean, nothing super weird. Just forget I said anything.” He should probably make more of an effort not to draw attention to the changes in his life. But it was so difficult when they were all consuming. Damien was one of the first people he had been able to talk to, and he needed that more than he wanted to admit.  

Everything. He had been too distracted by his own thoughts to notice any shift in Damien’s expression, but there was something about the way the word was spoken that told him this wasn’t something he could joke about. He couldn’t turn this comment into something funny, or lighthearted. The tone carried so many emotions he couldn’t place, and it left him wondering, with a burning curiosity, just what had happened for him to sound so hurt. “Everything, huh? Shit…” Not expecting him to sway as he stood, the hand on his chest was something he hadn’t been ready for. Holding his breath, it took everything he had to stay where he was. To not react.  

Waiting until Damien was upright, and no longer gripping his shirt, he nodded in response, too shaken by the sudden proximity to say very much. “Yeah…” He muttered quietly. “Yeah, okay. We can go outside.” Pulling a carton of cigarettes from his hoodie, he placed one between his lips. It was a distraction from what he was really craving. Maybe if he focused on smoking, he could ignore the growing need for something far more sinister. Standing up too, he offered Damien a smile at the comment, holding the carton out so that he could take a smoke too. “Good to know.” He attempted to tease, but his voice was strained as he attempted to prepare himself for the short journey. Holding his breath again as they were forced to brush past patrons, his knuckles turned white as he balled his hands into fists. It didn’t take them long to reach the door, but it may as well have been an eternity. 

It was strange, how defensive his company became over the question. It was far more suspicious that he hurriedly warded off any more attention on the subject. “You’ll have to be a better liar about that,” Damien advised, it might have amused him sober, that Milo tried to hide a potentially dangerous topic. If he knew Damien better, he’d know that any risky or threatening subject only drew in his attention more. They were fortunate however, that in his drunken haze any thoughts that begged to chase after the response slid away from his mind.  

Damien was forced to realize soon after he stood that he had not been so careful with his own speech, not that he typically was. The single word had snared Milo’s attention but Damien did not provide a response to his inquiry. He didn’t think someone who had been dodging hard questions would want to hear about the dark chapters of his life, which suited him fine, he didn’t want to read those aloud anyway. Damien accepted the cigarette offered to him and moved on. 

As the pair exited the pub to be introduced to the sidewalk Damien freed a lighter from his pocket. He flicked the switch till a little flame danced up, bringing it to the end of his own cigarette before igniting Milo’s. As the light was brought close to his company’s face he could see stress lingering on his features but didn’t comment on it, instead he took a long drag of his cigarette and let his feet start to carry him down the sidewalk on the path back to his apartment. 

“Fuck you, I’m not lying.” Milo insisted, his tone friendly even as he caught himself scowling. He didn’t enjoy being easily read, though sometimes it felt entirely unavoidable. Lucky for him, he knew his company wasn’t one to push for answers. They seemed to dance around certain topics which he was more than happy to do, even if it did leave him curious. So long as Damien didn’t make any attempt to pry, he would offer the same level of courtesy. Taking a grateful breath of fresh air as they escaped the stifling environment of the bar, it wasn’t long before his cigarette was being lit for him, and he smiled, genuinely grateful. It was a relief, he could feel his anxiety loosen it grip on his chest, albeit only a little.  

Smoking had been a strange habit to continue after his death. Although his body still called out for Nicotine, the specific act of inhaling and exhaling was something he was forced to relearn, to really focus on. Letting out a slow, deliberate hiss of air, he watched smoke curl above him, stark against the night sky. Paying no attention to where they were going, when Damien didn’t stop he assumed he had a destination in mind. He was very much over fearing for his safety, not that he ever had in life. Which meant it was easier to simply follow. Falling into step beside him, he hummed quietly to himself. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, but frustratingly felt as though he couldn’t. “So…” He murmured, breaking the silence. “You’ve been in White Crest your whole life?”  

The cold had not in fact sobered him up. Damien felt his world tilt just a little before it righted itself and his thoughts swam in and out of his focus as smoke twisted between his fingers and uncurled from his lips. He was aware of Milo beside him, that as the pair progressed down the streets towards his apartment that they were more alone. It was a dangerous thing, keeping his company, but Milo seemed to follow regardless.  

“No, no,” he began in answer when Damien caught the question, “I moved here from New York a few months ago. I thought I’d be gone by now, but, here we are.” That was a little too much honesty, as he turned to look at Milo, more seemed to slip out. “You know, you remind me a little of someone I used to know. He could hold his own at a bar too but he was a little more…” Damien struggled then, because the man in reference meant more than a few sentences could summarize. And he was dead. Instead of continuing, Damien took another drag of his cigarette and let the subject slip past him as he continued, “Different, I guess. Anyway, what about you? Have you always had roots here or did you come from somewhere else?”  

“Oh, shit.” Milo couldn’t hide his surprise upon hearing Damien was originally from New York. He had never been the type to dream, more than content to live in the present, to lose himself in his pills, and his alcohol. But cities had always interested him. He couldn’t deny the faint draw he felt when he considered what it might be like to live in one. “New York? How the hell did you end up in this shithole?” He couldn’t imagine having the opportunity to live in New York, only to settle for somewhere like White Crest. The town had its merits, but it was still just a town. Sleepy, and dull, despite the vampires apparently lurking in the shadows. A frown creasing his brow, he took a long drag of smoke before looking back up at his company. He could only assume the familiarity wasn’t a compliment. 

“I do?” He asked, absentmindedly tapping ash. “You know a lot of screw ups then?” Maybe it was an unfair comment to make, but also a reflection of his self esteem. There were very few people he allowed to see this particular side of himself, but it was late, he was drunk, and he trusted Damien. “Oh, yeah? Different how?” He was curious to know, he couldn’t stop the question from escaping his lips. Following it up with a shrug, he was almost embarrassed to admit he was from such a stifling place. “Born, and raised…” And died. He added silently. “My parents are from here... and their parents. And I assume their parents. S’not like it makes much of a difference. I got stuck here, same as everyone else.”  

Damien’s attention is snared in his drunken haze when his company reacts to his hometown. He had lived in New York all his life, when you set up roots there you don’t think about the appeal of the skyline, you just think about what places you tended to grow more. It was only after Damien was forced to make the decision to leave the city that he had to recognize everything he’d loved about it and the loss that came with moving. “Oh, well,” what reason had he been telling people? In his state, he couldn’t remember. “I had family there...’ no, his chest ached at the memory, his mind dragging him away from the train of thought. He didn’t want to talk about that. Anything but that. He pulled himself together as best he could and tried to muddle down the slip in honesty. “Started heading over here to get a change of scenery. Then the car broke down.” It was a shitty lie.  

A sigh eluded him as his thoughts were brought back to the person in his past. It had been a long time since he had left himself think of Tristan. “Yeah I guess he was a bit of a screw up, I seem to be drawn to them,” a small smile cracked his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette. The difference with Tristan was that he got close. He knew who Damien was, learned what he was capable of, and stuck around anyway. But he was too close, to his gang, his heart. He ruined him. Someone aware of the fallout might assure Damien that he’d done all he could but he would have refused this little self-help tip. The fact of the matter was that Tristan would have never gotten involved in drugs if Damien’s lifestyle hadn’t introduced it to him. The cold truth of it was more sobering that any gust of air and Damien just shrugged. He couldn’t confess what the man meant to him, admit just how different he was.  

It was easier to turn his attention to Milo, “you don’t want to be stuck here anymore?” The cigarette in his hand was burning low, he took one last pull from it before extinguishing it on a building they passed.  

“Hm,” Milo hummed quietly in response. “I know what it’s like... leaving family behind. It used to be through choice…” He scuffed his shoes as he walked, scowling at the ground. “Now, not so much.” It was strange to consider how many times he had tried to actively remove his parents from his life. It was difficult to do when you lived in such a small town, and one way or another, he always managed to get dragged back into their bullshit. But this time? This time there was no getting dragged back. This time it had to be final, he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to face that truth just yet. “Wait- your car broke down and you just decided fuck it, I guess I live here now?” He made no effort to hide his disbelief, even if had wanted to he knew his current state of inebriation would make doing so impossible. Laughing quietly when Damien told him he was drawn to screw ups, he caught his eye, grateful for the lighthearted teasing. “No shit.” He teased right back, unable to help himself. “If you ask my dad I’m about as useless as they come, so I guess you got lucky.” 

Following his friend’s lead, he took one final drag from his own cigarette before dropping it too. Usually he found a degree of satisfaction in grinding it beneath his shoe, watching the cherry burn out as he carefully destroyed the filter. But he was feeling lazy, so he left it, red and hot against the asphalt. “It’s not something I ever really thought about.” He admitted. “But, I don’t know… shit got weird, and I-” He swallowed, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment as he grappled with his emotions. It was difficult to say the words out loud, part of him didn’t even know why he wanted to. “I guess I don’t really know who I am anymore…” He said finally, the admission tumbling from his lips. “The idea of a world beyond this town is- well, it’s fucking terrifying.” 

There was something peculiar, in the remorseful way Milo regarded what choice, or lack thereof, he had relating to his family. It caught Damien’s attention but he couldn’t articulate what about the strangeness of the subject he wanted to question. Had the guy been kicked out? That might explain why he confessed before his week had been a mess. Or was it something else? Too many factors spun in Damien’s thoughts and it made him feel light headed trying to chase one or the other so he didn’t. Even if he wanted to invest some effort into it, Milo called him out on his lie and he had to think of a better way to justify it. “Had to get some money to fix the car,” that was also a lie, but he didn’t think it mattered “Got the job to get the money. Car’s fixed now, but other bills followed. Been trying to catch up ever since.”  

The self-deprecating way Milo referred to himself had started to wear Damien down. He did not enjoy seeing his companion reduce himself to something low. Damien had spent most of his life around other low-life criminals, even joining them; they had savored the chaos in their life and shook free of restraints. He couldn’t understand why Milo would allow for himself to carry such burdensome titles like useless. It didn’t seem like he had a right to ask.  

Damien listened as intently as he could to Milo admission. He didn’t think they were just talking about moving anymore. “If you don’t know who you are...then the next step is to decide who you want to be.” He stopped, they finally arrived at Damien’s apartment. It was an old manufacturing building renovated for housing, rift with safety hazardous but it had become his new home in this town. “This is where I get off,” he turned to Milo, offering a small smile, “I’d invite you up, but it is a terrifying world in there. I haven’t done my dishes in a week.” He let the humor sit for a moment before adding, “you can go wherever you want. A few blocks, a few states. Just depends what you’re looking for.” 

Milo watched Damien curiously, an element of scepticism clear on his face. It didn’t sound remotely plausible, and if he could, he would put money on the story not being true. Then again, he wasn’t exactly being honest himself. He wanted to push for more, but it went against his nature. Part of him liked to think if he didn’t question people, then they wouldn’t question him. For the most part, the logic had proven fair. “Small towns have a way of never letting you go.” He murmured. “For what it’s worth, I’m kind of glad you got stuck… who else am I supposed to drown my sorrows with?” After everything he had suffered recently, moments like these felt incredibly rare. He was genuinely glad he had crossed paths with Damien, genuinely glad he was getting to spend more time with him.  

Coming to a halt as he could only assume they finally  reached his friend’s apartment, he leaned against a nearby wall. How many ridiculous instagram posts had he seen? Posts about becoming who you truly are, and discovering who you were always meant to be... As far as he was concerned they were for young parents who were bored out of their minds, or teenagers stuck in retail jobs, dreaming about becoming rich and famous. He had never asked himself those questions before, because they didn’t feel like important questions. Why would he ever need to think about who Milo Summers was? Who even cared about the answer? “That sounds like a lot of work.” He admitted, laughing sheepishly. “I’m not entirely sure I’m up for it.” Offering Damien a smile in return, he hadn’t been expecting an invitation. It was too easy to go home with a stranger, but they knew each other now. Besides, he knew better than to trust himself alone with anyone, given his current state. The days of being careless were unfortunately behind him. “You know, I don’t think it’s ever going to be that simple… not for me.” He admitted. “But I appreciate your optimism.”  

Damien’s back fell against the brick exterior for support as he dug through his pocket for the keys to the place. There was something decidedly sad about the way Milo relayed he was happy Damien stuck around, the added pinch of humor didn’t sugarcoat it. There was a sinking feeling from the statement that caused him to sway from the weight of it and fumble retrieving the keys. He did not know how to manage someone being glad he was here, he especially didn’t know how to respond to it drunk. He admittedly didn’t like the idea of someone getting close enough to appreciate anything about his existence, it meant they were close enough to see how fucked up his life had been. No one needed to see that.  

After trying in vain for what felt like several long minutes, Damien finally released his keys from his pocket. Then had spent another five pulling up the right key and fitting it into the lock. Fucking hell, being drunk was difficult. “Well,” Damien began, finally confident now that he’d opened the door, “let me know what you figure out.” Shit, no. He shouldn’t be asking for more details, shouldn’t be inviting him to another night out. It was too late to take it back, and he didn’t really want to anyway. Damien slipped past the door then, struggled his way up a set of stairs, and crashed on the couch in his apartment.  

#c:damien #milo and damien #alcoholism tw #drugs tw #addiction tw #violence mention tw

[redbokuto]

Awaited Encounter~ part 5

I kicked my legs in the air with my frail hands gripping onto the chains of the swing. A small smile graced my lips while I stared at the idiot in front of me. His booming laughter filled my ears as he ran in a straight line. “Kou, your shoes are untied.” I commented while the little boy dashed through the field.

The gray-haired boy ignored my words and continued to zoom around. It didn’t take long for him to trip and face plant onto the ground. “I told you.” I hopped off the swing and walked over to my best friend.

Bokuto picked up his head and looked at me as I took a seat beside him. The gray-haired boy giggled, causing me tilt my head in confusion. “What?” I asked before leaning my head back to look at the clear sky.

Small gushes of wind got caught in my hair, making my curls bounce in the breeze. The smell of fresh cut grass and mulch glided through the air. Along with your average kindergarten chatter.

“You always watch me.” Bokuto uttered. I looked down to meet his eyes, but instead I was met with his large smile. Bokuto’s toothy grin spread across his face, scrunching his slightly red nose. It was a marvelous sight.

My cheeks reddened as my dark orbs scanned his face. “You wouldn’t survive if I didn’t Kou.”

Bokuto only laughed, flipping over and landing on top of me. My arms supported my body to steady myself. Bokuto’s hair brushed against my chin as his hands wrapped around my back. His laugh only grew louder, which made me wonder what was so funny.

“You’re the best Keiji!” Bokuto exclaimed. Just when I was about to respond, Bokuto picked up his head and did something unexpected. Soft, small lips pressed against my uncovered forehead. My thoughts became hazed as my body became flustered.

Bokuto backed his head away and looked down at me, “my sisters do this to me all the time! They say it’s a way of showing you care about someone.”

I pressed two fingers on the spot Bokuto kissed. It still felt warm. “O-oh I see.”

Bokuto got off me and continued to waste his energy in the field. I sat there, watching him with a dorky smile I could not suppress. Kou cares about me.

“Look it’s him.” A voice from behind me uttered. From the soft tone I could tell it was a girl. “He’s so weird, I keep telling you we should stay away from him.”

I tilted my head to look who was behind me. I was not surprised to see two girls from our class a couple feet away. I didn’t remember their names. To me, everyone else in this school is irrelevant.

