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george-fabian-weasley · 4 years

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Fred Weasley — Helplessly Part 2

Summary: After the Battle Of Hogwarts, Fred was rushed to the muggle hospital for better treatment of his injuries. While on a coma, his soul stayed with you for a couple of months. He watches as you went through the stages. And he watches when you start to write a song, just for him.

Words: 2,253 words

Warnings ⚠ : Just... Pure Sadness

Disclaimer: I am still in pain.

TAGLIST FOR HELPLESSLY: HERE

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 (COMING SOON!)

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CHAPTER 2: Weakness & Comfort

Your eyes felt like burning.

“Coma?” You repeated with a whisper, everyone was looking at you in concern, knowing how badly the new information could be to your health. “Y/N…” Hermione called softly; her hand reached yours with a gentle grip.

“I-I need to see him, please. I need to see Fred.” You said, hastily ripping off the wires on your arms, slightly panicking the others. “Y/N, dear, why don’t you rest first?” Molly hold both of your shoulders, somehow making herself as a barrier between you and the ground. She was giving you a gentle, slightly alerted smile. You shook your head fast, “I need to see him. I-I need to see if he’s okay. Fred… Fred’s okay, right?”

George came and helped Molly on keeping you on the hospital bed, “Yes, Y/N, he’s okay. You, on the other hand, need more rest.”

You were anxious, you can’t rest. Not until you see Fred.

“No! Let go of me!” You shrugged off George’s hands from you and jumped off the bed, only resulting your legs to fail you after remaining static for so long. So when you fell to the ground with a thud, Ron and Harry went running to you, trying to help you up.

“Y/N, I think it’s best if you could just-“ “Ron, please, I need to see Fred.” You cut off Ron’s words, gripping his arms tightly as you looked at him in the eyes. Your eyes were watery, your throat was burning. The thought of not seeing Fred made you so scared. The image of Fred laying down the grounds of the Great Hall kept resurfacing in your mind like a broken disc player. You were scared, you were panicking, you were stressing out, all at the same time.

As you kept trying to move forward to the door, Harry and Ron kept holding you back; holding your arms each, so you started screaming, “No! Let me go! I need to see him! I need to see Fred! Let go of me!!!” You tried again, and they still held you back. You throat was burning, and the emotions began choking you up. Tears were running down your face as you tried to break free from Harry and Ron desperately, screaming in agony.

Bill and Fleur hurriedly left the room to call a doctor to stop you hyperventilating, while Molly was already sobbing under the embrace of Hermione. George was trying to keep his tears all to himself, he hated to see you so distraught like this, it broke his heart so much the emotions were choking him up.

“Fred!!!” You wailed out, your voice hoarse from shouting and screaming.

The doctors finally arrived, and they had you pinned down to the floor when they injected you with a tranquilizer. Your crying had quieted down, but the weak whimpering you made; “Please, I need to see Freddie… He almost died in my arms, please…”, before you passed out was enough to make the whole room heartbroken.

When you woke up again, it was night-time. The view outside the window was dark, the only light was the small fluorescent light right on top of your head, just enough to dimly light up the room. You noticed the room wasn’t as crowded as before; there was only George, Molly and Hermione left in the room. George was sleeping in an uncomfortable position on the hospital couch, Hermione was dozing off sitting on one of the chairs, and Molly was beside you, with her upper body leaning onto the bed, seemingly sleeping as well.

“Molly…?” You whispered with a hoarse voice; your voice was small, similar to a young child asking her parents if they were mad at her. Instantly Molly woke up, the exhaustion in her face was clear, yet she was smiling widely at you, “Oh, dear, you finally woke up! Are you hungry, perhaps?”

You shook your head, your eyes sad. You remembered how you acted a few hours ago, and you weren’t proud of it. Your guilt was terribly heavy, your eyes turned glassy the moment they stared into Molly’s kind, loving ones. “I’m sorry.” Was all you could say, watching her smile softened at your words. She took a hold of your hand; her calloused warm hand brought you comfort almost immediately, “You were scared. And I don’t blame you, dear. War certainly brings the worst out of us, especially when we’re desperate.”

Molly had told you that you needed to stay in the hospital for a while, at least until your legs are strong enough to hold your weight again. The healers had said that you were overwhelmed with stress, and plus the injuries from the war, they’d actually be surprised if you didn’t faint.

A week passed by like a total blur.

While Molly and George took turns to look after between you and Fred during the day, Hermione had stayed with you the whole time, the hospital even gave her an extra mattress so she would be comfortable. She would be awake at night until the sun rises, to look after you. Because-

“Y/N, I’m here. You’re okay, sweetheart, you’re okay.” Hermione hugged you when you suddenly woke up screaming. You were having cold sweats everywhere, and your eyes were flooding with tears. You gripped onto her tightly, sobbing uncontrollably, “I dreamt it again, Mione… I-I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I see him on the ground-“ You couldn’t finish your words.

She rubbed your back lovingly, giving no damn of her wet shirt, “He’s okay, Y/N. Fred’s alright.” She muttered softly, caressing your head to calm you down. After several minutes of silent crying, you pulled away, sniffing. The nightmare was reoccurring, almost every night. You were exhausted to say the least, emotionally and physically. The nightmare drained you so much you’re afraid you’re becoming a shell of who you were.

“Can we go see him, Mione?” You asked her, you couldn’t stop the yearning in your heart. You need to see him. Hermione sighed, this wasn’t the first time you asked her this, “Y/N, it’s 2 in the morning.”

You only nodded. You knew it’s not going to work, but you had to try anyway.

Hermione watched you quietly with silent pity. Out of all, you were the most traumatized from the war. Sure, some of other people had nightmares too from the war, but not even Harry got it bad like you. She was grateful Ron was with her the whole entire time during the battle, she didn’t even want to think what would happen if she was in your shoes and the one laying on the ground was Ron. She knew how much you loved Fred, and she had seen how much the tall lad adored you.

She’s 100% sure, if soulmates are a true thing, you and Fred would be the first soulmates she thought of. So she did something; even Hermione herself was calling herself crazy for it.

“Can you walk?”

Hermione helped you walk to Fred’s ward by holding your arm, acting as your walking support. Unlike before, your legs got more strength and you could stand, but you were still having difficulties to walk. The hospital hallway was dimly lit and barely no one was there, except for one or two sleeping nurses at the counters. Despite that, you feel no fear inside, your main goal was to see Fred.

�� One whole week, you were yearning for this.

And there he was, on the hospital bed, with his eyes closed, and an oxygen mask on his face. He looked pale, yet he looked peaceful. Almost every part of his body was wrapped with bandages, especially his head, blocking your view from his red hair that you ridiculously missed. You sat on the seat beside his bed, watching his chest rise up and down as if he’s just sleeping, not trapped with wires and machines. Your shaky hand took a hold on his unmoving one, and you took a trembling breath at how cold it was.

The beeping machine was the only sound in the cold room.

“Hello, Freddie.” You whispered, watching him quietly. The anxiousness that you were feeling for a whole week vanished into thin air, your heart was beating healthily again at the sight of this boy of yours. Your thumb caressed Fred’s skin, a habit you’ve been doing for years because you knew how much Fred loved it when you do it. For once since the Battle of Hogwarts, you smiled sincerely, even with tears in your eyes, “I missed you, darling. I missed you so much…”

Your emotions were mixing with each other. You were happy that you get to see Fred again, breathing and alive, but you can’t help to feel broken that he’s not really alive. You caressed his face lovingly, in your mind, Fred was looking at you, giving you that cheeky smile you’ve seen a million times. But then your eyes woke up from your imagination, Fred was closing his eyes, pale and cold.

Your heart clenched tighter.

Hermione waited outside, giving you some time with Fred. She couldn’t bear to see you cry again because of him; her heart couldn’t take it. So she stood outside, letting out a shaky breath as she heard the quiet sobs of yours. Her eyes began to water, you were her best friend, you were there for her for almost every event of her life.

Watching her strong best friend become weak and fragile was enough to send Hermione to tears.

After giving Fred a kiss on his knuckles, you left with Hermione with a calm smile. You hugged her when you realized she was crying outside; it was your turn to comfort her. “Have I told you, I love you so much, Hermione?”

