Request: “Peter x Reader with “Your reckless impulses will get you killed!” And “You’re an idiot and i’m very proud of you. don’t do that again.” and
Peter Parker x Reader with “You idiot! You dumbass! You- you fucking moron!” And "There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” Angst to fluff, please? Thank you!”
A/N: I combined two requests, I hope that’s okay!
He had told you he was going to be gone for quite a while that night. You decided to wait up in your room, knowing very well that it could be late in the night before he contacted you. But it had gone later than ever.
You rolled over in your bed to check your phone, the screen lighting up your worried expression in the darkness. No texts, no missed calls. The bold white numbers at the top read 1:05. The lock screen picture of you and Peter laughing together just made your heart hurt even more. Where was he?
You jumped when a loud knock on your window broke the pressing silence. You leaped out of bed, wondering what it was. Had a bird hit your window somehow in the middle of the night?
“Oh my god,” the words left your lips in a rush of air. “Peter.”
The boy was on his knees up on the fire escape outside your window, his left hand clutching his right shoulder. His mask was in his other hand. His face was a mess of blood and dirt.
You hurried forward, pulling up your window. You helped him through, keeping a steady hand on his uninjured shoulder.
“Why are you here? What happened?” You whispered, not wanting to alert your parents.
“I tried to stop this guy,” Peter said, his words pushed out through clenched teeth. “He was one of the men left over from the underground alien weapons operation. He still had one of the weapons.”
“What-” you sat him down on your bed, struggling to understand what was going on. You tried to move his hand from his shoulder, but he resisted you.
“Peter, please,” you said, looking him right in the eyes. “I can help you, I know first aid.”
“I don’t-” he didn’t finish the sentence, his eyes seeming to fracture into a million pieces.
“You don’t what?” you asked.
“I don’t want you to have to worry about me,” he said, his eyes flicking away from yours.
You sighed. “Then why did you come to my apartment, not yours?”
Peter shook his head. “May can’t see me like this, and you’re the only person I knew could help me.”
“Then let me help.”
Peter let his hand drop. Your stomach turned over at the sight of the grisly wound in his shoulder. His suit was soaked with blood.
“The weapon hit me there,” Peter said, his voice rasping.
“I can see that.” You struggled to stay calm. “Hold on, I’m going to get some bandages from the hall closet. Don’t move.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Peter murmured.
You straightened up, turned to ease the door to your room open. You winced with every squeak of the hinges, expecting someone to come down the hall and see you and a very bloody Spider-Man at any moment. You took the first-aid kit from the hall from atop a stack of blankets. You found a couple heavier-duty bandages pushed against the side behind some books.
You padded back to your room, closing your door behind you. Peter sat on your bed with the worst look of pain on his face. You knelt down in front of him.
“Can you talk off your suit?”
Peter nodded, loosening it first then sliding the smooth material off his shoulders. You sucked in air through your teeth, reaching for one of the towels you brought.
“Hold this against your shoulder, it’s the best I could find,” you instructed. Peter did as you told him.
“God,” you muttered, seeing the scratches on his chest and face. One of his eyes had swelled up. “Your reckless impulses will get you killed, Peter.”
“I just wanted to stop him,” Peter said, getting defensive.
You bit your lip, holding back more berating words and the tears that stung your eyes. You took the towel from him, cleaning up the most blood you could before wrapping a bandage around it.
“This is the best I can do for tonight,” you said, your voice trembling despite your resolve not to show the turmoil inside of you.
“It’s okay,” Peter said. “This is more than enough.”
You moved to the scratches on his chest. “You’re gonna need stitches tomorrow, there’s no way around it.”
“I can’t, then May will know-”
“Then go to Tony Stark! Go somewhere! Find a spool of thread and a needle and freaking do it yourself!” you spat. “You can’t let these go untreated, Peter!”
Peter stayed silent as you cleaned away some of the dried blood, not sure what to say. One of his hands was fisted in your blankets from pain. He closed his eyes, unsure whether it was body or his heart that hurt more. He hated to see you so worried. He hated that he was Spider-Man right at this moment. He hated that he had a duty to do, a duty that hurt himself and everyone else around him.
“You’re an idiot,” you muttered, reaching for some more bandages. “You dumbass. You- you fucking moron! Why would you put yourself in so much danger?”
“It’s my job,” Peter said,
“No, your job is to be the ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’, the one that goes after petty thieves and helps old ladies find their way around. You’re not supposed to hunt down war criminals!” You felt a tear drip onto your cheek.
“I know,” Peter said. He looked down at his heavily bandages torso, at you struggling to keep your hands steady. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around so much.”
“It’s okay,” you said tightly, knowing that the anger you felt wasn’t justified. It was born of fear and, though you didn’t want to admit it, jealousy.
You turned, putting everything back into the box. Your fingers shook so badly, you could barely hold onto a box of Band-Aids. Tears blurred your vision.
“Stop. Y/N,” Peter reached forward, taking your hands. You were forced to look at him.
“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to pull away. Instead, Peter stood up, despite his wounds, and hugged you tightly to his chest. You could feel his own hands trembling on your back. You were reminded that he had a much bigger job than you, and he did it damn well despite coming back with a black eye almost every time.
“You’re an idiot and I’m very proud of you. Don’t do that again,” you whispered.
“I’ll be careful,” Peter promised. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
The two of you stayed there for a moment before Peter pulled away, wincing. “I don’t suppose you have any pain meds?”
“Oh, yeah,” you said, leaning down to rifle through the First-Aid kit. You found the bottle of Ibuprofen holding it out to him. He took a pill gratefully, sighing.
“Thank you,” he said. “I should probably go.”
“There’s no way you’ll make it back to your apartment,” you said. “Stay with me tonight, we can call May tomorrow.”
Peter nodded after a moment. He slid into your bed behind you, pulling you into his chest. Though neither of you said it very much, you were grateful for each other.
Peter held onto you like you were his rock in the middle of a roiling sea, his head pushed into your neck. You sighed, knowing that whatever Peter had to face, he could handle it.
She wants to know if I love her, that’s all anyone wants from anyone else, not love itself but the knowledge that love is there, like new batteries in the flashlight in the emergency kit in the hall closet.
Ramsey Bolton was one of the most terrifying and brilliantly written characters in the entire series and the irony in his death was so incredibly well foreshadowed and made all the more perfect by the fact that Sansa did it. Jon was going to beat Ramsey to death but he saw Sansa and stopped because he knew that Ramsey was not his to kill. Props to Kit, Iwan, and ESPECIALLY Sophie for their incredible performances, the Battle for Winterfell is one of the best sequences the show has ever done.
