#“dirt cleans off a lot easier than blood” MY SWEET MAN

[wildsaltair]

currently sobbing my eyes out because Maximus just wanted to wash the dirt off his hands at the end of a long day coaxing life out of the soil of his beloved home

[cardierreh15]

The Lost Prince of House Targaryen

hi there 🖤 hello. Its been a while hasn’t it? Well, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. It took me ages to finish. Enjoy ❤️

***I do not give anyone permission to copy and/or repost and translate my work!!!

Warning 18+: Cursing , Violence , Blood , Death & Gore , Vivid Depictions of Burning Flesh , Mentions of Rape.

Pairings: Tytus Snow (Geralt of Rivia) x Alyssa Landon (black!plus size female)

Description: When Tytus goes out for his weekly hunt, he runs into a bit of trouble.

Word Count: 5.5K

Song: That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil

The Domino Effect

The boy stood in the midst of an unfamiliar hall. The place was quite spacious, with only a small bit of light flowing in from the windows. Dust floated in the air, a tell-tale sign that no one had been in this room for quite some time.

His little face was smeared in dirt with beads of sweat forming over the bridge of his nose and forehead. His hair was stuck against his scalp, also dirty and sweaty. Covered in filth, he had no idea where he was nor where he’d come from.

The lad coughed and mustered out, ‘Hello?’

With only his echo answering him, an unsettling feeling began to weigh on his shoulders.

‘Mother?’

He called out once more, looking over his shoulders and even doing a full 360 spin to check his surroundings. Suddenly, he heard soft whispers. The voices weren’t exactly approachable and alluring but it gave him hope. Perhaps he’d find answers as to where he was.

‘Wh-who’s there?’

My Prince. Come to me.

The word “Prince” caused him to tense. Only a quarter of a handful of folks knew about who he was. Who was this being that called to him?

His curiosity outshined his fear and caused him to follow the enticing whispers.

Young Prince. The people’s Prince.

‘I-I’m not a Prince! I’m—I’m just a bastard. Nothing more.’

Is that what they tell you boy?

He grew quiet and looked down in disappointment.

Oh sweet child. You are more than even you can imagine!

The overlapping of whispers had faded and in came the view of something the young man never thought he’d see in person. There sat upon countless steps, were thousands of swords fused and molten into one seat. The infamous Iron Throne.

He was intimidated by it as it was a lot bigger than his little mind could’ve imagined. He also felt a lot of things at that moment. Fear, Shock and Excitement all in one.

‘The… The Iron Throne…’

The voice had returned but in singular and easier to comprehend, ‘Yes, my Prince. Yours. Your birthright. Go to it.’

‘Mine?’

Swallowing hard, he allowed this ominous voice to guide him up the stone steps that seem to ascend miles and miles up. By the time he’d made it up to the top, he was now a man and no longer a child.

‘Yours.’

His hair and face was clean; free of dirt, dust and grime. Purely white, it cascaded down between his shoulder blades. He wore black and red royal robes. Red and black scales donned his wide shoulders and arms, resembling the ancestors of his guardian angel.

He stood tall and fierce. Eyes so sure and positive about who he was.

Beside him stood his father and his uncle Daemon. His father held the gaze of a proud mentor while Daemon reflected a gaze of malice and hatred. He was never the type to care about others' opinions of him. He answered to no one but his mother and her alone.

‘Touch it.’ The King requested as he placed his large deteriorating hand on his shoulder. Without rebuttal, the Prince reached down to the armrest, casually allowing the blades of swords to pierce and carve into his skin. He didn’t falter but dug the blades in once more.

‘Sit, my King. It is yours.’ Daemon added on, his voice stern and firm.

The young man carefully pulled his palm away from the armrest and turned to face his elders before sitting down upon the prickly seat. His father took off his shiny crown, immediately unmasking the truth of his illness.

The King had lost an abundance of his beautiful white hair, along with the weight that’d kept him youthful and healthy. Half of his face was sunken, and eaten away by decay; he’d even lost an eye and a hole took place in his cheek, revealing damaged jawbone and teeth.

And yet, Daemon kept his youth and health.

Sitting back against the throne, swords impaled through the young king’s chest and torso, causing blood to seep and bleed into the crevices of the throne. He remained unphased as the throne began to bleed him dry.

Though, he was able to take deep, fulfilling breaths.

The Dead King and Loathing Prince stood in idle as the young man poured his life into who he was. Into who the Targaryens were.