Hermione slightly laughed at that, with tears and all, “Yeah, you have, dummy.”

The next day was better for you, you weren’t as terrible as the past days, but you weren’t great either. Nevertheless, you feel better. It’s not like you’re saying goodbye to Fred, it’s more to comforting yourself that he was indeed alive and will wake up soon.

You just didn’t know how long it would take.

The Weasleys had invited you to stay at the Burrow for a while so they could take care of you once you’ve been discharged. Not wanting them to see anymore of the ugly sides of yours, you declined softly, giving reasons like your shared apartment with Fred will get dusty if was unkempt for long. As worried as George was for you, he reluctantly agreed, with a condition he gets to visit you every week to check on you.

Hermione even offered to stay at your apartment for a while, to keep you company. You once again declined, Hermione never had time for herself ever since the Battle had ended, you didn’t want to burden her any further. You were touched however, seeing so many people who weren’t even your blood caring about you immensely as if you’re one of their own. You believed at some point, you are, and you were grateful.

When you returned home a few days later, accompanied by Harry, Ron and Hermione; they insisted, you were glad they did. Seeing the shared space of you and your lover, with him being in the hospital unconscious, you broke down as soon as you step foot into the place.

Your three friends tried their best to be there for you, telling you jokes and making you laugh, trying to let you forget for a moment, so you could relax. After dinner, they reluctantly left, grimacing at the idea of leaving you all alone without anyone else in the house. But you convinced them you would be fine, and that you were too tired to think about other things. They gave you a goodbye hug, and Ron kissed the temple of your head comfortingly.

But as soon as they left, the smile on your face drained. You leaned your back against the bedroom door, slowly sliding down to the cold tiled floor. The dimly lit area seemed to darken, the darkness started to surround you. As you hugged your legs, tears once again without fail came without warning. Being left alone after surrounded by people you loved was the worst feeling ever, and despite that, you didn’t want them to see this ugly side of you. It’s enough that Hermione saw it, even with her, your best friend, you feel awful showing her your moments of weakness.

So you sat there, sobbing alone, with your heart aching for one man.

You remembered that morning where you visited him before going back home, you volunteered to wipe his body, the feeling of wanting to take care of your loving boyfriend was so strong. And so you did, with heavy tears in your eyes at the battle scars he had when you removed the bandages to change them to new ones. Despite the scars and cuts and burns and bruises, Fred still looked beautiful in your eyes. You kissed him goodbye on the forehead, not forgetting to squeeze his cold hand.

Somehow, the memory comforted you like no other.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain soul had followed you home the moment you visited him that night. Fred Weasley, now a lost soul, felt his heart physically snapping into pieces as he watched you quietly.

“Oh, darling. What have you done to yourself?”

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PART 3: READ

TAGLIST:

@paigeyisme @britishspidey @hargreevesgrace @jasminweasley @neutralgoodval @kaidenceweasley

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bosspigeon · 3 years

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information’s just not going in

Pairing: Gen, with a side of Verda/Eric bein cute and married

Words: 1782

Summary: Verda catches wind of Bobby sniffing around the detective again, and, because he cares about his friend, he stages something of an intervention.

Don’t think too hard about timelines. I started this when I first started playing twc. Takes place in early book one. I also gave Wayhaven two more bars. Title from “Bulletproof” by La Roux

The Haven, Wayhaven’s premier bar (one of three in the entire town, to be quite fair) is surprisingly busy for a Tuesday night, but it’s still easy enough to find Verda and his husband tucked away in a booth in the corner. Busy or no, there’s plenty of room to make his way over, and he slides into opposite them and leans his elbows on the faintly sticky tabletop.

“Did you really have to bring Eric to read me the riot act, Verda?” he asks, giving the gently smiling blonde a weary look.

“Yes,” Verda responds simply. He steeples his fingers and levels Chase with a steady gaze. “The only reason I didn’t bring Tina as well is because I know you’d see us all, figure it was an intervention, and bolt.”

Chase groans up at the dark ceiling. “I don’t need an intervention! It’s just sex.”

“It’s not just sex!” Verda counters. “It’s never been just sex with Bobby! I’ve known you for too long to swallow that excuse, and honestly I refuse to believe you believe it yourself!”

Thankfully, Chase ordered a drink before he sought them out, and he takes a long, long pull. “I didn’t even do anything this time. He managed to make himself exceptionally repulsive, and I didn’t even talk to him. He just… It was a voicemail. That’s all.” He rubs his eyes. “I already have the mayor riding my ass, I don’t need Bobby grunting and slobbering on the back of my neck too.”

Verda’s face scrunches in disgust, and, adorably, his husband mimics his expression without even looking at him. Unluckily for Chase, Verda’s distaste with his crudeness doesn’t stop him from sighing, “It’s never just a voicemail. Or just a text. Or just a phone interview. That’s how Bobby works. His modus fucking operandi! He senses when you’re at your most vulnerable and he uses it to get a leg over. And if he can snoop for information for his tabloid nonsense, all the better!”

“That’s why I only go to his place now,” Chase mumbles, mostly to himself.

Verda gives him a sharp glare. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” the detective says, sitting up straighter and rolling his shoulders.

“When did you go to his place?” Verda asks, dangerously soft.

He knocks back another half of his drink, because god does he need it, and rubs his face. “It was weeks ago, Verda, please--”

“I’m sorry, weeks?” Verda’s voice hitches up a few octaves, and Chase only just realizes that there’s a tall, nearly-empty glass of something that was once brightly colored and likely full of several types of rather strong liquor on the table in front of Verda, and that he is very much in over his head. Verda’s normally a very sedate, put-together man, though he’s never been afraid to speak his mind, but when he’s had a few drinks…

Maybe Chase should have bolted after all.

“CHASE RAPHAEL KINGSTON, DID YOU SAY WEEKS?” Verda stands up, and his husband hurries to stand as well and push him gently back down into his seat. He goes without a fight, but he is still clearly fuming.

“Quiet down, would you?” the detective hisses. “You know how this town talks!” He glowers at a familiar face gawking a bit at their table (Frankie McGinnis, the groundskeeper at the local park and also one of Chase’s own graduating class) who clams up quickly, turns, and hurries off.

“Weeks, Detective? Weeks?” Verda all but snarls at him. Chase raises his eyebrows and looks to Eric, who just raises his hands and shakes his head.

“It’s not a big deal,” Chase defends weakly.

“When?” Bitten out through gritted teeth. Verda’s glaring daggers at him.

Chase rubs at his jaw, scratching his stubble and avoiding his friend’s eyes. “The night the Chief announced Liddel’s retirement. I knew I was being promoted. I told him I didn’t want it and he told me tough shit. I was tired, I was pissed, and Bobby heard through the grapevine and decided to have me over to congratulate me.”

Eric snorts at the choice of words. Verda just looks... Incensed. “Chase! You have to see that this is not healthy!”

"It doesn't matter if it's healthy or not!" he fires back, and he can't help but get worked up himself, with his coworker all but shouting him down like he's an unruly teenager. "It's not your decision! I'm an adult, and I can make my own decisions about who I fuck! Christ, d'you think you automatically get a say just 'cause I let you have at me too?"

Verda looks as if he's going to say something, but he snaps his mouth shut, his face scrunching, then collapsing. "Is that really what you think of me?" he asks softly.

Chase deflates very suddenly, spine bending, and rubs his face. "Fuck. No, Verda, of course not. I just… I'm sorry, that was awful of me to say. I just…"

"You're not used to people worrying about you," Eric offers, smiling a bit. "It can be overwhelming, right?"

Chase nods weakly. "I'm sorry," he says again. He finishes his drink in one good gulp, and it burns, but he needs the bolstering right now.

Of course, Eric knows he and Verda had their own little fling when they first met, just a sort of stress relief between friends and coworkers, that never progressed beyond that. They're good as friends, aces in bed together, but never really felt the need to take things to a level beyond that. It has, unfortunately, given Verda, and by extension Eric, far too much insight into Chase's habits, but sometimes it's... nice to be known.

At least he's got someone to tell him when he's being a tit.

"I need another drink," Chase groans.

Eric smiles and stands up, kissing the top of his husband's head. "I'll grab the next round. You lads behave."