The girls turned their head towards me and jumped a little from my stare. One hid behind the other, whispering to herself. “H-hi Keiji!” Both girls said in unison. They both giggled as if I said something funny, but I only stared.

They walked closer to me, so I stood up to face them. One of the girls were taller than me while the other was an inch shorter. “Don’t call me that, call me Akashi.” I insisted with a monotonous tone.

Both girls grew more nervous from my voice. The one behind clung to the taller one in front. “Akashi then. Would you like to be friends?” The smaller one managed to push out. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip.

“No.” I responded simply.

The girls were taken back from my answer. Apparently being rejected was not something they were used to.

“Why? Don’t you want friends?” The one in front asked. She seemed to be the more courageous one of the two.

“I have friends.” Both girls looked at each other before looking back to me. “You mean the weird kid.”

This name is said often when it came to Bokuto. A lot of people find Bokuto’s mood swings and random boosts of energy to be weird. Which is why the nickname has stuck. The other kids shun Bokuto, but I don’t. And I never will.

“No, I mean Kou. I do not want to be your friend.” I stated with a tinge of disgust.

“But why!?” The shy girl in the back asked.

My answer came out without hesitation, “I find you both annoying and stuck-up people. I despise people like you. Don’t try talking to me again.” The girls were shocked by my blunt answer, but I meant it. Anyone that is mean to Kou will not be allowed in my life.

Both girls stepped back, one on the verge of tears and the other boiling in anger. “You’ll regret this!” The taller one stated before they both ran away.

I sighed at the meaningless threat and turned around. When I did, I got a face full of Kou. Kou was staring at me with wide eyes while biting his lip. “Keiji… do you think that way about me too?”

The question took me back. His expression made my heart buckle. “Kou…” The gray-haired boy closed his eyes, he looked like he was about to cry. So, I did the only thing I could do.

Pushing myself on my tippy toes, I squeezed my eyes shut. My lips tapped against his forehead, mimicking the action he did prior.

When my heels touched the ground, I opened one eye to see if Kou was still about to cry. The gray-haired boy had his large golden eyes open with tinted cheeks. His eyes sparkled as if he had just experienced a life changing moment.

“Does that answer your question?” I asked in a low whisper. Kou could only nod, keeping his awestruck look.

“Keiji… I-“

The loud beep of my alarm screeched in my ears. I groaned in displeasure before throwing my phone at my alarm. The sound of the device slamming against the floor made my shoulders relax. But then the beeping continued.

I stuffed my head in my pillow, annoyed from the fact I couldn’t finish my dream. It was one of my favorite memories of me and Bokuto. Back then I would always call him Kou, he did insist on it after all.

After a minute of constant beeping, I got up. First, I checked my phone to see if it was cracked; it wasn’t. The lock screen flashed before my eyes with several notifications from my mother. This was not surprising seeing that she obsesses over me.

My finger ran past my screen, not bothering to read any of her messages. I glanced at a new name that popped up on my phone. Bokuto. Me and Bokuto exchanged numbers the day the professor assigned me to him, though we have never texted.

Clicking the notification, my eyes squinted from the bright message in the dark themed chat.

Bokuto:

AKASHI LOOK LOOK LOOK

Akashi:

You haven’t sent anything yet.

Bokuto:

OH I FORGOT THAT PART

An image popped up on our near empty chat; It made me smile.

Akashi:

Congrats on your B Bokuto.

Bokuto:

I’M SO HAPPY! I TOLD KURO THAT I AM SMARTER THAN HIM NOW!

Akashi:

What did he say?

I sat my phone down and pulled out some clothes to change into. Once my dark blue, long sleeve settled on my shoulders, I picked my phone back up.

Bokuto:

HE TOLD ME I NEVER WOULD BE! CAN YOU BELIVE THAT?!

Akashi:

Yes I can, you’ll beat him one day Bokuto.

The texts never stopped. Today was my day off so I didn’t mind them. Like in real life, Bokuto led the conversation. He chatted about random things with unique emojis following behind. At some points you can catch me smiling from his words.

Bokuto:

Akashi, where do you live?

The question made my blink at my screen. Why would he want to know that?

Akashi:

Why?

This time Bokuto hesitated to type.

Bokuto:

I have a present for you…

And I have to deliver it personally.

Even though I was skeptical, I sent my address anyways.

We texted for another ten minutes before someone knocked on my door. I rose off my bed and walked to the front of my apartment. It was now the middle of the afternoon, what could Bokuto want to give me?

I pushed the wooden door open slowly, taking in the sight of the gray-haired man. Bokuto had on his signature grin, but he looked giddier than usual. “Thank you, Akashi!” Bokuto exclaimed before wrapping his strong arms around my frail torso.

The hug was tight and warm; it felt so familiar. “There is no need to thank me Bokuto.” I insisted, failing to hold back the ounce of happiness I was feeling. How could a hug feel so right?

Bokuto squeezed tighter as he stuffed his head between my neck and my shoulder. “Let me thank you. I don’t know why but being around you makes me feel nostalgic.” That statement slammed a weight on my chest. I was glad Bokuto couldn’t see my expression, I looked pained by his words.

Why am I doing this to him? Bokuto is such a nice person, he should never be lied to.

My recent dream came flashing through my mind, causing me to tug at Bokuto’s shirt subconsciously. The gray-haired man took this as a sign and released me. He stepped back and scratched the back of his neck with a nervous look. “Sorry Akashi, I forgot that you don’t like receiving attention from people.”

I looked down at the ground, my eyes trailing across the patterned wood. “Those rules don’t apply to you.” I mumbled under my breath. Silence floated in the air, causing an awkward tension to arise.

Bokuto stared at me, but I couldn’t see his expression. My gaze stayed tilted down, “you wanted to give me something?” I had to wait a couple moments before my words registered. Bokuto’s hands began fidgeting by his sides, “well you see. I couldn’t think of anything you like. Whenever we talk, I am the one doing most of the talking. I assume you like it that way?”

I kept my eyes down but nodded. “Good! Well, you know… Anyways I was thinking that we could go out for lunch. I at least know the kind of food you like since we ate together often during studying.” Bokuto stated shyly.

I nodded again and gestured for him to come inside. “I just need to get my wallet.”

Bokuto took a seat on my couch as I walked into my room. When I came out, he was waving something in his hand. “What’s this Akashi?” The gray-haired man asked with curious eyes.

“It’s a book Bokuto, have you not seen one before?” I took a seat on the couch next to him as he read the back cover. My best friend let out a hum when he was finished, “is this your favorite?” I lifted a brow at his question before nodding. “It’s a series called Witches and Wizards.”

“I never thought you would be into fantasy Akashi.” For some reason, Bokuto’s eyes lit up from his words.

“I don’t read it for the fantasy, though the world is interesting. I like the characters and the minor love story.”

“Oh, so you’re a romantic? That’s a shock.” Bokuto put the book on his lap, letting his eyes scan over it.

The room went quiet once again, only this time the silence was comfortable. Bokuto stayed staring at the book, as if he was taking in all the details he could. “It’s not that shocking.” I uttered in a low tone.

Bokuto picked up his head and started to chuckle, “yes it is. Anyways, let’s get going.” The gray-haired man sprung up from the couch and dragged me along outside. We walked together through the busy streets until we settled on a place to eat.

The café wasn’t fancy, I have never liked fancy areas. It was petite and quiet with dark red paint decorating the walls. Me and Bokuto took a seat in the corner on the cozy booths. “Are you ok with this place Akashi?”

It made me feel happy knowing Bokuto was always thinking about my feelings. It also made me guilty at the same time. Once again shame filled my stomach.

Back then I would never lie to Kou. I wouldn’t even dream of it. We were inseparable with him always making me happy and me making sure he stays happy.

“Akashi?”

My eyes blinked to adjust to Kou’s close face. His golden orbs laced over mine, causing a lump in my throat. “Nothing Kou it’s fine.” I squeezed out, not realizing my words till the last second. Blush spread across my face in moments, not just mine but Kou’s too.

I never thought Bokuto was capable of blushing, but here he is. Red faced and awestruck by the pet name. He’s so cute when he’s embarrassed.

My hands gripped my pants, struggling not to reach out a touch Bokuto’s flushed face. Why is that even an urge? Me and Bokuto haven’t had such a connection since we were young. Shouldn’t those feelings have faded by now?

The moment shattered when Bokuto’s eyes squeezed shut. The gray-haired man leaned back, clutching his head in pain from a sudden headache. “A-are you ok?” I stutter before reaching out to Bokuto.

Warm flesh brushed against my fingers, “Bokuto…” It seemed to calm him down. Bokuto’s hands slowly fell from his head as his eyes traveled towards me. I leaned down closer to him for my full hand to caress his cheek. “Are you ok, Bokuto?”

After what seemed like an eternity, Bokuto answered. “Yeah, I am ok, my head just started throbbing out of nowhere.” I sighed in relief before realizing the position I was in. Half my body leaned over the table that separated us. My hand was on Bokuto’s cheek, tilting his face upward to look at mine. Bokuto’s cheeks were still dusted with red while his face was inches away from mine.

“Hey Akashi, did I hear that right, or did you call me Kou?” Of course he would ask that question now. When my face is burning with embarrassment from the fact I want to lean closer towards him.

“Yes…” No use in lying about it. Another eternity of eye contact occurred. I tried to look anywhere but Bokuto’s eyes, but of course my gaze landed on something far worse. Bokuto’s lips.

I swallowed hard and tried to look back to his eyes. But it was too late, I was caught. Bokuto’s lips stretched into a smirk, making my face heat up more. I would have never guessed the ball of energy could make such a seductive expression.

“That’s very out of character for you Akashi.” Bokuto uttered as he leaned back away from my face. I leaned back as well, trying to collect my thoughts.

Looks like more things have changed about Bokuto then I thought.

#haikyuu ships #haikyuu keiji akaashi #haikyuu au #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu fic #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu koutarou #haikyuu fanart #haikyuu!! #hinata shouyou #hq art #hq koutarou #koutarou bokuto #bokuto x akashi #bokuto

[imaginesmai]

Jax Teller-Injury

This was requested by @buckysjuicyplums (I messed up some requests, but I think I got this one right!) 

Plot: Summer mornings with Abel are always unpredictable. 

Summer in Charming was the most similar thing to hell on Earth. Every part of the town emanated heat, and you couldn’t go out of your house without rivers of sweat falling down your neck. Lucky for you, Jax’s house had an air conditioner machine that made the whole place have a normal temperature. Being the supportive and amazing girlfriend you were, you were staying with him for the whole summer; and maybe because your apartment didn’t have air conditioner, but it was better to think the other way.

Still, even if the cool breeze of the machine made your feet cold, you preferred to stay away from your heater boyfriend. That meant no cuddles, no hugs and the minimal amount of sex. Along with a pouty Jax.

“Please, darling” Jax looked at you with puppy eyes from the other side of the bed. “A quick hug?”

You were laying on you side, just on your underwear and knowing what your boyfriend meant by “a quick hug”; he had done it before. You chuckled softly, not moving your foot from his chest, the only thing preventing Jax reaching you.

“Go and hug your son, Jax. You’re not getting near me until winter, get that in your head”

“Am I only a personal heater to you? I thought we had something special here, Y/N!”

Jax gripped your foot with his hands and started tickling it. Between laughs, you lost all the resistance and Jax pulled you closer to him by your leg; two seconds later, you were crying under him as he tickled you to no end.

Small footsteps sounded in the hallway, and soon a frowning Abel appeared by the door. He looked to the both of you, deciding who he was going to help. There, with his little hand gripping the side of the door and his small face frowning, he was the cutest boy in the world for you. Not like his father was letting you say anything with his hands on your sides.

“Hey buddy” Jax stopped and looked at his son, smiling softly. “What are you doing up?”

“I heard mommy scream” he said warily, still trying to guess who was hurting who. “Are you hurting mommy?”

You weren’t his mommy, but Jax didn’t do anything to correct him. His mother was a junkie who nearly killed him and made the first year of his life a nightmare. Wendy disappeared from their lives as soon as Abel was out of the hospital, and the little boy grew up with you as his father’s girlfriend. Or his mommy, as he called you.

With your own apartment and life, and just four years of relationship, you didn’t want to move in with Jax yet. But it didn’t mean any problem with the little boy, who still called you mommy and treated you like one.

“No-“

“Yes!” you moved from under Jax and quickly returned to your original place, opening your arms and waiting for Abel to climb with you. “Daddy was being a meanie to me baby”

Abel looked towards his father with a deep frown, his kid mind already deciding Jax was being the bad guy. With fast and short steps, he ran and climbed into the bed with your help, nesting in your chest.

Jax’s mouth fell open, looking at the betray of his son. Playfully, he crossed his arms and faked indignation, watching as his son could cuddle you yet he couldn’t even get a quick hug.

“I see, you side with mommy? That’s it, Abel? You betray me for her?”

“You were being bad daddy!” he pointed an accusatory finger. “I’m not going to let you near mommy ever again!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips at his adorableness. With just three years and a half, was smarter than any of the kids in town. He knew most of the letters and numbers, had manners like his father and talked about anything. Sadly, it was probably because of the life he was being raised in. Abel had to see how his father came home more than one night with his kutte stained with blood, how those who he called uncles went to “some place” and never came back, and he even had been between a misfire twice.

Jax’s hands took you out of your daydreaming, pulling you both closer to his body and creating a sandwich with Abel in the middle. The little kid laughed and screamed, trying to get free from his father. The heat in the room was long forgotten, and you enjoyed watching Jax playing with Abel for a while.

Finally, you managed to break free and take Abel with you, getting up from the bed.

“I think it’s time to have breakfast. Do you think daddy has been good? Or do we left him here and we go out to buy our special breakfast?”

Between the laughs and fun, you hadn’t missed how Jax’s phone had lighten up a few times, the guys or his mother calling him. It didn’t matter that it was Saturday morning, you were lucky enough to have him with you last night. Since Abel was born and you entered in his life, Jax had not been in any Friday’s party, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t active in the club.

“Special breakfast! Special breakfast!” Abel clapped excitedly, missing your face for just an inch.

Special breakfast was usually your way of keeping Abel entertained while Jax took care of the club’s business. You went out to his favourite place, bought his favourite milkshake and spent the morning in the park. That way, it was easier for him to spend a morning, or a whole day, without his father.

You placed Abel on the ground and let him run towards his room, where he could get changed and pick up his toys for the park. The bed dipped again under your weight, and that time you did hug Jax. He ran his hands along your sides, placing you on top of him and kissing your lips.

It was a lazy kiss, the “quick hug” long forgotten. As if he was already apologising for leaving.

“It’s okay” you smiled at him. “Go take care of that business, I don’t want Gemma all angry and crazy here.”

“I’ll pick you up after it’s over, I guess it’s something related with Stahl” he sighed. That woman had been behind the club for at least two months, and was driving Jax crazy. He had tried to do everything right and not let her find anything against the club, but she was searching in the darkest places.

“Be careful, alright? It doesn’t matter what she does or says, don’t lose your shit and keep your head high” you kissed him again, that time really feeling the heat radiating off his body. Still, you caressed his cheek before falling apart. “I love you”

“I love you too, Y/N” he looked up at you with big lovely eyes. “I can’t even tell you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“Just repay me by getting your hot ass out of my personal space” you laughed, rolling to your side.

You watched him, most likely stared at him, as he put on his underwear and clothes. He bended down by your side to pick up his trousers, and you didn’t miss the opportunity to smack his round and perfect ass. Jax jumped a little and looked at you with a raised eyebrow, promising you unsaid things.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Abel’s mouth was still stained with chocolate, and you had to run after him through the whole park to wipe it. Even with the warm weather and the high temperatures, the park was rather nice. The high trees and the lake made the temperature drop a few degrees, and you found yourself sighing in peace sitting in the shadow and watching Abel ran and play.