“[Cristina] rolled to the side and reached to touch her witchlight, on the nightstand table. It flared to a soft glow, illuminating the room……Someone had scrawled the initials JB+LH into the paint by the window.” (Ch#16 LoS)
“[Kit] caught sight of a piece of paper sticking out of the edge of the small writing desk……..On it was written his name… Herondale, over and over, entwined with another name, so that the two words formed looping patterns. The other word was Blackthorn.” (Ch#18 LoS)
Ok, but are Jesse and Lucie the Romeo and Juliet of TLH or what?
Hi! Could you write more kit and junior + parswoops maybe?
“It’s called a date,” Kit explained, seeing the confused expression on Junior’s face. He was camped out by the doorway, hoping Kent would rub his belly again.
“What does that mean?”
“It usually means there’s someone he wants to impress,” Kit said, nodding his head towards where Kent was shaving through the open door of the ensuite bathroom.
“Who?” Junior asked predictably.
Kit shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“It looks like he’s just getting ready for a game,” Junior said as he watched Kent.
“Kent doesn’t wear cologne during pregame,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “And he hardly wears this shirt either,” she said as she flounced across the sheets to roll on the blue shirt that had been neatly laid on the bed. “Oooh, it’s so soft!”
She got in a couple of rolls before Kent came out of the bathroom to shoo her off of his shirt. “Kit!” He groaned at the cat hairs all over it. “I don’t have time for this.” He threw the shirt in the laundry basket and went back in his closet. Kit followed him and watched him as he went through the rainbow of shirts on his hangers. He pulled one out to consider, but she nipped him gently. “Hey,” he warned, shaking his leg.
“Don’t wear that one,” Kit said. He wisely put it back, and after several minutes, he finally settled on a dove grey shirt that Kit approved of.
“Tie or no tie?” Kent asked, holding two different ones up to his neck in the full-length mirror. “Is it too much?”
“No tie,” Kit meowed
“Tie!” Junior barked at the same time.
Kent decided to forgo the tie in the end.
“Ha! I win,” Kit crowed in victory. She smiled smugly at Junior who seemed like he couldn’t really care less, but Junior had grown to be bigger than Kit these days, and she had to get find other ways to reassert her dominance as top cat.
Kent, oblivious to their antics, suddenly swore and took off running down the hall and the stairs with his pets racing after him.
Kit and Junior dashed in the kitchen just as Kent was opening the oven. He took out the salmon that Kit had drooled over earlier. “Shit,” Kent muttered as he half-threw the hot pan on a spread towel. “Shit,” he repeated again, which was never a good sign. Junior, ever the empathetic one, rubbed his head against Kent’s calf and barked softly at him.
“What’s wrong?” Junior asked when Kent had given him a quick pat. “What happened? Why is he sad now?”
“He overcooked the salmon,” Kit replied, washing a paw calmly.
“Does that mean he won’t have any food? What if I share mine?”
Kit rolled her eyes and didn’t even bother to reply. Apparently, according to Junior’s logic, if Kent shares his food with him, then Junior should be able to share his food with Kent. Junior still hadn’t learned the dogs were the only ones who seemed to enjoy dog food.
Kent was already on the phone, by the sink, and this was Kit’s chance to jump on the stool before hopping on the island counter. “Hey, yeah, hi, could I order two of your salmon steaks with the works, potatoes, beans, and a throw in a salad too,” Kent said distractedly, but unfortunately, not distracted enough. He snaked an arm around Kit’s middle and grabbed her before she could reach her delicious prize.
“Just a little bite,” she protested, kicking her hind legs uselessly. “It’s not like you’re going to be eating it for dinner.”
“And I’ll pay you double if you can get that to me in the next half hour,” Kent said to the person on the phone, ignoring Kit’s irritated yowls.
Twenty-eight minutes later, the doorbell rang while Kent was vacuuming the couch and muttering about Kit’s shedding. Three minutes and forty-six seconds later, the doorbell rang again, and Kent looked up with wide, panicked eyes. “Shit! Shit, shit shit.” He finished dumping the foil tin of potatoes onto a nice platter before wiping his hands on a dish towel.
Kit waited for him to leave, but Kent was smarter than she gave him credit for because he kicked her and Junior out of the kitchen. Junior was already two steps ahead of Kent as he ran full speed ahead to the front door, yipping excitedly. Kit begrudgingly followed, only because she wanted to see who Kent had dressed up for.
She was disappointed to find Swoops standing on the other side with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his basketball shorts. “Never mind,” Kit muttered to Junior. “It’s not a date after all.”
“It’s not?” Junior cocked his head and looked up the humans.
“It’s just Swoops,” Kit said as she stalked away with her tail in the air. “And he’s dumber than a box of rocks.”
“Oh, was I supposed to dress up too?” Swoops asked in confusion, taking in Kent’s outfit.
“Uh, no. I just haven’t had time to change yet. I just got back from my…um… accountant,” Kent replied.
Kent made some half-hearted excuse as he dashed back upstairs to change, and left Swoops in the living room with Junior and Kit. Swoops and Kit regarded each other warily. She was considering jumping on him just to rile him up, but he already knew the tricks to avoid her claws. Junior, on the other hand, was currently trying to show Swoops his new toy.
When Kent came back, he was wearing faded jeans and a grey t-shirt that Kit had seen him wear countless times before. “So, uh, food?” he asked.
Kit sat on the island and watched while Kent and Swoops ate. Normally, at this time, she would probably be napping, but the suspense of whether the two of them was going to going to admit their mutual attraction was too riveting to miss. It reminded her of the daytime soap operas she watched with Kent when he’d sprained an ankle and was forced to stay home for weeks while it healed. The only thing missing was the evil twin bursting in, or something to that effect. Maybe, Swoops had a crazy ex-wife that everyone thought was dead.
Swoops certainly looked shifty enough as he stared at the food that was laid out. Finally, part way through dinner, he set his fork down. Junior, who had camped out on the floor, waiting for food to “accidentally” fall, perked up.
“Is everything okay?” Kent asked.
“Uh,” Swoops replied as his gaze flickered between Kent and the bottle of wine. “Parser, is this a date?” he asked. His tone was light and joking, but Kent’s eyes widened.
“Uh,” he said as he started to panic. “I–”
It was Swoops’ turn to freeze, and for a long moment of silence neither of them did anything. “You should have told me,” Swoops finally said, wiping his mouth on the napkin one final time before getting up.