Chase sighs. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "I… I know you're just worried. But I can take care of myself, Sol." He lifts his head and smiles crookedly. "Been doing it all my life, right?"

"Chase, you have so many tattoos our boss makes you wear turtlenecks in August, you had a criminal record before you turned 18, and you were bullied into the police academy immediately upon graduating college to avoid going to prison."

"Hey," Chase snaps defensively, "don't bring the tattoos into this. Everyone and their mum knows I'm covered in more ink than skin at this point, it's not my fault the chief clutches his pearls every time he sees them."

"My point is," Verda interrupts, "is that, perhaps, your life may have gone a bit more smoothly if you'd had someone to rely on other than yourself." He holds up his hand when Chase tries to protest, and presses on, "I'm in no way insulting you as you are now. You are an incredible man, Chase. Sharp as a tack, dedicated and proud, stubborn as all get out, but that's helped far more than it's hindered you. Wayhaven wouldn't be the same without you."

Chase squirms in his seat and looks away, "Verda…"

"I mean it, Chase. This town and the people in it owe you so much, and you deserve to be recognized for that. And you deserve to recognize it in yourself." He leans forward, bright-eyed and intense, "You deserve to feel like you matter to someone other Bobby Fucking Marks simply because he has an uncanny, sharklike ability to figure out exactly when you're at your lowest."

Eric chooses that moment to return with drinks, something fruity and ridiculous for his husband, and a simple rum and Coke for Chase. He sits down next to Verda and snuggles close. "So? How's it going?"

"Fine," Chase mutters. And he sighs gustily. "Verda's right, as usual. I just… Bobby's a prick, but we have history, and as much as I hate to admit it, he knows me too fucking well by now. I know better than to let him into my flat, of all things, but apparently not between my legs."

Verda splutters on his drink and laughs, Eric blushes a bit at the crudness, and just like that, the heaviness of the moment is gone. Verda fumbles for a napkin to wipe his nose, and Chase chuckles.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve got more than enough to worry about right now with two murders and this Agency nonsense,” Chase mutters around the edge of his glass. “If Bobby decides to make more of a nuisance of himself than usual, I’m very likely to hogtie him and lock him in my trunk for a few hours.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to read his story about that,” Verda snickers. He’s begun to list heavily against Eric’s side, and the big blonde softens visibly.

“I think it’s time to get both of you home,” he says, smiling gently. “Chase, if you drove, I can bring you by in the morning to grab your car.”

Chase sighs and taps his knuckles against the table, but he smiles nonetheless, even if he can’t quite make eye contact. “That’d be aces, Eric. Thanks.”

Eric’s smile widens, warm and pleased, and he nods towards the door and helps his husband to his feet. Chase doesn’t move for a moment, just watching the two of them, Eric with his gentle fussing and Verda weakly protesting the attention, but at the same time visibly preening underneath it like it. Turning towards it like a flower towards the sun. Something in Chase’s gut twists.

He shakes his head, slams the dregs of his drink back, and climbs to his feet, slinging his jacket over his shoulders and following the happy couple to the door. He’s still a bit wrong-footed after their talk, but he stifles it down easily under three decades of practice repressing things like impulse control and feelings. If nothing else, he’s glad to have friends like Eric and Verda to look out for him, as much as he’ll let them.

“Hey, Verda?” he calls, his voice coming out a bit rough, softer than he intends.

Verda turns to look at him, wrapped around his husband’s arm and glasses a bit smudged. “Hm?”

Chase blows out a heavy breath that fogs in the air. “Don’t tell Tina about this, would you? I really don’t need another murder case once she decides to go after Bobby herself.”

Verda’s laugh is loud and delighted, echoing out into the otherwise quiet night. Chase stuffs his hands into his pockets and smiles to himself, allowing himself, for once, to take some quiet pleasure in what he’s got.

#pidge writes #the wayhaven chronicles #soloman verda #eric verda #oc: chase kingston #hfdjakshfldja i literally started writing this when i first started playing wayhaven #and i had a dream where chase and his coworkers get drunk and verda tells ub WAY TOO MUCH about chase's sex life #and i turned it into this bc i like that chase has people who care about him #eric is such a good husband #i love him so much #also pls ignore the dumb name i gave the bar #i know theres another bar thats actually named #but that gave me like #old man bar u kno #wayhaven fanfic

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Disaster Lads: A Collab, Part One

This is part one of a five-part collab piece I did with @whumpiary! In which our disaster lads meet and the inevitable ensues.

CW: Referenced drugging, forced drinking, referenced past noncon, some dubcon fuckiness and trauma response headspace. Things get darker as we go, and more explicit, too. But also Kauri flirts and it’s adorable. Just a fair warning. I’ll do warnings for each individual chapter as we go.

Tagging Kauri’s crew: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

Kauri isn’t entirely sure how it happened, but somehow his back is against a wall, a drink is in his hand, and there’s a man leaning over him with that grin on his face that Kauri usually likes… but today, he doesn’t.

The bar is kind of dark, and there’s a band playing something that mostly sounds like sad yelling over geese honking to Kauri, but everyone had cheered when the band came onstage so maybe he just doesn’t get the music. He’s not even dressed for the bar, honestly - he’s in his big black zip-up sweatshirt, Dustin’s so it hangs off his shoulders and his hands are mostly covered by the sleeves. A thin thrift-store t-shirt and ripped-up black skinny jeans, the faded old checkered slip-on sneakers he’s had forever… he looks halfway homeless.

The guy has him cornered anyway, and Kauri is feeling all the other drinks he’s let guys buy him tonight, kind of spinning and silly with the alcohol in his veins. It makes it easier not to feel uncomfortable, but part of him is.

He wants to say no, but the word sticks in his throat.

“Come on,” The guy says, leaning over him - it feels like looming - and pushing even closer into his space. “I bought you the drink, the least you could do is a little something for me in return.”

I don’t want to, Kauri thinks in something like a panicked wail.

The man’s knuckles brush the side of his throat and it’s probably a flirtation but Kauri thinks of Owen’s hands around his neck - it feels like a threat.

“Wh-what… what did you have in mind?” Kauri’s voice is airy, a little breathless. His heart is pounding, his face is flushed, and maybe he looks into this… but he’s not. But it kind of seems like the guy maybe knows and doesn’t care.

“A lot of shit, honestly, you’ve been on my radar a while, but first… let’s start with you finishing that drink.” He reaches out and takes the glass out of Kauri’s hand, raising it to his lips. The first sip of syrupy-sweet cocktail seems more like liquid ash on Kauri’s tongue. “You’re a pretty cute drunk.”

“Am… am I?” He asks when the man lets him stop drinking. “I, I don’t want-”

“Have another drink,” The man interrupts, and pushes the rim of the glass against his lips again.

Cass had been watching the guy with the curly hair and the cute smile on and off all night. Partly because he's pretty. Partly because he looks like he’s dressed for a soup kitchen rather than a bar. But mostly because he looks familiar. Annoyingly familiar, in a way that’s maybe more significant than ‘hey didn’t we fuck in a bathroom stall one time?’.

The girl Cass has been chatting to is very, very, very boring. Stupidly boring. So it’s ridiculously easy to focus his attention just over her shoulder at Curly Hair and the guy who’s got him pressed against the wall in the corner, and the pink drink that’s being held up between them, fed to the shorter of the two like it's the holy fucking grail.

Desires are sticky. Syrupy. And in a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, revulsion is bitter and obvious. Like whiskey in apple juice. Like smoke under perfume.

Cass wishes he'd had more to drink. A couple more vodka tonics and he'd probably refuse to give a shit. But he's annoyingly sober, and he can't help but notice Curly Hair sort of glance around, looking for an exit that doesn't exist.

Cass watches as he smiles, tilts his head. Cass' stomach lurches. He's seen that head tilt. Fuck, Cass has given that head tilt. I want you to want me but I don't want this.

“Hey Kirsty," he says, serving a grin to the blonde next to him. She frowns.

“It’s Kristie.”

“Right. Kristie,” Cass says. Easy smile, a finger tracing circles on the back of her hand. “You wanna go dance? I’ll catch up in a sec”

The girl pouts, grabbing his hand, “Aren’t you gonna come? I kinda thou-”

“Kʀɪsᴛɪᴇ, ɢᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ.”