The park itself wasn’t too big, just a few swings, a slide and a small sandbox, all of it surrounded by grass. There were a few kids with their families, and Abel was quick to make a new friend and play with her. You watched as they played with Abel’s trucks in the sandbox, something similar to a mother’s pride filling your chest.

Too busy smiling at them, you didn’t notice someone sitting next to you. It took you a few seconds to turn your head to your right and see agent Stahl watching Abel with a sick smile. You frowned, not understanding what was she doing there. Still, you smiled at her and tried to be nice, for the sake of the club.

“Good morning, agent Stahl” you said, making her look your way. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“I was just strolling down the park, I saw you sitting here all alone and I thought you might need some company.”

You swallowed your words, knowing that she was there for something different. She was wearing her work suit and you could make out the gun on her trousers. Not an outfit for a quiet walk around the park.

“Well, I’m pretty good here. Though thanks for worrying” you turned away from her, looking at Abel. You thanked whoever was up there that he didn’t notice the strange woman by your side. He was pretty protective of you and Jax, always wary of strangers; just like his father.

It was silent for a while, her presence breaking the peace of the moment you were enjoying. Deep down, you were waiting for her to talk again, and she didn’t disappoint you.

“Where is Jax? There must be an important reason for him to miss this familiar trip” you rolled your eyes at her question.

“He’s busy somewhere, I don’t keep track on his movement. Not the obsessed girlfriend.”

You’re already obsessed enough. Stahl was really becoming obsessed with the club, and had gone to great lengths to catch them. She had even talked to Tara, Jax’s ex who lived two states away and didn’t know anything about him.

“Is he in the club?” she pressed further, knowing fully where was Jax.

“I’ve already told you I-“

Abel calling your name interrupted you, and he ran towards you with a happy smile; still not having noticed the federal agent. You got up from your stop, welcoming him with open arms and smiling at his contagious laugh. Stahl stayed behind you, not making her presence known yet.

If you had payed closer attention, you would have noticed that behind you two agents were all dressed up and backing up Stahl, but you were too focused on Abel. He told you about Sherryl, his new friend who had to leave soon because her father was taking her on a trip. His excited speech finished when he saw Stahl behind you, suddenly gripping you tighter and forgetting about his happiness.

“What do you think about going home? We can spend the rest of the morning playing games there” you proposed, wanting to be as far as you could from her. Abel nodded softly against your knee, hugging them as if his life depended on it.

You made him go and pick up his toys as you turned around to talk to Stahl. What you didn’t expect was to find her with the two agents at her sides.

“Look, Y/N, we don’t really want to drag any attention, we just want you to answer to some questions about Jax. So, if you would so kindly come with us to the station” she gave you a fake smile, the agents’ hands not leaving their guns. “It will take a few minutes only, I promise, and I’m sure someone can watch over Abel while we talk?”

Talking was a kind way of calling “asking you questions about the club until your head explode”, you thought. You looked back at Abel, who was putting all of his toys on his backpack as he looked at you.

“Maybe another time, it’s awfully hot and we really want to go home”

“Or maybe you’ve misunderstand me” she raised her perfect sharped brow, crossing her arms. “I’m sorry. What I meant was that you’re coming with us to the station to be interrogated about the sons’ activities. I’ll make sure Abel is somewhere cool, he can play with his toys while we talk.”

“Why do I have to be interrogated? I’ve got nothing to do with the club” you frowned. “If you want to talk with me so badly, you can find me in the hospital working on Monday, and I’ll be more than happy to answer your questions. Now, it’s Saturday morning and I want to spend my weekend with my son”

“Mommy, I’m ready.”

Abel appeared by your side, and gripped your hand tight. It was the first time you called him your son; even if he wasn’t by blood, you felt like he was really yours. Abel had his backpack on, and was tugging your hand to keep going. Still, you didn’t move and waited for Stahl to answer.

She looked at you for a while, her eyes filling with anger little by little. She had talked already with every other old lady; they hadn’t told her anything, but they didn’t tell her no either.

“I really want to do this the easy way, Y/N” she took a threatening step forwards, and you had to put your hand on Abel’s chest to put him in his place. He might had been a little boy, and he might had been scared as hell, but he wasn’t going to let a stranger near his mommy.

“The easy way is to come talk with me on Monday, when I’m not with my son.”

“You’re blocking a federal investigation. And because of that, I have every right to do this” she turned towards the agents, and nodded to them. “Bring her to the car, I don’t care if you have to put the handcuffs.”

While the tall one took Abel out of your arms, the other one gripped your arm and pulled you away. Abel cried and screamed, trying to get close to you and dragging the attention of a few people around you. They all knew who you were, yet they didn’t do anything to avoid it. Jax’s son was probably as aggressive and impulsive as him, so he didn’t hesitate to bite the agent’s arm; what led to him being thrown to the ground.

You called his name and broke free to grab him, feeling the blood on his knee and getting angrier. Abel cried harder, clutching his bleeding knee and begging for his daddy. However, before you could get up again, the agent pulled you up and dragged you to the car.

Your screams and threats didn’t do anything, and you got stuck watching how they put Abel on the car and you followed after. If it had been any other agent or Jax would have been any other criminal, they wouldn’t have done anything probably.

But they were rougher because of the hate they held for the club, and didn’t measure they force when they put on the handcuffs. You felt your wrist snapping under the hard man’s hands, and you cried out.

“No! Don’t hurt mommy!” Abel cried from the other’s agent arms, trying to get you. “Don’t touch her!”

Jax was going to be angry.

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If there was a thing that Jax hated about the club was that there wasn’t a damn fan or air conditioner in the whole place. The hard leather of his kutte was sticking into his back, and he could feel his shirt drenched in sweat. Church was lasting longer than what he had thought, because they really needed a way of leaving Stahl behind. Yet after nearly three hours, they came around with nothing.

Jax watched as his phone lighted up from the corner of his eye, the vibration making the whole table look at him. Thinking it was just Abel wanting to talk to him, he went to turn it down. But just as he was doing so, he realized that it wasn’t your name on the screen.

A few years ago, Jax had left his phone number in the station for emergencies, knowing that Unser was trustworthy. He knew he would only call him if it was an important matter, so he didn’t hesitate to leave everyone with their mouths open and walk out the door.

“Unser?” he closed the door behind him, a frown on his face. It had been ages since he had called him.

“Yeah, Jax. Didn’t know if you had the same number, thank God you have” he sighed. “It had been a while since you left it here, and-“

“What’s the matter? Something has happened?” Jax heard him take a deep breathe on the other side. “Look, I’m in the middle of something, so it better be something important.”

“Stahl was supposed to have a free day, she told the department she was going to take care of some personal shit” Jax tensed at her name. “You know she has been asking around about the club, even going to the old ladies’ houses.”

That was one of the reasons of the meeting that day. Opie was tired of Stahl chasing his wife and kids around Charming, trying to get information they didn’t have. Gemma had found her in the supermarket, and the prospects had always an agent following them around. There wasn’t a single men or women in the club that wasn’t framed.

“I know, we’re taking care of it. You’re kind of late, old man.”

“I don’t think so” Unser said, and there was an awkward pause before he talked again. “I’ve here your old lady and your son. Stahl has nothing against them, but unless someone comes and picks them up they can’t leave. She hasn’t let Y/N call anyone, so technically they must stay here.”

“Fuck” Jax whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand. Everything that could go wrong, was going even worse. He gave a hard kick to a stool that was next to him. “Fuck, fuck and fuck!”

Jax let out another bunch of curses before thanking him briefly and hanging up. The noise and Jax’s screams had made Opie and Gemma get out of the Church.

“What’s the matter? Who was that?”

“Stahl has Y/N and Abel in the station” he scoffed as he looked for the van’s keys. “They won’t let them out until I pick them up. I’ll call you later.”

He didn’t let them say anything else as he speed out of the club.

The way towards the station was the longest in his life, thoughts of ways to murder that woman running wild through his mind. She didn’t have the right to mess up with his life. His hand, white from gripping the wheel, clenched and unclenched a few times, imagining that it was Stahl’s neck.

After five agonizing minutes in a too-hot van, he ran out of it and walked towards the station. When he opened the door, he was met with the soft breeze of the air conditioner; and his son calling him between sobs.

Jax turned his head to the right and saw Abel inside an office, the agent who was supposed to watch him, too tired of his screams, playing some game in the computer. His little hands pounded against the glass, and his glossy eyes met his father’s and were filled with more tears. Jax ignored the kind woman in the front and walked towards the office, opening the door and crutching down to hug his son.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry no more. I’m here, you see? I’m here now” he caressed Abel’s head and pushed it against his neck, feeling how his little fist gripped his t-shirt. “Shh, breath, Abel, everything is fine now.”

The officer rose up, ready to shout at Jax but backing down when he saw the look on his eyes. Abel kept sobbing in his neck, yet he could make out a few words. He winced a little when Jax moved him, and nothing in a million worlds could have prevented Jax to look down.

His little knee, his son’s precious and small knee was scratched, a small and misplaced band aid on it. The wound, which was actually nothing more than a scratch, was not covered completely by it. Jax peeled it off with care, but he couldn’t avoid hurting Abel a little.

“How did you get this, buddy?” he frowned, rocking him up and down to keep his sobs at bay. “Did you fucking do this to my son?”

His voice, that for his son had been soft and caring, for the officer held nothing but hate. He gulped down, scared of Jax and ready to pee himself.

“N-No! They-They just dropped him here, and I was told to watch over him” the officer said, too fast and showing his fear. “I-Look, I even put a band aid on it!”

“Are you that much of an idiot?! You put the damn band aid on the wound!”

“I did my best man, fuck, I didn’t-“

“Don’t fucking swear in front of my son!”

Jax’s voice roared in all the station, the veins of his neck showing at his anger and his face red. He might have said a lot of bad words in front of his words, yet whoever said one might want to take care of his balls. Abel’s broken sobs made him look at him, finally understanding what he was saying.

“M-mommy, I want mommy”

“Where is mommy, baby?” Jax got up and walked towards the officer, who seemed to be facing hell. “Where is Y/N?”

Inside the officer there was no amount of loyalty for his boss, Stahl, anymore, only fear, so he pointed towards the end of the hall. Jax gave him one last look and ran towards in, not letting Abel out of his grasp. He saw Unser inside one of the offices, and decided that he would talk to him later; then, he only had an objective in mind.

Jax pushed the man who was blocking the door aside, and opened it with a hard push; it hit the wall behind and made everyone look at him. Inside, agent Stahl was sitting on a chair in front of you, her back facing Jax. She had a few papers in front of her, and Jax managed to see one or two dead corpses on them. Stahl was showing them to you, hopeful to get some answers, yet getting nothing at all.

Your face lighted up when you saw Jax with Abel in his arms, and he smiled in relief when he saw you safe.

“I think this is over, then” you smiled at Stahl. “Seems that I don’t need to call him to get him here, right?”

Stahl blinked a few times, hating the fact that Jax had managed to get there so soon; only a few more minutes and she was sure she could have gotten something out of you or Abel.

“Right” she scoffed, getting up. “I’ll talk to you soon, Y/N.”

She got up and turned around, looking at Jax dead in the eye. Abel clutched to his father tighter, trying to make his small body invisible for that woman. The two guards that were there exited the room before her, without giving Jax a glance. Stahl stood in her place for a while, and decided that it was a good idea to touch Abel’s head.

The little boy shirked away and tried to put as much distance as he could between them; however, that time Stahl didn’t get to touch a hair on his head. When his daddy was around, no one would ever look at him the wrong way. Jax gripped the agent’s wrist with force, making her make an uncomfortable face.

“You’re not going to talk to Y/N soon, and definitely you’re not going to touch my son ever again” he tightened his grip, making her put her other hand on his arm and try to pry it away. “Because if you do, I’m going to make sure the next dead corpse picture in that desk will be yours. Am I clear?”

“Are you threatening an federal agent, Teller?” she chuckled “I could arrest you-“

“But you’re not going” he smirked, not letting her go; if only, he made her double her knees in pain. “You don’t want your bosses finding that you took my girlfriend’s right for a call.”

Stahl pulled hard one last time to get free, and Jax let her go at the same time; making her fall on her butt. She looked up with an embarrassed face and ignored Abel’s attempts to cover a soft laugh between the tears. After getting up with the little left of her dignity, she gave you a dirty stare and ran out of the room.

As soon as she was out, Jax placed Abel on the ground and ran towards you, cupping your face between his hands. Abel climbed on your lap and hug your middle, as the tears on his cheek dried out. You didn’t have time to say anything before Jax crashed his lips against you, not caring about squeezing his son between you. He lengthen the kiss for a few seconds, almost reluctant of letting you go. By the time he let go, your lips were red and swollen, and he was ready to take you home.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come any sooner” he looked down to where Abel was finally calm, happy to be with both of his parents again. “Unser called me, and I ran here as fast as I could.”

“We’re fine, Jax” you smiled. “It was just a scare. But promise me you will deal with that bit-woman, deal with Stahl soon.”

Jax laughed at your attempt to soften your language in front of Abel, who already heard too much of it in the club.

“How is your knee, buddy? Does it-“

Jax stopped himself when he looked down to his son’s knee. He was sitting in your lap, one of your hands in Jax’s shoulder and the other one on Abel’s knee. That hand, that he had dreamed of putting a ring on for so many months, was swollen and had a dark and nasty bruise on it. He moved backwards a little and took it between his hands, careful as if you were made of glass.

“What the hell is this?” he frowned.

“It’s nothing, Jax, just a bruise-“

“The bad agent hurt mommy” Abel talked, his face resting in your chest. “He was rough with her, like when I push my toys too hard and they break. I tried to stop him, daddy! But he wouldn’t listen to me!”

You smiled at Abel, wondering what could you have done to deserve such a kind soul. Jax smiled too, telling his son that he had done his best.

“It’s probably broken” you whispered, not meeting his eyes. “You think Chibs can do something or we should go the hospital?”

“When it’s something related with the club, I don’t mind handing it to Chibs” he said. “With you it’s different, I’m not taking any chances. We’re going to the hospital.”

“I have my special band aids on the car!” Abel’s eyes lightened up, happy to think he could help. “Daddy, have you brought the car?”

Jax shook his head and Abel looked down, suddenly sad again. Before he could start crying again, Jax came up with a solution.

“You know how you can help mommy?” Jax smirked slowly, already knowing you wouldn’t like the idea. “You’re going to tell me who hurt mommy, right? And we’re going to teach that asshole that you don’t mess with mommy!”

“No!” you said, at the same time Abel talked too.

“Yes! Yes, daddy! We’ll teach them no one fucking mess with mommy!” he clapped excitedly, throwing himself to Jax’s arms.

You gasped at Abel’s word and Jax laughed; it was the first time Abel said a bad word, too young to even know them. Jax got up and, with Abel on his shoulder, dragged you closer to his side. He kissed your pouty lips, taking your anger away. Between laughs and a smack on the back of Jax’s head, you walked out of the station.

So much for a quiet summer day.

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[chocoluckchipz]

Dance with Me, Chaton - 29

Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net

Written for @ladynoirjuly2019

< Previous

29. Kwami Swap

Claws out.