“I didn’t– I mean– wait!” Kent caught up with Swoops before he opened the front door. Kit and Junior followed them. “Jeff,” he said softly. Kit could hear that hitch in his voice which meant her night was probably going to be busy licking and cuddling Kent if this didn’t go well. “It doesn’t have to be. I mean, it’s not. It’s not a date.”
“It is though. I should have realized it sooner,” Swoops sighed. “I’m sorry, Kent.”
This time, Kent didn’t stop him when he left. He stood there for a long time, not even responding when Junior whined sadly and nudged him. Eventually, he moved stiffly in the living room. Junior dropped the remote on Kent who automatically turned it on and stared at it blankly. Kit sat in his lap and cuddled up to him, but it even that wasn’t cheering him up.
“I fucked up,” he said a moment later with no emotion.
“The next time I see him, I’m going to bite him,” Kit promised cheerfully. Kent didn’t reply; it was too bad he didn’t understand her because he would definitely smile at that. “Also, I’m going to claw him.”
The light gradually dimmed until the living room was only lit by the flickering TV and the streetlights outside. Junior and Kit could hear the sound of an engine long before Kent could. Junior was the first to jump off the couch and climb up on the arm chair that Kent had pushed against the window. “Swoops is here?” he barked.
“What?” hissed Kit. “He came back!?”
“He’s back,” Junior confirmed.
She sat up quickly in anger and agitation as she tried to think of a word to properly express how she felt. “Fuck!”
Junior looked back her curiously. “What does that word mean?”
“I have no idea,” Kit admitted. “Kent says it all the time when he mad, or sad, or… excited?”
The doorbell rang, but Kent made no move to answer it. It wasn’t until the banging started that he started push Kit off. “No,” Kit meowed. “Don’t answer it. Stay here with me!” She gave her best approximation of her “cute” face, but it didn’t have the effect she wanted on Kent.
In the front hall, Kit was ready to spring as soon as Kent opened the door. This time, she wouldn’t hold back her claws on Swoops. This was what he deserved for upsetting Kent. However, when the door opened again to reveal Swoops again for the second time that evening, he was wearing a suit. Kit was momentarily thrown, but Junior was already barking angrily up at Swoops.
“Stop,” Kent ordered. He held onto Junior’s collar and rubbed his back until Junior was calm enough to shut up. “What are you doing here?” Kent finally asked.
“I brought you these,” Swoops said, pulling out a bunch of flowers from behind his back. Kent’s jaw dropped, unable to come up with another reaction. “I know they’re not great, but the flower stand on the way here didn’t have a great selection.” After another pause, Swoops thrust them further towards Kent.
“You brought me flowers?” Kent said slowly, accepting the half-wilted blooms.
“Don’t accept them. It’s a trap,” Kit meowed. Everyone ignored her. Even Junior was glancing back and forth between Swoops and Kent.
Swoops scratched the back of neck. “It was a date. I didn’t realize it, but now I do.”
“Yeah, and you left,” Kent snapped.
“I was going to come back,” Swoops said, his brow furrowing. “Didn’t I say that?”
“Oh, well, I’m back now,” he said with a sheepish laugh.
“Because it’s still a date,” Swoops said slowly. The duh at the end of the sentence was heavily implied.
Swoops stepped closer and hesitantly reached out to touch Kent’s cheek. Neither of them spoke as they drew closer until they were kissing.
“Aw,” Junior gushed.
“Gross,” Kit complained,
She decided this was her cue to give them some privacy. “Let’s go,” she said to Junior. They went around the corner back to the living room. It was far enough away that she didn’t have to suffer through watching them make out, but close enough that she could still hear what was going on.
“Now, go get dressed. I’m taking you out,” Swoops said.
“But, we already ate.”
“Well, then I’m taking you out for dessert.”
“I’ve got a better idea for dessert,” Kent said. There was a slam of the door and heavy footsteps running up the stairs.
“Should we–” Junior started asking.
Kit immediately cut off that thought. “No! We are not going anywhere upstairs tonight.”
“Trust me on this, kiddo. You do not want to know how dates end.”
Liam settled into the Hale pack well, naturaly the Betas
resisted, until they decided he was an easy tool use to get their way. Liam was
quick to take to Boyd, his silent guidance made his first few shifts easy, even
encouraging Erica to help.
“Maybe we just don’t tell them?” You turned to Derek who had
given up on comforting you and was letting you pace the bedroom.
“And how will you explain the second heart beat?” Derek
hummed, head tilted in amusement.
“Hale this isn’t funny.” You snapped and jabbed his chest.
wanna rant about Kit? you don't have to, but in case you were just waiting for the opportunity...
YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK IT I’M GONNA RANT ABOUT KIT ROOK.
Like wow, first few pages as he showed up, he was immediately shown in text as being bisexual. Which, on one hand, YAY, more representation. Also on the other hand - sure because all bi people check out everyone all the time. It was like CC felt the need of waving some flag like LOOK, LOOK, MORE BI CHARACTERS I AM TOTALLY INLCUSIVE, LOOK. As I said: more bi characters? Great! But with Magnus also being a flirty individual, Mark also making moves on at least three different characters through this book, and Helen being sidelined as all hell, Kit also being someone whose first thing to do in the book is to check hot people out… yeah. CC isn’t the best with bi rep, but we knew that.
Especially bi men, like, now that I think of it. Huh. Because bi women are not as easy to fetishize for her BUT I DIGRESS.
It goes so far, that when Kit meets with Ty, and Ty presses a knife to Kit’s throat is that Kit’s first thought is that how hot he is.
A Shadowhunter, someone you were told all your life to keep away from, breaks into your home, presses a blade to your throat, and all you can think of, is how hot he is.
Really, CC. Really.
But this is not why you came here for, oh no. You came here for the ending of the book, didn’t you. But I needed to scream a bit about the bi representation here as well, before I get into that.
You know, taking him into the Institute… it makes sense. He is in danger, and while he knows the Shadow World, he is not a fighter. He can’t protect himself from his father’s enemies. Johnny made mistakes, with not telling Kit the truth, and not perparing him properly in case something like this happens. You can’t bet your and your son’s entire safety to one warlock, not when you are in the situation you are in. Kit deserved to know the truth, not finding it out like this. As much as I hate this, for now at least, the Institute is the safest place for Kit.
What is NOT okay, is how the other characters, especially Jem and Tessa treat him. Keep calling him Herondale, forcing him into a role he does not want. Christopher Jonathan Herondale, they call him, despite Kit telling them over and over he does not want to be called that. He is Kit Rook. And they do not listen, they keep calling him Christopher Herondale.