The girl's frown melts into a grin faster than she can notice what’s happening and nods her head enthusiastically, like dancing had been her idea in the first place. And then she’s gone, melted into the pulsing mass of bodies.

Cass needs to get out of here. In a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, the feeling of I don’t want this is so loud and grating it makes Cass’ heart catch in his throat. And then there’s the other guy. Cass can feel the fucking lust pouring off of the guy. Not just the desire for an easy lay but the absolute exhilaration of a predator who’s got dinner trapped. Or is about to, Cass thinks, eyes following the asshole’s gaze to where they're fixated on a sickening cocktail he’s feeding the smaller guy.

Cass pushes himself away from the bar. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here before he does something stupid because he promised Lou he wouldn't pick anymore fights and because this is none of his business and just because the guy seems familiar doesn't mean Cass knows him but he still finds himself snaking to the corner, anyway, grabbing the tall guy by the elbow-

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” he says, feigning rapt enthusiasm.

The taller guy looks Cass up and down. His hair is annoyingly perfect. Like if you tapped it, maybe it'd make a sound like knocking on hard plastic.

“I don’t think so,” the guy says, shark teeth twisted into a grin. Cass watches as his grip tightens minutely on the glass he’s holding. Yeah, fuckhead. Wouldn’t want to lose that, now would we? “If you don’t mind, we’re kinda busy.”

And he's turning back to Curly Hair, who is melting into the wall, a skittish mess of maybe he’ll talk to the new guy - if it’s what you want then I want it - I don't want this - just say no kauri you can just say no - I want this I want you - just say no stop it stop - no just drink it don’t make him mad - I don't want this and Cass really fucking wishes he'd had another few drinks because then he could just walk away, but instead he hits the cocktail careening out of Tall Guy's hand, a spectacular pink mess over the guy's crisp white shit.

Kauri flinches back, hands up over his mouth, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

"Shit, dude. Sorry. I'm such a klutz," Cass grins, holding up innocent hands with a shrug. "That roofie wasn't expensive or anything, was it?"

And sure, maybe this was none of his business, but it's so satisfying when the guy shoves him into the wall. Maybe even more satisfying than the sound of the crunch of the guy's nose breaking as Cass headbutts him in the face.

The guy stumbles back, hands over his nose as blood starts to pour, screaming half-formed curse words that are muffled by his hand and the nasal sound of his voice. From behind the bar, a bartender yells, “God damn it, no fighting! What the fuck, Kauri?!”

Kauri curls back against the wall, his wide, frightened eyes going from the bloody pink-stained man to the new guy who had hit him with his whole entire head and back again. “I’m sorry!” He shouts back to the bartender. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, well, do something about it!”

Kauri gives the bartender a look of incredulous terror. He’s 5’7” and all lithe, willowy flexibility and he has the brute fighting strength of a very small kitten.

“Like what, exactly?!”

The guy drops his hand - the bottom half of his face is a mess of blood now - and with a snarl, pulls his fist back to punch Cass again.

“Stop them fighting over your dumb hot ass or I’m calling the cops, Kauri!”

The name sticks in Cass' head as he lets the guy land another punch, hard on his cheek.

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, ɢʀᴀʙ ʜɪs ᴀʀᴍ," he says, on impulse, because the guy is kinda huge and Cass isn’t particularly strong, and he’s been in plenty of fights but he usually only stops them by not really being conscious anymore.

Kauri’s hands snap out thoughtlessly, grabbing the guy’s other arm and helping Cass shove him face-first against the wall, only to freeze up, eyes widening even more in terror as he has no idea why he just did that.

"You better calm the fuck down, man," Cass says, twisting the guy’s wrist so it twinges just a little behind him. He feels amped up and shaky with adrenaline. He hopes he looks as feral as he feels. The big guy blinks, slow and stupid as he tries to catch up with what just happened. "'Cause either I'm gonna kill you or the bar staff are gonna call the cops on your ass. And we both know what they're gonna find in that glass.”

The guy's eyes widen in shock, then narrow. “You can’t prove-”

“You roofied me?” Kauri asks, as though the multiple comments Cass had made had only just sunk into his mind. He felt himself reel with horror, trying to pull away, but his hands just… don’t want to let go of the man’s arm. Panic was a drumbeat in his mind. He knows what roofies are, Nat told him about those, and that they taste kind of salty but there was a salt rim on the drink the guy bought him-

“You were going to roofie me?”

“That jackass broke my nose!” The guy yells, although it comes out more like dat jackash boke by dose. Cass kind of wants to interject that he probably didn't break the guys nose, but it doesn't really seem like the time. “I’ve been talking to you all night and you just believe some asshole that walks up and punches a stranger?”

“I… I…” Kauri cringes back from the fury in the man’s voice. He’s going to be hurt, and he’s terrified, and the only thing on earth he wants right now is to get out of here and away before the man’s hands are around his neck just like Owen’s, it’ll be like that, he’ll hurt and hurt and then pass out and if he can just maybe make nice the guy will stop being angry-

“I, I’m sorry, you-... you did buy me the drink, that was… that was nice… but, but if he saw you-"

"He didn't see shit."

The guy did not seem to realize that that wasn't exactly denying he'd done it.

Cass feels cold fury run through him. He can feel the lust-turned-sour, good-night-wasted annoyance that the guy in front of him is vibrating with. And the panic pouring off of Kauri, so palpable and crystalline it may as well be his own. The want to run away, to get out of here, to back down, to apologise, make nice. They mingle together in his head.

Who the fuck tries makes nice with the asshole who was gonna drug them? He tries to ignore the ‘you sure used to’ that creeps into his head.

Cass doesn't care. He wants to run away and he wants to get out of here but more than that he wants to make someone bleed. This guy walked into the bar tonight, sought out the most vulnerable guy he could find and thought prey. He deserves to know what that feels like. He flips the guy around, pressing a hard hand to his chest to keep him flush to the wall.

“I think I’m gonna call you Scooter,” Cass says “You look like a Scooter”

“The name’s Matt, jackass,” the guy growls. It takes way too much effort to pronounce the M. Cass grins. Matt, huh?

"Alright, Mᴀᴛᴛ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ G ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ. Gɪᴠᴇ ᴜs ᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ,” he says. The guy blinks, reaches mindlessly into the pocket of the shitty jeans he’s wearing and pulls out a nondescript little bottle. Matt is staring at the drugs like he can’t imagine how they possibly got into his hand. Cass grins. It’s nice to stare at a predator and make them feel small. "I think he should have to drink it. What do you think, Kauri?"

"Jesus Christ," Matt says, nasally and strangled. "Why did... What the fuck, I should knock your teeth out!"

Kauri grabs the pill bottle out of his hand and tries, despite his hands shaking so badly the fucking bottle rattles, to look like he's reading, carefully keeping his eyes unfocused so they won't try to settle on or understand the letters. Kauri steps closer to them both, putting his hands up slowly, like a man being held hostage.

"Look, you guys, we can just… nobody has to fight," He says, pitching his voice lower, cocking his head just a little to the side. "The bouncers are gonna kick us all out in a second and, and I don't need-... We don't need that, right? Matt? We don't need to, to have anybody closer than this. Just us, right?"

His heart hammers, heartbeat so strong it's nearly knocking the breath out of him. His voice is airy, and soft, and just a little flirty under the fear.

You can fix this. No one calls the cops, no one tells, no one looks too close.

"You didn't n-need that, I'd have… have gone with you anyway, Matt…"

Kauri, you can't say yes if you don't know how to say no. He ignores Nat's strident voice in his head and slides just a little closer, the rise and fall of his chest and the whites around his eyes the only giveaway of his fear. He can see bouncers and he has to make this better before too many people are looking at them.

Matt snorts a kind of bitter, angry laughter, then winces as that burns his injured nose. "You would. The ones like you always do, right?"

Kauri freezes, all the color draining out of his face. The bottle of pills drops to the floor and rolls away, kicked by someone walking by and getting lost somewhere in the crowd. "What?"

"Tell your fucking White Knight to fuck off," Matt says reaching out to grab Kauri's left wrist. "Kauri Grant."