Paired with the ring on his finger, this simple phrase, unique to Plagg and his students, gave Adrien full access to the Kwami Kave. For some reason, it was way more crowded today than the last time Adrien was here, and although he couldn’t fully understand the reason, there was definitely hype floating through the air. Music blasted through the darkened interior of the room filled with rays of colour, yet people around him hardly danced. Palpable, unexplained anticipation enveloped the scenery. Most people mingled around, a few glancing his way with interest. Adrien ignored them, his own chest rising and falling rapidly.

This was it. This was the evening he’d worked so hard for. This might be the evening Marinette would give him a chance to explain. Or it might be not. He’d know soon, though.

“Have you heard?” some man by Adrien’s side said to his neighbour. “Master Plagg’s debuting a student today.”

His companion puffed. “And pigs can fly. Tell me something I can believe.”

“No, seriously,” the first one said. “I’ve heard the rumours a few weeks ago, but I didn't pay much attention because you know, it’s Master Plagg. However, yesterday I overheard Master Sass and Master Wayzz talk about it. They wanted to be here tonight to see the person who could handle Master Plagg in person.”

The other man shrugged. “You must have heard wrong. There is no way Master Plagg will ever debut anyone.”

The first man frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” the second man shrugged. “He's never debuted anyone and he never will. Master Plagg is smarter than that.”

The first man frowned. “What do you mean? Master Plagg had students before. It just didn't work out. Not his fault they couldn't handle his teaching style.”

“Couldn't handle his teaching style?” the man puffed. “And why do you think that happened?”

“Different personalities—”

“Spare me that crap,” the man rolled his eyes. “Think about it logically. To keep his current title and all the prestige that comes with it, Master Plagg has to have students. But if he were ever to teach his methods to anyone else, that person would potentially become better than him in the future, taking his title away from him. Do you really think he’d like that?”

Adrien scowled internally. Plagg wasn’t like that! Sure he was eccentric, but he wasn't anywhere that trivial. Quite the contrary, Plagg was unnecessary selfless. Otherwise, he’d never drop everything to nurse Adrien back to sanity last week.

“I think you’re over-exaggerating,” the first man frowned. “Master Plagg might be peculiar, but he's not that petty. He didn't kick his students out; they dropped him.”

“Because he makes it impossible for anyone to learn from him. Really, he found the perfect way to keep his status and his title without having to share whatever secret he has for being that insanely awesome and constantly improving. One of the reasons I admire him so much. Master Plagg is smarter than he looks. He isn't the King of Kwami Kave for nothing.”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. The King? That Camembert-obsessed glutton was the King of Kwami Kave?

“It couldn't be so—”

“Believe me, I know someone who started with him personally. It got so bad, they asked Master Fu to transfer them to someone else a week into their training. Master Plagg is merciless with his students.”

Adrien could believe that. He’d quit himself. Only it took him a little longer than a week.

“Well, I can’t argue because I don’t know what happened with others,” the first man said. “But he’s debuting a student today, and I bet they’re just as crazy awesome as Master Plagg to debut with him, right?”

“This person doesn’t exist.”

“But what if they do?”

“Than they’re a masochist,” the second man huffed. “Anyone would be to keep studying under Master Plagg. More so to debut with him.”

Adrien snickered to himself. Masochist, huh? He wasn’t sure about that, but weirdly enough, he felt sorry for those people who'd given up on Plagg. He couldn't blame them; he'd quit himself. Yet, going back and giving Plagg another chance was more than worth it because knowing the real Plagg, the one under all that harsh interior, was a life-changing experience Adrien would treasure forever.

“I envy them, though,” the first man said. “Can you even imagine? To be the King’s pupil? I’d kill for that chance.”

“You’ve got some nerve to show up here,” someone barked at him from the left.

Adrien looked to the side only to be met with Viperion’s murderous glare. Great. This was exactly what Adrien needed now.

“Leave before I kick you out myself,” Viperion seethed through his teeth coming closer.

“Hold your horses, Vipe.” Plagg appeared by Adrien’s side. “We don’t want to be rude to our guests, now do we? Especially if they’re here on the same rights as everyone else.”

Viperion glanced at the Plagg and back to Adrien. His lips pressed into a thin line, he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me he is your student.”

Plagg stepped closer and, wrapping his arm around Adrien’s shoulder, winked. “The best I’ve ever had.”

“You can’t be serious,” Viperion growled.

“I am,” Plagg replied, his voice getting colder. “And you’d better be nice to him. What kind of a welcome is this, Vipe? Did Sass teach you that?”

“He should’ve been nice to Ladybug if he wanted to be welcomed here,” Viperion replied.

People around slowed down, whispering and glancing their way.

“Oh?” Plagg quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what do you know about that? I wouldn’t presume Ladybug herself had told you anything.”

Viperion flinched but didn't avert his eyes, pressing his lips in a thin line. “I know enough to say that Ladybug wouldn’t want him here.”

“Based on what?” Plagg challenged. “Your intuition?”

His jaw tense, Viperion snarled lowly, “Based on what my sister had told me after she visited Ladybug a few days ago. Your wife was there, Master Plagg. You should know better than to defend him.”

Plagg puffed, dismissively waving his hand in the air. “Few days is way too long in these matters. History can be changed in a day. Hate can cross to the Love side in a split moment. What made you think that in those few days, Ladybug hasn’t changed her mind and asked me to bring him here herself?”

Adrien held his breath. Was Plagg pulling Viperion’s leg or was it true? Could Marinette really ask Plagg to bring him here?

“She wouldn’t,” Viperion retaliated. “Not after she cancelled all of her plans and spent days cooped up at home with Mme Tikki by her side because of him. She’d never been so devastated before.”

“Then you don't know her very well,” Plagg challenged, smirking. “Remember, our little bug is impulsive and quick to judge. You should know that, Vipe, being her friend and all. She just needed some time to calm down and realize that it was all a huge misunderstanding.”

Viperion seemed to stumble for arguments, thinking Plagg’s words over. “Master Plagg,” he added a short while after. “I respect you, but I cannot allow him to be here unless Ladybug herself tells me she wants him here. This is her safe space. This is what this club is all about, isn’t it? Giving those who are hurting a refuge. He can’t invade it.”

Plagg looked straight at Viperion. “Then I suggest you should go ask her what she thinks before attacking him.”

Whispers around intensified, as the tension became palpable. Adrien swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t expected everything to go smoothly, but a fight, even if verbal, between Plagg and Viperion was the last thing he needed right now. Marinette would never forgive him this way.

Side-glancing at Plagg, Adrien put his hand on his shoulder. “Let me handle this.”

Plagg’s gaze flicked over to Adrien. He gave him a slight nod and leaned back into a more relaxed stance.

Adrien took a step toward Viperion. His eyes locking on his, he said, “I appreciate your concern for Ladybug, and I’m glad she has friends who wouldn't hesitate to protect her. However, whatever happened between us is ours to deal with. I’d appreciate if you’d stay out of it apart from giving her the support she needs.”

“Do you see this?” Plagg nudged his neighbour somewhere in the background. Adrien could practically feel Plagg’s grin with his back. “A backbone. Do you even realize how hard it was for me to pull it out?”

Viperion spoke, his voice low. “I won’t stay back when someone hurts one of my best friends, and if I can prevent that from happening by keeping the culprit away, I will do so.”

“Hurting her was never my intention, and it isn’t now,” Adrien replied. “Ladybug knows I’ll be here tonight, so if she doesn’t want to see me, she’ll avoid coming.”

Holding his breath for a moment, Viperion pressed his lips together, silently staring at Adrien.

Plagg cackled dramatically. “Huh! And we both know she’s here, isn’t she, Vipe?”

Adrien’s breath hitched as Viperion didn’t deny Plagg’s statement. His eyes widened just a speck, his heart skipping a beat as Viperion shifted his gaze to the side. Marinette was here. She knew he was coming, and she still came? Adrien swallowed. Was she finally ready to hear him out?

“Let’s make a deal using your own words,” Adrien continued. “I’ll do what I’m here for, and then if she tells me to leave, I will. But Ladybug herself has to tell me to do so because I’ve worked too damn hard to simply walk away now.”

“That’s my boy.” Plagg proudly smiled, ruffling Adrien’s hair. “Don’t give up on your dreams because someone might frown at you.”

“Hey!” Adrien shooed him away. “Leave my hair alone.”

“What’s the matter?” Plagg teased. “You didn’t style it, did you?”

Adrien huffed. “No. As if you’d let me live if I did. But that doesn’t mean you can ruin my carefully not-styled messy chic.”

Plagg laughed. Winking at Viperion, he dramatically whispered, pointing to Adrien’s midsection. “You should see him shirtless, Vipe. The kid’s ripped.”

Both Viperion and Adrien yelped at the same time. “Plagg, what the—”

Plagg grinned wider, bumping Adrien’s chest with his fist. “Shredded, man. Crazy agile and flexible as well. A proper cat, if I do say so myself. The things he can do—the things he’d soon be doing with my training. It’s insane. He’s a natural, Vipe. Natural with a capital N. He was born to dance. Really. I was shocked he hadn’t started dancing on his own before meeting me. I mean we zoomed through the basics. He just—”

The music got quieter and the DJ called for Plagg.

“Well, you got the picture, Vipe.” Plagg winked at Viperion. “He’s a good kid. Let him be.” Turning to Adrien, he added, “That’s our cue, Chat Noir. Let’s go do this.”

“Right.” Adrien inhaled and looking back at Viperion, offered him a hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Viperion hesitated for a moment, but soon relented and shook Adrien’s hand. “If she doesn’t want to see you, I’ll escort you out myself.”

“But if she does want me around, you’ll get off my case.”

“Fair enough.” Viperion nodded and stepped aside.

Plagg headed towards the stage, Adrien trailing behind him. The voices got quiet as Plagg got on the platform, Adrien stopping just at the edge. His arms in his pockets Plagg strode across to the middle with a satisfied smirk on his lips and a glow in his eyes. The music became louder and Plagg broke into a dance. He started out slowly, doing nothing special or unusual as he moved in tact with music. In a split moment, though, Plagg was break-dancing, spinning on his head, quickly changing to his elbow. The crowd cheered. Plagg pulled a few moves on his hands, his body parallel to the floor, feet never stopping their movement. Then he raised his legs up to the ceiling, twisting on his hands in circles as if in slow motion. It looked mesmerizing and effortless, almost like an invisible force toying with Plagg, moving him about, and he was there only for the ride. People stared in awe, but Adrien doubted many of them realized just how much work Plagg had put in it to be that flawless. He wasn’t a King for nothing. Finally, Plagg jumped onto his feet and finished off with a few of his simpler moves, only a bounce off his back being somewhat risky. The crowd cheered.

“Show off,” he muttered under his breath with a smile on his lips. Camembert-obsessed, selfless glutton with a heart of gold and disregard for appearances. The best way he could describe Plagg now.

As if hearing his whisper, Plagg stopped and looked straight at Adrien. He motioned him to come on the stage, and once Adrien had joined him, Plagg grabbed his hand in his and raised it up, shouting into the crowd, “Chat Noir, ladies and gentlemen! The one and only, Apprentice of Destruction!”

The people in the room erupted, clapping and whistling. Some called out his alter ego name, others waved and jumped in tempo with the music. Plagg turned to Adrien. “Your time to shine, kid. Dance your heart out.”

Adrien nodded. “Thanks. I’ll make you proud.”

“You already did.” Plagg put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder, smiling. “Many more times than you realize. Now, it’s time for you to make yourself proud for once.”

Adrien couldn’t help a smile that split his lips. “I can try that. Doesn’t sound too complicated.”

The music stopped. The crowd stilled as Plagg bend his elbow and offered Adrien his hand. “You’ll do great. Knock their socks off.”

Unable to resist a grin, Adrien accepted his handshake. “Is this my test? The one I need to pass to get in?”

Plagg laughed, slapping Adrien’s back. “Your test was me, kid. Congrats. You’ve passed with flying colours. This is your inauguration. So, forget everything I’ve taught you. This is your moment. Claim it. Live it. Show everyone who you truly are. Tell her how you feel.”

Adrien didn’t answer, his heart pounding rapidly at the mention of her. Marinette was here, somewhere in the crowd, watching him at this very moment, and if a dance was just another way to communicate, if through dance he could express his feelings… then, was this the beginning of the conversation Marinette had promised him? Was this that chance she said she’d give him to explain everything? It might be. It might not. He’d tell her anyway.

Plagg stepped away as Don Diablo’s tune ripped through the space. Adrien remained in the centre, a multitude of people watching him with unbound curiosity. Nothing new for him. He was trained from his childhood to deal with that. Dancing in public didn’t scare him either. Plagg made sure Adrien was ready, going as far as helping him to perfect the routine he'd chosen for tonight.  

He closed his eyes, listening for the right moment to start. Heaven to Me. He’d first chosen this song to express his feelings for Marinette. That still applied, but now, he’d also dance to it to tell his story to everyone present in this room. Plagg’s words zoomed through his mind.

Relax. Forget everything. Cease to exist. Let your very being become the music. Let it move you. Let it consume you. The rain will fall; there is nothing you can do about that. Dance despite it. Dance because of it. Make yourself free.

And Adrien did.

His chest expanded, he let the vibrations fill him, moving his body to the music. Everything around him ceased to matter. Only him and his story. Him and his words to Marinette. In every arm shift, in every leg move, in every bend of his body, he spoke to her. His movements sharp and rapid at one point, graceful and elevating at another, Adrien voiced his story with every motion. Loneliness in arms clenched close to his chest; desperation, yearning for freedom as he fell to his knees. The love and joy she brought him; Adrien soared above the ground. His mistake. He curled in on himself, pain clear on his face even now. The agony of losing her. Despair; he crumbled to the ground. A hopeful outstretch of his arm toward an invisible her, pleading for forgiveness, a second chance he didn’t deserve.  

The song ended, and slowly coming back to reality, Adrien could barely breathe as the sounds attacked his ears. Clapping, whistling, people around him chanted his name, jumping to the music that was no longer there.

“Chat Noir!” Plagg yelled into the microphone. “Your newly crowned Prince of Destruction! Welcome to the family!”

The crowd roared, people rushing onto the platform, swamping Adrien in their arms. Words of congratulations, welcoming pats and embraces, Adrien could barely stand on his feet, overwhelmed by the amount of love everyone around had thrown upon him. Tears in his eyes, his lips trembled as he smiled at people he didn’t know but who suddenly had become more of a family to him than his blood relatives ever were.

“Yo! Chat Noir!” The DJ called in the microphone. “Someone here wants to talk to you.”

A new tune slowly filled the air. Adrien stilled. This song. This particular song had a tale behind it, a story Plagg had told him recently about a troubled time in his and Tikki’s marriage, about an argument that had grown into a full-blown fight, later transforming into them silently ignoring each other. It’d gotten so bad, Plagg moved back to his Parlour while Tikki consulted a divorce lawyer. They’d lived separately for weeks, neither of them risking to cut it off, neither willing to make the first step to reconciliation. Plagg hadn’t told Adrien the reasons behind the argument, nor had he bothered to explain how he managed to do that, but it was Master Fu who tricked the duo into coming to Plagg’s studio one night. He then proceeded to lock the duo there for a night with little food, a few bottles of water and no means of getting out.

“Us fighting was stupid,” Plagg had told Adrien. “The reasons for the argument were stupid, and we both knew it. But we were too damn stubborn to make the first move. Miserable, lonely, and stupidly stubborn.” Plagg bitterly chuckled at that part, remembering the events. “Master Fu is a genius, though. Crossing-boundaries weirdo, but genius. Don’t want to get into details now, but once we realized that there was no way out, we didn’t waste much time on trying to figure out who was right and who was wrong. Instead, we just danced.”