How fucking dare they.
They do not see Kit. They see him as a continuation of the Herondale name (even though he is not Will’s descendant). Not as a person. Just a Herondale.
When he doesn’t even want to be a Herondale.
Poor boy just lost his father, just lost his home, got a shock about his own heritage, and they are immediately forcing expectations of him. After all, Herondales are great right? They will probably expect him to be just as great as other Herondales.
And I don’t trust the people of the Los Angeles Institute. I don’t trust them to leave Kit alone to figure shit out.
And knowing CC, Kit’s arc will end with him embracing his ~destiny~ as a Shadowhunter, and end up using the name Herondale. Which is so much bullshit.
As I said, he could be a mirror to Jace’s story, or hell, even to Clary’s - lied about his origins, and suddenly having the Shadowhunter life thrown at them. But unlike Clary, I want Kit to fight against it with tooth and nails. Unlike Jace, I want him to stand up and say that he is not a Herondale. Not a Shadowhunter. Or even if he does become a Shadowhunter, not a Herondale. Fuck that.
But it’s not gonna happen, because CC is in love with the Herondales. Because Jace had to pick the Herondale name, when Lightwood would have been so much better. Because Jace had to become the leader of the New York Institute when he is in his early twenties, when he is NOT A LEADER. HE IS NOT A GOOD POLITICIAN. HE IS A SOLDIER. YOU KNOW WHO COULD HAVE BEEN A GOOD LEADER FOR THE INSTITUTE? ALEC FUCKING LIGHTWOOD. Sorry. That’s another rant for another day.
Because Will Herondale had to become the leader of the London Institute. Makes more sense than Jace does, after Charlotte’s resignation, he is the best choice there (maybe except for Gideon, but I can’t really imagine him leading either). Because Will’s son, Jamie will be also a main character.
Because The Dark Artifices would have been the first series without any Herondales in it, but he had to force another one in. And there is absolutely no good reason for Kit to be a Shadowhunter, let alone a Herondale. He could have been an outside factor, I loved the setup of the Shadow Market and the information brokering inside. Information brokers are my jam. I love shady information brokers. I loved Johnny Rook. Kit could have been a good addition to the world, without being made into a Shadowhunter.
There was no good reason for that to happen, outside of CC’s obsession with the Herondale name.
“So I was driving past a pet store and I couldn’t help but wonder how cute an animal would be like in our home” Emma said to Julian on the phone. “Um..yes Emma that’ll be cute—” replied Julian, a bit flustered when she said “our home”, when he was cut off by Emma. “Really? Okay thanks.” She hurriedly shut the phone. Julian didn’t give much thought to what she would have meant because a sleepy Tavvy appeared in front of him. “I am bored Julian.” “You are always bored Tavs!” “Because nothing interesting ever happens in this house!” Tavvy groaned. “You might just come outside Tavvy” interrupted Kit, his eyes gleaming. “And reconsider what you just said.” To that Julian took Tavvy and followed Kit to the hall, and was flabbergasted when he saw Emma, her face glowing and a big smile plastered on her face with a Golden Retriever puppy. “What in the world!” Julian exclaimed. Ty and Tavvy were jumping with excitement. Mark was petting the puppy. “Isn’t it adorable Jules” Emma said. “Yes but Emma why didn’t you ask me?” “I did ask you, when I called you” “Oh so you were—” Julian remembered. “but we already have Church” he looked around for Church but that disloyal cat wasn’t around. “Jules we both know Church is an ignorant slut, we need a faithful dog and how can you resist it’s adorable eyes!” Emma gleamed. Julian looked at the dog, it was cute but nothing compared to his siblings and Emma who were squealing over the puppy. “Please Julian” Tavvy and Emma spoke in unison. It was impossible to resist when they did their puppy eyes on him. “Um–Okay, alright! But on one condition, I get to name the dog” Julian demanded. “Pancake” He said and petted the dog as Tavvy kissed his cheek and Emma hugged him.
I just finished reading this book called Looking For Group by Alexis Hall and honest to god it’s the best book I’ve read for a long ass time. I couldn’t stop reading it and I’ve read it twice from start to finish. The characters are so cute and funny and relatable.
The story is about a boy who meets someone online, in a new guild he joins in a game very closely based on WoW. It then turns out that the person that he has fallen for is not a girl, but a guy. So it deals with his feelings and all the confusion that stems from finding your sexuality and special person. It reads partly as a story, but with in-game chat as well, and it really is written by a guy that knows his MMORPG stuff, not someone making it up.
I’d look into buying it, or reading it if you love MMOs and beautifully written mlm, where emotions and feelings aren’t entirely clear at first.
You stood on top of Hunter and pointed the gun at him. Before you could pull the trigger, he pulled you down towards him, forcing your to drop the gun.
Hunter got on top of you.
His fist connecting with your cheek. You reached up and pressed your thumb into his gunshot wound. He screamed you flipped him, getting on top. You pummeled his face, screaming. “You killed him! You killed, Dean! You rotten motherfucker!”
Smashing your knuckles against his cheekbone, jaw, neck. You began slamming his head into the ground. Tears running down your face. “You killed him! You killed my Dean! My friend!” Your mind was filled with blind fury. You didn’t hear his screams of protests.
You didn’t feel him stick his knife into you two, threes times. It wasn’t until you were certain he wasn’t getting back up that you realized the knife was stuck into your stomach. You slid off of him and hit the ground. Your hands went to the knife wound. Red, bright and dark was all over your hands, shirt, Cut and Jeans.
The adrenaline that was once fueling your body, was now gone. You felt it all at once. The pain in your hands, you were certain some bones were broken. The pain in your faces, blood rushing down from your nose and forehead.
The blinding pain in your stomach, causing you to hunch every so slightly. Hunter groaned to the side of you. You reached for your gun, pain causing you to hiss, and moan.
You pointed the gun at Hunter, who reached with a bloody hand for it. His face unrecognizable. A single shot rang out. White spots began floating in your line of vision. You placed a bloody hand over your head, as your vision became blurry.
You tried to move forward, towards the shapes that were making their way to you, but you couldn’t will your feet to move. Your head spun again and you had to catch yourself before you fell. Pain shot up your back causing you to whimper. Was this what dying felt like?
Again you tried to will yourself to move, but could. Black spots began to cloud your vision. You stumbled backward and your head felt like too much to hold up. You stumbled again. The shapes were getting closer, as your eyes began to get heavier.