Cass doesn't have time to figure out why the fuck that name sounds so familiar. All he needs to know what's happening is in that look on Kauri's face. He's seen that look. God, he's given that look. Whoever Kauri Grant is, he needs to be the hell away from here. Now.

"Okay, seriously buddy, we don't want anymore trouble," he tries, taking a quick glance at the bouncers closing in behind them "How about you let this go and we do too?"

"I'm not letting go of shit," says Matt, with a smile full of blood. He has one hand locked over Kauri's wrist, pushing up against the leather bracelet there. "Do you have any idea how much this little whore is worth?"

Cass swings the punch before he even has the chance to think what that could mean. Which is maybe not a great move, actually, with bouncers headed their way and a bar full of patrons who are starting to look over. It's especially not a great move because Matt swivels, jerking out of the way, sending Cass' fist straight into the side of Kauri's skull.

Kauri's world crashes at the impact, stumbling back and falling hard onto his side on the floor, head bouncing against the sticky woodgrain, blinking against the black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

It doesn't stop the panic.

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

"Y-you can't," he tries, his voice sounding weird and off to his own ears, pushing himself up. "Can't, can't turn me in-"

"I wasn't going to, before that little shit showed up," Matt says with a nasty note of triumph in his voice, one Kauri knows too well. "The guy who just hit you."

Kauri manages to stand up, catching the bouncers too close, too close, and he grabs onto Cass's arm. "He was… was trying to hit you," Kauri says, voice shaking. "And you-... tried to drug me."

"Like no one's ever drugged you before," Matt sneers, and Kauri swallows, hard, and doesn't protest. Matt waves at the bouncers. "Hey! This is Kauri Grant!"

The frozen fear in Kauri thaws and he jerks at Cass's arm to yank him not towards the door but deeper into the bar, pushing through the crowd towards the other side of the stage.

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

Cass knows that name, why does he know that name?

It doesn't matter. What matters is they get the hell away from here right now. He turns in Kauri's grip to look over his shoulder, locks eyes with the asshole who seems intent on ruining this poor bastard's life.

"Mᴀᴛᴛ," he yells as he's hauled away into the crowd, "Sʜᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ."

It's not exactly elegant but Matt slams his jaw closed so hard Cass can see him wince against the jolt of pain through his bashed in face. Cass cackles as they disappear into the mass of bodies on the dancefloor.

He feels high. There's twin feelings gripping his chest, the thrill of a fight and the blinding panic of running away. The rush of beating someone at their own game twisted with the knowledge that they need to get the hell out of here before they're caught. He has no idea what's happening but it's fast and it's thrilling. It's making him dizzy, making his blood pump electric. He barks another laugh as he dodges some random guy's elbow, grips Kauri's hand even harder and lets himself be pulled.

"God, who the fuck is Kauri Grant?"

Kauri pulls him to a small door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY just to the side of the stage, shoving it open and stumbling out into a dark alley, the sudden chill on his skin the only reason Kauri realizes he's sweating.

Out here the noise is gone, there's the sound of sirens far away, and Kauri's eyes dart around, thinking, before he pulls Cass to the right, further down the alley, stepping over refuse and empty beer bottles.

"I… I am," Kauri says, voice thin. The side door they just left opens and he pulls Cass quickly against the wall with him to hide behind a dumpster. "I'm Kauri Grant." He swallows hard, panic still beating at the back of his mind, and slowly slides down the wall to sitting, putting his head in his hands.

"You hit really hard for how skinny you are, d'you know that?"

Maybe it’s the sudden cold, or maybe it’s the way Kauri’s holding his head, but waves of exhaustion and regret and fear hit Cass all at once. He ducks down as voices and noise filter wide and loud, and then go squashed and muffled again with the swinging of the door.

“Fuck man, I’m so sorry,” he mutters, ducking his head to assess the damage. “I didn’t even think”

He reaches out a hand, pulls it back before contact. He really doesn’t know how to do this. The whole… God, what did Fuckhead McGee call it? The whole White Knight schtick. Is he meant to go find ice? Buy the guy a drink for his troubles? Usually when he finds himself kneeling on the wet concrete of an alley in front of a stranger it’s for a very different reason.

Cass sits back on his heels and laughs, loud and unabashed. He’d listened to that girl at the bar talk about her boyfriend for forty minutes when he should’ve been finding some pretty guy to sneak away with. And then he found a pretty guy and punched him in the face. Which… wasn’t always a dealbreaker, but even in the now relative quiet of the alley his heart is still slamming like there’s something to run away from and his brain feels cracked open and Jesus Christ, this night is already just so fucking dumb.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says between giggles. He tries to calm it down to a grin. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, Kauri Grant. Did I, um…Is your head okay?”

"Yeah, my head's fine. I've been hit before," Kauri says, not quite muttering, rubbing his hand into his black curls. "Not usually in the head, but, you know, it's kinda empty anyway." He flashes a bright, deflecting smile, looking up at Cass.

Kauri's head cocks slightly to the side, something in his smile changing, softening a little. Not quite flirtation, something more in self-defense. "Can you just say Kauri, please? I don't, um, I don't like his name. Very much. It's just, that's what they call me…" His voice trails off. "Thanks for, um. For catching that guy… I didn't know he put something in it... I didn’t know he knew.”

Cass frowns a little, trying to understand. Didn’t know who knew what?

"Okay you have to back up, you're giving me more questions than… than answers right now..."

But then the pieces of Kauri he's seen through the night start falling together. The skittish eyes that didn't match with the flirting smile. Thanking the guy who would have happily held him limp in a basement. The wanting and wanting and wanting paired with the desperate need to run away.

The ones like you, that guy had said, looking at Kauri like he was something to be eaten. The ones like what? The ones who met conflict with apologies and desperate bids for distraction. His eyes flick to the bracelet on Kauri's wrist, thick and leather and out of place amongst the rest of his "robbed a Good Will" ensemble and too wide, really to be stylish. Just wide enough to hide a tattoo, maybe. Or a brand.

I don’t like his name very much. Cass feels himself paling.

"Oh my god, you're somebody's," he whispers. He closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face. Swallows the dry lump in his throat. "You're meant to belong to somebody."

Kauri jerks his arms back against himself, pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt over the bracelet about ten minutes too late.

He looks up at Cass, blue eyes wide and pleading, and reaches out his hand to brush his fingers against Cass's hand, pitching his voice lower.

"You, you don't have to tell anyone. That I'm, um. You don't have to. I can… I can-" He has no idea how to say this. He focuses his thoughts on what he knows, falling back on training. I want this. I want you. I am an active participant in fulfilling my owner's desires.

"I can, um. Whatever you, you want, if you won't say you saw me?" His voice shakes - he can't seem to stop it. He has to hope it sounds like the good kind of nervous and not the terror he really feels.

Cass feels his stomach drop, something catching in his throat as fingers brush the back of his hand again. The tug and pull of I want this. The tilt of Kauri’s head is so tempting it looks rehearsed. I want you.

“That’s…” Kauri’s eyes are gorgeous — huge and blue and desperate — and Cass has to close his own just to think straight. “That’s not what… I, um.”

I want this. I want you. Resolute and relentless against his thoughts. I want this. I want you. Over and over and over again. Frenzied and pleading and wanting and fucking terrified. I want this. I want you.

Cass curls his fingers around Kauri’s, running his thumb along the other boy’s palm. I want this. I want you. Something in him feels shaken up and loose at the hinges from feeling it. It feels wrong. Too familiar, too close to home, too close to… something. Please let me want this. Please want me too.

Cass closes his eyes again, shakes his head. Maybe it’s just the after effects of being knocked crooked. Cass did punch the guy in the face. And it’s been kind of a fucked up fifteen minutes. Maybe they both just need the distraction. The relief of something simple and easy. And if they're both actively participating in something dumb and fun and stupid, maybe it’ll be enough to make them both feel better.

“Look, I’m not… I’m not gonna say anything,” he says, tugging Kauri’s hand closer, tracing a line up his arm. I want this. He smiles, let’s the pulse of it spur him on “We can just have fun, okay? I’m not gonna say anything”

Relief washes over Kauri, a wave of it that nearly knocks him over. He’s doing it right, his voice is right, all the training is working and letting him slide into an easier place in his head. His smile isn’t quite sincere and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but the relief in it is very real.