As a result of that night, the pair had made up, never to argue again, spare a few bickering matches they loved to engage in. They’d also created a new routine to commemorate their reconciliation and to put the promises they’d made into moves. Kwami Swap. A sensual, intimate routine to Liam Payne and Rita Ora’s For You. It spoke of loneliness and longing, love and passion, forgiveness and acceptance. It told the story of two broken hearts coming together in union again, forgiving and promising to do better from now on. Plagg had claimed he’d never taught it to anyone. It was too personal, too precious for that. Yet, back at French Riviera, he practically forced Adrien to learn it. He’d gone as far as dancing Adrien’s partner role; however morbidly embarrassing and awkward it was.

A partner!

Adrien glanced at Plagg. This routine required a partner. Why the heck was it playing while Adrien was standing in the middle of a stage alone?

The shameless glutton only smirked and pointed to the other side of the room.

Adrien turned back to look at the DJ and froze. The people stepped away, parting from one side. A girl in a black baggy capris, a red tank top, and pigtails with red streaks in her hair emerged from the crowd, the ladybug pendant he’d given her strapped to a choker on her neck.

His heart threatening to jump out of his chest, Adrien let her name slip from his lips just as Rita began to sing.

Marinette started to dance, her eyes piercing his soul with every look she’d sent his way. She moved her arms and legs gracefully, her whole body flowing with the rhythm effortlessly. Sadness and longing, misery and pain. She let the emotions capture her, every expression reflecting the hurt.

Captivated, Adrien was barely breathing, people around them silently watching, no one daring to utter a word. His heart ached as she moved closer. It must have been harder for Marinette than he’d realized. He must have hurt her much deeper than he thought.

Her moves slowly changed, betraying doubts, hesitation, and hope. A hint of a shy smile quickly surfaced and vanished when she looked at him again. Closing the gap between them with every step, Marinette enthralled. The moment she’d reached him, Adrien’s heart was threatening to give up. His breathing ragged, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, ignoring his own part in the routine… if he were her partner in this. The moment Marinette raised her hand to him, Adrien wasn’t sure how he’d survived, knowing what it meant.

“Dance with me, Chaton.”

Adrien swallowed. Marinette… she forgave him. His efforts weren’t in vain. Everything he’d done, everything he’d said; Marinette had listened to him, and she’d accepted his apologies because at this very moment, according to what Plagg had taught him about this dance, Marinette was holding out an olive branch to him in the language she knew best. An offering of peace. The answer to his prayers. All he had to do was to accept it.

“I want nothing more, my Lady,” he barely whispered, and, placing his palm against hers, interlaced their fingers together.

Marinette smiled, letting out a breath of relief. Waiting for the right moment, she slipped back into the routine. Adrien followed her lead.

Soft touches, gentle strokes. Marinette enveloped him with caresses as she glided her fingers along his jaw and down to his chest. Adrien returned the affection she’d showered him with against her back. Holding onto his hand, she dipped back. He pulled her back up, twirling her around to hold her flush against himself, her back to his chest. His fingers on her exposed skin, his lips whispering the lyrics against her neck, Adrien glided his hands from her tights up along her raised arms. Swaying her hips, Marinette sighed into his touch, sending a pleasant shiver down his body. Adrien pulled her closer. Wrapping his arms around her, he picked her up and spun her around, cuddling her petite figure to himself. She held onto him, their foreheads touching. Once on the ground, her hands were all over him again as she slowly swayed to the music… a little more than Adrien could handle at the moment.

Disregarding the rest of the routine, Adrien pulled Marinette to himself, burying his face into the crook of her neck. Holding onto her for dear life, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Marinette. I swear I didn’t mean it. I never wanted to hurt you.”

The melody went on, people around them continued to dance. Marinette wrapped her arms around him and pressed closer for a split moment, before leaning slightly away. There was a glimmer in her eyes, tears in the windows to her soul.

“I’m sorry, too.” She cupped his cheeks, giving him a shaky smile. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I should’ve let you explain. I should’ve believed in you. Instead… I felt so horrible when I calmed down because this wasn’t you, and I should’ve known that. I should’ve known that the man who begged me to pet him with tears in his eyes couldn’t be as vicious as his father made him out to be. It just isn’t you, Adrien, and I’m sorry I believed him.”

Adrien leaned down to place his forehead against hers. “No. I deserved you being mad at me. It was a mistake, but it was still a mistake I made.”

Marinette leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. “We all make mistakes, Adrien. They’re inevitable. What matters is how you handle them, and you handled yours beautifully. You deserve forgiveness.”

He pulled her back against him. It felt so right to do so. She was his comfort, his love, his anchor in this crazy life. He hadn’t known her for that long, but she’d become his everything. And she smelled so damn good!

Lump in his throat, Adrien struggled to hold back tears. Tightening his embrace, he pleaded, “Take me back, Mari. Please. I’m an idiot, I know that. The biggest idiot in the world, and I know I don’t deserve you, but I’m in love with you, so I dare to beg you… if you could… if you want… to take me back? Name your conditions, your boundaries. Anything you want. I’ll be fine with everything, as long as I get to be by your side. Even as a friend—”

“Gosh, you are an idiot,” she said, leaning away a bit, enough to cradle his face and pull him down into a kiss.

The music vanished into the background, as Marinette’s lips crashed into his. Moving desperately against his, they burned. His skin tingling under her touch, barely breathing, Adrien kissed her back just as urgently, holding her in his arms as reverently as he could. Her hands sneaked into his hair; Adrien deepened the kiss, pressing her closer to himself. She moaned against his lips; he wasn’t sure how he was still standing.

The music ended.

Out of breath, Marinette pulled away. Whistling, cheering, and clapping deafened them, rupturing the quiet bubble they had been in. They didn’t care, gazing into each other’s eyes. This was their moment. Nothing else mattered.

“Woo-hoo!!!” DJ yelled in the microphone. “Looks like our Ladybug laid a claim on Chat Noir, or are my eyes deceiving me? Hey, Ladybug. Is he yours?”

Her cheeks adorably rosy, Marinette smiled, tagging Adrien closer. “What do you say, Chaton? Mine?”

“Absolutely,” Adrien grinned. “Yours. Whichever way you’ll take me.”

“Can’t hear you here, Ladybug,” the DJ called. “Cause if he’s free, I have about five girls and a few guys forming a line over here.”

Marinette’s arms weaved around Adrien’s torso, as she turned to DJ and yelled. “Sorry, guys. Next time. This one’s all mine.”

“You heard the lady,” DJ said in a microphone and turned on the next tune. “Now, let’s party!”

“Are you sure?” Adrien hesitantly asked when Marinette turned back to him. “I mean what I did…”

She put a finger to his lips. “Never been sure of anything more. I love you, Adrien, and I want to be with you. Not just a friend. I want so much more. So, if you are okay with that, we can resume from where we left off? Will you be my boyfriend again?”

A stupid, lovesick grin stuck on his face, Adrien enthusiastically nodded. “Yes, please. I’d love that.”  

Appearing out of nowhere, Plagg slapped Adrien’s back, leaning on his shoulder and winking to Marinette. “He’s a keeper, isn’t he, Little Lady?”

“He is,” Marinette grinned, letting Adrien go, instead, taking his hand and interlacing their fingers together. “Thank you for looking after him for me.”

Plagg winked. “I’ve got your back. Now you owe me some Camembert. I’ll send you my invoice.”

Adrien chuckled. “Seriously, Plagg?”

“So, this is the infamous Chat Noir?” A woman emerged from the crowd and stood across Adrien. She looked not much younger than Marinette, being just a tiny bit curvier than her. Her hair, brilliant burgundy in colour, was cut just above the shoulder, gentle but messy waves giving the cut mischievous volume and interest. One lock was pinned aside, framing her blue eyes perfectly. Full lips a shade lighter than her hair, high cheekbones, she wore a pair of tight black capri pants and a black tank top under a loose off-shoulder red top that ended just above her waist. A matching red belt hugged her hips. A playful glint in her eyes, hands on her hips, she cocked her head to the side to look him over.

“You did well, Kitty Cat. Welcome to the Kwami Kave.” Taking one more step closer, she grew serious and crossed her arms over her chest. “Now tell, what do you think of Camembert?”

Adrien blinked. “Um…” He glanced at Marinette, then Plagg, but none of them were of any help, both curiously watching him back. “It stinks?”

The woman grinned, turning her attention to Plagg. “Told you, darling. One more person on my side, and not just anyone. Your prized pupil himself. You’ll have to give in and admit it on of these days.”

“Not in this life,” Plagg pouted and glared at Adrien. “We’re gonna have to talk later, young man.”

The woman laughed. Leaning toward Plagg, she booped his nose. “You want to scare away the only student who stuck around you?”

“He won’t go anywhere,” Plagg proudly smirked. “He already tried. It didn't work.”

“Only because of me,” Marinette said proudly. “I should probably give you a bill for it, though, since you’re charging me for you taking care of your student and stuff.”

“Taking credit for my awesomeness, Little Lady.” Plagg playfully puffed. “He would’ve come back eventually by himself. He’s a smart boy. He knows what’s good for him.”

“Exactly,” Marinette grinned. “And that is me, right, Chaton? I'm good for you, am I not?”

His gaze soft, Adrien squeezed her hand in his. “The absolute best.”

Marinette smiled in return, not taking her eyes off him, sending a swarm of butterflies to stir in his stomach. So beautiful. His Lady was the most gorgeous woman on this planet.

Plagg cleared his throat. “Before you start making out again, let me introduce you to my wife and goddess Tikki. Tikki this is Adrien. Adrien this is Tikki.”

She offered him a hand. Adrien obliged, lightly kissing the top of her knuckles in a customary greeting. “Nice to meet you, Mlle Tikki. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I hope nothing bad?”

“Only the best. And often. I dare to say Plagg talks of you more than of Camembert.”

Tikki smirked. “You were right, Baby Bug. He is a flatterer. Keep an eye on him.”

“Let me assure you,” Adrien replied. “My flattery is nothing but politeness.” Turning to Marinette, he took her hand and placed a lingering kiss on top. “And my heart belongs to no one but my Lady.”

Tikki chuckled. “And a smooth one at that, I see.” Her arms crossed on her chest, she cocked her head to the side. “I hope you were just as good thanking my husband for everything he’s done for you. You did thank him for abandoning me for so long, didn’t you?”

“Not yet.” Plagg stood behind Tikki, wrapping his arms around her midsection. She relaxed into his touch. He rested his chin on her shoulder and added, “My considerate student thought it’ll be fair to include you in his apology since you were affected as well.”

“He did?” Tikki glanced at Plagg skeptically.

“Yup,” Plagg answered for him. “He’s taking us both out to dinner next week. Restaurant of your choice.”

“Is that so?” Tikki turned her attention back to Adrien. “I thought it was men whose hearts are swayed by their stomachs. Women have other preferences.”

“Men’s simplemindedness is exactly the reason it’s a dinner,” Adrien said with a chuckle. “I wasn’t given much of a choice in how to apologize to you for Plagg’s absence.”

Tikki snickered. “I see. Then I suppose Plagg wouldn’t mind if I invite my Baby Bug to tag along? Don’t know how much you’ll enjoy being our third wheel.”

“I’m sure he’d love that idea, right Plagg?” Adrien glanced at Plagg.

“I don't mind anything as long as there is Camembert on the menu.”

The trio of them groaned when a new song started playing. You Make Me Feel by Cobra Starship. Tikki stirred and turned to Plagg, her eyes locking on his. “I know a certain someone who has a soft spot for this song. Shall we leave them alone for now and indulge in a dance, my dear Camembert-obsessed husband?”

Plagg grinned. “You must be mistaken, my lovely, sugar-addicted wife. This isn’t Mika.”

Tikki smirked, leaning closer, stopping only when their faces were mere inches apart. Reaching forward, she let her fingers trace Plagg’s jaw, her eyes following the trail. Her voice silky and smooth, she whispered, “You know, we’ve been apart for so long, I’m willing to dance with you to whatever song you want. But… are you sure you want Mika? Because I can ask the DJ to put your favourite Mika song on, but then how will you survive this evening?”

Plagg’s eyes widening, he swallowed. Nervously chuckling, he grinned. “This song will do. Mika will come later.”

“Good boy,” Tikki practically purred, watching Plagg with her eyes half-lidded. In a moment, she blew him an air kiss and turned around to look at Adrien. “Glad to have finally met you, Kitty Cat. Be nice to my Baby Bug. Alright?”

There was nothing threatening neither in her words nor in her tone. Yet Adrien couldn't help but feel unspoken Or Else as Tikki watched him, waiting for the answer.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Tikki smiled and looked at Plagg. “Are you coming, Stinky? Or should I look for a different partner?”

Plagg playfully howled and followed her, winking at Adrien. “See you later, kid. Enjoy the evening.”

“What Mika song are we talking about here?” Adrien asked Marinette as soon as the duo was out of earshot.

Marinette snickered. “Boum, boum, boum.”

Adrien stilled. “That’s his favourite song?”

“Yup. At least when it comes to dancing with Tikki.”

“He’s horrible.”

Marinette laughed. “They both are. Who do you think introduced him to that song by surprising him with a private dance for his birthday?” Noticing someone past him, Marinette wrapped one hand around Adrien’s arm and waved. “Hey, Rion. Come here. I want you to meet someone.”

Adrien turned to the side to see Viperion walking their direction a little distance away.

“I believe we’ve already met,” Viperion said, reaching them.

“Yes, I know,” Marinette said, smiling. “But then he was only a mysterious stranger from my work. Now, things have changed. Chat Noir, this is Viperion, also known as Luka outside these walls. His sister and I were in the same class in school and we used to be in a band together. Still friends after all that. Luka, this is Chat Noir or Adrien. My boyfriend.”

Luka let a small smile grace his lips as he stretched his hand to Adrien. “Welcome to Kwami Kave. You were fantastic just now.”

Adrien took his hand, immediately noticing the way Viprion’s grip was tight with a warning.  “Thanks. So, I’m guessing, I can stay?”

Luka nodded, glancing at Marinette. “Marinette seems happy with you around. I’ll let you be for now, but—”

“You’ll be watching me,” Adrien finished. “Right?”

Viperion chuckled, his eyes sharp. “I see you know the drill.”

“It’s pretty standard.”

“Good. Just know that Marinette has lots of friends willing to protect her.”

Marinette groaned. Bracing Adrien’s elbow, she sent Viperion a warning glance. “Rion’s kidding, right? No one is threatening anyone. We all are getting along or I’m getting Plagg and Tikki to help us.”

Viperion chuckled, raising his arms up. “No threats. Just a friendly warning.”

“I’d say,” Adrien added. “It’s more like an invitation to join the Protect Marinette Club, right?”

Luka quirked an eyebrow. “Want in a free t-shirt and cookies?”

“There are free t-shirts?” Marinette asked skeptically.

“There soon will be.”

“Then you’d better give me one or no more free cookies for your club.”

Luka chuckled, glancing at Marinette. When his eyes returned to Adrien, wariness surfaced again. “I’ll leave you two alone, but maybe we should get lunch together sometime soon. I’m sure Jules and Rose would want to join, too.”

“Sure,” Marinette nodded. “I’ll text Juleka to set it up.”

“Sounds good.” With a salute, Luka walked away.

Adrien turned to Marinette. The ladybug pendant on her neck caught his attention. He reached and ran his fingers over it. “I didn't think I’d ever see it again.”