You began coughing, you brought a hand to your mouth. You looked at your hand. Fresh blood was splattered on the inside. Your head spun and before you knew it, you hit the ground. You heard yelling as you lolled your head to the side. Slowly your eyes felt shut, your hand letting up pressure on your wound. Blood began rushing, incoherent words tumbled from your mouth.
The yelling was louder. A lot louder. You thought you heard your name, but all you could focus on was that blinding light. You tried to lift your hand to block it, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t move your arm.
Then you felt it. Hands on your face. You forced your eyes open. Roman was looking at you, panic across his face. “It’s going to be okay! We’re going to get you to a doctor.”
“I can’t feel…my arms…” You murmured. Tears came to his eyes. “It’s fine. You lost a lot of blood. You’re going to be alright. I know it.”
You coughed again, blood flying from your mouth. Roman touched your forehead. “I…I love you.” You said, letting your head roll to the side. Roman began panicking.
“Hey, come on. Stay with me.” Roman picked you up with easy. “I just…wanted-” More blood came out as you coughed into his chest. “Wanted to say…That before I go…I-I love you so much-” More coughing and more blood.
Your life was playing out before you as Roman ran with your bloody, beaten body. Seth was alongside him, Randy and Taker. You mumbled things no one understood.
About your parents, pets, and friends. You murmured about Roman and Dean, Baron as well. Your head would go slack causing Roman to scream louder at Seth to get you to the hospital.
Tear flooded Roman’s eyes at the fact that right now that chances of you living were slim. “Not you too! Don’t do this! Stay with me! I can’t lose you too.”
Seth blew through stop signs and red lights, nearly getting T-boned more than once. Randy yelled at him, telling him not to get everyone else killed. Causing the both of them to yell back and forth until Taker yelled at them.
Roman brushed away bloody hair from your face, fixing your Cut on your shoulders as you laid out across the van’s floor. Taker was making sure you were still living by checking your pulse.
Baron was kneeling between your legs, undoing your belt like Taker was telling him to. Next Baron ripped your shirt, allowing Taker to get a better look at the knife in your stomach.
You came back to the present time when you felt the cool breeze hit your midsection. Your fingers twitched, head lolling to the side. Roman was looking at you. “Hold…my…hand?”
You whispered far too low for Roman to hear. He knitted his eyebrows together. “Hold..m-my …hand?” Again Roman could quite catch it. “Hold her fucking hand!” Baron growled. Roman in an instant looped his fingers through yours.
“It has to come out.” Everyone looked to Taker. “What?” Taker put a slight amount of pressure on the area around the wound, causing you to let out a whimper. “You can’t take that out. “ Roman said,
“Seth take us to the clubhouse!” What?!” Everyone yelled. “Do you want to explain to the doctors why everyone is covered in blood? Why Y/N has a knife sticking out of them? Why we have an armory in the van!”
Everyone stayed silent. “That’s what I thought. Take us to the clubhouse. Baron help me get this belt around their midsection, it’s slow the bleeding and makes it a lot easier to get control of once the knife is out.”
Seth swung the van into the parking lot of the clubhouse, everyone was already opening the doors, getting ready to move you.
Gently, Roman, Seth, Randy and Baron set you on the pool table. “Seth, under my bed you’ll find a tackle box, get that.” Taker said, slipping his Cut off. Seth nodded his head and ran towards the dorms.
“Randy, get me the bottles of liquor that has the highest alcohol contains.” Taker rolled up his sleeves. Randy quickly ran and slid over the bar top. “Roman, get me all the towels and sheets you can. Baron get me the first aid kit from the hall bathroom.” Baron ran off, Roman, on the other hand, couldn’t move from your side.
Suddenly the door to the clubhouse swung open, Finn came running in, panic on his face. Taker looked at Roman, seeing that he wouldn’t move, that he couldn’t move. “Finn! Shut the damn door, and get me towels, sheets. Whatever you can carry!” Finn nodded his head.
Seth returned with the tackle box, Randy with the liquor, Baron with the kit and Finn with the sheets and towels. “Finn, Randy, hold ‘em down. This is going to hurt and I can’t have ‘em moving around.”
The amount of pain that suddenly came, made you scream. Roman took a few steps away, he couldn’t watch it. Watch you arch your back in pain, watch your hands clench into a fist. He couldn’t hear the screams.
Roman’s head shot up when the clubhouse door swung open. Aj stood there, someone beside him, holding a cooler. “I’m sorry…I can’t…I can’t be here.” Roman said.
Roman sat on the curb outside, head in his hands. Blood was covering him. Your blood was covering him. The door behind him opened, Taker stepped out, wiping his hands on a rag. Roman looked at him and for the first time in a long time, Taker could see that…innocent look. “They’re stable for now. Come see ‘em.” Roman got up and sprinted into the clubhouse.
Everyone moved you to one of the dorm rooms, making sure you were comfortable. Aj brought a friend, Alexa Bliss, a doctor.
“Three blood transfusions. Three!” She shook her head as she placed her hand on your forehead, checking for a fever. Aj looked at the doorway when Roman appeared. “They’re going to make it. They’re going to live.”
Roman slowly walked into the room and looked at your frail body. Sweat was coating your body, your skin was pale, sickly looking. He could see how weak your were. Roman walked over to Aj and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Roman pulled away from Aj and looked to Alexa. “Thank you as well. I really mean it.”
Alexa grabbed her bag from the floor. “Make sure they don’t get a fever. If they do, call me. Got it?” Roman nodded his head. “Good.”
“I really mean it. Without you, I don’t know if they would have made it.” Alexa rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, yeah. And with that, she left the room. “She gets like that…Just…Errr, yeah.” Aj clasped his shoulder. “We’ll leave you alone.”
Roman watched you all night long. Going in and out of sleep, checking your pulse every so often, kissing your forehead, pacing at the foot of the bed, checking you for a fever, holding your hand, and even going as far as to check your bandaged wound.
Three days you were out. Alexa had to come back and hook you up to an IV to make sure you got fluids. Aj laughed when Roman thanked her again, only for her to glared at him and leave. She wasn’t a very happy woman.
When you finally came to, you felt every ounce of pain. Your ribs hurt, your hands hurt, your head hurt, fingers, feet, back, legs, arms, everything. There wasn’t a part of your body that didn’t hurt.
With a slight groan, you shifted in the bed. Roman laid in the chair beside your bed, legs spread wide, arms folded loosely over his chest, his chin resting against his chest.