Besides, the guy is cute, and Kauri would’ve gone home with him, too.

The ones like you always do.

There’s an unease - he doesn’t always like that things like that are true, about him - and he chases it away by closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts. I want this, I want him - and that part definitely isn’t a lie - and I’ll be safe if I give him this.

“Okay, um, th-thanks,” He says, voice just a little breathy, ducking his head with another shy smile.”I’m, um, I’m up for basically anything, basically always.” He gives a cheeky little grin and a laugh, like that’s a joke he tells to a lot of people and has memorized the timing on. “Just, I’m not trained for-... I don’t go in for pain. That’s it. Hey, so, um, you know my name… what’s yours? So I know what to scream later.”

He’d heard that in a movie once and always kind of wanted to say it.

Cass laughs, broken harmony against Kauri's own. The line is lame but it doesn’t really matter. Kauri makes it charming. He is ridiculously good at this.

"Cass. But usually people just stick with ‘oh, God'," he laughs, moving in closer, grin against grin. He leans in to brush his lip against Kauri's jaw, slow and teasing, hands staying steady on the guy's knee as Kauri hitches in a breath and shivers, turning his head to give Cass a better angle for it. "And I go for anything."

He wants this. They both do. The relief of something familiar and safe. Just a minute of stupid normal. I want this. Cass plants a kiss at the corner of Kauri's jaw. I want him. Cass lets his hand slide from knee to thigh. I'll be safe if I give him this. Cass pulls himself closer in, brings his fingers up to tangle in the dark curls at the nape of Kauri’s neck and… and…

I'll be safe if I want this.

The wave of revulsion that runs through him is slow and sickly, like hot tar, like molasses. Familiar and foreign in the same mouthful.

"Sorry. I, uh," he pulls back and he can feel the ghost of Christopher's hands on his hips, pulling his hair back, lips against his cheek – Don't hesitate, darling boy. Show me what you want.

“Hey… you okay?” Kauri murmurs the words, and it’s with real concern, shivering at the feeling of Cass’s fingers in his hair, slipping his own hands to touch lightly at his ribs on either side, a question and a test.

Cass feels adrenaline gripping him but that's fine, that's good, because wanting and fear walk the same line anyway. I'm an active participant. Which doesn’t feel like the shape of a thought that’s his but is close enough to that it doesn’t matter. He wants this. It's safer to want it. Then you don't have to think. You don't have to feel. That's why places like this are fun, why nights like these are so good.

So like every other night like this, he pulls in close to prettiest guy in the bar, pushes down the resistance in himself, and kisses him fucking senseless.

Kauri’s head tilts back and up for it, twisting his fingers hard into Cass’s shirt to pull him in even closer, until his head bumps back into the wall behind him and he loses his balance, falling back to sitting on the ground with a soft, sweet little laugh, a breath of air before he lets Cass kiss him mindless again.

The safest he’s felt for weeks is times like this, a man’s hands on him, a man’s mouth on his, knowledge and certainty that someone wants him, that he has something to give other people, some way to earn their kindness and repay it. His hands slide up Cass’s neck to tangle in his hair, too, pulling him in as close as he can get on the ground in a dark alley, skin lighting up everywhere they touch.

“H-hey, I can’t, ah-...” He breaks free, and flashes the shy little smile again. He feels so good now, safer, because he’ll be good and he knows Cass meant it when he said he wouldn’t tell, he looks like someone who won’t tell anyone, and Kauri has to trust him. “I don’t… I’m technically homeless. So if you think I’m taking you home, uh… welcome to my house, I guess,” He says, gesturing at the alley around them and then laughing a little to himself.

He’s gotten himself this far, but there’s still a hint of the artificial conditioning twining all his conscious thoughts. I want this is real and true but it’s also what he knows how to say, and I’m safer if I want it, I matter if someone wants me and I want to matter to someone runs under honest desire as he moves to slip his hand up under Cass’s shirt.

“H-how do you, how do you want to… um… this?”

Cass practically vibrates at Kauri's touch and he leans in even closer. Every touch is a relief. His body has been begging for this, for touch, all week

"Well I'd say we could go back to mine but…" Cass thinks of white walls, screaming fluorescents. His tiny quarters with the single bed and the sliding door that Tucker swans in and out of as he pleases. "Mine's not really much of a house either. So I guess we'll just get creative at yours"

He catches Kauri's lips again and pulls himself in closer until he's all but straddling the guy's lap. Kauri moves his body against Cass's like he was custom made for it. He lets his hand come to a gentle rest on the column of the guy's throat, his thumb tracing the line from his chin to his collar and back up again.

This is all Cass has wanted all week. To wrap himself in someone else's wants and just disappear for a bit. And yeah, maybe it feels a little off tonight. A little sickly. Like eating overripe fruit. But it's also been a long time since he's been this close to sober and trying to hook up with someone so who the fuck knows.

"Gotta say, I love what you've done to the place," he adds, breaking the kiss with a grin as he glances around at their elegant surroundings. Kauri laughs, almost a breathless giggle, glad he’s found someone with a real sense of humor even if it’s to keep him from telling anyone who he’s seen. Cass brings his lips to Kauris throat and let's his voice buzz electric along his jugular "I usually swoon for just one dumpster but three? You're such a romantic."

Kauri tips his head back against the wall behind him, staring up into the flat, featureless sky. As soon as Cass says the word Romantic, though, he goes perfectly still. Every muscle tense, for just a second it’s closer to holding a frightened animal than a person.

“Uh, th-thanks,” He manages, shakily, pushing the nerves back down. Just another way to call him a slut, like everyone else does, but he’ll do what he wants and be safer that way. It doesn’t matter if he calls Kauri a whore or a slut or a Romantic, it all means the same thing - people like him. People who can’t stop themselves, who don’t know better, who are nothing and no one unless somebody is touching them.

Cass is nice, and his hands and his mouth feel so good, and it doesn’t matter what he calls Kauri. What matters is giving him what he wants.

He makes himself relax, consciously, and slides his hands around behind Cass, shifting his hips up, letting training take over again until the nervousness could die back down. I matter if someone wants me, it doesn’t matter why or how, I’m safe if I want this.

“If you want, I could, um, could g-go down on you,” Kauri breathes, rolling his hips up.

Cass feels himself grinning at the same moment as he feels his stomach clench in a knot so tight he can hardly breathe. Wanting and fear walk the same line. The latter is easy enough to ignore.

"Fuck yes," he all but moans, swinging his leg around to sit against the wall beside Kauri. Cass fumbles for the button of his jeans. He wants this. Kauri does too. Cass can feel how much he wants this. Kauri wants to feel safe. He wants Kauri to feel safe. And he also wants his brain to shut off and stop screaming discomfort just because the water’s a little muddy.

It doesn't matter if he wants it because it's gonna feel so good once it's happening he won't even care. And then he'll make Kauri feel so good, Kauri won't care either. He won't care about being wanted. He won't care about being safe because Cass will make him feel fucking fantastic.

And all of that would’ve been fine if Cass didn’t look up and catch Kauri’s eyes. He feels the knot in his stomach twist. In less than a second any spark of libido he had had rots and dies. There’s no want in Kauri's eyes. No nervous excitement. It’s not eagerness that’s pulling their bodies in close.

Desperation and terror were just one hell of a cocktail. Especially when finished off with resignation.

Cass closes his eyes and let's his head fall against the wall with a dull thunk.

“No,” he whispers. “No, hold on, stop.”

He really wishes he'd had some ket. Or at least a bit of molly. Just something to blunt the edges of whatever the fuck is happening right now. Something is wrong with him.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, shaking his head. He doesn't open his eyes. "Something's wrong, I can't do this. You don't… you don’t..."

Kauri’s hands are still tangled in Cass’s shirt at first, and he slowly pulls them back, worried, leaning forwards to try and tilt his head and look closer at Cass’s face. No no no no. He’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know what, or how - it had seemed right, like it was all happening the way it was supposed to and soon enough he’d forget to be scared and just feel good things until it was done, and if it was good enough Cass wouldn’t tell anybody about him in case maybe he saw him again.

