#kind of wish they’d just stop teasing us and just pull the fucking trigger already

[kicksnscribs]

Hooray I’ve got the depression again whoo…*waves tiny flag of absolute bullshit*

Haven’t felt normal for a while now, tests are coming back promising but I’m still nervous about something being seriously wrong with me (why else would it all happen so suddenly?) idk I’m starting to just get tired of worrying but I’m still so on edge.

Tried working on some art and got frustrated as fuck bc I just can’t seem to get my faces consistent which is really pissing me off bc I want to start moving on with this but everything is just fucking fighting me every step of the goddamn way like it always does.

Life is boring and I can’t find motivation to enjoy my days off anymore (not like it has ever since my pops died anyway). I’m just tired of not being able to find meaning in anything anymore. I don’t want to die but goddamn I don’t want to live like this anymore.

#personal health #text post #ranting and raving #I’d be ok if I can just make SOME improvements #but it feels fucking impossible bc of money and all this other shit that’s happening in the world #can’t get no pets don’t have anything else to my name outside of one single room in this house #fucking SUCKS man #nothing is hiring at the rate I need to survive #kind of wish they’d just stop teasing us and just pull the fucking trigger already #OH AND THERES A SECOND FUCKJNG PANDEMIC CANF FORGET ABOUT THAT SHIT

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Patience - 1

Patience:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1611

Warnings: Language, guns, (smut, angst, and canon typical violence on series)

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Chapter 1

Natasha stood on the edge of the building watching the chaos break out below her.  The team was supposed to be infiltrating a new underground crime group to figure out where a drop-off was happening.  They’d had men on a street corner no one had managed to clock, and it had just happened to be the one Steve was observing, and they’d spotted him.  That had made the whole crew antsy and then they’d wanted to change locations for the meet.  That had meant a sudden scramble to relocate everyone, so they could keep monitoring the situation.  Tony had nearly been spotted as they did and ended up having to leave the area completely so it looked like another normal New York City Iron Man sighting.  To top that off, Sharon’s comms had just stopped working completely and so no one had any idea what the group was actually saying.  It had been a series of fuck-ups and she knew she would have to get down into the mess soon the way things were going, but she was waiting to see if Clint could salvage it as he bumbled along the street acting stupid so that he could ‘accidentally bumped into his old friends Sharon’ and get some ears back on the scene.

“God, grant me patience,” she sighed.  It was a prayer that had become commonplace for her.  She’d use it when she was on an undercover mission where she had to pretend to be much less intelligent than she was.  She used it when she helped patch up Clint’s cuts after he’d spent a whole day being incredibly agile and dexterous, only to trip over his doormat and land face-first into a cactus he didn’t even know he owned.  She used it when Tony went on one of his rambling stories that she already knew.  She used it when she had to watch Steve jump off yet another stupidly high point for no reason other than he had to be their first.

“I’m not sure, Natalia,” a voice coming from way too closer said.  “I’m not sure that’s what you actually want.”

She spun around, quickly assuming a defensive position.  You stood at the corner of the building, completely relaxed.  You had dark sunglasses on and what looked like a faux leather jacket and large black boots.  You were leaning against the wall slightly and twirling a lollipop in your mouth, and despite the fact that on just about anyone else she’d think they were trying too hard, you seemed effortlessly cool.

“Who are you?”  Natasha snarled.

“Patience,” you said simply.

“Don’t tell me to be patient when you’ve just snuck up on me in the middle of a mission.  Tell me what you want, or I’ll send that piece of candy through the back of your throat.”

You laughed and held up your hands. “Okay, killer,” you teased.  “Relax.  I wasn’t telling you what to do.  I was saying that’s who I am.”

Natasha quirked her eyebrow at you.  “So your name is Patience, and you sit around waiting for people to pray for patience and you pop out thinking it’s a funny joke?  You know how close to death you just came right now?  I’m in the middle of something.  Go away before you get someone hurt.”

Natasha spun back to look down at Sharon who was now talking to Clint.  She saw the quick sleight of hand as they exchanged mic packs.

“Patience isn’t my name,” you laughed.

Natasha rolled her eyes, hoping to cling on to the last remaining patience she had rather than breaking your neck. That would just lead to a lot of paperwork.  “You said it was.”

“No,” you said, straightening up and reaching into your inner jacket pocket.

Natasha pulled her gun and pointed at you.  “Don’t even think about it.”

You pulled your hand out with a business card pinched between your thumb and index finger.  You raised your hands and flicked the card up so it was held between your index and middle finger.  “I said I was patience,” you said, taking a few steps toward her.  Natasha’s fingers twitched on the trigger finger as she tried to read your intention.  “You’ve been praying to me a lot lately.  I thought I’d show up.  But - you’re obviously not ready yet.”  You offered the card to Natasha and she took it without taking her eyes off you.  “Now… count to two hundred, and then go down the fire escape.  Agent Carter will be fine until then, and that will get you there exactly when you need to be.”

“What?”  Natasha asked, now completely confused.

“Just a suggestion,” you answered and casually strode off to the stairwell, leaving Natasha alone on the roof, completely perplexed over what had just happened.  She looked down at the business card.  Embossed in gold on the glossy black card were your name, address, and phone number.  There was no mention of a job or business or even the word patience that you had kept bringing up.

Natasha furrowed her brow and tucked the card into her pocket.  She wasn’t a trusting person by nature, but she had enough experience with magic to know not to completely ignore what you said.  She counted to two hundred as she paid close attention to what was happening in the street.  As she carefully made her way down to the fire escape, there was a commotion and Sharon drew her gun.  People scattered as a large van pulled up and armed men spilled out.

Natasha cursed under her breath as the street broke out in utter chaos.

“How did you even get there so fast?”  Sharon asked.

Thanks to your warning, Natasha had gotten there at the perfect time to take out most of the gunmen before they’d even shouldered their weapons.  In the end, while the plan hadn’t exactly gone how everyone had wanted it, and they still needed to actually find where they were operating from, they had made a lot of arrests, and thanks to Natasha, lots of innocent lives had been saved from being caught in the crossfire.

“There was this woman…”  Natasha started, not quite sure how to explain your strange appearance and departure from the rooftop.

“Oohhh…” Clint teased.  “Nat got the hots for some hot Chiquita.”

“Gross, Clint,” Natasha snarked.  “Don’t be a letch.”  Clint held up his hands in surrender and Natasha let out a long breath.  “It was weird though.”

“How was it weird?”  Steve said, sitting forward in his chair.  “Anything we need to worry about?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I don’t know - maybe,” she said.  “She said she was patience.”

Clint snorted.  “You definitely need to find her then,” he teased. Natasha swatted him on the back of the head.  “See,” he complained, rubbing his head.

“So her name was Patience?”  Steve said, opening up a drop-down screen above the coffee table.  “FRIDAY, do we have any record of a Patience as a member of any known criminal organizations.”

“Her name wasn’t Patience,” Natasha said, pulling the card out of her pocket and handing it to Steve.  “She said she was patience.”

“What does that mean?”  Steve asked, typing the details into the computer.

Natasha shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Tony chuckled.  “I like the idea of anthropomorphic adjectives walking around.”

“Patience is a noun, Tony,” Bruce scolded.  “And so is Tony.”

“You know what I mean,” Tony said, waving his hands around.  “You can feel patient, you can’t feel Tony.”  He paused for a moment.  “Not unless you asked nicely.”

“Maybe she’s some kind of god,” Clint said.  Everyone turned to him and Natasha raised her eyebrow.  Sometimes Clint would say things that were so simple and so profoundly intelligent that she wasn’t sure if he just blindly stumbled into the answer or he was an actual genius.

“Is that a thing?”  Sam asked.  “Just random gods of emotions?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I have no idea.  It’s a pity Thor isn’t here, we could ask him.  But she did say I’d been praying to her.”

Clint snorted.  “Sounds about right.”

“But Thor’s not a real god, is he?”  Steve said.  “Wasn’t the theory that he’s just an alien that lives a long time and humans just decided he was a god?”

“The dude makes lightning, Cap,” Sam teased.  “Maybe he’s not the only place it comes from, but he can definitely create it and control it.  Why can’t there be the equivalent for something like patience.”

Clint snatched the card from Steve and shoved it into Natasha’s hands.  “I say you call her.”

“You just want Nat to stop smacking you on the back of the head,” Bucky snorted.

“No, I want to see my best friend get laid,” Clint said, folding his arms across his broad chest.  “I bet someone who can command patience would be great at sex.”

“And…?”  Bucky pressed.

“And I don’t want to get clocked on the back of the head anymore,” Clint muttered.

Everyone laughed and Natasha looked down at the card, spinning it around in her hand.

“You look like you’re considering it, Red,” Tony mused.  “What was she like?”

“Cryptic,” Natasha replied.  “Cool.”

“Was she hot?”  Clint asked.

“I think so,” Natasha said.

“So call her,” Sharon shrugged.  “She helped me out.  She can’t be all that bad.”

Natasha nodded.  “At the very least I might get some answers.”

“And who knows, Nat,” Clint said.  “Maybe she’ll be able to teach you a trick or two.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh, and wishing she had a little bit of that patience right now.

// NEXT

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #patience

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 5

[ can't stop won't stop. when will Lawrence not get cockblocked by Nar <///3 ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

Luckily for all of them, Garrett did finish that furnace before the day was over. He managed to check the trigger on the fire right before passing out face down on his bed. He told them they’d just move it to the house in the morning.

It wasn’t morning when they moved it, but it got moved out of his room at the very least before he was running out to get to his real job. He was definitely going to be late, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with that giant machine in his living space anymore. Mark and Amanda could figure out how to get it to the house themselves.

“You’re late,” one of his coworkers teased as he clocked in and he just rolled his eyes. “And you look like shit. How do you live like this?” they continued, receiving a short glare from Garrett.

He didn’t necessarily hate his coworkers, but he wasn’t friends with them either. “Easily,” he replied shortly, leaving no more room for conversation as he clipped his nametag on his shirt and got to work.

Normally he wasn’t so short with them, but he was tired and wanted to get on with the day so he could help with the final preparations for the game.

The day went by quickly, especially because Nar remembered he had his phone number and would occasionally send him pictures of Amanda working, or a joking picture of Hoffman’s ass. He even received a picture of Lawrence ranting about something, probably a bad hospital show. Stuff like that always got him through the day.

“Is that your new boyfriend?” The coworker from earlier, Nadia, asked when they got a glimpse of one of the Hoffman ass pics. They backed off at the look Garrett gave them.

“No.” That was where he left it, putting his phone in his pocket and getting back to work. He was very lucky that Nadia didn’t get the chance to see him turn bright red at the mere idea of Hoffman being his boyfriend.

It was around 5pm when Garrett finally got off, practically running out of the bookstore and heading directly for his car. He was kind of aware of Nadia trying to talk to him as he sped out of the door, but didn’t care enough to stay put.

He was partly rushing so much because he needed to help finish the trap, but mostly because right before his shift ended, he’d gotten a text from Nar:

‘help gordon is trying to walk and idk what to do, he’s just hobbling around with his lil prosthetic help-’

He TOLD Gordon to wait until he could help him, and now he was speeding toward the base, two miles away from being pulled over for how fast he was driving. Plus there was the fact that the other two apprentices weren’t supposed to know about him, according to John, and the picture attached to the text showed him one of the main work rooms.

Fucking idiot, Gordon was supposed to be smart and here he was, being the dumbest bitch in the Jigsaw house, stepping way too close to getting killed.

---

… Apparently the other apprentices weren’t home.

Amanda was already at the Nerve Gas House to help with finishing touches, and Hoffman was at the precinct to “help” with the newest Jigsaw case, meaning Gordon was not in danger of being killed.

Garrett still scolded him.

“I can’t believe you!” He hissed as Gordon leaned into his side, trapped by the arm across his back and the hand placed on his midriff. “I told you! I told you not to try to move around without my help! You know Nar can’t support your weight!!”

Gordon just chuckled at him, the gravelly sound just pissing him off more rather than flustering him like usual.

“Lawrence!! This isn’t a joke!!! I’m genuinely worried about your dumb ass!!!!” Garrett continued, his voice slightly more high pitched in annoyance. Gordon just laughed at him again, making him huff as he practically dragged the doctor back to his room.

It was when he was finally sat down that Gordon said something. “I know you’re worried, but I wasn’t going to call you out of work just so I can walk around.”

“Wh- That’s what I expected you to do!!” Garrett countered, almost offended at the idea that Gordon thought his job was more important than him. “You literally can’t walk without help, and you’ve been bedridden for months! You don’t even have a cane yet!”

Gordon was just watching him at this point as he continued to list off reasons he should have been called, a small smile on his face at how animated Garrett got when he was passionate about something.

“... Why are you staring at me like that?” Garrett asked once he noticed Gordon’s gaze, his hands frozen midair in one of his wild gestures.

“You called me Lawrence.” Garrett’s eyes widened, he hadn’t even noticed. “And I like listening to your voice. I know you’re busy, but I wish you would visit more often, even if it was just to talk.”

Bro stop you’re scaring the hoes with attachment issues who are afraid of relationships (Garrett).

“Wh- I don’t-” Garrett’s stammering was cut off by Gordon’s lip suddenly connecting with his, and he mentally cursed himself for almost immediately melting into it.

The kiss didn’t last long because Gordon had stood up to reach Garrett, and he pulled back to sit back down on the bed, but that didn’t last long either.

As if he’d been waiting for it his whole life, Garrett practically lunged at the doctor, pulling him into another, slightly more desperate kiss. His hands were gripping Gordon’s shirt hard enough that it would definitely be forever wrinkled like that, and he was pretty much in the other man’s lap.

He was worried he was coming off too strong for all of two seconds, the concern dissipating when Gordon’s hands found his hips, holding him there in a tight grip.

Garrett had just begun to thread his fingers through Gordon’s hair- two seconds away from pulling at it- when there was a knock on the door.

Both of them jumped, Garrett shooting back like he’d been shocked. “I forgot we weren’t alone,” he whispered to Gordon, gaining a soft laugh from the doctor. Both of them took a moment to put themselves back together (when had Gordon started unbuttoning Garrett’s shirt?) before answering the door.

Nar glanced between the two of them, seemingly surprised that they looked like they had when they went in- luckily, the room was dark enough to conceal their flushed faces and Garrett’s very red lips.

“You done yelling at him?” he asked Garrett, who nodded in reply. “Good. John wants you at the Nerve Gas House, he wants you to set up the razor box.” Right. Garrett had forgotten about that.

He took one last glance at Gordon before sighing. “I’m so sick of that box,” he muttered, though he accepted his fate and headed out in far less of a frenzy than before. To be completely honest, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to finish what he started with Gordon. But… the others needed his help, and he needed to give it.

That didn’t mean he didn’t spend the whole drive there thinking about the feeling of Gordon’s lips on his, and what else he could do to the good doctor the next time they were alone.

---

“Does that look good?” Garrett asked Hoffman once the razor box was attached to the ceiling, taking a few steps back to stand next to the detective.

He’d been having trouble with getting the box to hang evenly, which was a struggle he was no stranger to, so he’d brought Hoffman in to take a look at it.

The detective tilted his head slightly to the side as he inspected it, before letting out a soft hum. “You finally got it,” he confirmed, straightening back up. He didn’t flinch when Garrett let out a triumphant whoop, which was proof that one could get used to him quickly.

“You’re a godsend,” Garrett told him, slapping him on the shoulder before leaving the room, running down the hall to tell John and Amanda the good news. He could hear Hoffman following him, but absolutely did not slow down.

He skidded into the main room where John and Amanda were going over the plan for the thousandth time, almost tripping over his own foot and sending himself crashing into the ground. His only saving grace was Hoffman grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him back onto his feet.

John and Amanda stared at him like he was crazy for all of two seconds, before completely ignoring the fact that he almost just curbstomped himself into the floor. “I finally got the razor box straight,” Garrett spoke up, also acting as if he did not almost just die. “All my traps are good to go. Now, I desperately need sleep, so I’m gonna go home and take a two hour nap.”

He wasn’t. He was going to go back to his apartment and frantically draw up plans until he passed out from sleep deprivation at 2am. That was his permanent Jigsaw trap, one he could never escape from.

Wow. That was the most emo thought he’d had since middle school.

“Anyway. Good-bye.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the house, but not after patting Hoffman- who had still been awkwardly standing behind him- on the chest, slipping a piece of paper into the front pocket of his shirt.

What was on it, you ask? A gay little doodle of Hoffman setting up the door gun. Why did he give it to him? He doesn’t know how to flirt. This is the best he’s got.

He went straight ‘home’ after that, a little annoyed he couldn’t go back to the base but also knowing that his neighbours were weirdly nosy and would “get concerned” if he didn’t show up to his apartment regularly.

Plus, his couch there was a really comfortable bed.

#story tag: listen closer #self ship fic #self shipping #self insert #scrap.writing #scrap.ships #romantic: ⛓🕵️‍♂️ #s/i: garrett whitlock #mark hoffman #romantic: 🦿🩺 #(poly) romantic: ⛓🩺 #lawrence gordon #chapter 5

[string-of-broken-hearts]

Broken

This is a drabble centered around Alistair just being broken in, a little drabble of pre-pet Alistair 

Tw: death mention, non-con mention, branding, slave mentality, abuse, possessive whumper

 “I finally broke it.” Master said, sneer plastered all over his face. Alistair wasn’t as lucky… 

They were harshly thrown to the ground and in disgust, were given a sharp kick to the side. Tears lined their eyes, but Alistair knew better than to cry. And so, they took it. With their pride being smashed to the ground in humility. 

The people in the audience Master had gathered together in spite and pride just sat and watched, the laughter ringing around in their ears. Wallowing in misery, Alistair was completely helpless as they were put on display. 

Master quickly smashed his shoe’s heel down on their face, smushing what little cheek they had against the floor. 

“Behold. The filth of the earth, the very scum that crawls under our feet.” Master said, grinding his heel against their forehead. Alistair’s eyes bolted to the ground, trying to remember their training. Good mutts didn’t deserve eye contact. That was reserved for people alone. Not filthy wretches. 

Shame burned it’s way onto their face, feeling the stare of Master’s guests boring holes into them. Alistair’s stomach lurched from the shame. The only thing preventing them from throwing up was the fear of punishment. 

With one last sharp press, Master removed his foot from off of their head, pushing them to the side. He walked to the other side of the room, eyes never leaving Alistair. 

Master snapped his fingers twice, making the trembling slave whine and jolt to get into the proper positioning. 

Scrambling into a stress position in the mere hopes of release, they bowed their head as tears finally did start slipping out of their eyes. 

People started to walk up to them and gaze at the broken property infront of their eyes. Seeing Alistair’s tears, laughter quickly filled the room. Several people poked and prodded while others just stared. And some of the brave ones started to kick and punch them. 

Alistair didn’t break positioning, just flinching and gasping to catch their fleeing breath. They were strong, but their tears quickly disproved that theory. They hadn’t stopped until Master patted his leg. He was safe. He would save them. Or at least, they thought and hoped and prayed. 

Master pat again, impatient as ever. They nearly ran to him, getting there in the blink of an eye. He chuckled and tugged their hair to meet his eyes. They stared up at Master as if he was their world. And in fact, he was. 

He gave a sharp tug, ripping and tearing some strands out. They had forgotten an important rule. Only people got eye contact. Not “things” and “its”. 

Gasping, they quickly tore their eyes away, face as red as a lobster. Why couldn’t they ever do anything right? They would surely receive a week in the out for that. They hated the out. They liked the in. The in was safe and warm without bugs and filth and wind and cold and grass and rain and thunder. 

The guests didn’t give a fuck, just watching with amused eyes. Master had always enjoyed entertaining. And Alistair was the perfect centerpiece. Worst yet, everyone knew it…

Didn’t matter what they wanted or needed, their whole job was to stay quiet and stay seen and not heard like a good little mutt was to do. 

They immediately flinched and curled into themself, white cold fear drowning the red hot shame away. They knew it wasn’t safe when Master pulled out his favorite toy from a nearby side table. 

They whined and started to back up, trying to escape from the brand. Their body was already decorated with the mayor’s brand all over. They didn’t want more. They didn’t need more. It hurt, especially when the sound of sizzling, burning flesh filled the room. 

Master tsked before opening his mouth to speak. “Today is a momentous occasion. Today’s the day I broke it.” He said, a grin stretching from ear to ear. He waved his hand out dramatically to them, as if showing the “before” part of before and after. 

“Come.” Master yelled sharply, he didn’t have time for the pets doddling. They crawled over to his feet, limbs curling into their sides with shame. Alistair’s head was shoved down, meaning only one thing. And they knew it. 

Alistair shakily planted a kiss on Master’s shoes before licking them until he kicked them and walked off to heat the brand. Master quickly left the room with his guests, knowing full well they would have some fun of their own. Alistair would have nothing near fun. 

Alistair knew all of this was wrong and degrading, but there wasn’t anything they could do. And, like Master said, they were finally broken. No longer a human, but an object to hurt and an object for pleasure. They painfully accepted their fate. They were worthless anyway, at least Master was kind enough to put them in their place and remind them of what they truly were- an abomination. A horrible, disgusting monster. 

No one could ever love a monster. So they were lucky they weren’t put to sleep or abandoned to live a life of shame. At least now they were useful. Well, to an extent. And they could not be more thankful to Master for saving them from that. 

Alistair started to crawl into the deep parts of their mind, removing themself from reality as the guests did what they wished to their heart's content. 

A piece of trash doesn’t deserve privacy or boundaries or wants or needs, so they dared not speak up as the guests did unspeakable things to their body. 

When Master finally did return, he was pissed. At both Alistair and his guests. He got like this when he was triggered. It was scary because he took it out on Alistair, no one else. 

Brand in hand, he waved it around in the air near his guests, face red with anger. He started spewing hateful word after hateful word, anger, bitterness, and trauma hardening his heart. 

The guests thought it was the funniest thing ever, laughing at the supposed tease. That just made him yell more, his yelling soon turned screams. He demanded the guests leave. 

They weren’t ready to, not when they didn’t get what they deserved. If Alistair wasn’t going to get hurt, someone had to. That someone was Master. 

The guests, in a pain fueled wave of fury and excitement, tackled Master to the ground and flipped him. They cut his shirt and pressed the brand down sharply. 

Screaming and kicking and crying, he pleaded and begged for Master Damien to stop. The guests didn’t know his past, and he was determined to keep it that way, but tonight unraveled his plans. 

Alistair screamed when Master did, feeling their own pain flare up. They grabbed Master and held him close, growling at the people, refusing to let him go. 

The guests just tore them away from Master, planting the brand on them too. Alistair screamed out for the pain to stop, feeling the red hot burning tearing their skin apart. Feeling the effects of the open air stinging it when the crowd had finally got what they wanted. 

They collapsed on the ground in tears and shame, waiting for further punishment. Why couldn’t Master get it over with already? Why was he dragging it out? 

They didn’t know that the guests had long since gone and no one was going to hurt them further. Master had managed to leave the room quite a while back, taking an ice bath to heal the burn. He was hurt and angry. 

No more parties. He was ashamed of how he reacted, and hating Alistair for not taking the pain in his place. He didn’t deserve it. They did. Slaves took the pain. Not Masters. That was very obvious. 

Today was supposed to be a good day. Today was supposed to celebrate his accomplishment of breaking them, but in the end, the only broken one was him. Master Damien had done his job well. 

He cussed loudly, throwing glass bottles against the wall, reveling in the shattering it caused. 

He got out of the bath and threw on some pajamas pants, walking to the living room where his party was hosted. 

Wincing when he saw Alistair’s broken state, he tsked. They lay limp on the floor, twitching every so often. It was clear they had been pushed to the limit. Considering, it wasn’t even Master who branded them. The crowds were harsh and reckless. 

The guests had done numerous other things when Master had left, it was unclear exactly what had happened, but Master’s torture tools were strewn about the room and blood was quickly seeping into the carpet. 

He walked over and poked them with his foot, seeing if they’d respond at all. He frowned, the only response he received was a whimper and a tremble. What was wrong with them?

They didn’t know, they didn’t care. They only wanted the pain and fear to leave. But, Master was never one to comfort. Plus… why would he? They didn’t deserve it. Comfort was for people. Alistair’s whole job as Master’s slave was to be a play thing to hurt. Nothing more. 

He crouched down and eventually lowered into a sitting position. They would pay dearly for not protecting Master. He was determined to make them hurt. 

He just watched them, taking in such a broken person, however, he’d never admit to them being a person. They weren’t after all. 

After a good bit of stroking and possessiveness, he dragged them by their hair and threw them into the hallway that held the shoes and leashes. 

A loud whine escaped their lips, unable to control their responses anymore. They needed a break from the pain. They were falling apart. But Master knew best… if he wouldn’t help them than they clearly didn’t need it. 

Master just rolled his eyes and scoffed at their helplessness. They winced and crawled over to his feet, kissing them as best as they could. He leaned close and pet their hair, opening his mouth to whisper something. 

“You worthless slut, are going in the out. How dare you ruin my big day. I will break you a billion times over again until you learn your lesson.” He said, throwing them back. 

Alistair’s eyes grew wide with fear, clinging to his legs in one last hopeless attempt at salvation from the god above, determining their every move, every thought, every feeling. Master was no god, but in both their and his eyes, he was. 

He shook them off, flinging them to the side and sharply snaping his fingers. They were slower than before, a little groggy and dissociated with reality. 