‘This is who you are. You are the true heir, Tytus Targaryen.’

The King smiled proudly before weakly bowing his head. Daemon refused to bow but instead just stepped to the side.

Revealed onto him, were hundreds of not thousands of his people bowing in his wake. Everything seemed so … promising. But he couldn’t celebrate this victory without the woman he adored most. His mother. Tytus searched amongst bowing men and women but to no avail. That was until he’d finally looked down into his lap.

The severed head of his mother laid there. A silent scream left his chest as bloodied tears filled his bright golden eyes. He just kept mouthing, Mama! Mama! Mommy!

The redness in her eyes frightened him so; mimicking lightning bolts on the white orb. Her blue irises were halfway rolled and her eye bags were as dark as her chapped lips.

Abruptly, her eyes had come to be, cutting at him with an unfamiliar yet haunting gaze, ‘Ungrateful.’ She uttered.

Confused beyond measure, his head fell to the side.

‘Morning.’

***

A sudden and breathless gasp had awakened him out of his sleep, with his bright eyes flashing open he could’ve burned a hole into the cabin ceiling. He’d immediately fell into a fit of coughs and heaves so hard it made his chest hurt.

The frantic footsteps had echoed throughout the cabin. ‘Tytus?!’ The woman exclaimed before she damn near knocked down the bedroom door.

With face red as beets and the pleading look in his eyes, his mother rushed to his aid. ‘My son! Are you alright?!’

His head felt dizzy and his chest felt as if his lungs were on fire. He’d closed his eyes to focus on his breathing while he nodded. Finally coming back to his senses, his head fell back against the small pillow as a lively breath left his lips.

His mother, Sondra, had also let out a sigh in relief. ‘Another nightmare?’

He rubbed at his temples, quietly.

The woman sat there watching her son try to break down the meaning of whatever it was that caused him such ailment and grief. ‘Shall I send a raven?’

‘If you sent him a raven every time I had a nightmare mother, he’d never be home. It’s alright.’ He lied. Truth be told, this dream occurred every night. From the succession of the throne to the demise of his mother.

‘Well he is your father, and you need him.’

Rolling his eyes, the large male pulled himself up from his cot, ‘I haven’t needed him for all of these years,’ he snatched the white cotton blouse off of the wooden chair, ‘I don’t need him now.’

The woman sighed at her stubborn son, ‘Tytus. Must you be so mulish? What is the harm in reaching out?’

Tytus rolled his eyes. He hated having these conversations with her about Viserys. Last time he was too busy raising his own family to be bothered with a bastard son. Tugging on his shirt he turned to look at her. ‘Since when you cared so much about what happened between Viserys and I?’

The woman’s lips parted for a second before she let out a sigh. She peeled her eyes away from his haunting gaze. She knew something that he didn’t. ‘Just— it’s important you get to know him as a man, son.’

He sighed heavily and shook his head, ‘I’m sorry mother but he’s a little too preoccupied for me.’ He’d become agitated; thinking about the only thing that his father had given him was a name, the rights to speak in his native tongue and a dragon egg.

One would say he’s more connected to his Valyrian heritage. But that meant nothing when all he wanted was his father to be around. He may have been ungrateful, but he resented Viserys.

But there are two sides to every coin.

He started towards the door until Sondra said, ‘Your father is ill.’

Tytus stopped in his tracks.

‘He had been this way for quite some time. They have been trying to slow up the pace of the illness but—‘

‘What is it?’ He said as he turned half way to look at his mother.

‘It is a flesh eating disease… in the recent raven he’d sent, it’s already claimed fingers… and some of the flesh on his back.’

Shutting his eyes and looking away from her, he’d let out a silent breath. His heart had sunken to his gut causing him to grow ill.

That would explain Visery’s health in his nightmare.

‘Did they—‘ he paused as he tried to gather his emotions, ‘Did he say how much time he had left?’

‘No.’ Sondra walked over to her son and placed her hand on his tall shoulder while turning his face towards her with her free hand, ‘This is why you must make amends. He is your father and you are my greatest gift. You must thank him. I already have.’

‘Why must I thank someone for making me? He cursed me, mother. Us! He is the reason we can’t go out and live normal lives.’

‘Tytus—‘

‘I’ll see what I can do… but no promises. The King had always put his son aside… and I shall do the same.’ He pulled away from his mother’s touch and walked out the back door of the cabin.