Placing a bandaged hand over your midsection, you tried to sit up, which ended up making you yelp. Roman jerked awake, placing his hands on your arm. You tried to smile, causing pain to shoot through your jaw.
For a long moment, you just stared at him and him at you. “You’re alive…and well, not exactly healthy, but alive.” You tried to smile again. It ended up making you look like a gremlin.
Roman smiled. “I would say something. I just don’t know what to say.” You laughed, a raspy laugh that ended in coughing, but it was still music to Roman’s ears. “I’m alive…I was sure I was going to die. Right in the back of the van…”
Roman stood to his feet when you shivered, he grabbed a spare blanket from the closet. Tossing the blanket over you, he leaned down, placing a kiss on your forehead and helped you lay back down.
You tugged at Roman’s arm. “Lay with me?” Roman stood there. “I don’t know. You’re very…broken at the moment.”
You gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster up through the bruises and bandages. Roman bit his lip. “Fine! But if you start hurting, you tell me.” You nodded your head, moving a little bit over for him.
Roman slid into the bed and draped his arm around the tops of the pillows, you went to snuggle him, he stopped you. “No. I’ll lay in the bed…No cuddling until you get a little better.”
You frowned and waited for him to close his eyes, then you moved closer to him, letting your head rest against him. You kissed his chest, closing your eyes. Placing a bandaged hand on his stomach, he placed his over top of yours.
Seth opened the door to your room around two hours later, a bottle of water in his hand, making sure Roman was well hydrated. Roman wouldn’t leave the room much, Seth had to force him to shower, to get all the blood off of him, both yours and the Kings.
Seth smiled at what he saw. You snuggled up against Roman’s side, his arms wrapped tightly around you, your hands intertwined. Seth placed the bottle of water on the nightstand and pulled a blanket over Roman and felt to make sure you still have no fever.
Seth left the room then, taking one more glance at your entangled forms.
4 Mouths Later…
Roman was still the President of the club. Running the Hounds just as hard.
Seth was the VP. Even if Roman wanted it to be you. He was now engaged to Becky, who was working in Hounds Auto as well, knowing full well what the club was about.
You were Sgt-at-Arms. You’re responsible for discipline and security. You also serve as a bodyguard for the President, protecting him from danger. You’re almost always at the side of Roman. You also wear the Men of Mayhem patch. You went above and beyond for the club. You spilled blood for them. Roman still didn’t think that patch was good enough for you.
Randy focused a lot on Hounds Auto. Doing very little in the way of the Club. Everyone knew he was looking to get out, no one was going to stop him either. No one blamed him for wanting out.
Baron was the Road Captain. He was responsible for organizing the route the club takes on rides, ensuring the safety of everyone on the road and ensuring discipline while on rides.
Finn was patched into the club, giving him a Cut to the Hounds. He did what he could for them, helping them with the ongoing war with the Kings and Family.
Aj didn’t want into the club. He was happy with just being a help and doing his own thing when he wasn’t needed.
You held Roman’s hand as you walked lazily through the park. It was a beautiful night, stars shining bright, the wind blowing gently. Roman pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your waist, his lips pressing against your temple. “I love you, Y/N.”
You closed your eyes, allowing Roman to lead you. “I love you too, Roman.” It was rare that you two got any time alone. You both were stressed to the max with the war. Roman’s finger rubbed circles into your hip. “So Seth and Becky huh?” Roman laughed. “Yeah. I know. They’re getting married in the spring. It’ll be nice.”
“What do you think about marriage?” Roman asked. You shrugged. “I think if they love each other and they both want that then they should do it.” Roman shook his head. “No…I meant,” Roman took a long pause. “I meant for me and you. Like, would you want to get married?”
You looked up at him, smiling. “Are you proposing, Roman?” Laughter was underlying your voice. “No! I’m just asking if you ever thought of that.” You were silent for a moment. “Yeah. A few different times I did.”
“So if I were to propose in the future…” You smiled. “I would say yes.” Roman smiled as he kissed your temple once again. “Good to know. Good to know.”
Blackthorn Manor was silent. A sort of silence that only occurred after death – Kit knew it all too well, the same silence enveloping him after his father was murdered. He led in his room, staring at the light cream wall, too afraid to close his eyes. He couldn’t stop seeing it; Ty clutching Livvy’s pale body as she lay bleeding out onto the dais. Kit had run from the room with Magnus as soon as Kieran had disappeared with Diego; the noise and screams leading the way to the council room. When he saw Livvy lying there, her shirt stained a deep red everything else had disappeared. He tried to move his feet; run to them both and wrap his arms so tightly around Ty it hurt. He knew Ty must have needed it- he knew Ty’s whole world must be falling apart and Livvy was no longer there to ground him. But he hadn’t. He had slumped to his knees and watched as the other members of the clave pulled Livvy from a sobbing Ty and took her away, he watched as Ty reached for his twin; his sobs echoing through the now quiet room. But Kit was frozen, then after watching Ty’s soul break and shatter, he felt his feet move as he was pulled up and ushered toward the other Blackthorn children; an older woman telling them they were going to be taken to the Manor.
Now here he was. Though, sleep wouldn’t come and Kit didn’t much feel like staring at the wall all night. His heart ached with grief and his body felt heavy; sadness enveloped him in a way he didn’t think was possible since the death of his first and only family member. Kit wandered through the halls of the old house, its décor almost eerie in the darkness. The doors all looked similar; large and wooden but he recognized the one he had now stopped in front of. It was tall, taller than him, and a deep brown colour. It was Ty’s room; the one he had run to and locked himself in upon arrival.
He knocked once but was met with no answer. He tried again, louder this time and with more force, then the door creaked open. Kit pushed inside, “Ty?” He called out softly. “Ty, it’s K-” but he cut himself off when he heard the shower running. He noticed the room then; what he was sure was once impeccably tidy was now a disaster. The books from the shelfs were heaped in a pile near the window; clearly having landed there after being thrown. The pictures and stationary on the desk had been swiped off and were now littered across the floor. Panic rose within Kit. He walked towards the bathroom door “Ty” he said through the wood. A sob came from the other side. Kit steeled himself, breathing in deeply. “Okay Ty, I’m coming in.” He pushed open the door before he could change his mind.
Ty was stood under the shower; his clothes still on and plastered to his skin. His dark hair stuck to his forehead and water dripped down and off his nose. Kit thought, in another moment, he might have noticed how beautiful Ty looked. His dark shirt clinging to his muscled torso and his lips parted. But this wasn’t the time for that moment, Kit reminded himself as he stepped towards the shower, the room already filling with steam from the hot water. “Ty” he asked again but the boy just moaned; the sound reminded Kit of a wounded animal. Kit cursed under his breath and stepped towards Ty cautiously, as if he would be spooked, and into the stream of water.