They tried to get into a kneeling position, but failed miserably. They collapsed in a disappointing heap on the ground and passed out. 

Master growled at their incompetence and hastily attached a metal leash to a choker collar he tightly slid on their neck. 

They didn’t need it, of course, but bad slaves always got them. They were used to not being able to breathe anyway. 

He tied the leash to a tree and threw them out, wiping his hands to rid himself of them. Alistair jolted awake with the chilling wake up the snow gave them. They were barely clothed and were very vulnerable with blood loss. 

Alistair scrambled over to the tree and curled against its trunk in fear, hoping for some sort of comfort. They received none as the sun started to set on their shivering, isolated body. 

#whumpee #whumper #whump #alistair #atlas #slave mentality #slavery #branding #non con mention #death mention #abuse #dehumaination

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 23

WARNINGS: SMUT. NSFW.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

“So how mad are you?” Tyler asks, as he stands in the doorway of the main floor laundry room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest.  

The situation is touch and go. She hadn’t set foot upstairs while he’d carried out Millie’s bedtime routine or when Kyle had wandered in with a sleeping five year-year old under each time; dumping each of them fully clothed into their beds before taking off again.

“Why would I be mad at you?” she counters, as she gathers a bundle of laundry from inside the dryer and drops them on top of it. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Well, besides getting  glitter all over the goddamn place.”

“You can blame your daughter for that. She's a little obsessed with sparkly shit.”

“Just a little,” Esme agrees with a grin.

He takes it as a sign that all is well between them and finally approaches, standing behind her and pushing a hand through her hair, tangling his fingers in the soft, fine tresses and lightly tugs; drawing her head back and kissing her. Teeth lightly capturing her bottom lip as he pulls away, and she gives a grin and reaches back to grab a hold of his ass, lightly squeezing before he steps beside her.

They work in companionable silence; each tending to handfuls of clean clothes that they drop into a wicker basket that sits on the floor between them. And he glances over at her every few seconds; eyes wandering her entire form; clad in nothing more than one of his old t-shirts, tattered and filled with holes and paint stainss.  Taking in the way her hair falls to just below her shoulders and brushes against the sides of her face; the natural red high lights sparkling under the artificial light.

She catches him watching her and a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Almost seven years later and she’s still self-conscious about how she looks to him. Always fretting about the shape of her ass or the size of her thighs and how wide her hips have gotten. He sees none of that; he doesn’t notice the extra ten pounds she complains about or the stretch marks she tries desperately to hide. All he sees is the woman that he’d fallen in love. And keeps falling in love with each passing day.  

“Tyler...” she says.

“Esme...”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring. I’m not allowed to admire my wife?”

“Admiring or critiquing?”

He frowns. “What the hell is there to critique?”

“I’ve had five kids. Things don’t look like they used to,” she laments. “I’m definitely not the same person I was when we met.”

“Neither am I.”

“But you’re only getting better with age. Me? I just get worse.”

“Baby, have you looked in the mirror lately? Because you look fucking amazing. And I know you’re just going to say I’m just being biased or that I’m just trying to boost your ego. But it’s true. Every word. You’re beautiful and you’re sexy and you always will be in my eyes.”

He hates not only what her own battle with depression and the monsters from her past has done to her, but also her disastrous first marriage; Mark’s abusive behavior –physical, emotional, sexual- leaving so much damage in its wake. And it’s been a full-time job in itself getting her to see herself the way he does. It’s his main bone of contention in their marriage: having to listen to her degrade herself and drag herself down when he just wants to worship the ground she walks on.

“Even after five kids?” she challenges.

“Especially after five kids. I don’t know what more I can say. How to get you to see yourself like I see you. I just wish you would.”

“Maybe you need glasses.”

“Maybe you need to stop. I love you. And I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I have since that day you walked into my place. I don’t see what you do.  I don’t see the extra weight you bitch about or the marks on your skin or the how your clothes don’t fit like they used to. All I see is you.”

“You really are determined to make me cry by the end of the night,” she teases, and playfully slaps him in the face with one of Addie’s sleepers.  

She watches the way his hands move as they fold that simple piece of clothing. His hand –from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle digit- longer than the actual sleeper itself; those fingers with their various scars and their swollen and misshapen knuckles never fumbling as they tend to impossibly tiny buttons.  She knows what those hands are capable of; the things that they’d done. The blood he has on them; hundreds of men in Dhaka alone were dead because of those hands. Large and powerful. Frightening, even.  

But she also knows how those hands feel; the callouses on the palm and the even more prominent one on the right index digit; his ‘trigger finger’. She knows they’re capable of inflicting so much more than brutality and death. They can be soothing and gentle; rocking babies to sleep, caring for the kids’ injuries and clearing away their tears, massing her aching back when in the agonizing final stages of childbirth. And she knows how they feel during intimate times; how they can alternate between gentle and rough depending on his mode and what how she wants and needs his touch to be. She’s experienced those delirious heights of pleasure that they’re more than capable of bringing her to.  

She looks away; the mere thought bringing a flush to her cheeks and a familiar warmth that builds between her thighs and in the pit of her stomach.  

“I was always looking at you because I was trying to figure out if you’re wearing underwear or not,” Tyler admits.

“This is not a safe house to walk around in wearing JUST a t-shirt.  Not only do we have all kinds of little people that can show up out of nowhere, but now we have Kyle wandering in and out.”

“How long’s he staying for anyway?”  

“He SAID his vacation was for two weeks.”

“But? There’s a ‘but’ coming. I can feel it.”

“He did say if he liked it here that much, he might not go back.”

Tyler sighs.

“I thought you liked my brother.”

“I do. I just don’t like the baggage he brings with him.”

She smirks. “Nik?”

“We just got rid of her. He sticks around, that means she’s going to come back. And I don’t know about you, but the less of her the better.”

“She does tend to bring the drama with her.”

“Drama, home wrecking, whatever you want to call it.”

“But if we could get him away from her...”

“We are NOT getting involved. We just talked about this. We agreed to stay out of it.”

“No, you agreed to stay out of it,” Esme corrects.  

“And I told you to stay out of it.”

“When do I ever listen to anything you say?”

He smirks.

“We could always kick Chloe out and have Kyle take her place.”

“You mean Ovi could kick Chloe out. Because we’re not doing shit. We are staying out of people's personal crap. Didn’t you hate when people were always in our shit back in Colorado? Your mom, your other brothers...”

“But they’re evil and were always trying to cause problems. We’re trying to avoid a huge problem. If we get Kyle away from Nik, then there’s no more Nik. That way if he stays here, we won’t have to worry about her coming around and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Neither wants you to stick in her...”

“Let’s not start that conversation again.”

“I’m just trying to think of what’s best for my brother. And I know she’s not it.”

“Then you never should have set him up with her in the first place. This is kind of all your fault.”

Frowning, she rolls up the beach towel in her hand and smacks him hard across the ass with it.  

“I’m just saying that we need to stay out of. Let Kyle do what he wants and whatever happens, happens. I just don’t want him living here. We have enough people living under this roof. We don’t need another one.”

“And yet you want another kid,” she scoffs.

“That’s totally different and you know it. That’s a kid. That we’d make together. Kyle’s a grown ass man. Let him be one. Stay out of it. If he wants to marry Nik, let him marry Nik. If he wants to dick down the neighbor, let him dick down the neighbor. Who gives a shit?”

“And if he’s dicking down both?”

“Then good for him. He’s lucky.”

She rolls her eyes.

“He manages to juggle both of them, he’s a fucking legend.”

“You’re going to be juggling both your balls in a second. Is this your sly of way of telling me you want to be dicking down the neighbor?”

“Are you fucking insane? No way in hell.”

“You have to admit, she’s cute.”

“She’s not you. I don’t want to be dicking down anyone else, okay?”

“You know,” she grins. “Sometimes you can really redeem yourself.”

“And even if I did want to, I wouldn’t have the energy to dick anyone else down anyway.”

“I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or...”

“Just you, baby. I only want you.”

She smiles, then lightly bumps his hip with her own.  

“So I never did get a yes or a no.  About the underwear.”

She gives a dramatic sigh and then lifts the bottom of the t-shirt to her waist; giving a slight peek of the elaborate and colorful tattoo that graces her entire left rib cage, and a look at the lacy black garment that sits low on her hips but is cut high on her ass. “Good?”

“Very good. Very, very, very good.”

“You’re getting easy to please in your old age. Pretty soon all it’s going to take is some side boob to get you in the mood.”

He grins. “Who says it doesn’t already?”

“You have been very...what’s the word...amorous...lately.”

“Lately?”

“I mean, you always are. You always HAVE been. Our track record was amazing sex over the past almost seven years is remarkable. But since the doctor gave that green light, you’ve been extra...I don’t know...extra.”

“Do you blame me? I just went four months having to flog the bishop two to three times a day.”

“Flog the bishop,” she can’ t help but laugh. “Baby, you’re so cute.”

“What I am is horny.”

“Yeah,” a grin tugs at her lips.  “I’ve noticed that the last couple of days.”

“No. I mean like right now. This very second.”

“I’m busy.”

“Get unbusy,” he says, and yanks the piece of clothing she’s folding out of her hand and tosses it aside.

“You need to chill,” Esme suggests, and then has the nerve to bent over in front of him as she fetches a wayward sock off the floor; the shirt slipping up to the small of her back.

Just the mere sight of her ass –that smooth, pale skin- causes his cock to stir; the pressure beginning to build in the pit of his stomach.  And he reaches out, running a fingertip along the edge of the lace, feeling the goosebumps that prick her flesh.  Finger slowly travelling over her skin until he reaches her hip; then pressing his palm against it and squeezing tightly.  

“That hurt!” she scolds and reaches around to rub at the tender spot. “What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s what I want to get into you.”

“Okay, well can give you five minutes to get shit done? Patience is a virtue, after all.”

“Screw patience,” he growls, the slams the dryer door closed and places on hand her stomach and the other at the base of her throat, fingers applying slight, yet firm pressure as he presses his erection against her.  His hand slips down the front of her panties; fingertip dragging along the top of her pubic bone, his breath warm and moist as his mouth hovers by next to her ear. “Let’s fuck.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but all words escape her when she feels the tip of his nose and the scratch of his beard against the side of her throat, followed by the sensation of his hot, wet mouth. Lips aggressive and demanding against the skin; teeth lightly grazing along the flesh, fingers pressing harder and deeper into her neck.  His aggression has always been a turn on; starting with that moment he’d pinned her against the wall in the hotel room in Dhaka in a fit of a rage. She’d quickly discovered it was what she liked. What she craved. And she’d initially been ashamed because of it; Mark had caused a tremendous amount of pain and torment during their shit show of a marriage, so she’d felt disappointed and disgusted in herself for wanting sex to be that way with another man. But she’d learned that the two situations were vastly different; one was abuse, the other someone she trusts with her life. Who’d never intentionally do anything to hurt her.

She presses her ass against him; loving the way he groans in her ear. It’s empowering. Knowing you have that kind of effect of someone. When you know all the little things that drives them crazy; those magic spots that can nearly bring them to their knees. And she reaches up to grab a hold of his hair as he kisses her. His tongue aggressively pushing its way into her mouth just as his hand slides lower into her panties, palm cupping her mound; hot and wet against his skin. Giving a low moan of approval at the sensation before his mouth finds the side of her throat once again. Her eyes closing and the grip on his hair tightening as two of his fingers push past the swollen lips, the ends coming in contact with her clit; causing her body to shudder against and her hips to jolt backwards, bringing her ass in contact with his cock yet again.

“Fuck...” he growls. The simple contact even through the fabric of his sweats causing the pressure to build; erection painfully straining against the confines around him. And she cries out when his teeth clamp down on the juncture between neck and shoulders and he slips two fingers inside of her.   “So good...” he breathes, mouth against her neck. “...you feel so good...and you’re so fucking wet.”

“For you,” she says. “Only for you.”

A low and almost feral moan resonates from deep within his chest and removes his hand from inside of her panties. His gaze never wavering from hers as he licks and sucks her fluid from his fingers, the taste sweet and delicious on his lips and his tongue.  

“Tastes so good,” his voice is low. “So fucking good.”

There’s a primal, animalistic look in his eyes; a hunter stalking its prey.   And it makes that aching and longing between her legs almost overwhelming; almost too powerful to bear.  She grinds her ass against him once more; feeling how hard he is through the fabric of his sweats. His breathing quickening and become more ragged as she continues to rub against him, feeling the way his fingers bite into her hips. And she attempts to slip her own hand between her legs to chase some relief, but he roughly grabs her by the wrist, then brings her arm behind her back.

“I don’t fucking think so,” Tyler snarls, and uses the force of his grip and the weight of his body to propel her towards the countertop across the room. A knee pushes her legs apart as he keeps her arm secure behind her back; his other hand roughly yanking her panties off her hips and over her ass, letting them to pool at her ankles. “Take them off,” he orders, and she hurriedly obliges.  

Anyone else in this situation and it would scare her, the intensity in his eyes, the aggression in both his voice and his movements. But the trust is there. It always has been. The confidence that he’d never hurt her; that he’d stop the very second she showed any signs of pain or discomfort.

Tyler tightens his hold on the wrist that’s pinned behind her back and pushes her further into the countertop. His free hand on her shoulder; pushing her upper bod down before hastily shoving down his sweatpants. “Open,” he demands, using a thigh to push apart her legs. And still holding her arm firmly behind her back, the other hand settles on her shoulder as he pushes into her with one smooth, solid thrust that has her crying out, cheek pressed against the cold ceramic beneath her.  

He hesitates; leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You okay, baby?”

“Mm...hmm...” she responds, and pushes her ass back, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Just fuck me,” she orders. “Now.”

He grins. “You’re demanding.”

“Now!” she forcefully repeats and reaches back to dig her nails into his thigh, hard enough to break the skin.  

He pulls out completely, smirking at the disappointed, pissed off look that crosses her face before slamming back inside of her with brutal force.  It always surprises him; how someone that small and seemingly fragile can take as much as she can. How she’s always so eager and willing to this side of him to come out; aggressive, mean, controlling. Sometimes it even scares him; how quickly he can lose control of both the situation. Afraid that he’ll hurt her and then spent a week hating himself for it.  

But he gives her what she wants. Repeatedly driving into her; that arm still pinned behind her back, the other hand now on the back of her head; spurred on by her pleas for ‘harder’ and ‘faster’. Sweat beading across his forehead and gathering at the nape his neck and the small of his back. Fucking her until she loses the ability to form coherent words and is gasping and sobbing; tears streaming down her face. Hips jerking back towards him, matching every movement.   And he drops the hand from the back of her head and reaches between her legs, fingers easily finding her clit; vigorously and relentlessly rubbing at it until her orgasm hits her. The scream muffled against the countertop and those internal muscles contracting almost painfully around his cock. It quickly brings on his own release; a few deep, controlled thrusts until a deep, low growl rumbles in chest and he empties himself inside of her.

He finally releases the hold on the arm behind her back; both hands now resting on her hips as he closes his eyes and drops his forehead onto her shoulder. Chest heaving and legs sharking as he attempts to regain his composure.

“Tyler...” she reaches around and lays a hand on his thigh, trying to push him back. “...I love you, but you’re really fucking heavy.”

He didn’t realize his entire weight had collapsed against her, and he places a kiss on her cheek and gives an apologetic smile before backing away, withdrawing completely.  Snagging a towel from the laundry basket, he uses it to clean himself up, then gently presses it between her legs. “You alright?”

Esme nods.

“Was I too rough?”

She shakes her head. “You were perfect. But I swear to God if you got that towel out of the clean basket...”

“Sorry,” he gives a sheepish grin, then kisses her softly before tossing the item in question into the nearby sink before pulling his sweatpants back up. “Here,” he locates a pair of pajama pants in the dryer and hands them to her. “I don’t think you’ll want to put that underwear back on. They’re a little...wet.”

“Well if you didn’t have that effect on me, they’d be perfectly fine,” she retorts, and then turns to face him; hands on his chest for balance as he helps her slip into the pants.  “I never thought you’d be the type of guy who’d be into aftercare,” she teases.

“I never was. Until I met you.”

“Look at me. Bringing out all the good sides of you.”

“All the best sides,” he declares, then lays a hand on the back of her head and kisses her. “You sure you’re okay? I think I was a little too into it.”

“I would have told you if you were. You were amazing. Trust me. And thank you,” she stands on her tiptoe to kiss him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “I love you,” she says, as she buries her face in his chest, fingernails lightly scraping against the bottom of his hairline. “So much.”

“I love you too, baby,” he brushes his lips against her temple. “Always.”

****

The second time lasts longer. Slow yet intense love making that follow two rounds of foreplay.  Now they lay in a mix of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs; on their sides with her back tucked into his front, one of his legs draped over hers and their tightly clasped hands pressed against her stomach.  Tyler’s eyes are closed, tip of his nose and his lips pressed against the nape of her neck; happy and sated. Not just from the sex, but from the intimacy afterwards; lying together and feeling the warmth that radiates from her body and the familiar smell that clings to her hair. And she gives a long, content sigh and turns her face to the side, smiling back at him.

“You asleep?” she asks.

“Nope. Just completely and utterly fucked out.”

She laughs at that, and he gives a chuckle of his own and raises his head long enough to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“I love you,” he says, and brushes his nose against her temple.

“I love you too,” she snuggles tighter into him and increases the grip on his hand. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing really. Just lying here. Thinking about how happy my dick is right now.”

She snorts.

“Which is very fucking happy, by the way.”

“If he wasn’t, I’d be very insulted.”

“What are you thinking about?” he inquires.

“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He frowns. “As long as it’s not Dhaka. Because if you say Dhaka...”

“It isn’t Dhaka,” she assures him. “As amazing as those five days were...”

“Best five days of my life.”

“...I was NOT thinking about that place. I was thinking about that shack of yours. After Millie brought it up, I started thinking about wanting to go there and see it.”

“It doesn’t look the same anymore. Not after what he’s done do it.”

“You mean it actually has walls and an actual roof now?”

“Listen, smart ass...”

“I don’t care what it looks like. I just want to see it. It’s where everything started. It’s where WE started.”

“Technically WE didn’t start until Bangladesh.”

“But we met there. At the shack. It’s where I first saw you. It would be nice to go and see it. To see Koen again. And bathroom chicken.”

“I don’t think bathroom chicken is there anymore. I think he’s probably made dinner out of her by now.”

“That dick. That’s fucking savage.”

Tyler chuckles and presses his lips to the side of her head. “You eat chicken,” he reminds her.

“I wouldn’t have eaten HER. We could have kept her as a pet. Or considered her our first child.”

“I remember when we were in Dhaka and...”

“Hey!” she jabs him in the stomach with her elbow. “No saying the D word.”

“When we were THERE, I used to think about how we’d make things work. If they went okay between us and we didn’t kill one another while we were travelling. If you’d be happy staying there with me whenever you came to town.”

“Why wouldn’t I have been?”

“It wasn’t exactly five-star accommodations.”

“You were a bachelor. You didn’t care what your place looked like. You were on the job so much it was basically just a place to eat and sleep. And fuck some of your pieces of ass.”

“I never had any pieces of ass there. I didn’t want anyone close to home. In case they got attached and started showing up all the time.”

“What about Nik? I’m sure she visited you there.”

“We only ever fucked when I was on a job and she’d show up at the hotel. Never at my place. I didn’t want her there. I didn’t want ties to anyone, which meant keeping them away from my place.”

“You’re a very complex man, Tyler Rake,” she muses. “But you thought about having me there.”

“Because I wanted you there. I wanted you to be part of my life. If it was a dick and ditch, I would have told you right from day one. When we first fucked.”

“So you wanted to keep me around. Right from the start.”

“More like from the third day in. I was hopeful. That you’d want to stick around.”

“And here I was thinking it was me getting attached way too soon,” she teases, and he smiles against the back of her neck. “I was hopeful too. That there’d be more to it. That we’d travel like we planned and find out if we actually liked each other outside of sex. We never got that chance though.”

“No. We didn’t.”

“Do you regret that?” That it never went according to plan?”

“No.  It’s the butterfly effect, right? Change one thing, everything changes?”

She grins. “When did you become the deep thinker?”

“Not just a pretty face and big muscles, baby. If things had had went the way we planned, there’s a chance that the twins and Declan and Addie wouldn’t even be here. The only for sure one is Millie.  Because I wasted no time knocking you up with her.”

“Your swimmers were very determined,” she concludes. “I wonder what day of the five it happened on. I hope it wasn’t the first day.”

“Why’s that?”

“You want your daughter knowing she was conceived while you were choking me?”

“You want her to know how much you like it?” He counters.

“How about we agree to keep our mouths shut. Because those five days were extremely dirty and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees, and presses his lips to her shoulder; lingering on the lotus flower tattoo that graces her skin.

“I would have been happy there,” she says. “At the shack.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “I think WE would have been happy.”

“Wouldn’t have been able to raise a family there. Maybe one kid. But not five.”

“We would have had to move once we found out about the twins. Or added onto the place.”

“The outback is not a place to bring up kids. Trust me.”

“I would have liked some time with you there. Even just a little while.”

“Honestly? I would have just liked to fuck you there. At least once.”

She looks over her shoulder at him, frowning.

“What? You have your thing, I have mine. Just ‘cause it sounds weird, doesn’t mean it is. And I’m not gonna lie, I would have done it that first day.”

“Seriously? What about Nik?”

“She could have watched.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” Esme scoffs. “Bad enough she’s seen you naked. I don’t want her seeing me naked. Seeing us...you know.”

He grins. “Fucking?”

“To be crude about it, yes.”

“She could have just waited outside then,” Tyler reasons.

“You wanted to seriously fuck me the first day we met?”

“First day? First ten minutes. Do you blame me? I’m a guy. And you walked in there looking so cute and...”

“Cute? You’re calling me cute?”

“What’s wrong with being called cute? I think you’re very cute.”

“I want to be beautiful and sexy and alluring and...”

“You’re those things too.  But sometimes you look cute. That’s not an insult. You’re tiny and cute and I want to pick you up and put you in my pocket. And you looked cute that day. You had on those little jean shorts and that yellow tank top that had one strap that kept falling down. Your hair was in a ponytail. And you smelled like coconut.”

She rolls over onto her side to face him. “You remember all that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Like I said, you looked cute. And you walked in there like you owned the place. All fucking attitude. I liked what I saw. You were different. You didn't take shit and you let me know pretty early that you weren’t going to put up with any from me.”

“I knew it. You’re turned on by assertive women.”

“Well I was turned on by YOU. I don’t know about other assertive women. I so would have fucked you. Right there. Right then.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered, or....”

“Flattered. Definitely flattered.”

“For the record, I would have let you.”

A broad grin covers his face. “Yeah? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey you, nice hair. Let’s fuck’?”

“That would have worked actually. I would have been like ‘let’s go’.”

“Why didn’t YOU say anything? Esme counters.

“I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“You plied me with alcohol.”

“I asked you if you wanted a drink and you said yes. I gave it to you. I didn’t ply you with it. There’s a difference.”

“Well even without the booze, I would have given in. Just so you know.”

“I used to have a thing about wanting to fuck you on the kitchen table,” Tyler admits. “Just bend you over it and just give it to you.”

“You’re dirty.”

“That’s tame compared to some of the things we’ve done. Most of them, actually.”

“You’re such a bad influence,” she declares, then places a hand on the back of his head and kisses him; mouths moving slowly against each other, naked limbs rubbing and brushing together.  And when he pulls away, he brushes the hair away from her face and presses his lips to her forehead, then the bridge of her nose.

“I’m hungry,” Tyler announces.

Eme sighs. “Me too. What are you going to make me?”

“What do you want?”

She shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to see when we get down there.”

“How come I have to be the one to make it?”

“Your daughter said that you were the good cook, so I’ve given it up and handed you the reins,” she chides. “You wanted to try your hand at the domestic life, well there you go.”

“By domestic life, I meant siting on my ass while you do everything.”

“You wish!” she scoffs, and he pecks his life being throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed. “Baby...” she muses, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. “You’re sexy. Can I feel your arms?”

“You can feel whatever you want, whenever you want, however much you want.”

“Wherever and whenever?” she enthuses. “That’s dangerous. What if I start feeling you up at the grocery store or when we pick the kids up at school? Make Millie’s teacher extra jealous.”

“Baby, if you want to fuck me in the parking lot at the grocery store, all you have to do is ask.”

‘Kinky,” she giggles, then frowns when he tosses on his t-shirts at her and lands on top of her head. “Are you really going to Port Douglas tomorrow?” she asks, as she sits up and shrugs into the shirt. “To see your dad?”

Tyler nods.

“And you’re taking Millie?”

“She wanted to see him. And asked if he could come to her birthday party. She even made him a special invitation to give him.”

“You think she’ll be okay? I mean, if he’s having an ‘off day’...”

“If he is, we leave. I wouldn’t take her anywhere I didn’t think she could handle. You know that.”

“And what about you?” She climbs out of bed and stands in front of him, hands on his chest. “Think you can handle it?”

“I did the first time,” he points out.

“Did you?” her fingertips trace the scar on the left side of his chest, where the sniper’s bullet had caught him on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.  

He hadn’t even known what hit him; the shot knocking him off his feet, an immediate burning sensation filling his entire chest and blood rising into his throat. He remembers thinking that he had to get up and get cover; that the sniper would be waiting to take the ‘kill shot’. But his legs wouldn’t work; he was nauseous and dizzy and in excruciating pain and all he could do was drag himself across the asphalt while coughing up blood.