Marinette smiled, gently placing her fingers over it. “Marc recovered it for me. Though, the chain’s still at the jeweller for a repair. I’m sorry I broke it.”

“No worries. It was a dumb and ill-timed present.”

“It was a great present at a wrong time,” Marinette corrected. “Your father had us all figured out even without it. But, let’s leave this talk for later. I want to dance now.”

“I’d love that,” Adrien replied quietly, his arms weaving around Marinette’s waist. Leaning closer, he nuzzled her cheek. “I missed you, my Lady.”

“Missed you too, Chaton,” Marinette replied, getting closer. “Very much so.”

With a light nudge, she pulled him down into a quick kiss. Adrien eagerly responded for just a moment before Plagg accidentally bumped into them.

“Night isn’t forever, kids,” he winked. “Better start dancing before it’s over.”

“Ignore him,” Tikki yelled from behind her husband. “Kiss that cat all you want, Baby Bug. You deserve some love.”

“I did deserve a few kisses.” Marinette grinned, looking at Adrien. “And so did you, Chaton.”

“Already have all I need,” he said, his eyes focused on her. Bringing her hand to his lips, he placed a lingering kiss on top. “Dance with me, my Lady?”

She smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Next >

#ladynoirjuly2019 #adrienette #they finally meet #fluff #kisses #and dancing #lots of dancing

[itsclydebitches]

I consider taking angsty prompts and turning them into absurd fluff to be a specialty of mine~ 

Wretched 

Aziraphale had always had a soft spot for children’s books. One wouldn’t think it based on the antiques and religious texts crowding up the shop, but if you took your time and wandered all the way to the back you’d find a sizable collection waiting, enhanced by the occasional plush and toy truck. They were mostly books from the mid-18th and 19th century, didactic texts with (surprise, surprise) religious bents. A Little Pretty Pocket-Book Intended for the Instruction and Amusement of Little Master Tommy and Pretty Miss Polly had been a long time favorite of his, both for the brightly colored paper it was bound in and the absurdly long title by contemporary standards.

The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes. The New England Primer. Millions of Cats. Peter Rabbit, The Secret Garden, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland...that was about as modern as Aziraphale was willing to go—for now at least—with the exception of one co-authored series from the 1990’s.

“The Bailey School Kids,” Crowley read. He flipped through one at random, eyes already skittering away from lack of interest. The cover got an amused snort though. “Dracula Doesn’t Drink Lemonade? Wouldn’t mind showing that to old Bram sometime.”

“You’re welcome to take that copy if you ever pop back downstairs.”

“Isn’t he with your lot?”

“Can’t quite recall anymore.” Aziraphale’s fingers skimmed the spines until he found the book he was looking for. With a dramatic flourish he showed off this cover too: a glowing woman performing a kick in front of four children.

Crowley’s lips twitched. “Angels Don’t Know Karate.”

“I’ll admit this one certainly doesn’t.”

“‘She’s too good to be true!’ Well they got that part right at least.”

Crowley’s admiration was rarely verbal. He preferred actions over words and when something did come tumbling out it was quickly followed by an insult for balance. You’re so clever. How can someone as clever as you be so stupid, and so forth. Thus, Aziraphale waited for the blow and instead felt his cheeks heating when all Crowley did was glance up over his glasses, eyes soft. He’d bent to get a look at the book and having him in such a, ahem, submissive position did nothing to calm Aziraphale’s racing heart.

What absurdities human bodies were. His palms had begun to sweat so badly that Aziraphale feared he’d do damage to the pages.

Yet when he dropped one hand to brush against his trousers he found it caught halfway, Crowley’s fingers ensnaring his, right at the tips. He drew Aziraphale’s knuckles to his mouth and placed a kiss there, reverent.

“Too good by far,” he murmured.

“Oh,” and Aziraphale was floundering, choking a bit, trying to put the book down and pull Crowley forward all at once until they were simply a mess of limbs and laughter. They finally succeeded and as Aziraphale bent to press his own kiss into the hollow of Crowley’s throat he forgot the reason he’d brought him over here in the first place.

I was making a joke, he thought faintly. Then Crowley took his face between his hands and Aziraphale forgot that too.

***

It came to him thirty hours later when a stray cat nearly upended itself into a drain in its attempt to get away from Crowley.

That was it. The Bailey series was missing a title: Demons Don’t Keep Pets.

“Wretched beast,” Crowley muttered and Aziraphale kindly ignored that the words were spoken in the same tone as, ‘I’m not nice’ and ‘That’s ridiculous,’ and ‘Shut up, angel.’

“We merely startled the poor thing,” Aziraphale said. He kept his eyes straight ahead.

“Shut up, angel.”

Hmm.

Spending time in the company of demons resulted in all sorts of odd, but really quite predictable outcomes. The stench of sulfur and chlorine was a given. Aziraphale had long ago ceased trying to cover up Crowley’s scent with any human-made creations and after the first couple of hundred years he’d forgotten why he’d wanted to in the first place. Minor mischief was another. Not anything planned, demons simply had a sort of... bad luck that surrounded them. Minor falls, forgotten words, and lost socks followed them everywhere. There was the expected gravitation towards warmer climates—many were cold blooded by nature—and the inevitable itch to groom one’s wings once the encountered concluded. Though that was due more to self-comparative embarrassment than anything the demons actually did.

And then there were the animals. Needless to say, creatures of Earth didn’t take kindly to demonic entities from the literal depths of hell.

Over their multi-millennium friendship (Courtship, Aziraphale silently corrected himself, experiencing a little thrill) he had seen Crowley interact with every animal imaginable. Or rather, unintentionally terrorize every animal imaginable. Cats, as established, had enough sense to get out of his way. Dogs were a little dumber, but that just resulted in shaking, whimpering, and a pungent mess on the floor. The Bentley was beloved not only for it style, but the freedom it had afforded him. Over the years Aziraphale had watched Crowley get bucked off of horses, camels, donkeys, mules, and on one memorable occasion an elephant. Though there were upsides too, of course. This particular body was quite susceptible to bug bites, though Aziraphale never needed to worry about such things when on a dusk stroll with Crowley. In decades past a visit from him had been more than enough to scare off the rats and cockroaches plaguing Aziraphale’s home. Squirrels and other rodents never bothered them while eating outside. Birds wouldn’t dare to defecate anywhere in their presence (smarter than the dogs then). It had taken a hundred years for the ducks of St. Jame’s Park to become accustomed to their routine... and even today they very obviously only ate the bread on Aziraphale’s side of the pond.

In short, there was a reason that poor unicorn had bolted the moment Crowley come on the scene.

“You’re thinking about how I’m responsible for the extinction of the unicorns, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale faltered only briefly. Uneven pavement. Such a danger. “Not at all, my dear.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Zira.”

“I am quite accomplished in the art due entirely to your influence. Now hush and enjoy the sunset.”

Crowley grumbled, but slipped his hand into Aziraphale’s when they just so happened to brush. They did enjoy the sunset while strolling back from dinner and as they did not a single mosquito, bird, or daring cat came their way.

***

Crowley would have dearly loved to have a pet.

He’d never said as much, not even at their most inebriated, but the desire was clear as day to Aziraphale. Put aside how well they knew one another; Aziraphale was, quite literally, a being meant to understand and exhibit love, someone who could feel it in all its forms. He knew that Crowley loved animals with the same surety that he knew Crowley loved children. And him. The duck obsession, the drunken worry for all the ocean’s creatures, they were just neon signs pointing to an already obvious statement.

Aziraphale had briefly thought that Dog was the answer. Who better to love a demon than a hell hound? Sadly, a visit to the Young household established that Adam had been a bit too thorough in transforming Dog into a normal dog. The puddle on the family room rug had created quite the stir.

So, with Armageddon two weeks behind them and all the freedom to do as he pleased, Aziraphale went shopping.

“Angel, when you said you’d gotten me a present...” Crowley’s mouth worked for a moment, seeming to taste a whole lot of words before rejecting all of them. “Weeellll. Kinda thought it was another stuffy old book.”

“You love when I give you stuffy old books.” Aziraphale had seen the small collection in Crowley’s apartment, as loved as anything else in that minimalist space.

“Is this a stuffy old book then?”

Crowley pointed to the box. The box moved.

“No, dear.”

In truth Crowley already knew what was inside. He could no doubt smell it, but he went through the motions of surprise all the same. Aziraphale watched how hard he swallowed and the shake in his hands as he pulled back the flaps.

“...You got me a snake,” he said and Aziraphale smiled at how wet his voice had gotten.

Specifically, Aziraphale had gotten him an Eastern Hognose Snake, black with a reddish tint to match Crowley’s hair. Docile and small, the little dear had no sooner tasted the air then it was making a beeline for Crowley, around his wrist and up onto his shoulder.

He’d been right. The curse didn’t extend to one’s own species.

“I’m surprised you never got one for yourself,” Aziraphale said. He watched as Crowley ran two fingers delicately over the scales, entranced. A soft, subconscious hiss was emanating each time he breathed. “It’s rather the perfect pick for you.”

“Way to toot your own horn. But nah, just... snakes. Not very cute, are they? Not the sort of thing people want in their home.” Crowley used his free hand to sit his sunglasses more firmly onto his face and... oh.

Oh.

Aziraphale felt something in his chest tighten. He stepped forward and removed those glasses, despite the protest.

“I think they’re positively adorable,” and a laugh bubbled out of Aziraphale as Crowley spluttered. The tension in his shoulders released though and the little Hognose ended up better settled between them. “A snake will make a wonderful addition to this home, rest assured. You’ll have to give him a name.”

“Her,” Crowley croaked.

“Her then.”

“Got any suggestions?”

“Not just yet.” Stepping closer Aziraphale laid his head on Crowley’s shoulder, eye-to-eye with their little lady. He wasn’t at all scared though. Like with the snake above him, Aziraphale knew he was perfectly safe. “I hear these lovelies play dead when feeling threatened, so the name must be something suitably dramatic. You see? You’re perfect for one another.”

“Shut it, angel.”

“And yes, there’s a collection of stuffy old books in the second box. You must read up on how to properly care for her. You don’t really think I’d pass up the opportunity to—”

“Somebody give me strength do you ever shut up?”

Crowley finally decided that the best way to achieve silence was to get it himself, which was precisely why Aziraphale blathered on in the first place. Kissing one snake while another watched wasn’t precisely what one would consider angel-like behavior.

Although, given that Aziraphale was an angel and here they were, perhaps it wasn’t so far off the mark after all.

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #which one of you lovely readers wants to name the snake #because I am bad at that kind of stuff :D

[urfaustus]

@ghoostiing​ asked:  ' are we considered monsters? like the monster frankenstein built? '

The sun shines on Elijah, but in such an unflattering way. When it came to anybody else that the sun seemed to catch, it was always a compliment from nature in the genius’s perspective. Hey, look at this human being, but also look at this beautiful person in the most gorgeous moment you could imagine! Yet, when the sun fell on the engineer, he would argue the flaming ball had different intentions for him. It never caught him in the perfect light, it was never a scenario, where--oops! The sun is in my eyes, but look how sexy I am despite that! -- Elijah blinks his eyes shut, offering a bitter frown in response to the source of natural light before he forces his attention elsewhere. 

Gray-blue eyes fall to the floor beneath him as he ponders to himself, though they’re quickly pulled away from where he’s looking once he hears the nearby shuffling of one of the giant house’s residents behind him. Pursed lips as his head tilts back, catching view of the person who has walked in and recognizing them instantly. 

“Ah, good afternoon Spec!” Elijah greets warmly, before using his index finger to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose to their rightful position. His lips cast just as warm of a smile to the firewall-turned-android, his brilliant mind already beginning to forget what he’d previously been so upset about. “What can I do for you, my friend?” His question is followed up by a gentle gesture to the empty chair that was next to the engineer’s and he welcomes them to fully enter the room and relax with him.

Their curious question is certainly something that Kamski is surprised by, many android models were capable of discussing philosophy and the programmer would be lying if he tried to say he and his Chloes never took the time to discuss many of life’s difficult and un-answerable questions. His amazement is purely due to the fact that Spectr was not a product of Elijah’s -- at least not directly -- and the truth is he just isn’t fully aware of what this android is capable of. Cyberlife has turned into its own entity separate from Elijah Kamski and he is no longer privy to many of the projects the corporation has manufactured during their time apart. 

“I see you’ve discovered a few of my personal effects.” Eli responds, addressing their specification of Frankenstein’s Monster in a playful manner while he begins to gather his thoughts in order to best answer their question. It was no secret that the human was a fan of Mary Shelley’s classic story, though perhaps it was a secret that the engineer often found himself relating to Victor Frankenstein’s role from that tale. 

Very much unlike Frankenstein, it would be difficult to deny that Elijah is attached to and proud of the form of life he has created, but the two men definitely share a similar heaviness on their shoulders, a guilt felt towards the effort of what each man was responsible for creating, or more specifically for Eli, founding.

Idly brushing his thumb against his chin hairs, Elijah considers his words one last time before finally speaking, answering Spec’s question. “That depends on one’s interpretation of the book and one’s understanding of what the definition of monster is, I assert. Victor Frankenstein is an extremely smart man whose obsession results in the birth of the supposed monster. Frankenstein’s monster is essentially shaped and molded by his treatment of those that occupy his life and the environment that surrounds him.” 

“There is a duality between the creature and the Frankenstein family’s nanny and one of Victor’s adopted sisters, Justine, who is also someone that is rejected by those who she was born with. Her mother has little care for her, but the Frankenstein family--and Victor in particular--more than make up for her abandonment by providing her with love that she desperately requires. The creature, of course, receives none of this from neither Victor nor those he attempts to befriend and throughout the book grows resentful and violent; finding himself eventually capable of framing Justine for the murder of Victor’s younger brother, whom the creature himself had killed.”

“Frankenstein’s creature is an interesting example of a monster in design, but perhaps he might be one of the most human characters throughout the execution of his story. He begins his life with an intense desire to be loved and accepted, particularly after being instantly rejected by Frankenstein and soon after being chased away by the family of a blind man he befriended, regardless of the fact that he discreetly assisted them by collecting firewood. Like all things that are alive, the creature desires a partner to love and be loved by and eventually demands of Victor to create him a bride of his own, because of his unshakable belief that he deserves happiness like everyone else. When Victor destroys her out of his many rapid fears of the project, the fury and desire for revenge brings the creature to murder Victor’s wife on the night of their wedding.”

“Frankenstein himself, while he begins the story human, finishes it resembling a monster perhaps more than the creature itself. Growing up in a very functioning, loving family of three sons and two adopted daughters, the brilliant Victor even regards his best friend as more capable than himself. What makes Frankenstein relatable begins with how he deals with the death of his mother which is to bury himself in his work and force himself to continue his studies while he is still grieving. This coping mechanism is extremely weak and later on in the book it proves itself to be detrimental to the man’s mental health as the creature continues to terrorize him and rob him his loved ones’ lives. The further that the creature pushes for respect from man or happiness, the sicker Victor appears to become. The levels that the two are willing to send one another to are endless.  For example the creature’s cunning capability of incriminating other people for the crimes that he himself has committed not once, but twice! As well as the way that Frankenstein becomes so caught up with this creature that he neglects his brand new wife on the night of their wedding because of the pure fear of the creature that has been instilled into the scientist. It’s only when he discovers her lifeless body that he finally finds it within himself to do something about this mess.”