That’s how it works. Kauri gives, and he gets safety in return. But this isn’t safe.

You don’t even know if you actually want it or if you just think that because they made you. It’s what he thinks the end of that sentence probably is, because it’s what Dustin said when Kauri tried, and it’s what Jake said, and it’s what everyone tells him over and over again. That he can’t even know what he wants, because Owen wanted him brainless and a slut.

“I’m sorry, is it… something I’ve done?”

Cass scoffs a laugh, knocking the back of his head into the brick wall to try and shake his thoughts back straight. What the fuck is he meant to say? Sorry bro, my telepathy killed the mood.

“No,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face “No you didn’t do anything, you just… you’re just-”

You’re just too fucking close to my kind of broken.

There’s a harsh sort of panic bouncing off of Kauri in waves at the rejection. What the fuck is Cass meant to do though? He can’t pretend like everything’s fine because it’s not. He can’t tell him to piss off because then he’d really be an asshole. He can’t fuck him because it’d be… that’d be...

Cass’ stomach lurches. He slams his hands down against the concrete with a growl, kicks at an empty bottle by his leg. It scrapes harsh against the ground in a loud, grating circle and Cass flinches his foot back like it cut him.

“Jesus Christ, this is fucked,” he says, laughter twisting his voice and making it bitter. He looks over at the person who pulled him out of a bar fight ten minutes ago. This random person who he'd started a bar fight for fifteen minutes ago. This random fucking person he shouldn't give two shits about. Cass shakes his head, "You don't wanna be here, man. Just go home."

Kauri snorts, almost bitterly. “I can’t, remember? I don’t fucking have one. Although I guess I could go sit on the bus…” He sighs, watching Cass - and he’s not always good at reading people’s intentions, but he can read emotions fairly well and he can see that Cass looks nearly sick, either angry or upset, and he just takes in a deep breath, putting his hands up over his face and then down again.

“No, I get it. It’s because I’m a pet, right? It’s, you wanted to see what it’s like with a pet. You saw me with that guy and knew, and you thought you’d try, too, and you can’t… don’t want to, once I’m really here.”

Cass is shaking his head before Kauri even finishes speaking. Who calls themself a fucking pet?

"What the fuck? No. Jesus Christ, no," he screws his face up, rakes his hand through his hair.

Cass can feel something volcanic starting to bubble up inside of him.

He had done everything right tonight. He hadn't had too much to drink. He'd helped some random guy in trouble just because it was the right thing to do. He'd taken Kauri’s lead and then he'd read the warning signs and he'd stopped. He’d fucking stopped. How was he still the bad guy?

"No fucking way are you putting that bullshit on me," he spits. "You're the one who pulled me out here. I was just trying to help. You don't know what you want, then don't fuck with people's heads!"

“Fuck with people’s-” Kauri’s own voice edges with real anger. “I didn’t fuck with anybody’s head! I just, this guy hit on me and bought me a drink, and you showed up and said it was drugged! I didn’t do anything wrong, people talk about wanting to try out pets all the time, I-”

He catches himself, cutting off his own voice all at once like turning off a radio. No no no, if you make him mad he’ll tell someone or he’ll get really really mad or…

Kauri looks away, down at the alleyway pavement, scraping at it lightly with one shoe. “... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get angry. You were really trying to help, and, and that was really nice of you, to do that. I was just trying to, to pay you back, I guess? Besides, you’re… really fucking cute, so…”

It's the exact same trick he'd tried on the guy inside, Cass realises. Make nice with the wolf and hope that it'll be kind when it eats you alive. It's too familiar and too close and aimed at him and Cass wants to retch. It's burnt sugar disgusting. The desperate need to stay safe, to keep everything calm. No matter the cost. No matter what you give away.

"See, that is exactly what I fucking mean. Two seconds ago you were so mad at me you were basically screaming and now you're apologising and telling me I'm cute just so I'll..."

Cass breaks off, shakes his head, staring up at the hazy not-black of city sky at night. He shoves away the twin claws of rage and confusion as he meets Kauri’s eyes again, tries to keep his voice even and something close to calm.

"Look, I'm not- I'm not gonna say anything, alright? Whatever your deal is, I'm not gonna tell the cops or whatever" Cass tries for a smile "Trust me, I'd be just as fucked."

“Would you really?” Kauri blinks at him, no sign of that earlier flash of anger left, either in his posture or in his expression. He’d done what he’s best at, when it comes to being mad - just pushed it down until he didn’t feel it any longer, and he could see things from the other person’s point of view. Like understanding that Owen was mad because he’d tried to talk to someone when he wasn’t allowed, and that Dustin was mad because Kauri wanted more than he was willing to give, and the way everyone was mad that he wouldn’t sit still.

“And thanks. I won’t tell you what the reward for ‘information regarding my whereabouts’ is, though, if it’s all the same to you.” He tries for a small, slightly sidelong smile, more sincere than his last attempt had been. “Are you a runaway, too? Is there a reward out for you?”

Cass only barely stops himself from balking at the remark. Kauri says it so casually, like having a price on your head is just an everyday annoyance they might be able to bond over. Just all in a day. “Uh… no. No, there isn’t. I would just…” I would just have my contract re-assessed. Risk having my indenture reset. End up permanently locked in the lab. Or back in Christopher’s den. “My, uh, employer wouldn’t be very impressed if you get what I’m saying”

He adjusts his grip on his arm subconsciously, thumb running over the scar that sits along his inner arm. He’s always sort of wondered if one of Tucker’s little chips is there, just sitting by his radial bone, too close to the artery to risk cutting out himself. Guess he’ll never know.

He snaps his attention back to Kauri. Matches the guy’s smile with his own.

“But a reward, huh? Fuck man.” he says. A lofty one at that, apparently. Kauri Grant. Maybe that’s why the name was familiar. He would’ve seen it on the TV or something. Jesus, he’d had to help the one fuckin’ guy with a more tragic backstory than him. He laughs a little, like this is just some sort of watercooler gossip. Mondays, huh? “What did you do, kill your keeper?”

"My, um, my owner. And… no, I-I couldn't-" Kauri's eyes widen with real horror at the thought. "No, I would never have… um, he was, wasn't always that bad… I probably, I just-... I mean I did fuck up, but I didn't hurt anybody."

He looks away from Cass, a little uncomfortably, and says, "He, uh. Got mad when I fucked up. He broke a promise, and I… left. I guess you'd see it eventually, since there's no way I wasn't gonna take my shirt off for you."

He pulls down on the stretched-out neckline of his shirt, and even in the dim alley, a bit of a large, twisted scar shows over his collarbone.

"He paid a lot of money for, for me. I wasn't supposed to be able to leave. I took out the thing he put in to control me."

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mercurymetals · 5 years

Text

black diamond

Uh-oh. Turns out I really like to write from a yandere’s perspective... Hope this isn’t too out from the usual, lads.

Warnings: Just about what it says on the tin. Less gore and more canon-compliant violence, really. Set post-canon in 2004, for those who care.

Josuke's eyes are the prettiest shade of blue you have ever seen. They are not like the blue of the sky. They're not like the blue of a sea or a storm or an icy blizzard. None of these conventional comparisons feel adequate to describe them. His eyes make the sky look dull, turn the sea grey, the storm shallow and the blizzard flaky. You have spent so many hours chasing the lights in those eyes, and yet they always manage to shine anew in a way you hadn't seen before, a way that surprises you. It's delightful.

Right now, for instance, you are privy to watch those eyes turn round like two marbles, shock bolting through them like flashes of lightning. Then something steels in them, and Josuke's eyebrows slant down and crease his eyelids. His pupils reflect ire in cold sparks of that beautiful blue that seems to reach you from the depths of his very soul.

But then he takes a step back, leans away, and it's harder to see the lines in his irises any more.

"Are you kidding me?" Oh. You don't normally get to hear that snide tone from Josuke. You find yourself liking the way his voice lifts a little higher towards the end there. His plush lips are currently twisted in a snarl of disgust, and there's a flutter in your heart at the thought that you were the one causing it. You were making him feel this, shaping his face around his feelings for you, showing them to you so openly. Oh...