“I think so,” he replies. “I didn’t come home and crack open a bottle and pop some Oxy, so I guess I did okay.”

“I know there’s a lot you’re holding back,” Esme says. “From your childhood. That you’re angry and you’re hurt and even though he’s sick, you want him to pay for what he’s done. And I get it, Tyler. You know I do. And you know I support you one hundred percent.”

“But...”

“I just don’t want Millie hearing all of that. If something happens and you snap on him, I don’t want her being there. Because she’s five and she’s a baby still and she doesn’t need to shoulder adult things. It’s bad enough she asked about the time you nearly died.”

“In all fairness, you brought that up the other night and she’s been holding onto it for days.”

“I know. And I feel like shit for doing it. Sometimes I forget she’s listening and that she’s as smart as she is. She’s insanely smart. It’s almost scary how smart she actually is. Which is why I don’t want her there if things go bad between you and your dad.”

“I promise you, if something goes wrong, we just leave. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Esme agrees. “But I also know what you get like when you go off, Tyler. When you can’t control what you say or what you do. And...”

He silences her with a kiss. “I would never...ever...put our daughter in that situation. You know I wouldn’t.”

She smiles, then stands on her tip toes and circles her arms around his neck. “You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. Whether you think so or not.”

“I think you overestimate me way too much.”

“I think you need to keep your mouth shut,” she counters, then squeals when he pinches her ass hard enough to leave a bruise. “I could take you; you know.”

He smirks. “I’d love to see you try.”

“It’s the little ones you have to watch out for.”

“What are going to do? Bite my ankles?”

“You’re such a dick sometimes, you know that?

“I do. But you love me.”

“Yeah....” she smiles, then tightens the hold around his neck. “...I do.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

[language-of-love]

It’s three weeks after Patrick declared his decision to ask David to marry him as the “easiest decision of my life”, around 9:45 am on a random Tuesday, when David had felt his breath go shallow as the truth of those words fully sunk in. Patrick was already at the store and David was leaning against his kitchen counter, sipping orange juice as he pulled a gooey strip off the cinnamon roll Patrick had left for him in the fridge. It had hit him suddenly, like a punch to the gut where you double over and have to put your hands on your knees to catch your breath, but he’d known he was being a bit dramatic and had just stumbled to the couch to sit instead. 

With one hand still coated in cinnamon and sugar, he’d taken stock of his surroundings. The kitchen, with the three kinds of juice and skim milk in the fridge and cocoa powder and pancake mix in the cabinet, it had been the obvious trigger, but it was far from the whole story. His eyes had taken in the photo of himself on the mantle and his favorite scent of apothecary candles in the fireplace, the black and white fluffy throw tucked into the corner of the couch and the Rosebud Motel coasters curling up around the edges on the coffee table. 

Tears had gathered in the corner of his eyes as he’d stood on shaky legs and walked into the bathroom, letting his fingers run along the wicker basket on the right side of the sink that held all of his lotions and creams, remembering clearly the night he’d come over and found it there, empty and just waiting for him to fill it up with his things. 

He could’ve probably spent another half hour looking over every corner of this place and found even more, more evidence of Patrick’s love on display right there for David to see. 

Patrick doesn’t drink juice. And he likes his coffee black, when he’s not drinking tea, which is his hot beverage of choice. The only taste of cinnamon rolls he ever has is from kissing David right after he’s taken a bite. And the pancakes, he’ll eat one when he makes them for David on Sunday mornings, but David will have his usual four. His cheeks had flushed with warmth as he’d thought of last Sunday though, when Patrick had taken David’s half eaten plate of warm pancakes from his hands and crawled into his lap on the couch, licking the syrup from David’s lips until David’s protests had turned into pleas. They’d gotten syrup on Patrick’s blanket, the one that looks so like one of David’s sweaters that Patrick had just shrugged and bit his bottom lip when David had teased him about it.

It’s hard for David to accept love, to believe when someone claims to feel it in regards to himself. And Patrick, thankfully, knows this. And has told him over and over the depth of his feelings and slowly David has learned to trust, but there’s still scar tissue on his heart that sometimes aches...and makes him question. But fuck, as he’d looked around this apartment, the answers were everywhere. Patrick had made a place for him here, without having been asked. And those words, “the easiest decision of my life”...they’d suddenly felt grounded, no longer just something said during an emotional moment, but a reality David felt encircling him as if he’d been wrapped up in Patrick’s strong arms. 

~~~~~~~

All of that morning’s revelations had led David here, now, with a few things he needs to say.

Patrick’s eyes are wide as soon as David’s through the door, his focus on David as he thanks the customer walking away from the register with their tote in hand. 

“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice trails off as David smiles wide and Patrick smiles back, bracing his hands on either side of the register as he takes David in with curious eyes. David does a quick scan and seeing the store is now empty, he drops his bag inside the front door and walks right up to Patrick behind the counter. 

Patrick turns toward him instinctively, which is helpful as it gives David the access he needs to grab Patrick by the cheeks and kiss his breath away. He tastes of earl grey from his morning tea and peppermint from the store’s lip gloss and god, David can’t believe he gets to take sips of this man every day for the rest of his life. The man in question, he’s moved past his initial shock and is kissing David back, drawing him closer with strong hands clutching at David’s waist. 

Needing a moment of privacy, David walks them backwards through the open curtain, smiling against Patrick’s lips as he nearly stumbles on David’s feet. As soon as they’re in the back though, he doubles down on the kiss, nearly lifting Patrick to his tiptoes as he pushes him into the side of the wall just inside the back room. 

Patrick gasps into his mouth, but lets himself be kissed, hands curling up to clutch at David’s shoulder blades as David slows things down, letting the tip of his tongue pass over Patrick’s lower lip before slowly releasing it. He drops a few small, lingering kisses to Patrick’s mouth before finally pulling back, keeping his thumb tucked in at the corner of his lips as he just can’t seem to break contact. 

He nudges Patrick’s nose until he sees his eyes flutter open and David’s nerves begin to rumble in his chest, but he sees Patrick smile and he knows that even if he can’t quite get the words to come out right, what he has to say will be heard and understood. 

“Hi.”

David’s grin widens at how dazed Patrick sounds and he leans in again, whispering his own “Hi” against Patrick’s lips as he gives him another quick kiss. 

Knowing he’s stalling, he pulls back again, but lets his body lean into Patrick’s, groaning in the back of his throat as he feels the sturdiness of his man pressed against him. Patrick’s hands move to the small of his back to hold him there and David dips his chin, making sure Patrick’s eyes are on his before he starts to speak.

“It wasn’t an easy decision for me. Trusting in us...this,” he motions between the two of them with his free hand. “You know that.”

“I do.” Patrick’s eyes are warm and understanding, if a little bit unsure, so David just keeps going, not wanting him to have even a second of doubt about this.

“Loving you, that was different. It wasn’t a decision. It wasn’t easy or hard, it just was. Is. It’s a constant. It’s a part of me now as if it’s always been there, just waiting until we met to wake up. And I just need you to know that. Know that I love you completely, in ways I will absolutely never find the words for and quite honestly, I don’t have a clue where any of these words are even coming from now…cause you know how hard it is for me to say...” He trails off, having used the last of his gathered courage to get this much out.

Patrick is quiet for only a second or two, but it’s long enough for David to see the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

“Don’t worry, David, this will tide me over for the rest of our lives,” Patrick chokes out as he leans in, trembling lips pressing into David’s as his emotions bubble over into a kiss. David feels Patrick’s hands clench hard at his waist, obviously overwhelmed at the words David still can’t believe he said aloud. He really wishes he could say things more often, but he shows his love differently, with touch and actions, so he just kisses Patrick back with everything he’s got.

Their mouths dance together slow and deep until their lips are swollen and raw, skin beneath hands warm and charged from where they’ve slid under clothes. David wants to close the store for the day and take Patrick home, strip him bare and make love until they exhaust themselves against Patrick’s baby blue sheets. With his emotions spread out like a platter of desserts, he just needs time to let Patrick savor, sip and nibble...until he has to put them away again for safe keeping. 

And fuck, he really can’t work in this store today. 

Sliding his lips up along Patrick’s cheek, he lets out a warm breath against his ear, grinning a bit at Patrick’s shiver in response.

“Let’s go home…”

“Okay.”

David lifts his head in surprise, having expected at least a little push back from his business-minded fiance. But Patrick is grabbing his hand and extricating himself from the wall, dragging them both towards the front of the store. David doesn’t even get a chance to pick up his bag.

“You’re okay closing the store?”

Patrick gives him a wink, or at least tries to, the man is seriously inept at winking. He gives David a quick slap on the ass and pushes him the last few steps out the front door. Patrick locks up and grabs David’s hand again, smiling over at him as he begins to lead them up the sidewalk towards his apartment.

“Easiest decision of my life.”

~~~~~~~~

David does find his words again once more before the day is over, this time with Patrick pressing him into the mattress, filling him, their hands clasped tightly together above David’s head. He breathes his love for Patrick into his mouth, begging him to never stop...loving him back, fucking him..all of it, everything, over and over as Patrick moves, until David’s crying out his name and falling apart into a million little pieces. 