Kits hands hung awkwardly by his side as he watched Ty, the other boys blue-brown eyes staring intently at them. Kit moved his hands, Ty’s eyes following the motion, and placed them upon Ty’s shoulders. “Ty please. Tell me how to help.” Kit made his body tense, allowing Ty to punch Kit as hard as he could if he needed, after seeing the destruction in his room, but Ty slumped forward and pressed his forehead to Kits shoulder; his wet hair brushing Kit’s cheek. Ty’s fists bunched in Kits shirt then; as he whispered “hold” so quietly Kit almost didn’t hear. Kit remembered what Ty had needed on the roof; to be held and grounded- to find comfort in the sensation of pressure upon his body as his mind whirled.
So, Kit wound his arms around Ty’s shoulders and held him as firmly and closely as he could. He pushed Ty until the other boys back hit the wall and Kit pressed him into it, hard. Ty pressed his forehead further into Kit’s shoulder and his grip on Kit’s wet shirt was so tight Ty’s knuckles were turning white. Ty’s body continued to shake as he cried, Kit’s heart breaking for him with each shudder of the other boy’s shoulders. Kit pulled back slightly, wanting to look Ty in the eye but he pulled on Kits shirt, tugging Kit back towards him until virtually every part of their bodies were pressed together. Kit locked his hands around Ty’s shoulders; showing him that he wasn’t leaving. He wouldn’t leave Ty, not now. Not ever a voice in Kit’s mind echoed.
They stood there for a while; the water eventually turning cold and Kit reached to turn it off. They were both soaked through, his own blond hair stuck to his neck and cheeks and his shirt clung to his body. He gently pulled away from Ty, walking backwards to allow him some room. But Ty made no movement, his wet hair dripping down his face. Kit pulled on Ty’s fingers, his head tilting upwards to meet Kit’s gaze. Kit led Ty from the bathroom and into the bedroom, sitting him at the edge of the bed while he hunted for some dry clothes.
As he looked, Kit heard a wet slap and spun to see that Ty had peeled off his shirt and thrown it to the floor. “Livvy is dead” Ty said. His tone morbid and voice raw from crying. Kit abandoned the hunt for fresh clothing and moved towards the bed. He knelt in front of Ty, his palms resting on the boy’s wet legs. “Yes.” Kit replied. There was no beating around the bush with him. “It’s my fault.” He spoke, without inflection. Ty’s head was tilted downwards, and Kit grabbed his chin; forcing him to look up. He held Ty’s face harshly enough that Ty would feel it but not enough to hut, “No.” Kit told him. His grip becoming a bit more forceful. “It is not your fault Tiberius Blackthorn. Do not ever think that.” But Ty shook his head, drops of water from his hair spraying onto Kit’s cheeks, “If I hadn’t had invited Anabel to come, there would have been no trial and Livvy would still be alive.” Kit opened his mouth to reply but Ty surged forward and grabbed Kits shoulders, his eyes darting back and forth across Kit’s face; as if he had just figured out the answer to his problems.
“Kit. Can you see her?”
Kit recoiled, falling out of Ty’s grasp and bracing his arms behind him as he landed on his backside. “Ty..it…it” Kit had never in his life been lost for words. “I don’t think it works like that. I don’t know how I saw Jessamine. I don’t know how to see Livvy.” Ty’s face fell. “But Kit, could you try?” Kit felt like he’d been punched. Ty’s eyes were so hopeful for that one second, so different from the boy he saw moments before emerge from the steaming bathroom. He couldn’t deny Ty this. “Yes. Okay.” Ty’s lips tipped up into the slightest of smiles. “But not right now.” Kit added, “you need to sleep.”
Kit found Ty eating in the Library of Blackthorn Manor the next morning, alone and looking appropriately glum. He slowly came up beside Ty, and slid down the side of the book case to sit next to him. They were so close their knees touched and arms brushed, but Ty didn’t complain or move to pull away. “I was looking for books on how to create a séance or conjure a ghost.” Ty said, his now empty bowl discarded on the floor in front of him. He folded his hands over his knees and pulled them to his chest. “Like how the mundanes do it in all those horror movies Dru watches.” Kit didn’t think it worked that way, and he said as much. A quietness enveloped them, Ty clearly trying to figure out how to make this work and Kit trying to figure out how to tell him it wouldn’t. “Candles” Kit blurted. Ty’s head snapped towards him; a crease forming between his brows. Kit swallowed, unnerved by the other boy’s intense stare “we could try candles. At least, that’s what they use in films – to summon ghosts.” Ty seemed to consider it before nodding and moving towards one of the cupboards in the library. Kit followed and they began to rifle through them, Kit only half paying attention to the task at hand as his mind wondered to how he would break the news to Ty that he had failed; that he couldn’t see Livvy.
Twenty minutes later the two boys were sat opposite each other, legs crossed and knees touching – surrounded by a circle of lit candles. Ty took Kit’s hands in his, squeezing his fingers as if in reassurance. “Okay.” Kit blew out a breath “here goes nothing.” Shutting his eyes, Kit tried to clear his mind and focus on Livvy. Her long dark hair, her rosy cheeks, her slim form. “Livvy Blackthorn. If you are there, please…” he thought of all the mundane films he’d seen, what they usually asked ghosts to do. “Please give me a sign.” He finished. He cracked open his eyes, meeting Ty’s hopeful stare. Kit passed his gaze over the room but it was to no avail; Livvy wasn’t there. Kit felt foolish and he began to remove his hands from Ty’s, a blush forming on his cheeks. But Ty gripped his wrist, “please” he pleaded, “try again?” Kit glanced at Ty’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, and then slowly raised his gaze to meet the boy’s in front of him. He nodded quickly.
“Livvia Blackthorn. If you are there-” The candles blew out. The pressure on his figures intensified as Ty gripped them, Kit flung his eyes open – half expecting Livvy to be stood in front of him. Though, again, the room was void of all ghosts. Kit pressed his palms into his eyes, pushing down until bright colours burst into the darkness. A cold chill swept over his left arm and Kit removed his hands swiftly, dragging his eyes to meet the empty air beside him. Though it was no longer empty.
Livvy Blackthorn, well what looked like a pale and translucent version of her, sat beside him; grinning. “I knew you could do it” She muttered. Kit must have looked horrified because Ty shook his shoulders, but he was too afraid to look away; lest Livvy disappear.