“Up until this point, the man has failed absolutely every person he holds dear due to his fear of his creation, his shame of the creature’s unnatural state and the unhealthy obsession he bears with death and reanimation, his inability to act on their behalves in the wakes of their deaths and how he has been incapable of facing the reality of what he’s made and admit to those that supposedly matter in his life the secret he had been hiding. Now he chooses to put an end to the source of pain that has haunted both him and his creature for so long but only now that is too late, now that neither could possibly prosper in any form.”

“Throughout the text, both the supposed man and supposed monster seem to dance between both roles, both characters have it in them to be wonderful people and both prove themselves capable of committing acts that are so vile, shocking and sickening. They compliment one another quite well in this nightmare, despite the glaring differences that are established between the two; the line between each becomes so blurry by the end of it that it’s truly up to personal interpretation for one to distinguish which one is Frankenstein and which one is Frankenstein’s monster. Both are capable of being quite monstrous, but both of them have very human behaviors and hearts: the fear of facing responsibility and not holding oneself accountable in response, or crafting a comfortable coping mechanism from grief and being incapable of fixing a situation for your loved ones because of it, or having the desire to be desired, to need a friend, only to grow angrier and full of resentment the more you are rejected, or to find yourself so obsessed with the concept of revenge or getting back at someone that when you finally achieve it, you’re incapable of knowing what peace is.”

The engineer draws his eyes to the android, slightly turning his body in his seat to better face them. Fingernails combing through his own hair, which has been lazily pulled back into a sloppy ponytail after having spent the day doing laps in the pool. 

“...To actually answer your question, Spectr, I do not consider you monsters in the same vein as Frankenstein’s monster. I’ve spent a very large portion of my life with many individuals who have proven to me that they could be capable of allowing themselves to turn into such horrific things if they wanted to, but they instead resist and find healthier, smarter, and safer ways to earn respect, maintain their dignity, to teach us while being viewed as an equal and loved like a living person and I very much maintain the belief that people like Markus and Connor and -- even you -- will continue to show us that you guys are the furthest you possibly could be from being defined as the monster from that story.”

“You could borrow the book if you’d like. In my experience, these things are better to be interpreted in one’s own way -- you don’t need to be told how to view those characters or yourself.” 

#long post #[𝚒𝚏 (ask = 𝟷); { 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖.𝚘𝚞𝚝.𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚗(“𝙸𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜”);] #frankenstein spoilers #ghoostiing #i've been working on this analysis since saturday

[lilacsos]

i loved you first LH

A/N: Ok so, this one is kinda sad. I mean, it's real sad. Basically, I just can’t allow Luke to be in a happy relationship when I write. Also, this song is based off/ inspired by the song “i loved you first” by joan (my newest obsession. Seriously the band is amazing) and the lyrics are all in italics. Lastly, that gif. Luke be looking into my soul

Requested: I suppose

Words: 2128

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x reader

*Warnings*: Cheating, you cheated on Luke, Lu gets some hate but not into detail, fucking poor Luke man, this bitch you cheated on Luke with is named David, FUCK YOU DAVID

Summary: Luke knew that you had been cheating on him for quite some time. He knows he should let you go before you hurt him even more but it’s hard because you’re the love of his life.

Masterlist   Wanna be tagged?

     It wasn’t that Luke didn’t know you were cheating on him. Of course, he knew. Luke wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed but he saw it clearly. He first noticed how you went out with your friends more. Luke really didn’t think much of it until your best friend called asking him if you were ok since you hadn’t hung out with her in a month. That got him thinking; if you weren’t out with your friends, who was it? Luke really tried not to dwell on it because he knew if he did, he’d start assuming the worst and confront you and ruin everything. He could just be overreacting and maybe you just made some new friends. Friends you didn’t tell him about. That was the first sign and Luke tried to forget it but the thought was always in the back of his mind. So when you became more secretive, like hiding your phone every time it rang, he wanted to believe it was all fine but the voice in the back of his head wouldn’t let him rest. When you smiled at your phone, stepped away to take a phone call, came in late, snuck out of the house late at night, or came home smelling like cheap cologne, he could feel his heart break.

          If I could be honest

          I feel like I'm losing you

     Luke asked around, checking to see if other people noticed anything up with you or knew anything. Either no one knew or no one was willing to answer but one night, he had all he needed. He stayed up late, waiting for you to get back and once you did, he saw the hickeys on your neck. He thought about confronting you and breaking up with you but he couldn’t. He loved you. He loved you so much that he was willing to let his heart break over and over. He could feel you fading away from him. The lack of emotion when you two spent time together was really his first clue. You avoided him any chance you got. He was losing you. So, his plan was to try to bring you back to him; he wanted to make you love him again. He would make sure to plan extra dates, sit close to you on the couch, or hold your hand at random times in public because he thought it would help. Luke did everything in his power to try to make you see him. Nothing was helping. You were still sneaking out late at night or coming home at three in the morning, smelling like some other guy.

          Do you even notice? Yeah

          How perfect I am for you

     Could you just not see that he was perfect for you? Luke always thought you guys were perfect together and he felt like you did too. You guys could talk for hours about nothing at all and still have a good time. You fit perfectly in his side when he pulled you in. You could make him laugh without even trying to and you even thought he was funny. He really thought that everything in your relationship was perfect and that he was perfect for you. He knew you were perfect for him. You were the one for him.

          You keep running away when I need you most

          Running away when I get too close

     Luke tried his hardest to keep you close but it seemed like every time he tried, you kept moving away from him. He’d ask if you wanted to go on a date or talk about what has been going on lately but every time, you’d make an excuse. If Luke wanted to talk on the phone or even text, suddenly you were busy. Luke didn’t know what was going on but one night, he had gotten some pretty bad hate. Usually, he just ignores it but this time, it really hurt and he was at a loss. He called you maybe three or four times but you never answered him. He sent text after text, hoping that you would answer him and come home so he could just spend time with you. But you didn’t. Luke spent that night at Ashton’s house, crying in his friend’s arms while you were out, probably doing that guy. That night, Luke understood how terrified he was that you were really going to leave him. He didn’t want you to go and part of him hoped that you didn’t want to leave either. He hoped for that, but he knew what was happening. You found someone else.

          My heart is full but yours is running out

          I think I'm afraid of what comes next

     Was this the end? Was he going to lose you forever because of some other guy? He was terrified that this would be the end of your relationship. People talk about how they try to stay friends after a breakup but everyone knows it doesn’t work. Luke knew it doesn’t work. Now the pressure really was on. He had to fix your relationship if he even wanted a chance of staying in your life.

          Yeah, I'm afraid you've lost your head

          Baby you know that I loved you first

     Sometimes, Luke found himself thinking about your first date. He took you out to dinner at some place very nice. He wore a suit and you dressed up, looking radiant. The night was spent laughing, telling jokes, and sharing stories about your lives. The food was amazing but Luke didn’t want the night to end there. He told you he had something else planned when in reality, he had no idea what else to do. The two of you drove aimlessly for an hour, talking even more until Luke got an idea. He drove the two of you to a close by beach. It was dark and cold and the both of you were not dressed for the occasion but that didn’t stop either of you. Luke tore off his socks and shoes, rolled up his pant legs, and waddled into the water. Soon enough, you followed him in, splashing him the first second you could. That resulted in Luke chasing you through the water and along the shore. You played this little game for a while until Luke grew bored and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you against his chest. One hand came to rest on your cheek, thumb swiping over your bottom lip while his other hand moved from your wrist to your waist. He took in every detail of your face, spending time to look at everything and memorize it. He noted the shape of your eyes and their color, the curve of your lips, the slant of your nose, and everything else. He closed his eyes and brought his lips down to meet yours and as cliché as it was, Luke felt fireworks going off.

          But now, you're in love with somebody else

          You're in love with somebody else

     Whoever this person was, you loved them. You didn’t have to say it because Luke could see it. He saw it on your face whenever you smiled at your phone. He heard it in your voice as you talked to them in hushed whispers late at night. He remembered when you loved him. He remembered the way your eyes would light up when he came to sit with you. He still had pictures on his phone that the boys had sent; they were photos of you looking at your phone when he texted or the smile on your face as you called him. He would never forget the way you held him close one night and promised him that you would never leave him.

          Would you be honest?

          Tell me what you see in him

     Why were you doing this? Was he not good enough for you? Did this other guy give you something he couldn’t? Was he better looking? Did he have more money? Was he smarter, funnier, cooler, nicer than he was? What was it about this guy that you seemed to like so much? Luke decided it was time he found out who this dude that stole his girlfriend was. He did some digging, sneaking to look at your phone late at night, asking the boys to spend time with you and see if something was weird. He even went as far as to have Michael stake out the house and follow you one night. Michael followed you to a bar where you met up with some guy. Michael being the good friend he is, snuck in and sat close by you two so he could listen to your conversation. He told Luke that the guy seemed lame. He said he wasn’t funny, smart, or good at talking to people. You and the guy had nothing in common so there had to be another reason you were out with him. Luke didn’t know what it could have been that attracted you to him. Michael kept a secret from Luke for about a week until he came clean. He told Luke that the guy, whose name was David as he learned, told you he loved you. You said it back.

          Does he really love you? Yeah

          Like you know that I can, yeah

     But does this David really love you? What if he was using you? What if David knew you were dating Luke and he thought it would make him famous? He’d be known as the guy that broke up Luke Hemmings and his girlfriend. Maybe David was only using you for your body and sex? This guy probably couldn’t care less about you or your life or hopes and dreams. Luke did though. Luke wanted nothing more than to see you achieve your goals. He had spent countless time and money trying to help you. He loved every part about you and would do anything for you. Would David?

          You keep running away when I need you most

          Running away when I get too close

          My heart is full but yours is running out

          I think I'm afraid of what comes next

          Yeah, I'm afraid you've lost your head

          Baby you know that I loved you first

          But now, you're in love with somebody else

          You're in love with somebody else

      Luke paced around your shared apartment, thinking over what he was about to do. The boys had given him advise on what he should do but Luke wasn’t sure. Were they right? None of the boys were in this relationship and none of them knew what you two had. They didn’t know the love that you two shared. Or, the love you two once shared. That love was falling away and he had no idea what happened. Was it something he said? Was it something he did? Luke spent those five months after he learned you were cheating, beating himself up. He could only assume he did something wrong. Why else would you be doing this if it wasn’t his fault?

          You keep running away

          (You're in love with somebody else)

          My heart is full but yours is running out

          (You're in love with somebody else)

          I think I'm afraid, ooh

          (You're in love with somebody else)

          Baby you know that I loved you first

          But now

     At four in the morning, you snuck through the front door, hoping not to wake Luke. To your surprise, he was sat on the couch, watching you come in. He stood, heart pounding loudly in his chest as he made his way to you. His hands easily found yours, bringing them to rest on his face. His eyes searched yours, looking for anything at all that showed him you still loved him. When his search came up empty, tears fell from his eyes. Despite the tears, he leaned down and kissed you for what was the first time in months. It was cold, empty. There really was nothing there. You didn’t love him anymore.

          You're in love with somebody else

          You're in love with somebody else

          You're in love with somebody else

          You're in love with some, you're in love with some           You're in love with somebody else

          You're in love with somebody else

          You're in love with somebody else

          You're in love with some, you're in love with some

     Luke pulled away from you, knowing if he stood too close, he’d chicken out. He would chicken out just like he did seven months ago when he was going to propose. He still had the ring in his bedside table, waiting for you. Hands shaking, he choked on his words as he finally confronted you. “If I could be honest, I feel like I’m losing you.”

Tags

@lustingfor5sos @mycollectionofnuts @ohhmuke @softboycal @norawashere @katiaw2 @littlesinnersins @bbyboyycal @rosecoloredash

#5 seconds of summer #5sos #5 seconds of summer imagine #luke hemmings #luke 5sos #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings agnst #my shitty writing

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Brendon’s P.O.V. : Chapter Sixteen

I paid no attention to the amount of force I used to slam the locker room door shut but judging from the way Corvey jumped out of his skin, it must’ve created a fairly loud bang. I didn’t hear it over the sound of my thumping heart.

“I’m not gonna kick your ass, ‘cause that would raise suspicions,” I spoke slowly and clearly, taking cautious, deliberate steps toward the pipsqueak in front of me. There was a slight tremor in his legs; I had to fight hard to supress a laugh at the sight. Weakling.

“But let me make one thing perfectly clear,” I continued, picking up my pace a little. Once I was close enough, I clamped my hands down on his shoulders and gave a small, sarcastic smile; he flinched at the impact, shutting his eyes. “Under no circumstance are you to ever touch her like that again, you hear me? She’s not yours, nor will she ever be, so back the hell off. You understand?”

He nodded vigorously and I could see the fear swirling around in his wide eyes. Good. He should be scared.

“Wonderful,” I flashed him a dazzling smile and stepped back, patting him once on the back, “then we’re done here.”

I spun around and started for the exit, hearing him sigh in relief. My hand was just about to grab the door handle when I remembered something.

“Oh, and,” I turned to look at him, “You’re not training her anymore. Not in this life or the next.”

~

I watched her as she brought one hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn; she was clearly half-asleep and I felt only slightly guilty for cutting her slumber time short. But contrary to what she might think, it wasn’t an unnecessary move. If I hadn’t woken her up to do this, she would’ve been back in the centre tonight with that imbecile Corvey – God, even thinking of him made me sick – and we couldn’t have that. No, we couldn’t. Not at all.

If anyone was going to be rolling around on the floor with her, damn straight it was going to be me.

She was tiredly rubbing her eyes now, trying to brush away the remnants of sleep as she creased her forehead. I noticed that her lips were pouted, and I turned away before I could get any debauched ideas.

I flexed my jaw as I began rolling my sleeves up and cleared my throat as I backtracked away from her, willing my mind to focus on the task at hand: her training.

“Let’s start with the basics. Reflexes.”

She sighed and continued rubbing her face. “I already did reflex training with Corvey,” she pointed out; I just barely bit back a growl.

Why did she have to go and bring him up? He was idiotic and incompetent; I don’t even know how he ever passed training. He could never have trained her properly – so why did she approach him in the first place?

Images from last night flashed in my mind – of him standing so close to her; of her smiling genuinely at him; of him touching her…

Fuck, it made me mad. It’s obvious that he has a thing for her – a pathetic, schoolyard crush – but he can’t have her. She’s not available for him to claim as his own. And I would crush him if he ever tried to pull a stunt like last night again.

And I think I made that pretty clear to him in the locker room last night.

But, I still had to make it clear to her.

“Yes, but,” I flicked my hand forward, sending the blade flying straight at her head, “I’m not Corvey.”

I didn’t want to kill her – obviously – so I purposefully aimed a few inches higher than the top of her hair. She wasn’t aware of this, and the way she was currently glaring at me, panting and eyes broadened by shock, showed that she had been sincerely scared for her life.

It was an irrational fear; I would never hurt her. Couldn’t if I wanted to. Not her. But she wanted to be trained, and so I had to prepare her for the worst.

I stared at her with a blank expression, noticing her jaw tightening, fists clenching, and chest heaving. Annnnnd cue the hateful yelling in three… two… one…

“You’re right. You’re not Corvey. You’re a fucking maniac. What the hell was that, Brendon?! You almost killed me.”

I rolled my eyes, starting to think some of Corvey’s stupid rubbed off on her. Did she honestly think I would kill her? My job is literally to prevent her from being killed.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve aimed lower – for your heart. That way, if you ducked, the dagger would catch your head; you would’ve died either way,” I shrugged.

“Wow, okay. Thanks. Thank you for that,” she remarked sarcastically, irately ripping her jacket from her body and aimlessly tossing it to the side.  