Pieces that Patrick picks up and puts back together, just like he has from the beginning and will do all over again, without David ever needing to ask. 

~~~~~~~~

Patrick feels a tear slip out, warm against his temple as it falls silently into David’s hair. He’s overwhelmed. But happy. Overwhelmingly happy, maybe, but it’s more than that. The man dozing in his arms has saved him. Rebuilt him, or more accurately, given him the space he needed to rebuild himself. And he’s a work in progress, he knows this. But David and his bruised and battered heart, showed Patrick that he has the ability to heal...just by being himself. Learning to love those things he’d been trying to hide, taught him how to love someone else in the process. Or maybe it’s the other way around? He’s not sure if he’ll ever really know which came first. 

But welcoming David into his life, making space, giving him a place in his home, it’s the most right Patrick’s ever felt and that’s why the decision to ask him to get married was easy, as simple as taking in a breath of air. Hearing David say today that loving him is a constant, Patrick feels more grounded, balanced, knowing that David needs him as much as he needs David back. 

Another tear gathers in the corner of his eye and he heaves in a deep breath, turning his head so he can press a kiss onto David’s forehead. His skin is warm against his lips, slightly salty from sweat as he presses another kiss to the bridge of David’s nose. David shuffles in Patrick’s arms, his head tilting up with eyes still closed to meet Patrick’s mouth. He hopes David can feel the happiness in his smile as he kisses his lips, can grasp the strength of his love as he gathers him close. 

#david x patrick #david rose #patrick brewer #schitt's creek #I was all in my feelings and just started writing this #and it's kind of all over the place #but I'm posting it anyway #have some feels #:) #my sc fic

[alexanderlightweight]

To Err

Thank you @thougtsofadyingatheist for the lovely prompt!  This took far longer than it had a right too but I was very excited to write it, it took a little different turn than I expected and I hope you like it!!

Prompt: “At least you’ll die doing what you love; Walking into danger.” 

-

“At least you’ll die doing what you love.  Walking into danger.”  Kyle griped as he finished cleaning out the deep laceration on Alex’s ribs.  

The door to Isobel’s backyard, because since Max had died they’d started to use her home as a safe middle ground, slammed shut and Alex clenched his teeth.  Not from pain but from knowing what was coming next.  If Kyle hadn’t currently been stitching him up, he would have kicked him.

“What the hell happened?”  Michael asked and the house gave a deceptively gentle tremor.  

Kyle winced and mouthed a soft ‘sorry’ to Alex but apologies were useless now. 

“A miscalculation,” Alex said at the same time that Kyle blurted out “shrapnel.”

There was one very long, incredulous moment of silence and Alex lost it, “what happened to doctor-patient confidentiality, Kyle?”  And when both men gave him an equally unimpressed and unamused glare, added, “also it was miscalculated shrapnel.  The point was to not have shrapnel, then I miscalculated.”  

“What were you working on that a miscalculation meant shrapnel?”  Liz asked, because of course Michael hadn’t been alone when he arrived and Alex was just about done with everything.  In fact, he was making a vow of silence.  Which meant that he wasn’t talking and since Kyle had already thrown him under the bus, he could return the favor and let the doctor fix this damage as well.

After Alex’s silence had stretched on for too long, Kyle neatly tied off his last stitch and removing his gloves, looked at the group. 

“We’ve been going through the data that we managed to get from Caulfield,” he paused, a moment of respect for the lives lost that day, “and we’d found a few other possible locations.  Our concern has been going in too-“ and Kyle paused.  “The systems for Caulfield were archaic but with just enough new tech and coding that they were also very delicate.  We’ve been working on reconstructing the self-destruct mechanisms.  If we’re operating on the assumption that these other sites would similarly linked, we want to make sure we have ways of shutting them down.”

There was an unspoken vow that lingered between them all.  That what had happened at Caulfield would not, could not, happen again.  

“So you’ve been recreating the system with the purpose of figuring out all the fail-safes and how to shut them down?”  Michael asked and his voice was tight, “and you didn’t think to, I don’t know.  Ask any of the people with actual powers to help?”

“Your powers didn’t work in Caulfield, not like they were supposed to.”  Alex said, breaking his self-imposed silence.  “There was some kind of alloy all throughout the facility that I don’t have access too.  They had enough time to figure out how to weaken your people and their gifts.  Doing it this way made the most sense.”

“Right.  Which is how that,” Michael gestured sardonically to Alex’s chest and never before had Alex wished more for a shirt, “happened.”

“As I said, I miscalculated.”  

“Actually, you said it was unstable, waited until I was in the jeep and then attempted to-” Kyle paused from where he’d started packing up his medical kit, “nevermind.  That part is completely unimportant.  There’s no permanent damage and Alex hasn’t lost any more limbs.”  

Alex rolled his eyes at Kyle’s smirk and added, “the good news is I figured out a way around the trigger point that caused this, so win-win.”  

-

Michael wasn’t sure which part was worse.  The fact that Alex and Valenti were still clearly spending a lot of time together, the fact that they were keeping everyone else in the dark while doing dangerous experiments, or the fact that they were at ease enough to have a mutual sense of morbid humor that flowed smoothly between them.   To paraphrase Max who had no doubt been quoting someone else at the time, he found it ‘quite fucking irksome’.

“Right well, seeing as Isobel is almost here I’m going to get us something to drink while you finish cleaning that up,” Liz said, clearly sensing that Michael was near his breaking point.  “Mikey, care to join me?”  

He grunted a response, not even bothering to playfully snap back at the nickname.  Inside Isobel’s kitchen he flung the fridge open, calling a beer to himself and opening it before it even reached his hand.  

“You want to talk about it?”  Liz asked softly, grabbing down both a bottle of tequila and acetone from the shelf.  “You seemed pretty close to losing it out there with your powers, that’s not like you.”

Michael shrugged and accepted both of the shots she offered.  “Long month, long damn year even longer fucking life.  I definitely don’t want to talk about it.”

-

Michael would be the first to deny that he spent the rest of the evening in a mixture of glowering and sulking.  Alex stuck to sipping a single beer for most of the night while Valenti actually deigned to relax and try to match Isobel for shots.  Liz had been convinced to let loose for one night -a mental break from her desperate need to find a way to save Max- and was out with both Maria and Rosa.  Somehow that had turned into him watching Isobel taunt Valenti into another shot while Alex laughed at them from the couch.  

Meanwhile Michael was pacing himself, cutting his alcohol with acetone and ice and sipping on it.  He needed to keep a clear head with Alex this close.  It was hard not to go to him here, in a place they didn’t have to hide any of their history, seeing him soft with laughter and at the same time knowing he was hurt.  Michael wanted to even out the past between them just enough so that they could finally stand without a chasm between them.

Instead, he had to watch as Valenti made inside jokes with Alex that Isobel quickly caught onto, had to watch them laugh and smile and see Alex lean into casual touches that Michael had once coveted.  In another lifetime he’d have been filled with joy, knowing that Alex finally had people who would touch him without hurting him, instead Michael found himself yearning for even just another one of their long lost, stolen moments.  

Instead, he had to make due with the way that every so often, their gaze would meet and Alex’s face would tighten as he hid away just enough emotion to make him unreadable.  

Michael hated it.  

It was both worse and better once Iz convinced Alex to take a few shots.  He didn’t do many, but it was enough to leave him loose limbed and relaxed as he sunk into the armchair.  It was also enough for Isobel to leave to her room.  Michael had already been planning on staying in the guestroom Iz had designated for him or Max.  Valenti was dozing on couch when Michael knelt next to the chair and reaching out, gently tapped Alex’s arm.

“Come on there Private, let’s get you to a bed before you fall asleep here.”  

“I’m good,” Alex mumbled, bleary and uncoordinated as he reached for a crutch that wasn’t there and then groaning when he overextended his reach, arm going to cradle his side.  

“Valenti was right, you are going to die doing what you love.”  It came out a little harshly but Michael was just so tired of everyone he loved in pain.

“Oh, so your name is danger now?”  Alex muttered haughtily, swaying slightly and oblivious to how Michael’s breath hitched at his admission.

“Alex,” Michael said softer than his previous accusation and Alex swayed again.

“I don’t,” he blinked, “I don’t think I should have taken Isobel up on those shots.”  He slurred and then looked down at the floor, it was spinning.  It took him a moment, Michael’s voice an unintelligible and white noise around him.  “D-did Kyle drug me?”  His voice raised in betrayed accusation and he let himself fall back against the couch.

“Actually Liz did before she left,” Michael said. “She did make sure they were safe to mix with alcohol.”  

“I see who my true friends are,” Alex bit out and flopped his hand in Michael’s direction, “never thought I’d say that about Kyle.  Not after high school.”

“Still can’t believe you forgave him,” Michael said and sighed when Alex didn’t answer, just blinked, “oh for, alright Private.  This way, come on.  Iz offered up her guestroom.”  

“Not the army,” was muttered against his ear and Michael was thankful that Alex was too out of it to feel the way he shivered when they connected.  Michael’s arm supported Alex as he led him to the room and helped him to bed.    

“When are you going to stop walking headfirst into danger and not caring about how anyone else is going to feel about it?”  Michael asked, keeping his voice soft enough that Alex’s brow furrowed in confusion.  It was a surprise when Alex surged up, knocking their foreheads together none-too-gently.  It surprised more than hurt Michael but Alex gave a wounded little, ‘ouch’ before flopping onto his side and burrowing his forehead against the soft pillow. 

“What was that?”

“Headfirst into danger,” Alex mumbled into the linens, “night danger.”

As Alex drifted into whatever sleep he managed, he left Michael staring at him -healed hand pressed shakily to his chest as he tried to imagine if a future was possible for them.

-

“Well, that went better than it should have,” Kyle admitted the next morning as they left Isobel’s.  He still felt off and it was only due to years of working on far too little sleep that he’d managed to pull himself together, that and blessed electrolytes.  

“Speak for yourself,” Alex said with a side-glare as he pulled out his tablet. 

“Oh, you mean your little confession?  I’d say Guerin looked star-struck, but that could have also been the result of whatever minor concussion you gave him.”  

“And to think, I told Michael you were the only friend I could trust.”  Alex was teasing, Kyle knew that but he took a moment at the stop sign to look over at his friend. 

“As someone you trust, you’re sure you want to go through with this?”  Kyle asked and shook his head when Alex turned with a little smirk, “don’t deflect this onto me.  I’ll be fine whatever the outcome but you saw how upset he was about you being hurt.  If this goes wrong, how do you think he’ll react?”

Alex stayed silent for a moment, long enough that Kyle had to start driving again.  

“I think,” Alex sighed, “I know- that Michael would want to come with us, again.  That Isobel and and Liz and possibly even Rosa and Maria would get involved.  I also know that they’re civilians.  All the alien powers in the world mean nothing if they can’t stay calm and work under pressure.  It’s not a risk we can afford to take.”

“I hate that you’re right.”

#roswell new mexico #Roswell NM #malex #malex fic #prompt fills #alex manes #michael guerin #kyle valenti #liz ortecho #isobel evans #writing #my fic #fanfic #emotions happen #internally that is #fanfiction #roswell nm fic #Kyle keeps randomly inserting himself into my fics #he just wants to be there for Alex apparently

[mcrninqstar]

Christmas Mass

SUMMARY: Lucifer attends Christmas Mass with some friendly and not so friendly faces. TRIGGERS: Lucifer’s daddy issues, Zatanna’s questionable taste in men, Petty Wenches WRITTEN WITH: @ofhxllblazer, @ofwarriors, @zztophat, @hcllprnce, @divinecreaturc, @ofallenangel, @dxtective

John: He wasn't much for Christmas. Never really had a reason to celebrate and never really liked the holiday. The past few years, he's been politely forced to attend the Zatara-Graves holiday get together mostly. Some years he's come terribly close to being spelled into a painting, but he's made it through alright. Today, he found himself loitering outside the church, mug of spiked cocoa in hand, listening to the carolers sing. "Well, aren't they just angelic," he teased.

Jesse: was hardly shocked to see the trench coated male standing outside his church while the chorus sang more traditional christmas songs. The man for some odd reason had taken to dropping by alot unannounced either to talk or join him for a drink and smoke. "Oh now dont tell me you have a scrooge spirit about the holidays?" he smirked before moving to look at the male " No ba humbugs here John, only good tidings to you and you home"

Chloe wasn’t sure what she was doing there, at the church. She wasn’t particularly religious, in fact? Churches kinda made her uneasy. The older they were, the creepier they were. But here she was anyway, barely remembering making the decision to come. She stepped into the building, glancing around. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, dipping her toe in the water by standing just barely past the threshold. Voices from outside distracted her, pulling her attention back out there to see what was happening. “Excuse me” she asked the men nearby, one looking like he might work there. “Do either of you happen to know when mass starts?” She couldn’t believe the words she just spoke. Out loud. To other people.

John: John chuckled as the priest approached him. "Merry tidings to you too," he teased sarcastically. "Hey, its safer here than Zatara's right now so I'll take it." His almost in-laws being in town was always a pain in the ass. Also, Zatanna had a habit of volunteering him for odd end jobs during these events which he was trying to avoid. No matter how much she tried, the man wasnt a people person. His head turned as a female voice asked about mass. "He'd be the man to ask," replied John as he gestured to Jesse. The girl looked entirely uncomfortable in this kind of setting. "This your first christmas mass?" He asked.

Jesse: "Should I take that as our first meeting left such a lasting impression, that you wish to somewhat spend the holidays with me?" He chuckled teasing the other man, in truth he hadn't really expected to see him especially during this time of year, he was plenty sure the man would be hanging out with Zatanna and her family then attempting to nose around the church. Of course the women's voice cut off his thoughts as he chuckled " yes I happen to be the new priest here" he replied before taking noticing of how uneasy she seemed to be here "The mass will start in about a half hour, I wanted to give the kids enough time to shine" he replied before holding out his hand "first time or not we'd love to have you join, everyone just calls me Jesse or Father Custer If your feeling spiritual"

Chloe was a little taken aback at how transparent she apparently was. “I uhh...” she had no idea how to respond to the disgruntled man in the trench coat. He looked to be about as much of a misfit as she was, being there. Plus? She was pretty certain she caught a whiff of something other than chocolate in that cup he was holding. She may be law enforcement, but this experience was far too awkward already to make a scene over something so trivial. “Detective Chloe Decker.” She reaches her hand out to shake that of the preacher. “I’m kinda new to all this.”

John: He snorted as the preacher teased him. "More like avoiding getting assigned to the British station at Zatanna's workshop, Father. Women's got a cruel sense of humor," he deflected. Truth was he liked being around the preacher. He was easy to talk to and not nearly as judgmental as John expected. He looks at the woman who identified herself as a detective. Well, fuck. John and the law had a long and complicated history. "What brings you here, detective? You find god?"

Jesse: he smirked a bit at the other before chuckling "Shame, I wouldn't mind taking a turn around Britain so long as I had a good guide, but I understand how women can tease you in especially cruel ways" He replied smiling before looking at the women he hadn't really excepted a detective to show up to his mass but it had been very open to the public. Though the fact that John was most definitely holding a spiked drink would do best to possibly keep the man off her radar as best as possible. "That's completely fine everyone's had a first time with religion. Some learned from their families and friends while others gained some sort of experience which turns them to hope for something higher than them. Nothing wrong with a little Faith"

Chloe was a little surprised at the question from the man who’s libation she was ignoring. “Not yet. You havnt...seen him anywhere, have you?” She stifled a laugh, wondering what had brought him here. Maybe she wasn’t such an oddball after all. “Nice go meet you....Fath- err, Jesse.” She felt a lively awkward fumbling over titles and names. “Singing among isn’t mandatory, is it?”

Adriel was excited to see a church nearby such a festive event. Although they were constructed for humans, he sometimes liked to visit them. This was a good a time as any to check in with The Almighty, especially after all that had happened as of late. He walked through the snow, seeing the group of people sitting just outside. "Oh, I suppose I've come a bit early, haven't I?" he rubbed his hands together, looking around. "Sorry, apologies, my name is Adriel..." he paused. "Adriel Fell. Are you all waiting on service to begin?"

John: He smirked as Jesse mentioned taking a turn in Britain. "Nothing stopping ya, mate. Her shop is decked out for this whole event. I think she's competing with the Lux. If you've got the time, I can show you around after the service," he offered. John looked down at his drink and then up at the detective. Double Fuck. He grinned sheepishly at her. "I haven't found Jesus, but I did find an angel," he replied as he vaguely gestured to Adriel. "I wouldn't say singing is mandatory at these events, but if you find yourself in the spirit don't let us hold you back."

Jesse: "I'm sure I could carve out enough time after the service, I made it short so everyone could be with their families since I don't have anything like that, I guess I'll leach off you" He replied shaking his head as the detective took notice of John's drink, anyone with a nose could've smelled it but lucky for them he was quite a functioning drinker. "I saw Jesus and God once, it was an experience to say the least." he turned to look at the male he'd pointed out "He's an angel really?" He asked before turning his attention back to Chloe. Nice to meet you as well Detective Chloe, My Friend here is John Constantine" He chuckled softly before shaking his head "No signing is never mandatory, and you may leave my mass anytime you wish, I never force someone to listen to my sermons especially if you find its not for you" He paused before eye the 'angel' again "Mass is set to start soon, but it seems we are growing a bit of a party here"(edited)

LUCIFER: For reasons known to literally everyone, the devil doesn't spend a lot of time in church. No amount of prayer could wash away his sins, but he sure liked to see someone try. He was on his way to the Lux when he spotted the detective with none other than John Constantine and the angel Adriel. What on earth was she doing? He didn't know, but he simply had to find out now. "Detective!" he called out, waving playfully to her as he walked up to the crowd. "Well, isn't this a sight to see. Have I missed the mass? That would be a shame. Christmas sermons are my favorite," he teased.

“An...angel...” She repeated John’s words- doubly surprised when the preacher seemed to take him seriously. “I don’t follow” was she just a walking magnet for the delusional? It’s almost as if they’d been hanging out with- “ Detective! “ She heard him before she saw him, but she didn’t need to. There was no mistaking it. Chloe shut her eyes a moment, letting out a long sigh. Of all the places for Lucifer to stumble upon her, it just had to be church. “Lucifer, do you...know these people?” It would explain a lot, honestly.

Adriel: The Angel paused, not prepared to be...spotted so easily. After all, he had been on Earth for thousands of years, and he never had someone just...say it. he cleared his throat, "I believe you're mistaken, I--" he paused, interrupted as more people began to speak. If he couldn't sense evil, he wouldn't have even noticed Lucifer coming up behind him. "Oh Good Lord--" he backed away a bit, looking at the man. He wasn't sure what to say. Demons? He could handle demons. But Lucifer? He swallowed, his heart pounding.

Gadreel: Had no idea what possessed Luci to leave his nice club but once he saw the women he immediately rolled his eyes before they landed on his beautiful angel. If it was one thing he learned was Adriel never enjoyed being in the spotlight or had he ever met Lucifer in person. Moving quickly to his side he smiled softly taking his hand "You are an angel, Mine remember" he winked at the other holding him close. "I don't think you've ever had the chance to meet Lucy, well Lucifer as he prefers to be called., Lucifer this is Adriel the one I've told you about"

Beel sensed his brother was near, frowning at the fact that the only place full of people was the church. He shrugged and made his way to the holy place, quickly sensing his favorite pair of demon and angel were there too. “You just scared the poor angel.” Said when he spotted Adriel, staying close to the principal altar and eventually sitting on the table, his hands carefully touched the gold objects he could find. “I’m hurt. None of you invited me to the reunion.”

LUCIFER: He smiles as he looks at the rage tag team before him. It’s the beginning of a terrible joke, really. An angel, a preacher, a detective, two princes of hell, and....John Constantine. Honestly, he could tolerate them all save for maybe Constantine. “I do happen to know some of these individuals, yes,” he responds to Chloe’s question. “Some more begrudgingly than others,” he says as he gives Constantine a pointed look. “Honestly, detective, this is the last place I expected to see you stalking over the holiday season. Don’t tell me there was a murder in the church and you didn’t call me?” he asks, feigning offense. His attention turns momentarily to Adriel who appears dreadfully frightened. “I seem to have that affect on people, don’t I, brother,” he grins at Beel before turning his attention back to the angel. “Any friend of Gadreel’s is a friend of mine,” he assures. “Although, he does have some questionable tastes in friends every now and again,” he sighs, again giving a pointed look over at Constantine before turning to address his brother. “To be fair, I think my invitation got lost in the mail too,” he smirks. “And you know how I just adore a good church sermon.”

John: “Bloody hell,” he muttered as he watched Lucifer and then Beelzebub approach. This church was becoming more and more crowded by the minute. There were one too many demons around and neither the detective nor the preacher really knew the extent of what they’d just gotten themselves into. He could sense that Lucifer had a soft spot for the detective, but he carried disdain for John which put just about everyone in John’s sphere in a bit of a nasty spot. “Good to see you too, Luci, Beel" he teased. "And here I thought you'd both be too busy for church sermons. Isn't there a party you should be preparing for? Or have you already decided to bow out to Zatanna?" he ribbed. He turned to Jesse, it was best to get him and the detective as far away from this as possible. "You need any help setting up in there, Father?" he asked.

Chloe: A man who hangs out at church, drinking booze. Of course Lucifer knows him. Not to mention the other characters here who seem to believe themselves to be biblical archetypes. Was this all some kind of elaborate prank? She certainly wasn’t about to put it past him. “A murder? uhhhh...no I’m here because...” she had no idea how to explain her presence at the church. “Trixie has been asking about Church lately.” i wonder what could have sparked here interest there. “ I thought I’d scope the place out and see if it’s someplace I could bring her for...whatever it is that happens here.”

Jesse: hadn't expect this much of a turn out when he'd advertised opening up the church during the Christmas Festival but either way he was quite glad at the turn out. Yet he could feel a somewhat growing tension between many of the people now surrounding them. "I somehow doubt anyone can beat Zatanna, her entire store is over the top amazing," He mused before chuckling softly at John's attempt to lead him away from the group, in truth he really did need to get ready as the Mass was quickly approaching, He moved to take the cup out of John's hand before replying "Sure I'd love the help but why you do I'm going to hang on to this Constantine" He smirked  at the male before nodding his goodbyes to everyone and making his way into Church knowing the other would follow.

Gadreel: wasn't about to let Beel insult Adriel any longer as he glared at the male pulling the angel close. "He is none of your concern Beel, nor were we talking to you" He replied before turning to look at  Lucifer before ensuring the other demons kept their distance from his angel. The man wasn't about to let them tease him like he would've so long ago. "To be fair the last time any of us were at a Church, seems to escape me, and its hardly my fault I know both Adriel and John, they are stuck here on Earth which you put into my domain"

Beel smirked at Gadreel’s words. The whole situation just kept getting funnier and more entertaining. He wondered what would  all of these weak creatures do in the presence of any other of the princes. Lucifer and him, they were different. “It’s cute when you think I care about you two, little demon.” The prince held one of the cups and filled it with wine in a second, a priest’s belonging always added a better taste. “It’s a shame that you’re leaving, we could’ve had a good time together.” Beel left that cup aside and extended his hand to the blonde woman, noticing his brother’s leaning towards her. A human that could have that effect in a being like them, should be one of a kind. “We haven’t had the pleasure to meet. My name is Beel, one of Lucifer’s brothers.”

Adriel let out a sigh of relief at the Demon's presence, a blush following immediately afterwards. "Gadreel, my dear. Let's be polite." he felt himself being pulled closer into his space, and gave a small smile. "Here, I'm alright." he looked at Lucifer when he was addressed, "I'm afraid, given the circumstances, I cannot completely believe you." He watched as Beel danced over the church, and pursed his lips. It definitely bothered him, but decided to say nothing of it. "So, what is it you both are doing up here anyways? Is there a new program where the princes of hell have family reunions? Isn't the reason you send demons to Earth is so you don't have to come here yourselves?"(edited)

Gadreel: felt himself calm at Adriel's presence and voice, Beel always knew just what to upset him and he wasn't going to let it not when he'd finally gotten the okay to be with the angel after his talk with Lucifer. "I'll try but its rather had with this  particular prince" He replied nodding his head keeping close to his angel while the conversation continued.  "I'm sure its just all the fun they'd be missing if they didn't come to New York, after all Lucifer came from Las Vegas"

LUCIFER: “Trixie’s asking about church, huh? I’m glad you’re doing your research. They say religion is a slippery slope,” he teases. “before you know it you’ll be knocking on doors asking people if they’ve heard the good words of the lord.” He frowns at Constantine and the priest. “Yes, I have seen Zatanna’s shop. A bit tacky if you ask me,” he shrugs. “If you’re looking for something a bit more fun I’d say swing by the Lux tonight, but you’ll have to come alone, Father. I’m afraid John won’t make it through the door,” he smirks as he watches them head toward the church. “Surely we can behave ourselves for one night,” he chuckles as he glances at Gadreel and then at Beel. “We wouldn’t want to get arrested,” he teases, giving Chloe a cheeky wink. “I think I’ve used up all of my friends and family discounts at the jailhouse.” He only has a vague notion of what’s set off a feud between the two and he knows it centers around the angel Adriel. “Given the circumstances that’s understandable, Adriel, but I assure you I’m not the brother you need to worry about. Your dearest Zatanna has rope Michael into this. I need not tell you what he’s like. I’m just here expanding the business I started in Los Angeles. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I really don’t think.....”’Chloe shook her head at Lucifer’s joke about her knocking on doors, but was grateful that he’d dropped it to prod at some of the others who were gathered near them. For someone who usually had nary a kind word to say about his “Father” aka the big guy upstairs, Lucifer certainly seemed to be in good spirits today. She definitely had a lot of questions about how all these people knew each other, and how they all seemed to be on the same deranged wavelength. Her attention quickly snapped to Adriel “Sorry, did you just say princes... of hell?” She couldn’t even believe all this. “Are they serving more than tiny little cups of wine at this church?” She wasn’t hyper aware of religious customs, but if she didn’t know better she’d think they’d all been microdosing. or macro “Oh come on, Lucifer. Where’s your Holiday spirit?” She could tell this John guy got under his skin for some reason, and she wanted to find out why. “I’m sure you can make an exception on Christmas Eve?” She smirked a little at John before raising her brows at Lucifer.

John: He smirked seeing the affect the detective had on Lucifer. It appeared even the devil had a soft spot. "I think it's only fair to make an exception for Christmas. I've been on my best behavior this year," he winked at Luci. "Save me a seat, would you, Detective?" he smirked before brushing past everyone to head into the church and help Jesse. This was about to be one hell of a sermon. "So, minor complication," he replied as he caught up to the priest. "Tall, dark, and handsome over there," he said, eyeing Beelzebub. "Happens to be the embodiment of lust. He also happens to be dating my almost, sort of, once upon a time, could have been brother-in-law. And the arsehole with the whole Lucifer Morningstar schtick? He's not joking. He's the actual thing. And unfortunately, it appears they're sticking around for service tonight."

Jesse: He was quite surprised by all the people who decided to come to his little church it was nothing if not amazing of course it was quite obvious that some of them needed to talk to one another. As he walked back towards the Church most of the kids had cleared out with parents and children alike thanked him before John caught up with him. "I suppose that would be quite the Complication, that two demons wish to attend my sermon" He replied chuckling softly looking at the two male from the doorway before entering in "So you? the hot ticket demon slayer allowed your somewhat not brother in law to date a demon? and that man who had more swag then God could ever give a man is truly the devil himself?" He chuckled moving to set up his books.

John: He leaned against the door frame, arms folded across his chest. "Yeah, all this party is missing is an archangel but I think he's occupied at the moment," he chuckled. Where was the sword of God when you needed him? "I didn't allow anything. Blayze is an adult. Unfortunately, he took more after me than he did Zatanna in the department of terrible decision making. Although," he looked back over his shoulder at Beel before turning to look at Jesse again. "I can't say I blame the kid. Lust is an easy sin to give into."

Jesse: Watched the other do absolutely nothing to help him like he said he would "You mean Michael? You know he was always my favorite, Not as much as an ass his Father is" He replied moving to finish up the setup before smiling softly at the male, he cared a lot for this Blayze person even he could tell. "You three sound like quite the cute little family what ever happened there?" He questioned knowing he wouldn't get an answer back, after all the man if anything seemed pretty tight lipped about personal things. "You should know, the stories Father Marcus told me was enough to make a Nun blush, so I'm surprise he isn't feeding off you Johnny Boy" Jesse smirked looking at him

John: "To you, maybe," he laughed. "I'm sure he would have portaled me to hell by now if he didn't have to answer to a certain mage." Of course Jesse enjoyed the blond warrior. It would appear only John and the demons were annoyed by the archangel at this point. He cleared his throat and looked down at the ground. "What happened is I got  Zatanna's father killed," he replied candidly. He was sure Father Marcus told the new priest a whole hell of a lot, but the man deserved to know exactly what he was getting himself into here. "Would have been her if the old man hadn't taken her place instead. Really ruins the romance when people around you keep dying because of your own stupid mistakes."