“Is she here Kit? Can you see her? Kit, Kit? Are you okay? Ki-”
“Yes Ty. She’s here.” Kit choked out the words, “it worked?” Suspicion and confusion flooded Kit’s voice, but he couldn’t deny it; Livvy was sat next to him. Livvy was here.
“How? With Jessamine, she just…showed up. How did I summon you?” But Livvy shook her head, Kit noticed then that she was much more pale than Jessamine had ever been and that her form was blurred around the edges. She must be about to “cross over” as Jessamine had called it. Kit didn’t know how much time they had left. “Ty. I think Livvy will…she won’t be here much longer. You need to say whatever it is you wanted to, now.” Ty clearly didn’t know where to look, his gaze flittering from left to right. Eventually, he settled it onto Kit. “Livvy. I’m sorry. I know you wanted to be parabati and I kept pushing you away, but I want you to know that, after this was all over I was going to ask you to be my parabati. I didn’t want to go to the sholomance anymore, not after Zara and the centerions, and I wanted to be your partner, your equal.” A tear slipped down Ty’s cheek and Kit linked his fingers with his. “She knows” He told Ty, and Livvy smiled sadly - her form becoming even more translucent. “She says she loves you.” Kit repeated “and that she is sorry to leave you. All of you.” Kit waited for Livvy to speak, to say everything left unsaid between her and her twin. But she was silent.
“Kit?” She spoke softly, Kit looked at her in return. “we could have been good friends I think.” She went to grasp his arm but her hand went straight through, she barely had one foot in this world anymore – Kit could see that. Her cheeks were pale and her hair was beginning to lose its colour. “We are Livvy” he spoke, his eyes trained on her disappearing body. Ty sat patiently, listening to a one-sided conversation as Kit did not repeat her words. Her form flickered then, disappearing for a second before returning. “I think this is it.” She confirmed, her gaze trained above the two of them. “Take care of Ty. Of Julian – if he needs it. Tell him…Tell him I’m okay and that I lo-” but she was gone.
“Thank you” Ty said after a long moment of silence. “For this and for..for the other night.” Kit nodded, words betraying him as he gazed at Ty; he glanced down at their still touching knees and interlocked fingers. Kit began to withdraw his hands but Ty held on, leaning forward ever so slowly as he pulled Kit towards him. Ty’s eyes were glassy from crying and Kit felt so protective of the other boy in that moment, he knew that no matter what he would never let Ty feel pain like this again. Even it meant he had to bear it. Kit hadn’t realised how close they had gotten, until Ty’s breath fanned out across Kit’s cheeks.
“Ty-” Julian suddenly burst in the room and Kit silently cursed him for breaking whatever was about to happen. Kit pulled his eyes away from Ty but didn’t pull entirely back, and squeezed Ty hands once more; letting him know he wasn’t going anywhere. The eldest Blackthorn had dark circles under his eyes and they looked puffy from crying. Julian began to walk towards them but Ty turned away from his older brother; releasing Kit. Kits brows narrowed in confusion but he stood and walked towards the other side of the room where Julian waited, “How is he?” Julian asked, his voice a low whisper. “He won’t speak to me. To any of us.” Julian told him, his gaze shifting between him and Ty. “I’m glad you’re here. I think…” he shook his head, his shoulders dropping. “God, I think that if you weren’t here Ty wouldn’t be either. I’m sure he would have left for LA by now.” Kit wanted to gape at him, there’s no way Ty was staying for him. Julian glanced over Kits shoulder quickly then squeezed the top of his arm. “Thank you.” He said quietly before leaving, his eyes softening and it reminded Kit of his father so much that he couldn’t help but wince. He watched Julian walk down the corridor to where Dru was staying, then returned to the floor next to Ty.
Kit found himself in Ty’s room again that night, they both sat leaning against the headboard, their knees tucked up to their chests. Kit had come to his room a little after midnight; mostly to check if Ty was sleeping, but a little because he just wanted to be near him. He had found Ty awake, curled in a ball atop his bed and Kit had just moved to sit beside him, silence surrounding them both. “I’m afraid to sleep.” Ty announced after a long while. “I will dream of it. I did after the Dark War; for weeks. I dreamt of the blood and death, and I know when I close my eyes I will see Livvy being stabbed with that shard of the Mortal Sword. Straight through the heart.” Kit winced. Though he was told how it happened, he didn’t actually see Livvy die. He thanked whoever was listening for that small blessing.
“Aren’t you tired?” Ty asked, as if only just realising that Kit was staying up with him too. But Kit shrugged, “I am afraid. When my dad died I sometimes dreamt of it. Of the whites of his ribcage and the dark red colour of his blood.” Kit stopped, realising Ty was probably traumatised already and a detailed summary of his father’s death wasn’t going to help. But Ty was staring at him intently, absorbing every detail of Kit’s words. So, he went on; telling Ty about how much it hurt to lose his dad, how he hated the Shadowhunters when they first brought him hear, how seeing Julian interact with his siblings made him resent his dad a little for never loving him that much. Ty listened while he talked, his head leaning against the head board and his shoulder leaning against Kit’s.
At some point the sun began to rise, bringing with it the bird calls of early dawn. Kit stopped talking after what felt like hours, his head rolling to the side to find that Ty was asleep. They had shifted somewhat whilst Kit spoke, and he was able to remove himself from the bed without waking Ty. He moved quietly to the door, glancing behind himself as he pulled it open. Ty slept soundlessly on the bed, his mouth slightly ajar and hair falling onto his forehead. Kit smiled, despite what had led them to this moment, Kit was grateful to see Ty this way. Peaceful. Reluctantly, he slid his gaze from the other boy and noiselessly slipped through the door.
Prompt: Imagine years ago, you used to work with Jonathan Pine
and John Wick, and both of them were madly in love with you but chose
to keep quiet for the job’s sake, and eventually, each of you went
separate ways. When they find out you’re in trouble, they reunite and
join forces to save you.
You’d been in this basement for over 24 hours now, you could tell by the position of the sun. They had beaten you with brass knuckles, punched you in the stomach, slapped you, at one point, one even got out a whip. They were trying to get information from you, and it’s not that you were giving them a hard time on purpose, the contract was anonymous. You’d been sent it via email for crying out loud. But these goons weren’t listening. Han Zing was in front of you now.
“If you just tell us, we’ll let you go.”
“Oh, you’ll let the hitwoman just walk out?”
“Yes, we will,” he promised.
“No, the second I give you more information, you’ll put a bullet in my head.”