You didn't realise it, but you had leaned in when he spoke, and Josuke taking another step away brings you back to focus. He doesn't seem to want to hear a response from you. He just puts his hand up in front of him, turning his head from you entirely - just those eyes stay locked on you, as if he were afraid to let you out of his sight when you're this close to him.

"No. Hell no. Just... Stay away from me."

It's a response you anticipated, though it still stings. But that's alright. You understand, perhaps even better than he does, that he is greater than you. The bright, virtuous force that is Josuke Higashikata has always been out of your reach, like an array of fireworks across the sky, far away and beautiful to watch but untouchable. He is kind and sweet and pure to the very core, his warm light like a divine beacon in this insipid town he adores.

But that's just the thing with light, isn't it? The brighter it burns, the darker its shadow. And it's in Josuke's shadow you had festered a home for yourself, like a parasite that would easily burn away had it not burrowed itself so deeply in the marrow of its victim, rooted so tightly it can no longer be removed without taking the host apart too.

That's what you like to tell yourself, anyway.

And if you've managed it, if you've managed to find safety behind the wall of Josuke's back, the shadow his tall frame casts on the ground, then you know there could be more. Other parasites, just waiting for the chance to cling to him and make him theirs, leech off his angelic soul and take his essence for themselves. And knowing Josuke, he'd just tolerate it, because that's the kind of person he is, so kind, too kind, much, much too kind, none of them are worthy, none of them fucking deserve him, God, you just want to tear them to shreds at the sheer fucking thought.

You can't let that happen. You can't let anybody else take your Josuke from you. You were the first, and by hell, you'd be the last.

There's a pull in your soul, and you see Josuke react even before he realises that he too can sense it. His eyebrows twitch and his lips shift into a pout, the way they do when he's confused or troubled. You're overwhelmed with the urge to squish his cheeks and kiss that soft, pouty mouth.

But there'll be time for that, surely. For now, you center yourself and feel the smoke seep out from your body. It is not the likes of factory fog or car exhaust: it is thin, fine black smoke, the likes of a put out candle, elegant and calculated and heading straight for Josuke's precious, and still confused, face.

It takes a second for him to react, that one, integral second when the first huff of the vapour reaches his nose. He recoils from it with a yelp, but then his voice levels and he shouts: "Crazy Diamond!"

But you're ready for it. You've lived in his shadow, traced his footsteps, watched him fight and shout and eat and cry and breathe, you know him so well. You know him, and he doesn't know you, and that's his pitfall. Maybe one day you can fix it, the way he fixes others. Make sure he knows who you are and what you can do and what you will do to him if he ever dares try to forget about you again.

You, his parasite, his shadow, his lover because by God you fucking love him, just so much, you stay right there on your feet and echo his cry. "Black Diamond!"

Things happen in slow motion then. It is not just your imagination: it is the slow drag of your Stand, emerging from you with a low rumble like the strum of a bass guitar pitched to a leaden volume. Long limbs like tendrils, blacker than black but with the shine of a crystalline surface, rough, visible edges as if it had been crudely carved out of stone.

The face, wider than it is tall, with two ear-like spikes on each side, featureless save for the two large, pale diamonds it has for eyes. The eyes don't shine the way diamonds might, they never did, dulled perhaps by the dark of the rest of its body, but they seem to glint right now as they lock on Josuke with so much intensity, as if there's nothing else in the world that matters as much as keeping him in its sight.

Josuke looks unwell. It hurts your heart to see that frown, see him stumble and almost trip over his feet, clutching his forehead with a wordless moan. His eyes, those gorgeous eyes seem to lull, a haze coming over them and hiding away some of that indescribable blue like clouds on a rainy day.

Crazy Diamond is in front of him, but its state reflects that of its user. It sways on its feet, struggling to stay standing, blinking over and over to keep its focus on you. It's failing. Just a bit more and it'll all be over.

But Josuke's jaw tightens - you notice it, of course you do, you're so trained to the way his body moves and functions, you'd notice any little change in him, any at all - and then suddenly Crazy Diamond is rearing its fist back with lightning speed, Josuke's willpower inching him past the works of your Stand just enough to fight back.

Had you not seen that little tremor in his jaw, you would have probably been pummelled. But you did see it and you manage to side step just in time, dodging the hit and watching as Crazy Diamond stumbles from the force of its swing.

Black Diamond races forward to meet it, those tendril arms held out in front of it, long, spikey fingers leaking smoke and splaying out with need.

It gets what it wants, grabbing Crazy Diamond and piercing it with those spear-like fingers, digging in deep. Crazy Diamond shudders, grabs your Stand back, but before it can do much else you watch its eyes completely lose focus, its weight droop, the smoke filling it up from the inside.

You turn your gaze away from them and look to Josuke. He's on his knees now, breathing heavy, his eyes almost entirely closed, and you can feel his distress and worry and oh, is that fear by chance, seeping out of him as palpably as the black smoke seeps out of your Stand?

You try to walk up to him, and he must still sense it because he jumps away, falling on his ass and kicking himself away from you. "No--" he pants out, his hand held out in front of him with obvious effort. "Get-- away..."

You feel a crushing pain in your arms, and you glare towards the two Stands with a hiss. No, no need to get angry - of course he's being stubborn. He's so strong, your Josuke, isn't he?

"I didn't want to do this, but..." you mutter, directing Black Diamond the way you would a spare limb, with barely any thought, effortless. It yanks one of its hands free and curls it into a hard fist.

"BURA!" The shriek is simultaneous with the punch Black Diamond throws against Crazy Diamond's cheek. Its edged knuckles leave a deep scratch on the blue helmet, and you hear a groan. Curiously, you turn back to Josuke and see there's a cut on his cheek, droplets of blood dripping down from it, his face a little red and swollen and oh, isn't he just adorable?

You don't really mean for it to happen. You just want him to be yours already, and he's being so difficult, and he looks so cute all dazed and bleeding and, well--

"BURABURABURABURABURABURA!"

It's enchanting, watching Josuke get thrown about from the force of Black Diamond's punches to his Stand, watching more scratches and blood appear and his eyes grow progressively heavier. Your heart pounds and you're grinning, ecstatic at the sight of him slipping down completely until he's a panting mess on the concrete of the tranquil, quaint street you had cornered him on.

You walk up to him, and this time he doesn't move, doesn't even seem to know you're there when you kneel next to him and lean over him to look at his bruised up face. His eyes are somehow, still, miraculously open, but they seem to stare into a far-off nothing as you cradle him up to your chest. Even when your fingers stroke over his delicately put-together pompadour, he doesn't twitch a muscle, and that's when you know you've got him. You've really, finally gotten him.

"Shhh," you coo, petting him some more, the skin on his face slick with blood but so soft, so nice to the touch. "Just go to sleep."

You know you should get out of here as soon as possible, but you can't help and indulge in him, just for a moment. The slack weight of him on you, the rise of his chest under your palm, the deep red staining your clothes. You just love him so much, so much it hurts, more than he could ever understand, more than what you just did to him, so much more.

His eyelashes flutter, and with one last bit of cognition he looks up at you. You think he tries mouthing something, but you're too distracted by that paradise blue to pay any attention. You could dive into those eyes, get swallowed up by them, give up your very soul just to have them on you, always, looking up at you just like that.

But that, too, will come later. Now you reach up and gently place your hands on his eyelids, careful not to hurt him. "Shh," you repeat. "Just close your eyes and go to sleep, Josuke."

For good measure, Black Diamond releases more of its sleep-inducing smoke, one of its hands still buried inside of Crazy Diamond. When you lift your hand, Josuke's eyes stay closed, and you feel another weight on top of you.

You glance up. Black Diamond is cradling Crazy Diamond in its arms, all of its weight held up by your Stand. You can almost feel the hint of a breath on your neck before both Stands dissipate together, the motions blurring into one, fading swiftly away just like smoke on the wind.

#yandere #yandere reader #yandere jjba #josuke higashikata #neutral reader #i have so many josuke requests and funnily enough 3 of them were rejection themed #this is one and the other two have josuke being rejected #ya'll really like to ruffle his hair huh??#that's ok i enjoy it too #song recommendation of the day:#black diamond by kiss #the progression of that song really vibes with this fic if u ask me #yandere josuke #ITS NOT i just need to tag it that way so it appears in my masterlist lmao

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