Jesse: "To be completely fair he was quite the ass to me too but I'm rather used to such behavior" He replied softly chuckling before turning to look at the male, he hadn't expected the man to come right out and tell him by any means. Outside of what Father Marcus told him it hadn't been anything to damning really when he thought about it. He moved to come down from the podium to stand next to John. "Yet it still rips you apart, even I can tell that. as far as stupid mistakes I've made plenty in fact....it was because of me my parents got killed, " He replied not wanting the other to feel like he bared his soul for nothing. "I'm not even going to try and say God has a plan because he doesn't....he is a cruel father who takes pleasure in abandoning his children, and You still are close to Zatanna, she came to see me soon after you did...felt like a bit of a check up"

John: "That sounds like Michael's default mode," he chuckled. "If you ask me they're all a bunch of wankers." That wasn't necessarily true. John knew Michael had the ability to turn earth into a battleground for the next holy war, but the angel cared enough for God's creations to not start a war that would destroy them all. "I'm sorry to hear about your parents," he replied. "It would appear all souls worth saving have a bit of blood on their hands and guilt in their conscience." There was no saving John. While Zatara's death was a stain on his soul, Astra's damnation was a finale nail in his coffin. He could stop the Apocalypse and still the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't open their doors for him. "Please tell me you aren't about to go on that pulpit and preach god is a cruel father to a demon, an angel, two princes of hell, a very confused detective, and your entire congregation" he chuckled. "I'm afraid the Vatican frowns upon that." And it would be quite a shame to have the priest recalled over blasphemous sermons egged on by one erroneous petty dabbler. "I'm not surprised Zee stopped by," he laughed as he shook his head. "We're in a bit of trouble right now," he admitted. "Two princes of hell in one city's caused quite an uptick in the number of possessions. Lucifer's entire club is manned by a bunch of demons and the number keeps growing. We could really use a priest with the voice of God on our side."

Jesse:  Listened to the other he was sure plenty of people thought Michael was more abrasive then he should've been but Jesse had been prepare, mostly because of others he'd met.  He nodded his head at the endearment but of course it'd been years since he thought of his parents, and how much their blood had been on his hands before chuckling softly "But the better question., is why would we want to be saved, too much trouble to keep up, plus all the best people end up in hell so I hear" He teased before chuckling at the male "Of course not, that was your own personal sermon, I think a thank you would be appreciated, I don't preach for free to everyone" He joked before shrugging what didn't the Vatican frown upon, not that he truly cared, he could dodge anything they threw at him. "Well, I hardly mind offering my help to you or Her much like Marcus did, but I'll let you know I'm nothing like a traditional Priest, I actually have a background in Voodoo magic thanks to my grandma....But that's probably little use to you outside of my voice" He chuckled softly.

John: “Believe it or not being tortured by every monster I’ve ever exorcised or damned doesn’t exactly sound like a picture perfect afterlife,” he shrugged. With his luck, the demon assigned to torture him in hell would be Astra. Life (and Death) were funny like that. Cosmic retribution, he supposed. “I’m sure I’ll be in good company though,” he smirked as he gave the priest a sidelong look. “Thanks for the pep talk. The voodoo will come in useful. Demons aren’t the only thing that plagues this city.” John knew a bit of Voodoo himself going up against Papa Midnite and his crowd, but he was sure it was nowhere near as extensive as Jesse’s knowledge of the art. He got up to head back out of the church. He didn’t want to leave the detective alone with three demons and an angel. “Well, speak of the devil...” he chuckled as he saw the form of Michael in the distance. “Great.” 

Michael: Being the patron Saint of the Church, Michael was comfortable under the gothic arches of the structure. He hadn’t intended to attend mass tonight, but Zatanna hadn’t scheduled him so he had more free time than he’d expected. He was surprised to see Lucifer and Beelzebub in the throng of people gathering for mass. “Well, I wouldn’t say this is exactly your scene,” he replied as he approached the brothers. “Are you looking for God or are you here just for a laugh?”

ZATANNA: The shop is in good hands for the night. She’d hired people from all over the world for this week of fun and excitement to make the environment feel authentic. So, she’s given herself a day off to experience the fun for herself. Churches aren’t exactly her style, but she figures she’d come to support the new priest. They desperately needed allies and he seemed kind. Zatanna smiles as she spots Michael in the crowd. The towering Hercules is hard to miss. Her smile quickly fades as she watches him approach Lucifer and Beelzebub. What the hell are they doing here? The mage makes her way over to the crowd and her concern grows ten times more as she makes out the figures of Adriel and Gadreel beside them. She looks up toward the church and hopes that the priest is prepared to handle a crowd like this. “Adriel, Michael,” she smiles as she embraced the angels. “Not surprised to see you two here, but I am surprised to see these three,” she said as she eyed Lucifer, Beel, and Gadreel. 

LUCIFER: “Oh, Father bless us,” he curses under his breathe as he watches Michael and then Zatanna approach. “If they are serving little cups of wine I’m going to need about twenty,” he sighs as he looks over at the detective. He frowns deeply as she defends Constantine's right to drink at the Lux. "I think he's had enough already, don't you?" he asks. "Honestly, if you arrest him tonight I'd consider that a very Merry Christmas, indeed," he winks. Nothing would bring him more joy at this point than watching the detective escort Constantine into the back of her squad car. He turns to look at his brother and the mage, rolling his eyes as she hugs the angels. "Why not both, brother?" he grins. "Who doesn't like to start the new year off with a bit of blasphemy?"

Beel could easily ignore whatever happened in front of him, whenever he wanted. Not that he cared about Michael being his normal uptight self or a priest trying to save his soul by spitting the word of ‘god’. Though seeing one Zatanna Zatara there, made him come back to the present. He loved her presence. “I’m so glad you join us, Zatara. I was bored with all this hypocrisy.” He half smiled and walked towards the banks, wanting to be in the front for the mass. “I miss my beloved dad. It’s been a while since our last face to face time, I would like to apologize for such inconvenience back then.” A successful war the he started after his fall. It was so long ago, he deserved a damn award for minding his own business for so long. “I know he holds no grudges, no space for such pettiness in heaven. So, I guess Lucifer and I are welcomed to stay. Aren’t we, Mike?”

Jesse: "Maybe not, but than again you shouldn't act like your the only one who has that waiting for them when they get down there, I've got plenty in my past they could used to break me down hour after hour" He replied softly, all this talk of Hell and uncertainly reminded him of his Grandmother's deal, what if the devil did come to collect when he passed? "I'm glad I could be made useful, I think I shall enjoy teaching you John" He felt himself smile at the fact that not only did Michael show up but Zatanna did as well. The women and male were quite the pair when they arrived when all the demons seemed to have choose this to be their hang out  Honestly the priest felt like he hardly deserved such a turn out as he watched John leave his side he moved back up to the pulpit to start preparing for a bigger mass then he thought.

John: “I’m not here to throw myself a pity party, Jess,” he replied. “I did what I did and I’ll pay the price. The goal for now is to just avoid an early death. No sense in paying the price tonight if I don’t have to,” he chuckled. He’d already avoided an early grave once and it left him on Lucifer’s bad side. “You think teaching me will be fun?” he smirked. “Those are words you’ll likely regret. What do you need me to do to help you set up?” he asked. “Better to get this over with before Zee and Michael start a war on your doorstep.”

Michael: A look of worry crossed his face as Zatanna appeared from the crowd. He hadn’t expected to see the magician tonight. His arms wrapped around her small frame as she greeted him and Adriel. “Zatanna,” he chuckled before letting her go. Her greeting toward the demons was not nearly as welcoming. “Surely there are better ways for you to start off the new year than at church, Lucifer?” he asked as he eyed the princes.”I’ll be sure to pass your apologies up to heaven, Beelzebub. It might be accepted more easily if you sent a fruit cake with it,” he teased. “But you’re more than welcome here tonight. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

ZATANNA: Her brows furrow as Beel greets her. He’s in rather jovial spirits given the company he’s surrounded by, then again she knows the demon thrives around chaos and mischief. “Hmm, I wish I could say the same, Beelzebub. I figured you’d be with Blayze tonight. And you, Lucifer,” she looks the devil in the eye. “I’m looking forward to this party at the Lux later. I certainly hope it’s everything that you’ve been hyping it up to be. Would hate to disappoint another plane of existence,” she smiles sweetly before glancing back up at Michael. She knows it’ll take more than a sarcastic apology and a fruit cake to save his fallen brothers. “I recall an old phrase in show business that goes something like you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but you’re right. They might learn a thing or two if they stick around. I’m sure Jesse would love the support.” 

LUCIFER: “Honestly, I can’t think of a better way to spend tonight than with family. That’s what this holiday is about, isn’t it, brother?” he asks the archangel before turning to address the annoying mage. “Oh, are you now, darling? I’m glad you got the invitation. Here I thought your biggest fear was having a good time,” he teases. He turns to look at Beel, grinning as he spoke, “Have you invited Blayze? I dare say he’d enjoy himself. Might help Ms. Zatara here unbunch her tights a bit,” he smirks before looking at his elder brother. “Then again, I’m sure a menage a tois with an archangel can assist in that too,” he winks. Clearly both the mage and his brother needed to get laid. Lucifer was only doing his brotherly duty in assisting matters here. “You’d be surprised what kind of tricks this old dog can learn,” he replies, clasping Michael on the shoulder.

Chloe tried to hide her amusement at Lucifer’s ruffled attitude towards Constantine. “Had enough? What ever do you mean?” She feigned ignorance, obvious enough to notice easily.

“ Lucifer! “ She barked under her breath when he mentioned the lovely dark haired woman’s tights. “I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Detective Chloe Decker. Lucifer’s my....” She was going to say “partner” but after that comment she wasn’t as quick to claim him. “We work together.” She offered her hand to Zatanna.

Jesse: "never said your were just stating the fact that there are plenty people going to hell who may not 100% deserve it " he replied moving to open his bible before nodding his head "I agree completely with that statement, lines get blurred more offten then not, but I'll do my best to ensure they dont take you tonight after all your my guest" he teased before laughing " I'll likely regret it huh? There is plenty in my life that I regret I doubt you'll ever been one of them, as for help I'm afraid I'm going to send you into the lion's den, will you be a darling little alter boy and tell everyone mass is starting?" He smirked winking at John before moving to hand sheet music to the organist. "And john dont antagonized them, can't very well kickass then preach about love and understanding"

John: "Believe me when I say I deserve it," he chuckled humorlessly. "Feel bad for the bastards who don't. They deserve our thoughts and prayers just a bit more, I'd say. Not that God's listening anyway." John laughed when the good preacher said he'd keep him safe tonight. "Oh it's not me you gotta worry about causing a storm in these parts. I won't make your job harder than it already is. Can't make the same promise for my ex and the archangel though," he shrugged. He long ago learned that there are unmovable forces out there and Zatanna and Michael happened to be those types of forces. "You're really sending me out there?" He asked as her jerked his thumb toward the crowd. "And here I thought we were friends." He got up nevertheless and made his way to the door. "Well, if I dont make it back it's been good knowing you," he teased dramatically. 

Michael: "Actually, I believe this one is meant to celebrate the birth of Christ, but sure family works too," he replied wearily. He knew what Lucifer was trying to do. It was the same thing his brother was always trying to do. Antagonize. Michael was used to being the center focus of Lucifer's misplaced anger but he hadn't expected his brother to turn on the mage with such ferocity. "Thank you for that advice, Brother," he replied, eyes flaring momentarily as he removed Lucifer's hand from his shoulder. He could feel Zatanna seething beside him. "It would be wise for you to leave Ms. Zatara's tights alone. I'm afraid they probably cost more than that suit of yours," he teased. "Besides you wouldn't want to embarrass your friend here any further," he replied before extending his hand to the pretty blonde who seemed to have the misfortune of dealing with Lucifer on a more daily basis. "I'm Michael. Another brother of Lucifer's."

ZATANNA: Her eyes narrow into slits as Lucifer insinuates that Michael should unbunch her tights. She feels her fingers tingle as magic builds up in her palms and makes its way down to the tips of her hands. She's only a millimeter away from unleashing chaos when Michael chimes in that her tights are probably more expensive than his suit. Zatanna snorts loudly and releases the tension in her shoulders, allowing the magic to fizzle out. "You're right that would be wise. If he can't afford to have me perform at his club, he certainly can't afford my fishnets," she teases before turning her attention to the detective. "It's good to meet you, Detective Decker," she replies as she shakes the woman's hand. Anyone who has the strength to deal with Lucifer daily is worth knowing. "I'm Zatanna," she grins, mischief in her eyes as she looks at Lucifer then back at the detective. "He works with you?" she asks, a bit surprised. She fully expected that if NYPD was ever involved with Lucifer it would be to escort him to lock up for a few days, not to work with him. "I'm sure that's got to be interesting."

LUCIFER: He smirks knowing he's hit one of the magician's buttons. He can feel the electric woosh of magic filling the air and for a second he sees her finger tips light up. Beel was right. It was fun to wind her up a bit. He opens his mouth to poke the bear just a little more when his brother comments that her tights are worth more than his suit. "Doubt it," Lucifer replies incredulously. "She's allowed Constantine to unbunch them. How expensive can they possibly be in that case?" he teases. The fact that she enjoys the company of that charlatan, but can't stand Lucifer or Beel baffles the devil himself. Why anyone would enjoy the company of John Constantine baffles Lucifer, to be honest. "And speak of the devil," he grins as he sees Constantine emerging through the door of the church. "You and I both know the offer I made you was a generous one, Zatanna," he smiles coldly at her when she says he can't afford to have her perform at his club. He'd asked the mage when the club first opened, figuring it would be an olive branch of sorts. Even offered to bring forth her father as a gesture of kindness, but she'd refused him on principle alone and summoned Michael to help her maintain the balance or whatever they were telling themselves these days. He frowns as he watches Michael and Zatanna introduce themselves to Chloe, getting chummy with her on purpose to peeve him. "No, I can't say it's ever dull. I don't think I'll be leaving New York anytime soon. I quite like it here."

Jesse: Looked at the male, hiding pain with humor it was something Cassidy did a lot too. "I don't think prayers and thoughts will do much for the poor sods, but I promise to keep you in prayers regardless what you say" He replied smiling softly rolling his eyes "You know if a storm starts i full expect to see that dark arts to come out and protect little old me" He smirked before nodding his head "You wanted to help and since you didn't actually help you get the crap job" He chuckled as the organist started playing he shook his head "Always a pleasure John"

Chloe hasn’t noticed Zatanna’s magic forming, but even if she had- the whole “professional magician” thing would have explained it just fine. She had a knack for rationalizing everything, hence why she still believed the whole “Devil” schtick was just a metaphor for whatever family drama had created...this whole mess between Lucifer and his siblings. “He’s actually pretty useful.” She smiled at Lucifer, but continued, turning back to Zatanna- “When he’s not....distracted.” She refrained from going into detail about what those distractions usually were, but had a feeling present company knew all about it. “Definitely never a dull moment. Aren’t you the magician from the billboards around town?”

John: "As Michael would say, you're wasting breath praying for a hopeless old cause like me," he chuckled. The angel was a right prick when the mood struck him. "Something tells me if the storm breaks out you're more than capable of protecting yourself and these people. Let's not test that theory tonight though," he replied as he readied himself to go out there and corral the crowd. "Hey, I helped. I gave you fair warning about the crowd tonight. Could've just let you go in there blind to that knowledge," he teased, but nevertheless he opened the doors to the church. "Time will tell which one of us got the crap job tonight. Good luck, Father," he winked before exiting the church. He could see Lucifer and Zatanna in the distance exchanging heated glares. For a moment, he saw her fingertips fill with magic before they dimmed once more at Michael's touch. "Alright then, love," he called out to her. "Mass is about to start. Santa's watching you lot. Let's not disappoint him," he replied as he motioned them to move into the church with the rest of the crowd.

Michael: Michael felt the distinct electric buzz of magic in the air as Zatanna fumed beside him. The angel lightly took the mages hand and absorbed some of the magic within himself. In time, she would learn to brush off Lucifer's antagonistic attempts to rile her up, but in the moment he could see they were having an affect on her.  He looked up toward the church as Lucifer pointed out John in the crowd. "If we want to talk bad relationships, why not talk about Eve?" he asked his brother. "How is your ex these days?" he wondered out loud, twisting the knife just a little bit more. He knew about the deal which the devil had presented to the magician and he knew how hard it had been for her to turn it down, but she'd made the right call. "I'm glad you're staying in the city for more than just mass, brother. It's been too long since we last spoke," he smiled jovially before making a sweeping gesture for Zatanna and the detective to go on in front of him to the doors of the church.

ZATANNA: Leave it to the devil to lay some low blows. It’s nothing she hasn’t heard before and yet it still gets to her. Why does the devil think he’s better than the con artist anyway? “Trust me when I say loving John was anything but cheap,” she fires back. She feels Michael’s hand cup hers and take in some of her storm. She can’t help the chuckle that escapes her lips when he brings up the devil’s ex. It’s clear he’s well versed in knocking Lucifer down a peg or two. “Eve? Now, there’s a story I’d like to hear. I’m sure the bible left out a thing or two worth mentioning,” she laughs before turning to the detective. “How you manage to keep him on task is beyond me. You might be a little magic yourself,” she grins. “The billboards are mine and so is the show. If you’re staying in town, I’d love to see you in the audience. The New Years Eve show is one of my favorites,” she replies as she manifests a pair of VIP tickets out of thin air to give to the detective. “And the after party isn’t too bad either.” Hopefully they hadn’t scared the poor girl away after this display of bravado between the brothers. She lets go of the angel and takes a step toward the church. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint Santa now. Let’s find some decent seats.”

LUCIFER: He sees his brother take the mage’s hand to calm her. Michael might be an unmovable mountain, but it’s clear Zatanna is not nearly the solid force she pretends to be. Had she been alone he’s sure his teasing would have caused sparks to fly. Lucifer’s smile drops as his brother brings up Eve. Low blows for someone so high and mighty. “The bible leaves out quite a lot of details. That’s unfortunately a story for another time,” he replies coolly. He watches Zatanna manifest tickets to her show out of thin air. Magicians, he rolls his eyes. Gaudy and showy as usual. “The detective will be busy that day,” he replies as he takes the tickets from Zatanna. “The lux is having its own party. More than disco balls will be dropping that night, I assure you,” he grin mischievously. If there’s one thing he knows it’s how to plan a party. “After you, Detective,” he grins as he motions for her to head toward the church. “Let’s see if we can get saved tonight.”

#╰☆☆ now tell me what is it you truly desire? | replies ☆☆╮ #Discord Chats #╰☆☆ a golden cage is still just a cage | michael ☆☆╮ #╰☆☆ i’m right where i’m supposed to be | chloe ☆☆╮

[maliby]

Fake Love (M)

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok (ft. Jin)

Story Genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: explicit language, brief moment with some dark thoughts, cheating

Word count: 6.3K

Summary: Two people who are in terrible relationships find comfort in each other’s arms.

”God Hobi.” You threw your head back in pleasure, the feeling of him drilling you overwhelming your entire being. “Right there. Please don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it baby girl.” He grabbed you by your hair and pulled your head back, leaving your neck exposed to his eager mouth. “Not even if death itself came to get me.” The way Hobi was marking your skin only served to tip you over the edge, making you spiral down in a powerful orgasm.

You and Hoseok - or Hobi as everyone called him - had been friends with benefits for two months now. The only problem was that you both were in relationships. You were dating his friend Jin and he was dating Minzy, a girl he met at the dance academy when he was younger.

But how did you two find yourselves in this cheating situation? Well, the truth was that you both were in bad relationships and you kind of found comfort in each other's arms.

Hoseok and Minzy knew each other since they were seven years old. They were always really good friends and at some point, they started dating, just because that’s what they thought came next. He knew her family and she knew his, and everyone just always assumed they would end up dating, and that’s exactly what they did.

When it came down to sex at first, they did have it every now and then, but it was always something so...disconnected. He knew it wasn’t exactly good but it took him a while to figure out exactly what it was. And naturally, sex occurred less and less, and when it did happen, it would be over in a blink of an eye.

Their relationship was a dead one. They were together because that’s all they ever knew in their lives. It was normal and safe, and it was what everyone expected them to do.

As for you and Jin, well...things with Jin started out one way and became a completely different thing.

Jin used to be so sweet. He used to surprise you, tell you he loved you every day, take you out on dates, cook for you, give you gifts...all those sorts of things that a person wishes their partner would do for them. But then one day he got scouted out on the street by a modelling agency and all the sweetness turned sour. The dates became fewer and fewer until they eventually stopped. He would ignore your texts, would stand you up, giving you lame excuses, his proclamations of love were cold and fewer than before and the sex almost stopped.

In the back of your mind, you knew he was cheating on you, but your loving heart refused to accept it. You refused to accept that a person you knew and loved so much had changed like that. You refused to believe that the old Jin was dead and gone. And that’s why you kept the lie alive and let him drag you along.

One day though, the lies had become way too much for you. It was your birthday and you had planned on going out to dinner with him, but he of course never showed up. You had been waiting for him in the restaurant for two hours. Two hours of getting weird stares from the people in the restaurant. Two hours of trying to convince the waiter that your date was almost arriving. Two hours of trying to make excuses for him because you were so sure he would never be able to do this to you. Even though he had stood you up before, you didn’t want to believe he would actually do it on your birthday dinner.

So you finally called him, only for him to give you some lame ass excuse that he got a last minute job and wasn’t going to be able to come. But that wasn’t even the worst part of it all; the worst part was the girl you heard on the other line with him giggling and calling him ‘baby’. This was what finally broke you. This was what made the mirror of illusion shatter with the hammer of reality.

He was cheating on you. He didn’t care about you. He didn’t love you - not anymore.

And just like that all of your doubts and fears came crashing down on you. All the emotions you had shoved deep inside you had taken over your whole body and turned you into a fucking mess.

You stood up and ran to your car, tears making the mascara you had put on your lashes stain black rivers down your cheeks. You had spent months, months, telling that little voice inside your head that it was all a lie, that it couldn't possibly be true; you kept locking all those doubts you had deep down inside your mind, and now all of them came out like an avalanche and were taking over your whole sanity.

It was all too much. It hurt - a lot. You just wanted to make it stop. Something, someone, you didn't care. You just wanted it all to stop. So, instantaneously, your body started driving you to a bar - if you had no one to fuck you senseless tonight at least you were gonna drink until you forgot it all.

When you were four shots of vodka in you heard someone call your name; you thought it was your already intoxicated mind playing tricks on you, but when you felt a hand tap you on the shoulder you knew that it was no hallucination - it was his friend Hobi.

You had never talked to him alone, he was always ‘Jin’s friend’ and all the times you had socialized with him was in a group. You had always thought that he was funny and nice, always being able to steal a smile from everybody

When he asked you what you were doing getting drunk alone on your birthday you told him the truth. You didn’t know if it was because you were drunk or because he was just one of those people that made it feel safe for you to share all your secrets, but you told him everything.

He didn’t say much really, it wasn’t a surprise to him because everyone had caught on to the way he was treating you. Everyone looked at you as the girl that was so stupid that she couldn’t see the guy she was in love with was treating her like she was some old piece of clothing - useful but disposable.

You looked into his eyes and saw something you didn’t want - pity. So wanting to avoid it you asked him what he was doing in the bar alone and he answered that he had had dinner with his girlfriend and his parents and that they’d kept bringing up marriage.

As the word marriage left his mouth you ordered two shots for him and pulled the stool next to you so he could sit. He ended up confessing that he liked Minzy but he didn’t see himself getting married to her. His confession didn’t come as a surprise for you as everyone always thought that their relationship was a strange one.

Wanting to leave the topic alone you asked for two more shots and toasted to complicated relationships, making light of the situation.

You ended up having a blast with him. You both got so drunk that you momentarily forgot all the problems that haunted you two.

You danced with him, you laughed with him, you even sang karaoke together. At the end of the night, you went to a store that was open late at night and he bought you cupcakes and birthday candles. You sat down at a park and he put the candles on a cupcake and sang you happy birthday.

Both of you ended up eating all the cupcakes and played on a playground like a bunch of five-year-olds. He pushed you on the swing, you went down the slide and you even played hide and seek. You didn’t think of him for even one second - you felt free.

When the sun was about to rise you both decided to go to the beach to watch the beautiful colours in the sky change. You sat in the sand side to side with the stars twinkling up above you but your eyes soon found comfort in his. From there it felt like a second went by until you were both naked and he was on top of you making you moan your problems away.

After that night you both agreed that it would be a one-time thing, as neither of you was planning on ending your relationships, despite the problems each one of you had. It was weird how you both decided to stay, but the unknown is much scarier than the known - even if the known is bad.

Eventually though, hard times came again and the warmth and comfort of his arms called to you like a flame called to a moth.

And so the one-time thing turned to a weird friends with benefits kind of deal. Whenever one of you needed the other the most, they would send the other a text and bang the problems away.

You had become much closer to him. The bond you’d created in misery had become some sort of light in all the darkness in your life, and he had become someone very special to you.

Though you would never admit it to anyone or even to yourself you kind of wished everything had been different and you had met him first. But fate wanted it to be this way, and now you were both stuck in bad relationships, too scared to get out when really you could just leave and be with each other.

So now here you were, riding him in your bed after Jin left for a week for a job he had in Paris.

“I’m almost there.” You moaned into his neck.

“Cum for me baby girl. Let me hear you scream.”

He buried his short nails on your ass in a demonstration of his nearing orgasm, in turn, triggering yours. “Oh Hobi.” You screamed so loud for him that you were sure the whole building had heard you.

Your tight walls clenching around him made him release his warm load inside you, both of you shivering from the sensations.

“That was amazing.” He said after he had recovered his breath. “You might’ve just woken up the whole building though, not that I’m complaining.” He gave a little smack on your ass to encourage you to get up, a teasing smile on his face.

“Hey, don’t blame the screamer blame the one who made me scream.” You removed yourself from on top of him and dropped dead on the bed while he got up to go to the bathroom to get cleaned up. When he returned he had a wet washcloth in his hands so he could clean you up.

“Aww don’t say that, you know I can’t help myself when I’m with you.” He interrupted the cleaning so he could give you a playful spank on your thigh.

“Ouch you hoe, that hurt.” You pinched him on his back and got up to get dressed as he finished what he was doing.

“So Y/N, are you going camping with us?” He laid back on your bed after putting his boxers back on.

Jin’s group of friends had this annual tradition of going camping for a week to this really beautiful place near a tiny lake with a waterfall - it was very romantic so, obviously, those who had girlfriends brought them along. This year, all of Jin’s six friends were in relationships so it was fair to say that you were going to have a very couple oriented time - whatever that meant.

Despite your relationship with Jin being on the edge of a cliff (no doubt ready to fall to the other side) you still wanted to go. You wanted to go because you liked hanging out with his friends, but mostly you wanted to go because you wanted to spend time with Hobi. You didn’t care if he’d bring his girlfriend along because her presence wouldn’t stop his warm and addicting light to irradiate your heart and make you feel like everything was going to be okay.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it.” You plonked down next to him, giving him a big smile.

“Great! It wouldn’t be the same without you.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

For a moment your heart stopped. You didn’t know if he really meant those words - at least the way you wanted him to - but the truth was he had said them, and now your cheeks were burning up.

“Let’s get you to sleep.” He said after he realized what he had said to you. “You must be tired after all that exercise.” His usual playful tone was back.

“That's right because I have to do all the work around here.” You joked, knowing damn well that what you said wasn’t true.

Hobi placed his hand on his chest and faked a hurt expression. “You know damn well I can pound you to the mattress until you can't think straight!” You found it so cute the way he tried so hard to defend himself, even though he knew damn well you were joking. “Maybe next time I should make you ride me until your legs give out.” He wanted to threaten you but his little pout contradicted all his words.