“It’s a pleasure.”

We spent the next forty-five minutes practicing her reflexes in hand-to-hand combat. She wasn’t too bad, I’ll admit, but she definitely wasn’t where she should’ve been after her previous bout of training. That’s just proof that Corvey was a god-awful trainer; she shouldn’t have gone to him.

I went relatively easy on her, making sure to hold back on the strength of my punches and kicks. Even so, I countered almost every move she made, and I could see her becoming increasingly unmotivated to continue.

I offered some words of encouragement as we went along, and that seemed to draw her back in when she started losing focus, but then her mind strayed for a millisecond too long, and she found herself knocked to the ground.

I felt a marginal pang in my chest as I watched her land with a harsh thud. Her hand flew to her ribcage and I almost caved and rushed over to pick her up, but I refrained, and a moment later she started pushing herself up.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” I sighed, making sure that my voice conveyed irritation and disappointment and mentally drowning out the microscopic amount of concern I had felt; neither of us needed me to show that. I did, however, extend a hand to help her up. “This is basic stuff.”

“Not according to Corvey,” she retorted, wincing as she rubbed her side, “He said that was Level Four stuff.”

Again with fucking Corvey! Motherfucker. Why won’t she stop bringing him up? Corvey this, Corvey that. Fucker is probably gonna headline my dreams tonight with the amount of times she’s mentioned him.

“Last time I checked,” I grit my teeth, not even bothering to mask my annoyance, “it’s me who’s training you. Not Corvey.”

“Yeah,” she said, furrowing her brows, “Why is that exactly?”

I knew exactly what she was asking, but I feigned innocence, raising my eyebrows in a silent request for her to elaborate. I would deny it to my death.

“I tried for weeks to get you to train me, and you refused. Then, as soon as I went to someone else for help, you decided that you would. Why?”

“I just changed my mind,” I stated simply. Which was the truth. I did change my mind. As for the reasoning behind that change… that was irrelevant.

“Yeah, obviously,” you snorted, “but why? Were you… jealous?”

Fucking fuck.

No, I was not jealous. Why would I possibly be jealous? Scientifically speaking, there are commonly three reasons for an individual to show signs of jealously.

One: insecurity. I am quite feasibly the least insecure person on these premises.

Two: obsessive-compulsive disorder and/or paranoia. Nope, don’t have either of those.

And three: a history of feeling jealous. Never in my twenty-three years on this earth have I ever been jealous of anyone or anything.

Ergo, I am not jealous, and she is delusional.

I let my head tilt back somewhat and scoffed before looking at her with a half-smirk. “Jealous?” I cocked a brow, “Why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know,” she took a step towards me, “You tell me.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, there’s no reason for me to be jealous.”

“Then why the sudden change of heart?” she pressed, clearly wanting a proper explanation as to why I finally found it acceptable to me to train her. Sadly for her, she wouldn’t be getting one.

“Why not let me continue training with him?” she carried on, “I thought he was doing a pretty good job.”

Oh, well that’s fucking lovely. She had to go and say that. Now all I can see his fucking hand on her precious face. Honestly. I hope she scrubbed it after.

“I noticed,” I muttered, hardening my face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she frowned.

“You two seemed to hit it off really well,” I said, a hint of venom in my tone, “Or do you just let every guy touch your face like that?”

“Wha…” she shook her head in perplexity before recalling what I was referring to; then, she snarled at me, “You were spying on us?”

“I wasn’t spying,” I corrected, “I just happened to be near enough at the time to see it.”

“So you are jealous!” she scoffed incredulously, poking me in the chest with a small smile. “I knew it!”

Maybe.

“I am not, nor will I ever be, jealous of him,” I spat.

“You spied on us! I think that’s a pretty clear indication of jealously.”

“For the last time,” I growled through clenched teeth, pulling my face taut, “I wasn’t spying! The Director sent me off duty early and since I’m your bodyguard, I came to look for you. When I got here, I saw you… with him.”

“And got jealous.”

Yes.

I inhaled and exhaled shakily before lowering my gaze and advancing on her. She kept up her taunting resolve – clearly believing she was right – but still backtracked as I got closer to her.

“(Y/N), I am S.H.I.E.L.D’s best agent for a reason. I’m stronger, faster, smarter, and more superior than Corvey will ever be. Anything he can do, I can do a million times better. You thought he was a good trainer? I’m a great trainer. The things he would’ve taken months to teach you, you can learn from me in one week. I have no reason to be jealous of him. I am better than him. In every. Single. Way.”

I meant every single word that I said. Every single one. And she knew it, too. She knew that all of it was true, and she knew that no one causes me to feel jealously.

No one.

Except her.

Maybe.

Sometimes.

Fuck, I don’t know! I don’t know anything right now, other than the fact that her and I are merely a fraction on an inch apart and it’s becoming progressively harder to not kiss the fuck out of her.

The way she was looking at me wasn’t helping either, and I swear to god I was about to slip up but thankfully, she spoke before I could.

“In every single way, huh?” she chewed on her lip.

Stop that, before I kiss you.

“Can you prove that?” she challenged.

My eyes narrowed infinitesimally for a second and carefully, I lifted my hand before gently and slowly running the outside of my index finger down her cheek. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her cheeks heat up, which didn’t go unnoticed by me.

“See?” I smirked, “Hotter touch.”

She didn’t reply and I stepped away, not trusting myself. “Now that that’s settled. Let’s get back to work.”

She was so responsive, fuck.

I’m screwed.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

#brendon urie #brendon urie x reader #bodyguard!brendon #bodyguard #marvel #patd #p!atd #panic at the disco #panic! at the disco #emo #music #band #bands #band members #band imagines #band member imagine #emo trinity #emo quartet #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction

[tango-uniformed]

Attica! Attica!

This sucks but I like Attica as a neurotic republican politician. Idk how to write Leon being mute or whatever I just gave him a stutter bc...communication. Also I dearly wanted Serena to have a solid place in the cast so I was like, what the hell, she can be on Attica’s staff. Idk if she should have an important position like campaign manager or something but rn she’s just an assistant. Also since this is Attica’s POV Serena is less funny and Leon is idk more caring than he actually is bc she perceives them that way (Serena is actually funny and Leon is actually a dick)

Its funny because I’m pretty sure Attica is going to be the “good guy” on the protagonists side and help them and Milo is going to end up being a terrifying source of trouble for everyone. Also I was like ok and rolled the ethnicity dice and was like the Kings can be Chinese and the surname King was changed by their grandfather from Qing when their family really started grabbing power, and then was like ok Serena’s adopted but she’s of Iranian origin (guess that means Danny is too)

$$$$$

Attica King averaged 4 hours of sleep a night. And that was if she was lucky.

Looking at twitter was giving her heart palpitations, but what was she supposed to do, 5 weeks before the Midterm elections? Her numbers guy said that her district would re-elect her by a large margin-- it was red. It had always been red. It wasn’t like that hippie freak who was running against her had a chance in hell. People in Indiana loved her. People in DC though, where she spent considerably more of her time, hated her guts. The vitriol and fake news that journalists were spewing about her online proved that much.

“I’m gonna kill somebody,” Attica said. It was 7 am. She had already been to the gym, showered, sensibly done her hair and make-up, and put on the kind of suit that said ‘listen to me you dummy’. She brandished her phone at her Chief of Staff. “Do you see what they’re saying about me, Leon? They act like I’m some kind of younger, smarter, Chinese female version of Stalin all because they can’t bully me into voting for their stupid gun regulations. People are out there blowing each other up with their minds! What the fuck am I supposed to do, help get rid of guns and leave every sucker who can’t do magic defenseless?”

Leonard, Attica’s Chief of Staff and younger brother, shrugged helplessly. She liked to think of him as the RFK to her JFK. Without the whole getting shot in the head thing. “G-get off twitter,” he said. He was not partaking in the breakfast that Attica’s assistant picked up for the team. Something about the breakfast pastries and espresso made him bitch about how unhealthy it all was. Leon opted to bring a protein shake instead, which worked out for him. At 6 feet tall and weighing over 200 pounds of muscle, he was often mistaken for her bodyguard if he wasn’t dressed up. He kept his black hair shorn close to his head, which didn’t help either. It made him look like he was the type to rip people apart with his bare hands. “You’re obsessing.”

“Where the fuck is Myers?” she asked. “He’s my communications director. Shouldn’t he be out here, I don’t know, directing? Putting an end to all this fake bullshit.” Attica looked at her phone again, pulling up a particularly offensive tweet. “‘ King is unhinged and desperate, putting the needs of lobbyists in front of the needs of her constituents.’--and this is posted with that terrible picture of me, that unflattering close-up where I had pollen in my eyes so they looked red.” She was gripping her phone so tightly that her knuckles went white. “Now whose fault was that? I didn’t have my eye-drops.”

The only other staff member present, Attica’s personal assistant of 3 years, went bug eyed. This was magnified by her thick lensed glasses. She put up her hands defensively and almost dropped the armful of manila folders she was holding. “That’s not my fault, that picture was from when I took some personal time off.”

“That was when you were vacationing in the mental hospital again and I had to rely on a temp for two weeks and was completely up shit creek without you, Serena, so yes it was completely your fault.”

Serena was in her mid 20’s and pretty in a frazzled, underfed, nerdy way. She had only been hired because she was Iranian or something and Attica had been afraid she looked racist after making some allegedly offensive comments while supporting the President’s drone strikes in the Middle East. As it turned out, Serena was brilliant and had graduated from Notre Dame with a degree in Political Science, an inexplicable Chemistry minor, and a desire to work on the Hill. The only reason Attica hadn’t appointed her to a more important position at this point was due to her unfortunate tendency to eat handfuls of pills whenever life got too stressful.

Attica quickly cycled back to the matter at hand. She poured some coffee, which she knew would only make her keep vibrating. It was her 3rd cup of the day. She felt like a hummingbird. “What am I going to do about these people degrading me online?”

From where he sat on the couch, Leon leaned over to out his face in his hands. Dramatic bitch. “For the last time, remember the first amendment.”

“R-r-remember the f-f-first amendment,” Attica repeated in a high pitched child’s voice, mocking him. She chugged the rest of her coffee and caught Serena staring at her like she had lost her mind. At this rate she was going to going to have a heart attack before she turned 40. “Grandfather would have sent someone after those motherfuckers with a crowbar.”

“G-Grandfather was a monster.”

He was right. But being monstrous was just more effective. Who was that old dead guy who said it was better to be feared than loved? Napoleon?

Attica kept looking at her phone. Too bad people didn’t seem to fear her yet. She could feel the blood pounding in her face. When she was angry, her skin turned very red, blotchy and unattractive. It couldn’t be helped. And what she was reading made her angry. Half of what she was mentioned in was negative. And half of those were violent, threats against her. “Here,” she said, landing on an egregious one. “‘King’s giant tits once again distracting everyone from her cloven hooves lol’. I want this person dragged into the street and shot.”

“Jesus C-Christ, c-c-calm down.” The muscles in Leon’s face tightened. He was gritting his teeth.

“Ma’am, maybe you should put your phone away,” said Serena.

Attica kept reading. “‘The NRA owns King but how would she like it if she got used as target practice’. ‘If I saw (pretend this is an at sign)AtticaKingIN in real life I would punch that bitch in the face.’” She began to breathe faster. Were these people from Indiana? Would they vote? Did they actually hate her? Who were these people? “‘King is part of the GOP gestapo’. ‘(at)AtticaKingIN doesn’t care about gun violence in her own state, vote her out!’ ‘I hate that dumb cunt (at)AtticaKingIN she needs to shut her mouth or suck my dick’. ‘I--”

Leon stood up, snatched Attica’s phone out of her hands, then held it above her head where she couldn’t reach it. Attica punched him in the chest but her brother was a wall of muscle and didn’t seem to feel it.

“Seriously, A, you need to c-calm down,” he told her. Attica punched him again. “I don’t want to know about the threats anyone’s making towards you, it’s upsetting. At 9, that lobbyist who works for Madeline C-Caligaris--”

“Do you want some xanax?” Serena interrupted.

Attica spun around to glare at her. She was aware of how flushed she must look. It was just...she cared so much about what people thought about her. “No,” she said coldly, but breathing heavily. She brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Imagine if Grandfather could see her now. After all, he had wanted Leon to head the family business. Hell, before he died, the old man had even expressed regret for treating their youngest..brother, Milo, like a stray dog. But never her. And Attica had tried so hard for all those years and slaved away just to get his validation… “Do you need a xanax, Serena?”

“I do now,” muttered Serena.

Attica tried to grab her phone one more time, then gave up and sat down.

It wasn’t even 7:15.

She took a deep breath to clear her head. “Ok. Tell me about this lobbyist. Calligaris-- that’s the Proverge exec, right?”

Leon nodded curtly. He put his sister’s phone in his breast pocket and sat down next to her. With a sudden rush of urgency, Attica realized that all he had wanted to do was protect her. How had their roles switched like that? When they were little she constantly made herself torment the kids who picked on him for the way he talked. After 30 years he barely even stuttered anymore. “C-can I get those files from Foster v Proverge, please?” Serena leafed through her armful of papers and presented him with the relevant ones. “Thanks. You read this, A?”

“Let’s work under the assumption that I didn’t.” She had been too busy talking to her numbers guy about the polls the previous night to actually look into anything that would affect her policies.

“Proverge wants to build a factory in your district. Magic distillation for use in their products. 200 new jobs. They c-can’t get approval in Indiana anymore-- they c-can’t get approval from most places these days because of all the lawsuits. People protest.”

Attica rolled her eyes. Liberals. “What lawsuits?”

“From the early 2000’s. Proverge distillation factories in Georgia, Tennessee, and Michigan all attempted to c-cover up widespread negative variant medical symptoms that affected workers who were exposed to thauma-slurry being distilled unsafely.” Leon flipped a few pages of the file. “Mostly c-cosmetic. But there were c-claims that the exposure to the slurry also lead to violent psychological problems and some c-clearly unsafe environmental effects.”

People were so whiny. Attica shrugged. “200 new jobs is more important than a couple honest mistakes the company made. I want to make this happen-- an announcement about job creation could really push my numbers in the polls. If protests become a problem, I’ll just send in the cops to clean them up.” She paused. “Or, I’ll send in Milo.”

Leon looked at her like he was trying to peerinto her soul or something. His broad, honest face was genuinely concerned. What did he see in her face? Did he see the will to do whatever she had to? “He’s g-g-getting worse. You c-can’t keep doing that.”

“The fuck I can.”

“He’s not listening to me anymore.” Leon’s face twisted up. Out of the whole family, he was the only one who treated Milo as more than he was. He allowed their deviant half brother to terrorize everyone as he pleased, just because he felt sorry for the bastard. “He’s go-g-going to screw up.”

The thing about Milo, was that someone had to be holding his leash.

“He’s fine,” Attica said with finality. “Maybe if he fucks up bad enough, he’ll actually learn his lesson.”

Leon stood up, handed her phone back, and walked out of the room without saying another word.

“Are you talking about your creepy little brother again?” asked Serena. She was scurrying around, straightening up the breakfast pastries and exuding her nervous energy. “He makes me uncomfortable.”

Attica massaged her forehead. “Me too,” she said. “Can you get in touch with the Proverge people and make sure they’re on their way?”

“On it.”

She could feel a headache coming on. But getting the credit for creating 200 new jobs... it was worth it. It was even worth dealing with Milo. It was worth it. She could be proud of herself. It was worth it. It would all be worth it.

Wouldn’t it?

#writing