“Uhmm, maybe you should. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about fucking someone’s brains out.” You poked your tongue out to assure him you were just kidding and that he most certainly could fuck your brains out.

“Alright, that's it!” Without giving you time to realize what was about to happen Hobi launched himself on top of you and started tickling you all over.

“No Hobi, stop!” You managed to say between all the laughing, tears already forming in your eyes. “Please!”

“Only if you take back what you said.”

“Okay, okay!” You tried to catch your breath as he stopped his attack on you, his eyes watching you closely. “You can more than fuck my brains out.”

“That’s more like it.” He said with a victorious smirk on his face. “Now, it’s time to go to sleep little Y/N.” He got off you and laid next to you, leaving a small kiss on your cheek.

“Good night Hobi.” You smiled to yourself as you felt his strong arms pulling you closer to a spooning position.

“Good night.” You couldn’t see him, but you were sure by his voice that he was also smiling, and that made you happy.

Two weeks had passed and the day of the trip had finally arrived. You were supposed to leave at 10 AM, but you were so excited that you woke up at 6 AM, thus not being able to have much sleep.

Jin was still asleep when you got up to take a quick shower and make breakfast. You wanted to be ready just in time to sit down on the little table you had on your balcony and watch the sunrise as you satisfy your hungry stomach. Your building was right next to the beach, and your balcony was facing the sea, so you had a very privileged view of all the sunsets and sunrises. You even went as far as boasting to everybody you knew that your balcony was the best spot in the whole world to watch the colours of the sky change.

Though it was really early the weather was really nice outside, perfect for enjoying your morning coffee in your TARDIS mug.

You sat there and observed as you calmly ate your pancakes, too immersed in the beauty of the scenery to notice the tall man joining you.

“Am I that terrible of a company that you have to wake up early to have your breakfast?” Jin said as he stole the piece of pancake on your fork.

“Hey! Has it occurred to you that maybe it's because you're a food stealer?” You said glaring at him.

He chuckled. “Couldn't sleep?” He gave you a soft smile as he drank a sip from your coffee.

“No. I was so excited about the trip that I woke earlier and decided to come and watch the sunrise.” As soon as you mentioned the trip the whole atmosphere changed, his smile slowly fading from his face. “What about you? Did I wake you up?”

“No, I woke up with a call.” And as soon as he said the word ‘call’ you knew exactly why his smile had faded.

“What call?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“My manager…” his eyes avoided yours like the plague. “He said I got a job in Milan. I have to stay there for a week and I have to leave today.”

You scoffed. It was all you could manage to do because of course, he would bale out last minute. Of course, his manager had called. Of fucking course. It didn't even affect you that much at this point, to be honest. The truth was you were sick of it, and you didn't care if he had a job or a date with his lover, you were still going to go.

“I’m sorry Y/N…,” he said in response to your silence. “I know how much you wanted to go camping.”

“Wanted? I’m still going.” You said nonchalantly.

“By yourself? To an all couples trip?” He sounded incredulous, like if it was some sort of rule to have to be in a couple to be able to go.

“Yep. Any problem with that?” If before your voice had a tone of indifference, now it was laced with poison. You were tired of having him tie you down. What, did he think you were going to stay behind just because he wasn't going to go? Screw him.

“N-no, it's just that you'd be alone.” He was intimidated. He wasn't used to you not complying and let him walk all over you.

“Well, let's be real here Jin. We both know that truth is that I'm always alone. But this time, I won't be alone. I'd have my friends.” And there it was. You had filled yourself with venom and now you had bitten him. It felt good, to be honest.

“Your friends? Who? Because last time I checked they were all my friends.”

“For your information, your friends have been better friends to me than my own fucking boyfriend.” You weren't really the type of person to scream, but that's exactly what you were doing right now.

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Hobi.” There, you said it. You could care less if he found out you had been screwing him at this point.

“Hobi? What have you been fucking him? Is that why you want to go so badly?” He was furious now, the veins on his neck popping out.

“What do you care? It's not like you're not fucking other people behind my back.” His eyes opened wide - he wasn't expecting you to already know. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“Y/N…” His eyes were washed with guilt, but you didn't want his guilt. You didn't want his excuses. You didn't want this relationship. You didn't want him.

“No Jin. I'm sick of this. I'm tired of being used and being taken for granted by you. I'm tired of feeling like my feelings don't matter, like I don't matter.” You stared at each other for a moment. Him taking in the way he had made you feel and you gravelling in how good it felt to finally tell him those things. “That's why I have to do this.” You got up and went straight to your room to pick your things up, Jin following you.

“Y/N where are you going?”

“Camping.” You said as you picked up some last minute things you hadn't packed yet for the trip.

“But it's too early yet. Please stay here, let's talk about this.” He followed you around the room like a lost puppy.

“No Jin. I have to get out. I have to leave this house and get away from you. That's what I need to do for myself.”

“What are you saying?” Of all the times you had imagined this situation you had never thought he would even care, but the look on his face right now told you otherwise.

“You know exactly what I'm saying Jin. It's over.”

“Hey look, there's Y/N!” You could hear the voices of Jin’s friends coming near you. “Wow, you got here early. You guys already put up your tent and everything.” Jimin said pointing at it.

“Yeah, I was so excited that I came early.” You smiled widely at them - the signs of your turbulent morning gone.

“Hey, but where's Jin?” Hobi asked, making your heart clench.

“Oh, he's coming in a couple of days. His mother needed some help in the restaurant.” This excuse would only last a couple of days, but it would have to do. You'd think of something else later. You just didn't want them to know the truth and pity you. You didn't want to ruin the trip, you just wanted to enjoy the peace this place offered you.

“Ahh, that's a shame. Who's gonna tell us lame jokes tonight?” Taehyung asked.

“Don't worry babe, I brought a mirror. If you want a lame joke you can just look at it.” His girlfriend playfully said making the whole group laugh. The whole group except for Hobi - he was staring right at you with an indecipherable look on his face. You feared he had seen right through your lie and would confront you about it, but luckily he didn’t say anything.

Finally breaking up with Jin made you feel so free that you felt you were enjoying this camping trip so much more than if he was there. You felt like you were reborn, no longer that girl that was too afraid to come out of her comfort zone and stand up for herself, but a woman that didn't let anyone walk all over her and felt free to do and say whatever she wanted.

You started to interact more with Jin’s friends and their girlfriends. You had deep conversations with Namjoon about life in general, you talked with Yoongi about music (as you found out he was a music producer), you went swimming with Hobi and Jimin and you played card games with Jungkook and Taehyung. Their girlfriends were very nice to you; they never let you be on your own and always tried their best to integrate you in their own little group. But as much as you loved talking to them the conversation would eventually always lead to the topic you least want to talk about at the moment - boyfriends. You had no idea how you’d done it, but you had always managed to avoid their questions about yours and Jin’s relationship. At first, you were a little worried they’d be on to you and figure that something was wrong, but they were so busy boasting about their perfect relationships that they didn’t notice one little thing.

It was the night of the second day though and you had to find an excuse for Jin’s absence quick or they would find out that something was wrong and bombard you with worries and questions you didn't feel like answering.

It was a beautiful warm summer night but it was late and everyone had already gone back to their tents - everyone but you. Well, you went to your tent when everybody went to theirs but you couldn't for the life of you fall asleep (courtesy of your lack of an excuse for Jin’s absence) and so you went to take a swim in the beautiful lake that was 5 minutes away from the location of your tents.

The light of the full moon reflected on the water created a beautiful scenery, worthy of an award-winning picture or a painting that a millionaire would pay an absurd amount of money to have hanging in his living room.

You removed your clothes and threw them god knows where - you wanted to feel the sensation of the water hugging your whole body as you swam. You entered slowly at first, enjoying the sensation of the water travelling up your body, then, once you were deep enough, you completely submerged yourself. It felt good to be completely underwater, it was like you were surrounded by calmness, like no stress could get to you. You stayed under until your lungs were screaming for oxygen, begging for you to save yourself from death.

For a brief moment, you wondered what would Jin think if you died. Would he feel guilty? Would he feel sad? Would he miss you? Would he cry? And then you realized that you didn't really care what he would think or how he would feel, for there was only one person whose feelings really mattered to you right now - Hobi.

You didn't really believe in fate or coincidences, but as soon as his bright and warm smile popped up in your head you felt someone dragging you to the surface. You opened your eyes and saw him; his worried face a pure contrast to the happy and smiley one you had just envisioned.

“Y/N are you okay?!”

He kept grabbing your face to check if you were alright, and in that precise moment, you realized how stupid you have been all along. You kept on running after Jin like a lost puppy when right in front of you was a man that really cared for you and made you feel good. So you started laughing at your own stupidity.

“Why are you laughing? Did you get brain damage from being under for too long?” He was damn serious. He was inspecting every little inch of you to make sure you were fine, and your heart warmed at his actions.

“Hobi, I'm fine.” You gave him a reassuring smile so he would stop worrying.

“What happened? I saw you go in but then you didn't come out.”

“Were you spying on me? I was naked you pervert!” You hit him playfully on the shoulder.

“It's not like I haven't seen you naked before!” He blushed a little bit, making you smile in return. ”And I wasn't spying on you, I just couldn't sleep and came here for a swim.”

“Okay, I’ll believe in you.” You winked in an exaggerated manner so he would know that you didn’t buy what he was saying.

“But what happened? I was worried.”

“Nothing Hobi, it just felt so good being under water that I was trying to see how long I could stay there.”

“On your own? What if something had happened? What if you had drowned Y/N? Do you know how worried I was when I saw you weren’t coming out?” There it was again in his voice - the worry.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry Hobi. I promise I won’t do it again.” You gave him a small kiss on the cheek as compensation for making him worry so much.

“So what were you doing up this late? Couldn’t sleep?”

“No, I kept tossing and turning and then I thought it was too much of a perfect night to waste it on sleeping, so...here I am.” You smiled at him and splashed water in his face like a playful child.

“You look very happy. Is that all because Jin is coming tomorrow?”

And then you felt the air get heavy. You didn’t want to talk about him, you didn’t even want to think about him, but you couldn’t lie to Hobi anymore. You had to tell him the truth.

“Hoseok, Jin isn’t coming tomorrow.”

“He isn’t? Then when is he coming?”

“Never. I lied.”

“What do you mean you lie-. He stood you up again didn’t he?” The moonlight reflected on his brown eyes allowed you to see just how dark they suddenly got. And you were not gonna lie, you liked that he got so affected by the fact that Jin had stood you up.

“Yes.”

“Fuck, I swear I’m gonna kill him. Where did he go to this time?”

“Milan.”

“Milan huh?” He scoffed, his eyes looking up at the moon and then back to your eyes. “When is he gonna realize that there’s no better place to be than by your side?” His hand reached to cup your cheek making you blush.

“Hoseok…”

“No Y/N. When is he gonna realize that you deserve so much better than what he is giving you?” His eyes stared at you with such intensity that you felt your entire being burn up. He was trying to tell you something, something that he couldn’t quite say in words but that both of you felt.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I-”

“What? How could you not care?! Y/N-”

Not being able to shut him up you pressed your lips to his, making the little butterflies in your stomach start flying around. “I thought you’d never shut up, I’ve been trying to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I broke up with Jin.” He looked adorable with his eyes and mouth opened wide. So adorable that you just wanted to kiss him nonstop. “I got tired of being treated like trash, and I finally realized what I wanted - who I wanted.”

“And...who is that?” Part of you was telling you that his question came from a place of pure curiosity and nothing else. But the other part, the part that was giving you the courage to say and act on your feelings, was telling you that he wanted to know if he was the focus of your desires.

“Do I need to spell it out?” You put both arms around his neck and glued your naked body to his clothed one. “It’s you silly. I want you.”

You had the silliest of smiles on your face, typical of those who are madly in love, and though it took him a while to reciprocate it he eventually did. When he smiled nothing could compare to it. The moonlight that illuminated you both had become dull and the stars above you had faded out. His smile was the only thing that mattered, and just like the stars guided people through the years his smile was now guiding you to his lips.

The way he kissed you was so sweet and soft, almost like if he was afraid you were going to break at any moment. Not long after he slowly broke the kiss and looked at you with adoration in his eyes while his fingers caressed your cheeks. “Is this real? Do you really want me?”

You nodded your head ‘yes’ and intertwined your fingers with his. “And you? Do you want me?”

“Of course I do! You’re all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever dreamed of. I can’t tell you how many times I wished that you liked me the way I liked you and that we could be together.” He finished off his sentence by kissing your knuckles.

“Hobi…” You felt so happy that you though your heart could burst, but this one question still remained in your head. “But what about Minzy?”

“She’ll understand, she’s as unhappy in this farce of a relationship as I am.” He took you in for a moment before he spoke again. “But enough talking, I need to have you now.” He had barely said his last words and his mouth was already attached to yours, giving you no time to breathe.

“Come with me.” He took your hand and guided you to some big rocks near the waterfall. Hobi made you sit on one particular big rock with a little formation that allowed you to sit comfortably as if you were on a chair. “You can’t imagine how many times for the last couple of days I imagined fucking you on this rock right here.” His arms locked you inside his personal space, making you his prey. His lips started working on your neck, making your nipples perk up and tiny little bumps form all over your skin.

“Then why don’t we turn that fantasy into a reality?” You ran your hands down his defined abs until you reached the edge of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. “Take these clothes off. I wanna feel you bare against me.”

Answering to your commands, he quickly leaned on the rock to support him while he removed the rest of his clothes. His cock was so hard that you couldn’t help yourself but to grab his head and start pumping him up and down, making his breath hitch.

“Fuuuck...I swear you’ll be the death of me.” His hand slid down your torso to meet your clit, starting to rub circles on it.

Heat was spreading through your body like wildfire, your whole body arching towards his, and your head tilting backwards, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth once more. His lips latched on to your skin and started leaving a trail of marks down to your breasts. You thought he would stop there and come back up, but oh boy were you wrong. You looked down at him and watched as he smirked against your skin and took a big breath before he submerged himself underwater.

“Hobi what are you d-” the fingers that were working on your nub were swapped by his smooth tongue making you moan out his name.

That fucking tongue. Holy fuck. He was licking you up and down and around your clit, teasing you mercilessly. But when he started to suck on your little bundle of nerves, holy fuck did you go crazy. It was like you were his oxygen supply and he was hanging on to you for dear life.

Even though he was driving you to pure insanity, and you wished he would never stop, the amount of time he had been underwater was starting to worry you. “Hobi, come back for air.” You tried to pull him up but your whole body malfunctioned as he inserted his finger inside your hole.

“F-fuck.” He was going at full speed now, a second finger joining in on the fun. He wanted you to cum undone, and he wasn’t gonna stop even if he ran out of oxygen. That thought alone was driving you further into the edge, but it wasn’t until you started pinching your nipples that you came - and you could swear you had never cum so hard in your life.

Upon driving you to your release, Hobi emerged from the water out of breath. “Baby, are you fucking crazy?” You said, panting hard. “You could have fucking drowned!”

“Dying while you cum on my mouth?” His face came near yours, his eyes looked determined, and his whole aura seemed red with lust. “While your cunt tightens around my fingers wishing it was my cock stretching it out?” He was now whispering in your ear while the tip of his member met your swollen nub for the first time tonight. “Sign me the fuck up.”

You had just cum, but fuck if his words didn’t make you want to cum again. And as an answer to your wishes, he started rubbing his dick up and down your pussy, making moan again.

“Moan my name baby girl. Moan my name as I fill you up with my cock.” He scraped his teeth on your neck as he slipped inside of you, making you comply with his wishes.

“Hobi-” The way he fitted inside of you was just like two puzzle pieces put together. You didn’t know if you were just that needy for it, or if it was because you were finally free to be together, but you felt that tonight he felt even better than before. “You feel so good.”

He captured your lips and started kissing you very passionately, his hips starting to gradually thrust harder and harder. “You’re so fucking addicting I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.”

“Lucky for you I don’t want you to ever stop.” You nuzzled your head in his neck and started to leave your own marks. He was your man now and you’d be damned if you were gonna let anyone take him away from you.

His whole body shivered in reaction, and he started pounding into you so hard you couldn’t even guess that he was fucking you underwater. “Baby, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum. Milk me dry.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice, the whole essence of the moment making you come crashing down - your release prompting him to cum inside you.

“I’ll never get tired of making you cum.” You smiled as a response, your cheeks red with sudden shame. Hobi noticed this and held your burning cheeks and kissed you on your forehead. “I’ll also never get tired of that.”

“Of what?”

“Watching you smile.” His thumb was running back and forth on your cheek in a soothing motion. “I’ve watched you cry way more than I’ve watched you smile - a genuine smile at least - and I promise you right now that I’ll do anything in my power to always make you smile because you deserve it. You deserve that and so much more.”

“Hobi…”

Not being able to hold in the emotion a tear started running down your face. He moved his thumb and softly wiped your tear away. “No more crying. I promise you.”

#hoseok #jin #bts #jung hoseok #kim seokjin #j hope #kpop #hoseok smut #j hope smut #bts smut #kpop smut #hoseok angst #j hope angst #jin angst #kim seokjin angst #bts angst #kpop angst #hoseok fluff #j hope fluff #bts fluff #kpop fluff #hoseok scenario #j hope scenario #jin scenario #seokjin angst #kim seokjin scenario #seokjin scenario #jung hoseok smut #bts jhope #hoseok fic

[fucking-zawa-sensei]

Shots Fired - Erasermic

Title: Shots Fired

Pairing: Erasermic – Shouta Aizawa|Eraserhead/Hizashi Yamada|Present Mic

Characters: Shouta Aizawa|Eraserhead, Hizashi Yamada|Present Mic

Categories: established relationship, whump, hurt/comfort (maybe?), angst

Warning: body horror, violence

Description:

Things don’t go as planned. Yamada watches, helpless, as Aizawa’s body is broken in front of him.

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12961614

Shots Fired

The villain is using Aizawa’s body as a shield; the erasure hero’s back leaning on the villain’s chest. Yamada continues putting pressure on the back of his neck, where his directional speaker was violently cut off, but the steady stream of blood seeping through his fingers hasn’t let up.

God he’s never wanted to scream more.

Aizawa’s body is betraying him, trembling where he’s being held against the villain. Even with the directional speaker, there was no chance Yamada would be able to avoid hitting him with his shout.  

“Do you love him?” the villain mocks.

A gun pressed up to Aizawa’s knee cap, firing, splitting bone.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, Yamada thinks. Dammit, what the fuck?

“Do you love him now that he can’t walk?”

Yamada’s heart just gained 3000 pounds and dropped like a sky diver without a parachute.

The villain moves the gun up to Aizawa’s elbow, presses it into the joint. Aizawa’s biting his lip and his eyes are scrunched closed and he’s trying so hard to hold back, but Yamada hears the small whining noise leaking through his lips. He wants to tell Aizawa it’s okay to hurt and it’s okay to yell and it’s okay, period.

Where the fuck is back up? We sent that location pin ten minutes ago, Yamada thinks. He glances down the alley, but all he’s sees over the passed-out bodies of the villains they’d managed to take out so far is a tiny sliver of light. When did we get so far away from the street?

“What about if he can’t hold you?” the villain asks. The gun fires off again. Yamada’s head jerks back to Aizawa, who can’t help it anymore, and is screaming in pain.  

Yamada can’t breathe.

This is why they kept their relationship private, this is why they didn’t regularly fight together, this is why Aizawa grabbed his elbow and slowed him down when Yamada ran towards the sound of violence on what they’d both agreed would just be a scouting patrol, alerting other heroes in the area if they saw anything. They were unfamiliar with this part of town. They’d come out here on Nezu’s orders to help with U.A.’s outreach for teacher for a new curriculum he was planning. Present Mic was supposed to break the ice at the hero agencies while Eraserhead gave the details of a teacher’s responsibilities.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Yamada opens his mouth and immediately feels something cold and distinctly metal pressed against his newly bare Adam’s apple. One of the villains they’d taken out early was apparently back on their feet, pressing a knife to his throat.

“Say one word and it will be the last word,” they threaten him from behind, grabbing the hand he’d had pressed to his bleeding neck and yanking it down hard, twisting it back up and pressing it between his shoulder blades. Yamada falls forward with the movement, stopping himself from smacking into the pavement with his other hand. The villain’s boot smashes down onto his fingers. Yamada bites back a groan.

He looks back at Aizawa, who is no longer resisting the villain’s hold, but rather seems to be leaning on their chest for support, somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. Aizawa’s head abruptly falls backwards, the same way Yamada had seen several students’ heads nod forward in his morning classes after they pulled all nighters. Yamada jerks forward a bit, but the villain behind him pushes their knife into his skin. He feels a trickle start down his throat.

The villain holding Aizawa pushes him violently forward. With a useless knee and a useless arm, there’s not much to stop the erasure hero from falling flat on the ground. Aizawa doesn’t do much by ways of resistance.

Of course they shot his bad elbow, Yamada thinks.

The villain pulls Aizawa’s head up off the ground by his hair. Aizawa’s eyes snap open, alert, and glowing red. Yamada remembers hearing about how Nomu had gripped his head in much the same manner before smashing into the concrete. He wonders if that’s where Aizawa thinks he is now, back with Nomu, back at USJ, too tired and lacking too much blood to figure out where he really is.

“Would you love him…” the villain starts again, and Yamada feels something besides a shout building in his throat. “Would you love him if he couldn’t see you?”

Aizawa’s eyes are searching frantically for a piece of the villain’s body to look at, but it doesn’t matter. They’d learned. They aren’t even using quirks. Yamada thinks they should add more focus on disarming villains to their hero course classes.

The villain stuffs his gun into the holster on his pants and reaches into one of the many pockets in his coat. He pulls out a knife and brings the blade up to Aizawa’s face, placing the tip on his tear duct. Aizawa stops trying to look at the villain and instead stares at Yamada.

Yamada watches Aizawa’s eyes scan his entire body. He knows that Aizawa’s taking it all in, everything from his scuffed boots to his cracked sunglasses. Yamada wishes he could shake them off and let Aizawa see his eyes one last time, knows he’d want to, but the knife digging into his jugular doesn’t allow for that kind of movement.

Yamada can count the times he’d seen Aizawa cry and there are only three of them.

Now, there are four.

Aizawa closes his eyes and Yamada thinks maybe losing his life would be worth it if Aizawa got to keep his sight.

The villain presses their blade into the corner of Aizawa’s eye and runs it down and over the scar he’s already sporting there. It’s shallow, a tease of a cut. Somehow this feels worse than anything else the villains have done tonight. Yamada watches the marred skin of Aizawa scar reopen, skin pulling apart in a jagged line. They’re toying with them. Torturing and toying with them.

“You-” Yamada starts, unable to resist, and earns a harsh push of his arm up and out of its socket. He bites back a yell. This is nothing.

He’s hard worse, is having worse.

Worse is happening right now, across from him.

The villain’s blade traces back to the middle of Aizawa’s bottom lid and pauses.

“Say bye-bye,” they taunt, wrenching their blade up and through Aizawa’s right eye. It slices easily through both lids and continues up and on through his eyebrow. A thick, red, goopy substance spews from the cut.

Yamada gags.

Aizawa lurches forward.

The villain looks unimpressed, pulls Aizawa back again by his hair.

“I’m done with this.”

Yamada’s heart rate skips into overdrive.

The villain’s mouth breaks out into a grin so large it seems to defy the laws of physics, twisting in unnatural ways. Yamada breaks his eyes away from its hypnotizing pull and glances back down the alley, but the small sliver of light is gone now.

But we haven’t moved…he thinks.

The shoe pressing on his hand lifts up and stomps down. Yamada barely feels more than a small tingle of pain.

“Would you love him?” the villain begins their question, pulling out their gun, and dragging Aizawa up into a kneeling position. Aizawa opens his left eye to look at Yamada. His mouth is hanging open like he wants to say something to Yamada, but doesn’t know how. The villain presses their gun to Aizawa’s forehead.

“Would you love him, if he couldn’t love you back?”

Fuck it, Yamada thinks, sucking in a deep breath of air.

The villain pulls the trigger.

Aizawa drops heavy onto the concrete just as Yamada’s shout has pushed the villain backwards into the brick wall of the building behind them, hands pressed into their ears.

Yamada doesn’t feel the knife slicing through his throat, but registers his shouts are now coming out silent as he falls to the ground, all the while staring at Aizawa’s one black eye, lifeless, surrounded by a pool of rising blood.

Yamada’s there too.

Briefly, they all are.

The alley is saturated with red.

Then Yamada can’t see the villains anymore, can’t see the concrete, the brick walls, the fire escapes, the dumpsters, nothing. It’s all been replaced with red and black and a pair of crushed yellow goggles.

Impossibly, Aizawa’s mouth begins to move. Yamada wants to tell him to speak up, he can’t hear him, but he’s lost his voice.

He tries to yell with the reckless abandon he once did as a child, but nothing comes out.

I can’t hear you, please, I can’t. I can’t hear you.

Blood is rising, filling his mouth where the sound won’t reach, sliding down his esophagus, filling his lungs.

Shouta, Shouta, Shouta, Shouta, Sho-

---

Yamada wakes up screaming with someone’s hand firmly pushing him face down into a pillow.

He can’t hear anything. The world is still slowly shifting back into focus, but he sees the fuzzy outline of a knee cap in the corner of his vision. He looks up and sees a dark figure leaning over him, breathing heavily, black hair floating upwards, and red eyes staring down at him.

Shouta…

His hearing comes back full force and overwhelming. He breaks off his thankfully normal volume shouts, replacing them with heavy open-mouth panting. The pillow feels wet against his face. He’s not sure if it’s tears or spit or both.

“Sh…” Yamada tries. “Shouta…” he whines, moving his arm slowly across the blankets to rest against Aizawa’s knee. He never thought he’d be so happy to see a knee intact.

With a deep sigh, Aizawa closes his eyes, hair softly falling back into place. Aizawa reaches a hand up and pinches the bridge of his nose, then releases his grip on the back of Yamada’s head to rub the heels of both hands on his temples. Yamada continues to try and regain a normal breathing pattern below him.

“I’m sorry,” Aizawa starts, eyes still closed. “For erasing your quirk, but you were yelling, and I mean yelling for…shit, I don’t know how long…I couldn’t wake you up.”

Yamada knows they made a promise not to use their quirks on each other, but it feels very silly for Aizawa to apologize for something like this. His body doesn’t feel like it can make words now, though. He’s just relieved to see Aizawa is breathing and not dismembered.

Yamada shakes his head and tries to smile, tries to reassure him.

“Are you okay?” Aizawa asks, lowering his hands from his face. He’s squinting and looks like he’s in pain. Yamada wonders how long he’d been erasing his quirk for.

Aizawa moves to touch Yamada’s back, his movements slow and pronounced, as to not startle his panicking partner. When Yamada doesn’t flinch, he lowers his hand, pushes the blonde’s long hair out of the way, and begins moving his palm in a wide circle.

Yamada nods, moves his hand up Aizawa’s knee and makes a grabby motion at his shirt. Aizawa leans forward and the blonde jerks abruptly in his direction, making Aizawa pause his massage and jump a bit. Yamada grabs a fistful of the bottom of Aizawa’s dark grey sleep shirt and tugs on it. Getting the point, Aizawa lays down on the bed and pulls Yamada close to him, tucking the voice hero’s head into his chest, resuming his back rubbing with one hand, while the other runs through Yamada’s long hair.

Yamada shivers a bit. For several minutes they lay in silence and Yamada keeps his hands tucked between his own body and Aizawa’s, pressed close. Eventually, though, he begins unfurling, wrapping his hands carefully around Aizawa’s chest so he can get closer, turning his head to press his ear against Aizawa’s heart. With each steady beat, Yamada tries to purge another image of the nightmare from his mind.

Beat.

The gun pressed to Aizawa’s knee.

Beat.

The gun pressed to Aizawa’s elbow.

Beat.

The villain’s hand in Aizawa’s hair.

Beat.

The knife pressed to Aizawa’s eye.

Beat.

Aizawa doesn’t pester him for an answer to his question, doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He just rubs Yamada’s back and plays with his hair and breathes above him.

Yamada starts to cry.

It’s quiet, nothing like earlier, but he knows his tears will be soaking through the thin fabric of Aizawa’s cotton t-shirt soon enough. He tries to pull himself impossibly closer, gripping Aizawa’s shirt in tight fists. He hears Aizawa’s heart pick up a bit. Yamada lifts his leg up and over Aizawa’s hip, tucking that around him as well, pulling Aizawa’s bottom half closer. He’s holding onto the man like he’s climbing a tree and Yamada know it’s ridiculous. He knows by the way Aizawa’s hands have lost their pattern and his breathing has gotten faster that this probably isn’t comfortable, but he can’t stop. He can’t let go. He wishes he could hold him closer, tighter, harder. He wants to keep him here forever, where no one else can touch him.

His silent tears turn to sobs.

He’s being irrational.

He’s being overdramatic.

And clingy.

And childish.

And a million other things he doesn’t want to think or talk about.

“Hizashi…”

Yamada shakes his head quickly, streaking Aizawa’s shirt with more spit and tears.

“Zashi…please,” Aizawa’s letting go, hands on Yamada’s shoulders now, pushing gently. It’s not enough to actually move Yamada anywhere, but enough to signal, hey, please stop crushing me.

Yamada can’t stop.

He pictures the villain’s arms replacing his, wrapped around Aizawa’s screaming, bloody body.  

Yamada presses closer. Aizawa pushes harder.

“Hizashi…come on…”

Yamada’s ears feel like they’re filling up with gauze, muffled gunshots the only sound breaking through.

His nails dig into Aizawa’s back. He feels Aizawa’s chest push forward, flinching away from his hands. Yamada feels guilty and terrible, but his body isn’t moving the way he wants it to. He shifts his face up to bury it in Aizawa’s neck, hiding in his black hair. He wraps his other leg around Aizawa’s. He can’t make his muscles relax and loosen. He can only constrict further.

He doesn’t have to worry about making his limbs move, though, because Aizawa’s had enough apparently. The hesitant pushes to his shoulder become more insistent. Aizawa reaches one hand around his back to yank one of Yamada’s arms off, using his other hand to shove Yamada’s shoulder back enough to release himself from the death grip Yamada had going. Yamada has to try hard to stop his limbs from automatically fighting back.

Aizawa scoots backwards a little, not enough that it might put Yamada on edge, but enough to indicate he’s not interested in repeating the incident.

“Hizashi, I’m sorry,” Aizawa says, sitting up and rubbing with one hand at his back where Yamada’s fingers had started digging in. “But you were hurting me.”

Hurting me…

Yamada wants to scream, but bites his lip instead.

What is wrong with me?

Yamada shakes his head, grabs a chunk of hair from over his shoulder, and starts smoothing it between his hands. This always helps to calm him down. He focuses on each strand as it slips through the gaps in his fingers.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Yamada finally says. It comes out more certain than he was expecting and he’s glad. He wants Shouta to know this beyond any doubt.

“I know.”

“I had a nightmare.”

“I know.”

“It was bad…there was a villain…you…you were there.”

“I take it by your attempts to snap me in half things didn’t end too well for me, huh?”

Yamada shakes his head, looking away from Aizawa.

“I don’t want people to know about our relationship,” Yamada says, but it comes out weak and mumbled this time.

“It’s a little late for that don’t you think?” Aizawa asks, trying to lighten the mood, but Yamada hears the confusion layered underneath.

“I want the wedding to be small,” Yamada says, thinking about their recent decision to take their many years of dating to a more official level. “J-just our families...maybe Nemuri...”

“Maybe Nemuri?” Aizawa scoffs, shocked, “She’ll kill you for that.”

“That’s fine,” Yamada mumbles, looking down at his hair in his hands.

“That’s not fine. I would have a pretty big problem with that.”

Yamada doesn’t say anything. He knows Aizawa is trying his best to bring him back down from his nightmare, but it’s not working. He hears Aizawa sigh above him.

“It was just a dream Hizashi.”

“No it wasn’t,” Yamada’s voice kicks up a bit, insistent, but quickly backs off. “I mean, it was, but that could happen. What happened in my dream…it could happen. Someone could use our relationship against us. One of us could get hurt. We’re a weakness to each other.”

“I died?”

Yamada looks away.

“If I come back over there will you crush me?” Aizawa asks, already lowering himself back onto the bed.

“I can’t make any promises…” Yamada whispers, twirling his hair around his finger.

“I guess that’s a risk I’ll have to take, then.”

Aizawa shuffles over, carefully pulling Yamada’s hair out of his hands and brushing it behind his back. Aizawa gently ushers Yamada back into where he was previously nestled into Aizawa’s chest. Aizawa replaces Yamada’s hands in his hair.

“I don’t really know what to say other than I’ve been there too. I’ve had those dreams. I know it hurts,” Aizawa says.

Yamada nods against his chest, arms still tucked around his own, too afraid to wrap back around Aizawa.

“You aren’t going to stop having bad dreams because more or less people know about us. I’m not going to stop getting hurt or killed or abducted or having stupid fights with you in your dreams because you’re being more protective or taking more precautions in real life,” Aizawa says, rubbing at Yamada’s back again. With each word, Yamada feels himself coming back down to reality. “None of that will help. But…” Aizawa pulls his hand out from behind Yamada and pushes Yamada’s chin up so he’s forced to look at Aizawa, see his two black eyes, his scar. All there, all relatively fine. He looks very serious, but then his lips turn up at the corners and his eyes soften.

“This…” Aizawa gestures between them with this other hand. “This will help.” Aizawa leans down, presses their lips together in something that’s more just touching than a kiss. It’s like his lips are barely even there.

Yamada barely even feels their absence when Aizawa pulls back, says, “Every time I wake up from a nightmare you’re here. Every time I’m shaking and can’t breathe, you’re here. Every time you’ve died in my dreams, you’re here. You say nonsense all night long or sing songs I don’t understand until I drift back off to sleep and you’re there in the morning when I wake up again, even when you’ve clearly been up for hours already. That is what matters. You are what matters. This is what matters,” he gestures between them again, movements more confident and firm this time. “Everything that happened in there,” Aizawa pokes Yamada’s forehead, “is not real. It doesn’t matter. You’re okay. I’m okay. We’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be okay,” Yamada repeats.

“Yes.”

“We’re okay.”

“Yes.”

Yamada opens his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by another flash of his nightmare. It’s him and Aizawa in the red room, blood overtaking them, Aizawa’s mouth moving, trying to say something. Yamada sees it now, the words forming on his lips.

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

“It’s okay,” Aizawa says, tucking some hair behind Yamada’s ear. How many times had he said it, kneeling above him, eyes straining as he used his quirk, trying to wake him?

So many it started happening in his dream.

“It’s okay,” Yamada repeats.

“Mhm…”

“It’s okay.”

Aizawa nods, leaning his forehead against Yamada’s.

“I’ll be here,” Aizawa promises, runs his hand through Yamada’s hair again. “I’ll be here.”

“You’ll be here,” Yamada mimics, letting his eyelids droop down.

“Right here,” Aizawa promises.

“Right,” Yamada pauses to yawn, then continues, “here.”

Aizawa nods, pulls Yamada’s head closer so it’s rest against his heart again.

“Right here,” he whispers, voice rough from exhaustion.

When Yamada wakes up the next morning it’s in Aizawa’s arms, right where he left him.

 Notes:

IT’S A TWIST! Did you guess it? Am I horribly predictable? Yes, absolutely. 

I swear one day I’ll stop ending fics with people just falling asleep. I’m such a cop-out. 

#erasermic #maizawa #erasermic fanfiction #erasermic fic #erasermic fanfic #maizawa fanfiction #maizawa fic #maizawa fanfic #aizawa shouta/yamada hizashi #bnha fanficiton #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha fic #mha fic #mha fanfic #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #hizashi yamada/shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa/hizashi yamada #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi

[ephemeralem0tions]

The Epitome of Everything (SNK No Hate Awareness Day 2 - Ship Acceptance Day)

SNK NO HATE AWARENESS DAY 2: SHIP ACCEPTANCE DAY - MIKENANA

And you have all voted! The poll resulted to a tie for Mikenana and Eruhan! I will be posting the Eruhan one later but for now, Have some Mikenana uwu!!!!

P.S. I hope no one says ‘fuck you author’ after but if you would, I would appreciate it XD

SNK NO HATE AWARENESS WEEK 2.0

Have any fic requests?? send them here x.

The Epitome Of Everything

“He’ll be fine” she sighed, directing her gaze to the horizon in front of her. “He is the strongest man after all, before Captain Levi appeared that is” her left hand grazed the small, golden ring that was wrapped around her finger. Despite Gerger’s attempt to calm her down, deep in her heart, she still worried for the man she loved, even if she trusted his skills and capabilities.

Countless of times, she had seen many of their soldiers die in battle with the titans, and her only wish was that Mike would not be a victim. He promised her a world wherein they’d be safe, he promised her everything when he put the band on her finger, she knew she should fully trust him to go alone and stall the enemy while they escaped with the 104th recruits, yet fear still lingered deep within her.

“Lets split up now and warn the villages near by, then meet up after scouting the wall” She looked at half of their squad move to the other direction quickly. without saying a word, she pulled her horse to the opposite direction and made her way, a portion of her troop following her.

The old shack from where they’ve kept the 104th recruits was still visible, run down by titans that slowly fell from her peripheral view. ‘He’d be okay’ she whispered to herself, thoughts drifting off as she rode her steed, heart string stretching down for miles, and slowly getting tangled in the mess of a war.

“Miss Nanaba” she turned back to face a connie that honestly surprised her. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or feel pity for the boy who obviously did not take the cold very well. His arms were hugging himself despite the thick coat already enveloping him, snot drying horribly from his left nostril, almost looking like an icicle if it wasn’t already one.

“Connie, why did you leave the cabin?” she fought back the laughter and kept a stern face, never leaving her post. She was incharge of guarding the area, in the look out of any bandits or thieves while the others had dinner on this time of the night. Years of experience did not faze her anymore in this type of weather, yet it did not mean that she did not succumb to the winter winds when she was at least younger.

“I-I will be g-guarding this post m-ma’am” the poor boy shivered.

“I’m perfectly fine here, you should go and rest”

“I insist!” she looked at him like he was insane. He looked like he would have fever any moment, yet there he was, seeming so ecstatic to guard the cabins. “Sir Mike had called for you on post three”

“Ohh” a smile crept up upon her face upon hearing her lover’s name. “Well then, at least get another cadet to accompany you” he gave her a shaky salute, fists balled up tightly and trembling against his chest. She allowed herself to chuckle, shaking her head before making her way to the third post.

Most of the survey corps saw her as another respected veteran, But on other days, she would be the caring one to cook for Erwin, Levi and Mike while Hanji made the tea. She loved those moments when everything feels normal, safe and sound.

“You called?” she leaned against a torch pole, arms crossed on her chest, an eyebrow raised, and a smile plastered on her lips. As always, she couldn’t see his eyes that much due to his over grown bangs, but loved such mystery anyway.

“I smell a tired but mischievous woman” he teased, her short laughing ringing through his ears.

“so why did you command a poor freezing cadet to take my post just so I could be here?” she walked closer towards him.

“Is it bad to want to see my girl?” he asked, his signature smirk greeting her. The same one she received when he sniffed her right after she joined his squad. That was the day she slapped him for being such a creep, but he gave her a smirk anyway and did not speak. Now a days, she found it endearing when he would come close to her and place his head on her shoulder to get her scent he loved so much. His stubble grazing her neck, sending a thousand tingles across her body.

“It is not. But when we are on duty, it is” she gave him a scolding look, but was amused any how.

He hugged her from behind, leaning unto her shoulder just how she liked it. The thick coat may have prevented his growing beard from hitting her, but his warm breath reached her cheeks, on contrast to the icy weather.

“But I just want a moment with you alone” he pouted like a little kid, small reactions from him she always liked to see. She found it cute whenever Mike acted like a child. Although she should be annoyed with him interfering work sometimes, she just felt so blessed he was so comfortable to goof off around her, knowing only a few people are privileged to see that part of him.

“We have plenty of time for that when we get back to the base after the new scout’s short training” she whispered, goosebumps arising from her skin as his breaths became closer, and warmer against her. “Besides, two people getting cozy in snow would not end up good”

“That’s not what I meant” he laughed, upon hearing that she thought he was doing some kind of innuendo. “Although I would love to feel you now, that is not what I want”

“What then?” she flushed pink in embarrassment.

He took her hands upon his and gazed at her straight in the eyes, moonlight further accentuating her pale blue orbs and his grey ones. Everything seemed to wonderful, glistening under the illumination of the moon, the snow acting like glitter falling, and icicles that hung on trees like glowing lights. He deemed it would be the perfect moment, and he would not let it slide.

“Nanaba” he breathed in and out of nervousness. “Before you came, everything around me seemed like such a nuisance. I never really cared about anything and everything. Never found anything appealing, or worth living for. I joined the training scouts thinking a drunkard like me deserved to throw his life away. I was blessed with strength that allowed me to become the strongest soldier before Levi came, yet I never took pride in that. I felt like a fool, wandering around, looking for death yet kept on fighting on for no good reason. That is, until you came around”

Her eyes beamed even further, glassy and filled with emotions. God he loved her so much.

“The moment you slapped me, I knew right away, you were something” he laughed, but she never returned his humor, making him more nervous but never the less, continue. “You are beauty, simplicity, strength and everything in between. You are my everything”

She watched him, as he knelt down on the snow, his knees getting soaked up as he pulled his gloves out of the way. He had inserted them inside his pockets, only to be replaced by a small black box sitting right at his palm. He lifted the lid, revealing a simple and golden ring that gleamed under the moonlight. Tears started to well in her eyes, hands flying right to her lips in pleasant shock. She felt like she was dreaming, yet she knew it was real. Mike was proposing to her, her everything, telling her that she is his everything.

“I want us to settle down, probably have a kid or two. But not in a world filled with titans” he stated. “For the mean time, I at least want the world to know you are mine. While we fight our way through and survive together. I promise to make the world safe for my everything” he was watching her every reaction, heart pounding even more as tears streamed down her cheeks. She was happy, he made her happy. “Will you marry me?” he finally popped the question.

“Yes!” she replied without hesitation, plunging down to him with a hug. His back hitting the snow, coat slowly soaking and cold creeping up his spine, but he felt great, as she laid securely around his arms. He pulled her in for a kiss, her soft lips fitting with his perfectly like always. His hand intertwined with her right glove, removing it in one swift movement and tossing them to the side. Her bare hand touched his stubble around his jaw, bringing them closer together. He brought his hand unto hers and broke their kiss momentarily.

He placed the engagement ring unto her finger, her eyes staring at the god band as she lifted it up to the air, letting it shine through the moonlight. She couldn’t be any more happier, and so did he.

He threw his dull blades away and retrieved his gear trigger back to its resting place around his waist. He let out a loud whistle and waited for his steed to appear. He was not going to let her be there by herself while he guarded an empty shack. He had already stalled enough time for her to escape, and enough time for new enemies to come her way. He prayed that she’d be safe as he’d make his way back to her.

A large ape like titan caught his attention, its arms swinging by its sides, hair making it look like an animal rather than a titan. It looked like it did not care about anything in its surroundings, or so he thought.

He gasped as he heard his horse neigh and thrash through the beast’s hand, it body coming crashing right to him before he could even react. His shock did not allow him to retract his gear before a three meter class titan had grabbed him and bitten his legs. His gaze wondered around him, hazy through out his current situation. Fear enveloped him, as a swarm of other bigger titans started to pool around. They were waiting to devour him, their large eyes staring at him with hunger.

He screamed and flailed his body, trying to escape rom his captor’s grasp. Pain made him want to give up and get done and over with it, but Nanaba’s image under the glistening moonlight made him hold on.

“Stop” he froze, hearing a voice. The ape like titan sat right in front of him, the titan holding him stopping momentarily then proceeding to bite him once more, making him scream in agony. “Ah, stubborn one aren’t you? I said stop” he had never felt so afraid, seeing the bigger titan crush the head of the inferior one. He was dropped to the ground, fear eating him up slowly, tears streaming down his face. “What’s that on your waist? Is that what you use to kill us?” He was too shocked to give an answer, mind only hoping to get out of the mess. “Hmm, funny, I though we spoke the same language?” the beast scratched his head, but he remained speechless.

Its hand started to reach for him, he cowered in fear, ducking his head for cover as he felt a weight being lifted from his torso. He spared the beast a glance again, his gear already right at its palms as it walked away.

Then he remembered, her short blonde hair swaying with the wind as he fought enemies with her, her pale blue eyes glistening under the moonlight, her smile as she gracefully cooked in the kitchen on nights where they rested, the way she loved to feel his stubble on her own cheeks, and the way he slapped her when they first met. It was like he was slapped back to reality. He needed to get a grip of himself, for her. He wanted a safe place for her, yet he couldn’t even kill the several titans around him. He was once humanity’s strongest, and he could still do it.

He lifted his remaining blade and screamed, trying to pull himself off the ground and attack the beast who had its back turned around him. It is only when he stops fighting that he looses, he told her that, thus, he will not stop fighting, so he wouldn’t loose his everything.

“You can move now” he froze again upon the command of the beast, his limbs numb slowly getting loose as the swarm of titans ran to him, picked him up and fought over him.

“No! No! No stop! Please! Stop!” he pleaded with them, cries getting louder as bones cracked and ligaments ripped. He saw everything flash before his eyes, the last he saw was her face, before he felt immense pain on his neck and drifted off to the darkness, hoping to find their safe haven someday.

She stared back at the moonlight as she swung forward and used the last of her dull blades only to fail. She dropped down ward, hooks of her gear anchored to the tower but her gas empty, making her unable to move.

‘How did it all end up like this?’ she thought. She and Mike talked about fighting through the titan war together, and create a safe world for them to settle on, yet it was now all too good to be true. Now she was thrashing around as several titan grabbed her and nibbed at her, one limb at a time.

She cried, allowing tears to stream violently across her blood stained face, a leg already missing and the other four corners of her body, arms, head an another leg, being fought on by other titans. She saw the 104th scouts stare at her with such horror, Connie grabbing her attention most specially. She remembered the way the boy took her post just so Mike could propose to her. She remembered the way he was being playful that night and telling her that she was his everything. She remembered the way they kissed that time, wishing she could have at least one more feel of him before her death. She prayed that he was alright, having to take down the titans all by himself back at the run down shack.

A beam of light caught her eye. She stared at its direction and noticed the moonlight accentuating the golden ring she had on her right hand. It was still beautiful, simple, strong, and everything in between. It was still everything, from her everything.

She let herself smile one last time, before closing her eyes, and accepting her cruel fate, hoping to find their safe haven someday.

#snk #nohate awareness week #mikenana #mike #nanaba #fic #fanfic #ship acceptance #prompt #seriously message this author 'fuck you' if you hate/like this fic eitherway

[fanfictionconnectionwordpress]

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | Vanderwood Backstory | Ch. 10 The Hard Place

***This fanfiction covers my version of Vanderwood which I rp in this Mystic Messenger Discord server. Don’t forget to subscribe to the email list for access to R-Rated Scenes and my monthly newsletter.

You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes. Chapter Directory.  ~Let’s Connect! FFC***

He squinted into the darkness. This was the first field mission he was on with Seven, his newest partner. Seven had at least put most his joking aside for this. Even though he was an adult now, the redhead was still the same ass he'd become after getting that stupid storybook. Vanderwood would never understand what changed for him at that point, but Seven was just like Caleb.

Seven was just like Caleb. Vanderwood bit his tongue. It was true. They were even nearly the same age. Seven was just a bit older than Caleb, not by much. He dressed similarly too. He sighed and tapped his foot. Where was his signal?

Vanderwood was standing in a dark hallway, his hip leaned against the wall. the end of hall was where Seven would be, hacking through the security system to get them inside the room that contained the main computer system. They were starting a sting on an anti-agency. There had been a lot of talk about the new rival agency even before Seven and he had been assigned this job.

From what Vanderwood had heard, Goldie had been found out to have been creating her own secret spy ring, and the majority of the spies as well as Goldie herself had been terminated. It was a cautionary tale for everyone to stay in their proper place on the supposed 'good side,' as well as scaring everyone into the knowledge that they were all expendable, that there really was no 'good side.'

Finally, a light flashed at him three times in quick succession. Seven was in. Vanderwood peered down the opposite end of the hallway once more before making his way to where Seven now was. His job was to be the brawn, the backup, while Seven hacked into the mainframe. There were a few of the spies who had escaped, and this was supposedly their newest hideout.

Vanderwood's mouth dropped open at the number of computers and monitors inside this little room. For a small rival agency, they sure had a lot going on. Whatever, his job was to get Seven in and the information out. Seven too, of course, as much as Vanderwood was irritated by the guy and wanted to tase him every ten seconds, Seven was getting out of here alive. For a first mission, it had seemed pretty simple, but the longer it was taking the redhead to get through the firewall, the more anxious Vanderwood was starting to feel.

Something wasn't quite right. He just had a feeling. Vanderwood bit his tongue, trying to think. So far, the plan had gone perfectly, everything was going the way it was supposed to. Actually, Rex had been the one to set this plan up, or so Vanderwood had heard, so it was meticulously planned if that was the case. The redhead muttered, "Finally." Good, he was in. Vanderwood shot him a glance just to make sure that the information was downloading as it should. They weren't supposed to read any of it, just make sure it downloaded. Vanderwood was mildly curious, but it wasn't his place. He did his job and got out, that was the way of things for him.

He heard a sound, scraping, metal against metal, like someone was dragging something along the outside hallway. His hand went to the little gun at the small of his back. They had a visitor. Vanderwood didn't have the time to think about how they'd gotten this visitor, having not set off any alarms, but he did have time to use the window in the door in front of him to see the reflection of the person coming their way. Seven shot Vanderwood a quick frightened glance. It was his first mission, it made sense for the kid to be scared, but Vanderwood shook his head at him, silently letting him know that he needed to stop freaking out.

The guy in the reflection was ugly, but not just ugly, something about him was horribly wrong. His face was so square, his body broad, and the oversized jacket he had on didn't help. Vanderwood was barely making out the features, but from what little he was seeing, this man looked like an orangutan with a crazy serial killer smile. Vanderwood made sure the safety on his gun was off, waiting for the man to get closer. The closer he got, the more excited he seemed to become, tapping what appeared to be a knife rhythmically against the side of the hallway.

Now was as good a time as he was going to get. Vanderwood jumped out from the doorway, pinpointing where the man was. The man went to duck, but Vanderwood had already estimated the man's height, so he only put himself into Vanderwood's aim. A gunshot went off, momentarily silencing everything, thanks to the enclosed space of the hallway. His ears were ringing, but it would go away before long. There wasn't the option to wait, sometimes. Someone grabbed his arm, yanking a few times and Vanderwood flicked his eyes their way. It was Seven of course, he was holding the disk, so they needed to go.

If it hadn't been for the fact that they'd been ordered to get the disk out of there immediately, Vanderwood would have made sure to snap the man's neck. The man who was still eerily smiling at him even as he groaned in pain from the gunshot that had probably shattered his shoulder. Vanderwood pressed his back to Seven's as they proceeded on their way out, scanning every which way.

They had gotten out of the building, and the car was in sight when a little flash of movement caught Vanderwood's eye. The ringing had toned down, but it was still irritating, his head throbbing a little now. At least he could hear his own voice as he called out to Seven. "Move!" That's when she stepped into their sights. "Aw, you saw me." Another annoying redhead? This one looked an awful lot like a girl he would have chosen to fuck at a bar. She was shapely, all curves, but she was obviously a little harbinger of death. Her heels were spiked, he noted that as they clicked on the road, stepping closer to them, gun poised on Seven who was holding the disk. "Put that down or die."

"You realize I've also got a gun, right?" Vanderwood's ears had stopped ringing, but he was probably still shouting a bit. The woman threw her head back in laughter. "You're also the idiot who shot a gun in a hallway. I'll bet you're at least a little off your aim thanks to that. Ears still ringing? Or has that stopped?" They were caught between a rock and a hard place. Try to outshoot her, or give up the disk and get terminated if they didn’t manage to get it back.

Vanderwood snorted softly. She was right about his ears too. His aim would probably be off. It wasn't like he really felt dizzy, but it wasn't unusual for that not to happen until your aim really counted. "Put it down, fellow redhead." Seven looked up at Vanderwood, fear evident in the younger man's eyes. Sure, he was scared, but he was stepping up. That's right...He wasn't just a kid anymore. Seven was eighteen, and a fully-fledged agent.

Vanderwood nodded, keeping the woman in his periphery. He would find a way to make this work. As Seven bent to put the disk on the ground, of course he retrieved his gun. Once he was standing again, the woman's smile grew wider. "Bye, fellow redhead." Vanderwood saw the intent before she pulled the trigger. She was a gloater, it was only too obvious. Seven was about to get shot. Vanderwood shifted, shoving the younger man out of the way. The gunshot had his ears ringing again, but that was nothing compared to the burning sensation in his chest. Holy Hell, his entire body was burning, and not in a pleasant way. There was another gunshot, the faint sound of voices over the ringing. Vanderwood was struggling to breathe. His lungs were burning now too.

The girl was running away. She actually wasn't that fantastic of a shot. After getting off her shot, she had hidden herself behind a portion of a nearby truck, but when she'd peeked out to take another Seven's way, he'd managed to shoot the gun from her hands, and then she was gone. Seven watched her go, knowing that he couldn't let his guard down until she was for sure gone.

He wasn't sure if he was more pissed or afraid. It was just like Vanderwood to do this kind of thing. Vanderwood was so cold and unfeeling, but he took a bullet for him. In part, it was his job, but on another level, Seven knew it meant more, because Seven felt the same way. This guy was as much his brother as his blood brother was. Much more irritating, but definitely family.

As soon as she was out of sight, he was on his knees, shoving the disk into his pocket before he looked Vanderwood over. It was a decent caliber shot, he could tell that much. Vanderwood was staring off into space, not really looking at him. There was only one thing Seven knew that would get his partner riled up no matter what the situation. Hopefully it would work now, too. "C'mon Mary, don't be like that. I need my maid to clean my house."

Vanderwood could barely make out the words, but he groaned, coughing up a bit of blood. "I'm fucking dying and you're teasing my ass? I wish I could...tase you." Seven smiled, good, he was pissed. The redhead ran off to grab a kit out of the back of the car. He could at least get a tight bandage wrapped around Vanderwood to keep him alive until they could get to the agency's infirmary. "You can tase me later. I won't even run." The guy was hard to lug into the car, but he would be alright. Seven was still terrified, but he had to believe that Vanderwood would be alright.

***

He groaned and opened his eyes. His throat felt dry. "Oh, hey there, Mary." Oh, for shit's sake. Vanderwood tried to push himself up out of bed, but found that he absolutely didn't have the strength. He looked around him and then down at his chest. Right. He'd taken a bullet for the little shit calling him a girl's name. His eyes found Seven's and he grunted. "You're a douche." Seven just smiled and patted the bandage, making Vanderwood growl in pain. "You too, Mary." The guy deserved it for taking a bullet that hadn’t been meant for him.

Like this? Want more? Become a Patron.  ~Let’s Connect! FFC

#vanderwood #vanderwood mystic messenger #seven #707 #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction #fanfictionconnection

[emily-echolls]

A Life of Trying

Summary: Emily’s always been a little fucked up. I literally cannot stress hard enough for you to read the trigger warnings, because this is one of if not the most upsetting and personally triggering things I’ve ever written- and I’ve killed off characters violently before.  Words: 5,373 Trigger Warnings: Depression, self harm, suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, drug use, mild alcoholism, semi graphic sex.

When the Echolls twins were barely over a year old, their mother had entered them in their first baby pageant. Maybe she had dreamed of two identical blonde twins, beaming for the judges, performing perfect duets. Perhaps she had idolized the life of a stage mom, and pictured them nailing acting auditions later in life, becoming the next Mary-Kate and Ashley. But that wasn't quite what happened.

In the hallway of their home, there was a picture hung on the wall of the two Echolls on stage- both girls clad in bright pink, garish dance costumes. Elizabeth, giggling into the camera and flashing a bright, cheesy stage grin at the camera, clutching Emily's hand. Emily, in the process of tearing the ribbon out of her elaborately made hair, red faced from crying and screaming out of stage fright. Edgar Echolls had hung it as a joke- he loved the picture which he said showed the very big difference between his two youngest daughters so well.

There had not been a repeat performance.

Four Years Old

Emily sulked deeper down in the folding chair sullenly, crossing her arms as yet another pageant girl tromped her way through some annoying music number. Elizabeth had already gone, and she didn't understand why she had to sit here all polite and quiet for some other girl who wasn't her sister. Elisha elbowed her gently, crossing her eyes and making a silly face at her sister until she giggled. Elisha, she knew, was just as bored as she was.

"Oh, Emily?" The young girl twisted at the sound of her name coming from her mother's mouth, eavesdropping as she talked with some other dance mom, the smile screaming that she really didn't like who she was talking to. "Oh goodness no. We tried with her, but she just couldn't stand it, I'm afraid. The whole pageant scene bores her to tears- quite the tomboy you know. We're still waiting for her to find what she's really passionate about. But no, I can’t imagine that she’s jealous of Elizabeth."

Emily, who slunk so far down in her chair she nearly fell on the floor, didn’t think that the last part was necessarily true.

Six Years Old

"Emily." A voice whispered from the doorway of her bedroom, tapping lightly on her door.

"Go away!" Emily cried, lifting her head from where it was pressed into her wet pillow and scrubbing at her teary eyes. At the moment, she hated everyone in her family and didn’t even know why. She hated Elizabeth for being the center of what little attention their parents gave them, she hated her parents for not being around. She even irrationally hated Elisha for trying to be their mom, when their actual mom should be doing that.

Her door creaked open anyway, and Elisha came tiptoeing in, closing the door before flopping on top of her playfully. She planted a loud kiss on her head despite the dismayed noise Emily made and dodged the tiny hands swatting at her until she rolled to the unoccupied side of Emily’s bed, immediately pulling her to her chest and pressing her forehead against Emily’s shoulder. "What's the matter Em? You've seemed sad lately."

Her eyes welling with fresh round of tears, Emily turned away from Elisha, burying her head in her pillow again. "I d-don't know." She wailed softly, small shoulders heaving anew with sobs. Elisha put her hand on Emily's back and rubbed gently. Emily wasn't sure whether she wanted Elisha to wrap her up in a hug, or go away and never speak to her again. "No one likes me."

Elisha's hand stilled for a moment, and she raised her head to look at where Emily was still buried in her pillow. When she spoke, her voice was concerned. "That's not true, we all love you! Why do you think no one likes you?"

"I don't know." Emily sobbed again, blubbering disjointedly in frantic childhood distress. "Because I get in trouble a lot, and I only have three friends and Elizabeth has so many she probably can't even count them, and Mom doesn't come to my soccer games, and she says young ladies shouldn't have tempers, and the other day Tamara said I was mean and I don't mean to be, and-” Emily paused, her heart pounding a little, before blurting “-and I feel like I'm broken."

"What do you mean?" Now Elisha's voice sounded alarmed, which only served to make her cry harder.

Turning around so she was facing Elisha, Emily tried to think of how to say what she felt so it made sense.  "It's like- everyone else is normally happy unless something bad happens, and then they're sad or mad, but I'm always sad or mad and then sometimes not even good things make me happy. A good day goes bad so easy but bad days only get worse- they never go back to being happy. So I’m broken."

Emily stole a look at her silent sister from beneath tear soaked eyelashes. In the gloom of Emily’s mostly dark room, she could barely make out Elisha chewing at her lip, eyebrows furrowed. She was quiet for several moments, and Emily wiggled back around in her arms, throwing her arms around her shoulders and burying her wet face in her neck.

"Don't tell anyone else." She begged quietly, not wanting to see the worried look on Elisha’s face. She didn't want her parents or Elizabeth to know that she felt this way. They would try to all tell her why she shouldn't, and it would make her feel worse, somehow.

"Let's-" Elisha began hesitantly, prying Emily away gently so she could sit up, smiling at Emily in a way that almost hid the fact that she looked scared. "Let's go sneak into the kitchen and get some ice cream, what do you think? Ice cream always makes me feel better when I'm sad."

"It's too late for ice cream." Emily grumbled. Her alarm clock proclaimed it to be 11 PM, two hours after Emily and Elizabeth were supposed to be in bed.

"Well, Mom and Dad aren't here, which means I'm in charge of bedtime, and I say it's okay for us to get some ice cream. Let's go."

Later, in the dark kitchen while Emily was watching Elisha stand on her tiptoes to grab a couple of bowls, it struck her that Elisha was still kind of a kid too.

Seven Years Old

"Emily."

"I don't want to talk to you." Emily spat at the woman with surprising venom, her hands curled into fists at her sides. She refused to look at her, refused to say even hello when she had introduced herself as Dr. Dubois, refused to acknowledge her surroundings. Instead she glared out the wide window, which looked into a side yard decorated with a pond and a little walkway.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the woman's dark eyebrows raise. "That's alright Emily, you don't have to talk. Do you want me to talk?"

"No! I don't want to listen to anything you have to say to me. I shouldn't even be here."

"Oh? Why would you say that?"

Emily glared at her in silence, crossing her arms. She wasn't going to be tricked into saying something that would give this woman ammunition. Everyone knew what happened in therapist offices- they’d lock you away in a crazy house if you gave them half a chance, Emily wasn’t about to give her an opening.

The woman sighed, tapping her pencil against a clipboard lightly. "Would it help if I told you that I won't tell your parents anything you say?"

Emily scoffed. "No, because I know you're lying."

"Nope." Dr. Dubois was sitting in a wheeled chair, and she pushed herself across the room to pluck a thick looking book of the wall, flipping to a bookmarked spot and propelling herself back towards Emily. She tapped a manicured finger against a highlighted paragraph. "Look right there; you see that highlighted bit? It's a law called HIPAA. It says that I can't tell anyone anything you say unless you're going to hurt yourself or someone else. If I tell your parents something you say without your permission, you can call the cops and have them haul me away."

She smiled. Emily didn't smile back. "I don't want to go to a crazy hospital."

"I wouldn't send you to one- not as young as you are. And even if I did, it's not like the movies where we lock you up and throw away the key forever. It'd be the same as going to a hospital when you get sick- you go to get better and then you come home. Do you think you need to go to a hospital?"

"No!"

Dr. Dubois spread her hands as if to say well then that's that, smiling. "I’m only here to help you Emily. We all want to best for you- for you to be happy and healthy. That’s what I want for you too. Don’t you want to feel better? Happier?”

“Yeah.” Emily sighed after a moment, posture softening. “I want to be happy.”

Dr. Dubois beamed. “That’s the first step.”

Nine Years Old

Some sunny day, some rare family outing where nothing had gone wrong. When Emily didn’t hate herself or anyone around her, when Elizabeth wasn’t busy with some social obligation. Elisha was home from Sea Crest, her parents were around. Emily couldn’t even remember where they had gone- only that they had stopped to buy churros off a food truck. Her mother had actually ate a few, despite her constant worrying about her diet. Emily had made some dry joke and they’d all laughed.

Her father had elbowed her gently, light and teasing. “Why can’t you be this fun all the time, huh?”

Emily had forced a laugh, but she could already feel the summer day losing it’s happy glow. She wished she knew.

Twelve Years Old

“Oh my god- What are you doing?”

Emily startled, the plastic bottle nearly slipping out of her dye covered gloves. Squaring her shoulder, she caught Elizabeth’s shocked look in the bathroom mirror and shrugged, clumsily trying to get an even layer on the back of her head. It was important she finished before Elisha or their parents came home- they had all told her that she was too young to dye her hair. “Exactly what it looks like. Are you going to help me or not?”

Elizabeth hesitated for just a moment before she came in and closed the door, taking the bottle from Emily and a spare pair of gloves. Her hands moved sections of wet hair, squirting the dye at the roots and pulling it through until every inch of blonde was covered with thick, dark goop. They stood in relative silence, aside from Elizabeth occasionally instructing Emily to move her head one way or another. Her sister didn’t ask why she was dying it, and she was grateful. She wasn’t sure it would make sense to anyone except for her, and maybe Dr. Dubois.

When she was done, Elizabeth handed her the empty bottle, staring at her critically. “The color looks good, I think. Hope it’s worth Mom actually murdering you.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her you helped me, oh perfect one.” Emily snorted in amusement, turning back towards the mirror. A surprised smile touching her lips as her still gloved hand came up to touch her hair. She could almost picture how it would look when it dried- different. That was all Emily wanted. To see someone completely different when she looked in the mirror.

Thirteen Years Old

Shaking, Emily stood under the hot water spray and watched the trail of crimson run down the shower drain, leaning outside the shower curtain to put the razor back in the pencil case she hid in her shower caddy. Inside were several other things she’d stolen from the dollar store. Rubbing alcohol, liquid bandaid, gauze, ace wrap. (She would have bought them, but she didn’t want anyone wondering what a kid needed with medical supplies.) She touched the cut she’d made to her thigh absentmindedly, letting the hot water pound down on her face.

“Emily! You’ve been in there for forever, are you okay?” Edgar Echolls’ voice sounded from the doorway and Emily sighed mournfully. She just wanted to stay in here forever, where it was simple, no one was watching her, and pain only came when she wanted it.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

Fourteen Years Old

"-and they all just fucking hate me I guess.” Emily fumed, finishing a rant that had started about an argument she’d gotten in with her teachers and ended with how her parents were always all too willing to believe she’d started every fight and caused every altercation she ever got in.

“Emily, do you really feel like everyone hates you?” Dr. Dubois asked mildly, curled up in the same rolling chair as that first day. Emily actually loved her- she always seemed happy and comfortable. Her office looked like it was someone’s front room, and she always looked somehow both professional and entirely relaxed. She often found herself wondering how the doctor stayed so happy if all of her patients were miserable sacks of shit like Emily.

“I don’t know.” Emily muttered after a few seconds of sullen silence, crossing her arms. “They all act like they hate me.”

"Do they?” Dr. Dubois’s tone was kind, but allowed no bullshit.

“....No.”

Dr. Dubois leaned forward, her fingers templed together under her chin. “Then why do you say that they do?”

“Because-” Emily crossed her arms tighter, defensive. She wanted to lie, but knew that Dr. Dubois would see through her in a heartbeat. The woman could see through her even better than Elisha- and she had practically raised her and Elizabeth. Her words, when they came, were rushed and quiet. “Because sometimes I wish they did.”

“Why is that?” Dr. Dubois asked, puzzled.

“Because, if they hated me, I’d have a reason for feeling like this.”

“Emily.” The heartfelt, empathetic tone made her want to claw her eyes out. It was exactly what she was expecting, and the last thing she wanted to hear. “You have depression. You don’t need a reason to feel the way you do.”

She thought of her big house, her concerned parents, Elisha’s dedication to her and Elizabeth, all of her friends who got by with much less and did much more.

“Yes,” Emily sighed, “I do.”

Fourteen Years Old

Emily curled up in the uncomfortable police station chair, staring at her shoes- which they’d taken the laces from. They’d taken her bag too; the one that had her clothes, her medicine, and her dad’s credit card, which she’d hoped to use for awhile until he canceled it. She hadn’t really had a plan, per se- she had just wanted to leave everything about herself behind. Maybe if she had a new name, new friends, and a new home she’d feel different too. She had wondered if she could shed her skin like a snake and come out fresh and shiny- maybe if she started over she could make everything right. Instead she’d made everything worse.

She’d bought her ticket online, caught greyhound after greyhound- but the police had been waiting for her bus in the train station in Chicago. They’d asked her terrible questions. They’d asked her if her parents abused her, if things were going wrong in school, if someone had molested her, if she was being bullied or threatened, and she’d felt more and more ashamed each time she’d answered no. By the end of it she had wanted to scream- No it’s not anyone else! It’s just me! I’m a horrible person and I’m never happy and I’m the one fucking up my own life and I don’t know how to stop!  Now she felt wrung out. Guilty and small and wishing that if she curled up tight enough maybe no one would notice her and let her rest until the horrible feeling in her twisted guts went away.

The door opened, and Emily curled tighter into herself, shaking. She didn’t want to see her parents, she didn’t want to see what she’d done to them, didn’t want to know if they were angry or relieved, or if her dad had that tired, sad look he got whenever she and Elizabeth fought. She could feels below the surface, but pressed them down.

“Emily.” Her father’s voice sounded exhausted and she let out a choked sound despite herself. The sound of her mother rushing across the room in her expensive heels, and Emily was being pulled out of her chair into an embrace so tight she could barely breathe. Over her mother’s shoulder she caught a quick glance of her father’s pale, stricken face before he was coming over on her other side to wrap her up as well.

“Don’t you ever... what am I going to- what were you thinking? Do you know the terrible things that could have happened- Emily.” Evelyn’s voice and her entire body were shaking, and to Emily’s ever growing horror she could feel when her mother began crying in earnest.

“We love you.” Her father spoke, his own voice unsteady. “We love you so, so much, and we were so worried. Why would you do this, Emily?”

“I don’t know.” She lied.

Fourteen Years Old

“-and I just-” Emily took a ragged breath, brushing at her tear smeared eyeliner. “-I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Do you feel like you’re a danger to yourself Emily?” Dr. Dubois asked bluntly, reaching over to hand Emily a tissue. Otherwise she didn’t mention the tears. After four years she had learned that while this was the only place Emily let herself cry in front of anyone, she still didn’t like her to comment on it.

“I don’t know.”

Dr. Dubois sighed. Emily knew she hated it when she said that. She tried to elaborate.

“I don’t really want to kill myself. I just sometimes wish that I’d fall asleep and never wake up.”

Fifteen Years Old

Emily threw back shot after shot lined up in a row, immune to the drunken cheering around her. She'd acquired a reputation lately for being a freshman who could keep up with anyone shot for shot, but she wasn’t doing it for them. She was doing it to shut off her damn depressing brain. After the last one, she lifted her hand in triumph. People tended to worry less about her drinking when they thought she was doing it to have fun.

“Someone light a fucking blunt, that wasn’t shit!” She shouted, faking a grin. Several loud whoops followed her words, and she snatched a joint out of someone’s fingers, shooting them a mischievous smile as she greedily sucked smoke into her lungs.

“You look like you need something a little stronger.” An unfamiliar voice spoke behind her and she turned, vaguely recognizing some senior she’d maybe danced with once or twice. He was shaking a tiny bottle full of pills.

“Fuck. Yes.”

Fifteen Years Old

“How are you feeling today?” Dr. Dubois asked, watching Emily wordlessly stare out the window. She hadn’t wanted to leave her bed- let alone her house- but Elisha had insisted. She felt like she wanted to be dead, but knew better than to say that.

Emily rested her head on her curled up knees and closed her eyes. “Everything feels too big, sometimes.”

Sixteen Years Old

Everything was moving in slow motion, and for some reason she kept falling down, she wasn’t in control of her limbs, and her eyes felt like they were close to falling out of her head. She could feel her heart beating it’s way out of her chest. It wasn’t hitting fast enough, she hadn’t wanted to feel this.

Standing in front of the bathroom, she clumsily downed the rest of her anti depressants, chasing it with tap water. The house was empty- Elizabeth at some friend’s house, Elisha in Sea Crest, her parents on some work trip. She’d been planning for days- but no. She’d been planning her entire life, she just hadn’t realized it until now. Trying to learn how to drive, her mind would helpfully point out all the ways she could crash. Cut, and her brain would whisper to dig the razor deep into her wrist. Walking down the sidewalk and she’d have the split second urge to throw herself in front of a car speeding by. Cross a bridge and she’d want to jump off. Take her medicine, and she’d feel the urge to swallow the whole damn medicine cabinet.

Pulling out a piece of paper and pen, hands shaking, she struggled to think of what to write. Ever fragment, ever piece of reassurances and apologies she’d half composed in her head for her family seemed inconsequential- flowery, too little and much too late. There was nothing she could say that would make up for what this was going to do to them- she knew that. Eventually, when her hand could barely hold the pen, she scrawled- Sorry. Not your fault. I love you.

It would have to do. She waited, laying on her bed, wrapped in her thickest blanket. She’d almost done this somewhere else- she didn’t like the idea of her family finding her- but in the end she had needed the comfort of her childhood home, in her bed with everything that made her Emily Echolls surrounding her. It was the last of a lifetime of selfish decisions, and she allowed herself a minute to regret them all.

It still wasn’t hitting. She had hoped that taking so many anti depressants would just make her fall asleep, but this didn’t feel much different than being drunk, only drunk she had never felt so fucking terrified. Mind spinning, she didn’t realize her phone was ringing until she was already trying to lift her heavy arm to answer it. Her mind wouldn’t process the words on the screen, so she simply answered, struggling to bring it to her ear.

“-hello? Hello? Emily?” When she recognized the voice, Emily at once felt a sniveling guilty sense of gratitude that she wasn’t going to be alone, in the same moment that she thought how unfair this was to a sister who had never done anything but love her, despite her many and varied faults.

“Elisha.”

“Emily? What’s wrong? You sound weird.” Elisha’s voice sounded curious, but not alarmed- yet.

Some distant part of Emily’s mind was screaming at her to hang up, but the more overwhelming fear of what was coming kept her on the line. “I’m... scared.”

“Why’re you scared? ...Emily no-” She could practically hear the horrifying gears slotting together in her sister’s mind, told by the panic bleeding into her words. Emily could hear things being knocked over as Elisha rushed to do- something. "You didn’t, oh Emily you didn’t-.”

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to- I love you.” Her face was wet- why was her face wet?

“Just keep talking to me baby, are you at home? I’m going to send someone to come get you.”

Emily’s vision was beginning to go gray in patches. She closed her eyes

“I have to go I think. I’m sorry.”

“Emily no, don’t hang up, please-!”

...

A loud bang and the security alarm blaring. A light eventually throwing over her face. “Ma’am? Ma’am? Oh shit- dispatch call EMT. Young female, found unresponsive, possible overdose-”

...

Cold hands on her face, her wrist, sirens somewhere loud and immediate. “Ma’am? Could you tell me if you took all the pills in this bottle?”

...

A sharp pain in her nose and throat. “Stomach lining has already absorbed some of the medication, we’ll have to-”

...

A woman crying and a hand in her hair. “Oh Emily, oh baby no, please-”

Mom?

...

Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain. Every inch of her body ached.

“We’re finally going to take this out, okay sweetie?” A voice, chipper in her ear as she gagged around some sort of tube.

Her father’s voice, tear thick and weary. “Th-thank you for talking to her. Even if she isn’t really-”

...

“Emily? ... I’m furious with you. W-wake up so I can kick your ever loving ass, you selfish-”

Elizabeth.

...

Lifting a hand to her gritty eyes, blinking. Her father was sleeping in a chair next to her bed, her other hand clutched in his, Elisha and Elizabeth curled together in the other bed. Her mother’s voice outside, talking to someone on a phone about needing more time off. Outside the open window she could see the sun beginning to set, turning everything in the room blinding gold.

For her entire life, she would never recall a moment so soul crushingly agonizing as the moment she realized that she had failed, and would have to keep dragging herself through the horrible mess of a life she’d made for herself, whether she wanted to or not.

Sixteen Years Old

Dr. Dubois came to her hotel room with a bouquet of sunflowers and marigolds she’d picked from her garden. She’d explained quietly to Emily how suicide watch worked, where she would be going, when she would get to leave, and how often she would get to see her while she was there. Drugged as she was, Emily retained only some of it, but Dr. Dubois assured her that it was okay. As she went to gather her things and leave, Emily spoke, voice slurred.

“Are you- disappointed in me?”

Dr. Dubois looked over at her, and Emily noticed for the first time how much she had aged in the nine years she had known her. She wondered how many of the lines around her eyes she had caused, felt the sudden desire to study her parents’ faces in the same way. I’m killing everyone I love, too.

The other woman’s eyes were suspiciously bright as she crossed the room towards Emily’s bed, kissing her on the forehead in an almost motherly way. She hadn’t ever done that before. Emily noted. “Only a little, because I know you’re stronger than this. But look on the bright side my darling- there’s nowhere to go now but up.”

Sixteen Years Old

Two weeks of closed wards, white scrubs with no drawstrings, two hour checks, eating shitty cafeteria food with her fingers, no technology, get better cards from relatives and classmates she’d never even spoken to. Med adjustment after med adjustment, one shitty side effect after another and an all encompassing numbness that wouldn’t go away. Group therapy with people who had things so much worse than her. Her parents and Elisha coming to visit with fake smile and forced cheer, enthusing about the most mundane of her accomplishments.

Never. She thought one morning as she stared out of the window of her room, curled on top of her thin hospital bed. I’m never coming back here, not ever. I’d rather die.

Sixteen Years Old

Her first week home. Elisha had taken a few weeks off work to stay with her while her parents were working. Certain thing were missing from her room, the razors and medicine had been taken out of the bathroom, cleaning supplies were locked in the garage, and Emily had to have someone else get her medication now. None of that compared to the way everyone was tip toeing around her. Elizabeth wouldn’t even look her in the eye.

Somewhere past two in the morning, Emily knocked on her sister’s door, waiting until Elisha sleepily called out for her to come in before she did so. She crossed the room quietly and pulled back the covers of her narrow twin bed, crawling under them hesitantly. Her sister didn’t speak, but slid over slightly, wrapping Emily in a loose hug. The silence seemed heavy with things that needed said;  I’m glad you called, I never meant for you to live that with me, none of it was ever about you, please forgive me, I know you tried. 

Emily couldn’t say any of them.

“Can we go get some ice cream?” She whispered eventually.

“Of course.”

Eighteen Years Old

She’d been doing… acceptably well. Going to therapy, trying to talk to her family, building or repairing feeble or non-existence bridges of communication that had never gotten the chance to form. She spoke to her mom, called her dad while he was on set, went to visit Elisha a few weekends, actually talked with Elizabeth- more than they maybe ever had in their lives. She took her medicine (she’d finally been allowed to hold it herself again, with Dr. Dubois’s approval) but still, her vices never really went away. Sex was one of the newer ones.

A short lived bad decision- not quite a one night stand but certainly not what one would classify as a relationship. Fun while they were around, not missed when they weren’t. Kisses trailed from her collarbone, lower and lower, only to pause, soft fingers trailing over skin littered with marks of a darker time, with curiosity and maybe a little bit of pity.

A moment’s pause before a kiss was pressed directly on one of the bigger scars on her thighs. “You’re a goddamn survivor babe.”

Fuck yeah I am.

Nineteen Years Old

Emily’s hand still throbbed as she opened the door to the apartment she shared with her sister. Though it was beginning to get dark, the lights were still off, and from the looks of things Elizabeth still hadn’t moved. She kicked off her shoes in some direction and made her way towards her sister’s room, knocking gently on the door.

“Go away.” Elizabeth’s voice was as teary as it had been four hours ago. Emily pushed open the door anyway, padding towards the mass of blankets that was her sister and burrowing herself under the covers as well, wrapping her arms around Elizabeth only slightly awkwardly. They hadn’t ever really been that close, but Emily had spent an eternity of time crying by herself under her covers, and she would be damned if she let Elizabeth do so without somebody with her.

“Let’s get some of that shitty Thai food you like.” Emily mumbled. “You don’t have to talk to me or do anything else, but you have to get out of this bed and eat. I know that it doesn’t feel like it, but I promise that you’re hungry and it’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

...

Later, sitting on their tiny couch and eating green curry and beef as Friends played in the background, Elizabeth grabbed Emily’s hand and inspected her swollen fingers and scraped knuckles, face pinched in concern. “What happened?”

Emily pulled it back, rolling her wrist carefully. “I punched Caleb in the face after class today.”

“Oh. That’s... good? I’m kind of impressed, honestly.”

“Anytime.” Emily smirked.

Twenty One Years Old

The doctor’s office around her swam dizzily as Emily struggled to breathe, her fingernails digging painfully into her palms. She was definitely hyperventilating, and the doctor was just starting to notice, frantically attempting to soothe her. Words kept coming out of his mouth, but she was only catching snatches. Treatable- flare ups- range from mild to severe- immunologists- start a treatment plan-. None of it mattered. Not a single fucking thing

She was sick. Incurably sick.

Years of childhood with her piece of shit mind trying to kill her at every turn, and now her body was literally attacking itself. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck-

She was dying, when she finally found herself really not wanting to die.

#Emily Self Para #I've literally been neglecting replies for the past few days to get this fuckin' poisonous thing out of my system

[xdevilxinxwhitex-blog]

What if...

The day had been long, so much had happened between returning to Boston to meeting a girl who drove him straight into crazy town his head was spinning. It hadn’t been hard for Santi to get back into the swing of things, he’d made friends rather quickly but who wouldn’t want to be his friend? His business sparked interest in a lot of people mostly the people he knew from Sloane and although it made for quick and easy money it made him wonder. What did the old residents of Sloane actually have to hide besides the few things Trent had had him look into way back when? Once Santiago had made it through his front door Dita his new puppy greeted him with excitement, bags under his eyes and his hair a bit disheveled. Sauntering up to his room with the idea of heading right for bed he changed his mind making a U turn for his office. Picking up his journal his therapist had suggested he began to write.

 5/24/17

 “The first day back and already people are being picked off like fleas on an old dog. A few were badly hurt while one was murdered and not even my the hands of the big man himself but by one of our lovely residents, Elsie. The queen turned killer in the blink of an eye now that would be an interesting article in a paper. I should have expected this. Expected that nothing ever went right when the lot of us got together and while I would wish for a life without Trent Foster I couldn’t imagine my life would be any better.  What would change? Money would change.. Finding the girl I’d been chasing down for sometime now would change.. And my ass would probably locked up or dead. Who really knows? Who’s really to say?”

 Santi pulled back sitting back in his office chair as he glanced at the clock and then the floor at the snoring puppy. A sigh escaped him as his glassy hues glanced back at the clock “tick, tick, tick..” The ticking of the clock was evenly paced, it never ticked beyond its own metronome. Something about the sound the clock made put him at ease placing him in a trance of sorts until he’d fallen asleep right at his desk. Slumping forward his face hit the keyboard of one of the many computers that had been set up on his desk but he didn’t wake. Pure exhaustion had finally set in and there was no way to fight it off.

 “Wake up!” The sound of a familiar but annoying voice rang through his ears.  “Get up or.. Or…” Her voice trails off. When Santi sat up something felt off he felt lighter than he had before falling asleep and although the voice sounded familiar he had a hard time placing it with a face until he stood and turned meeting the blond face to face. With a roll of her blue eyes and her arms folded over her chest she glared at Santi just the way she had only hours before the party when they’d gotten into an argument. “Wait.. How the fuck..? You died.” He says out loud both shocked and freaked out. “Yeah well… I’m kinda here but not here?” she says pointing for him to look behind him.Turning he noticed his slumped over body on the desk causing a wave of panic to rush over him.

  “Am I? No.. wait no! I can’t be!” He says  only to feel a smack in the back of his head

  “No… you’re just sleeping calm the heck down.” She said with a huff. “I’ve come to show you what life could have been without Trent Foster.”

 “Wait what?” He asked slightly confused.

 “I don’t think I stuttered, I know talking to a dead girl could be… weird but keep up Santi I don’t have all night.” ��She answered coaxing him to follow.

 “Like the ghost of girlfriends past? Or that christmas movie? “ He teased covering his head as they disappeared through a door.

 Time seemed to grow dark, time dragged but the slower ticking of a clock. Time shifted and the sun came and gone quickly in this dream place he’d been trapped in. Finding himself standing on a street corner he could see another version of himself walking right into  a building a code typed into the door  to allow himself inside. “Come on let’s go.” Libby said tugging him to follow into the building. His eyes glance around following the other version of himself. Computers and other software technology lined the walls several people typing away and fiddling with their own diligently working. “Hey boss” he’d hear occasionally as his other self walked by.

 “Wait.. this place looks familiar..” He says turning in a circle to look around the place.

 “Its should it’s--” She began to say until he cut her off.

 “It’s Trent’s casino.” He lets it fly.

“It would have been… had he existed but I’m just showing you what life would have been without and without him you would have built an empire of your own had he not weighed you down with a bullshit job.” She explained.

 Something about her was far more calmer than the living version of her. Once he’s other form disappeared time lapsed and they stood inside his own private office where he held a meeting, the men inside dressed in black with black jackets, large patches on the back with a snake and word “Serpents”  It seemed the original plans would have come through for him and the gang making him the leader of the Boston division.  Santi glanced over at Libby eyeing her for some kind of reaction but she had little.

 “Well isn’t that interesting? I knew something was strange about you.” She says  meeting his eyes.

 “I.. Don’t know what this is.” He lied

 “You can’t fool a dead girl, being dead almost gives you the privilege of knowing pretty much everything.. Every little secret down to the bar minimum.” She answered stepping forward.

 This time once time shifted the ended up on the outside looking in.. looking in on a home, his home. It looked as if they had been going back to his body where he’d finally wake up but instead they were the outsiders looking in. Through the window he could see a woman and two children one boy and one girl sitting in the kitchen baking cookies. His other self appeared walking through the front door only to be greeted by the children and one large dalmation. Santi smirked this seemed like the dream he’d never get but the perfect replica of what he had longed for years before all of this.

 “Who knew you’d get married and have kids if you never met Trent but who’s really the dangerous one.. Trent?.. Or you?..” She asked as she faded.

 Gunshot could be heard and the skies turned grey lightening strikes a crossed the sky. His body was pulled almost sucked into the home only to find himself watching himself stand in front of a mirror with a loaded gun in his hand, blood painting the walls but who was dead? Santi glanced around but saw nothing, saw no one and he didn’t know what this meant. He watched at the gun lifted and pointed right to his head the trigger pulled in slow motion and suddenly Santi lost control, he couldn’t stop him or save himself. Jerking up out of his sleep he looked at the clock Dita jumped and began to bark from being startled. “Sh.. I’m sorry.” He apologized to the pup before standing up looking around his office “Libby?” He called out as he searched him entire home but to no avail she was gone. A sigh escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck “It was only a dream..” He whispered as he sauntered back to his room the for night.

#Tasks #Whatif