Tears brimmed his eyes as his chest began to tighten with a familiar ache. Sure he tried to hold himself together but that news hit him like a ton of bricks. He quickly walked over to the stream and collapsed to his knees. His face molded into something… human and painful. A silent sob ripped through his chest, causing his shoulders to rise and fall.

No matter how much he’d pretended to hate his father, he truly did look up to him. He knew that Viserys was a good man, and part of him hated that of him. He’d just wished he had to experience him more and have more time with him. It wasn’t fair. While all his younger siblings got to know who he was as a man, a father, a mentor and a King; he barely knew him beyond his name.

Hell, when he and Uncle Daemon would sneak away from Kings Landing to see him as a child, they’d never spent more than an hour together.

Jealousy wasn’t enough for the Prince.

‘Tytus?!’

Startled, Tytus dipped his head into the flowing water to hide his face.

‘Tytus?’ A woman called out in confusion, placing her hand over her chest as her free arm held a wicker basket.

He pulled his head out of the water and pushed his wet hair out of his face. Letting out a huff, he rubbed the water out of his eyes and looked back over his shoulder.

‘Oh, Alyssa!’ He scrambled up to his feet and turned around to face her as he pushed his wet hair out of his face. ‘Hi. I—I wasn't expecting to see you at this hour. May I help you?’

Tytus allowed his bright yet mournful eyes to take in the woman before him. Her skin was bathing within the warmth of the sun itself; brown like sepia. She had a pretty, round face with chestnut eyes and full lips. And a smile, that could light up an entire room.

Her thick dark hair was done in two fine twists with a thin gold ribbon fed into the style. They met at the back of her head in an intricate and complicated pattern of a knot.

She had a set large voluptuous breasts that complimented her low cut dress wonderfully. She had a tummy, wide hips and he would assume thick pillowy thighs to match beneath the skirt of her dress.

To call this woman comely, was quite the understatement.

‘I just bought this for you. Hoping that you have not forgotten our proposal.’ She took the handle into her fist and held it out towards him.

‘And that would be?’ He trailed off as he raised a brow.

Annoyingly dropping her arm, Alyssa let out a sigh with a gentle eye roll, ‘Well it’s not exactly ours… you and my father.’

‘So why didn’t your father come have a word with me?’

‘He is busy. He runs an Inn and an Alehouse. Or does your age fail you?’

Tytus scuffed as his brows furrowed in dismay, ‘How old do you think I am?’

‘I don’t know. Something about you says ancient but… I don’t truly know.’

‘Is it my hair.’

‘Mayhaps…’ the woman paused as she rested her hand on her hip, allowing her pretty eyes to roam over this lovely specimen of a man. ‘So, will you do it?’

This woman was impossible. Well, he’d known her for a little while. And she wasn’t always this impatient. Other days she was a sweet woman that made him laugh and made him feel comfortable when he’d go fill up on some ale.

But she was different outside of that Inn.

Letting out a heavy sigh, his golden eyes ripped from her gaze to the basket she held in her hand. ‘What’s in the basket?’

‘Some treats for you and your mother. You know my father is quite fond of her? He would hate to hear that you’d turn down gifts because of your wits.’

He’d rolled his eyes and reached his hand out for her to place his gift there.

The woman beamed with a smile that could cut through thick thunder clouds. It was hard for him to keep up with his immovable character when she shared that side with him. Instead of allowing the annoyance to settle in his features further, he’d returned a small yet kind smile.

‘Thank you, Tytus. You have been quite helpful since you and Miss. Sondra have been around. If you both shall need anything—‘

‘We— don’t need anything, Alyssa.’ He reassured, ‘Thank you.’ He blinked his golden eyes from the basket to her gaze.

The two remained quiet; staring into one another’s eyes as if they’d searched for something beyond.

Alyssa had inhaled deeply as she blinked her gaze away from his. ‘Well, I shall get going, Tytus. Inn won’t tend to itself unfortunately.’ She bowed her head respectfully, ‘Good day.’ She added before spinning off smoothly and walking in the direction from whomst she came.

It had seemed as if Tytus had been involuntarily choking on words because he just couldn’t seem to get them out so he just said, ‘Good Day, Miss.’

‘Alyssa.’

Taking note that once she made it past the cabin, she went left. It wasn’t in the direction of her father’s inn but after she’d left his property, she was no longer his responsibility. Or so he thought.

***

Walking back into the cabin, he took note of his mother sitting before the fireplace staring at his priceless gift.

A dragon egg.

Sondra looked over at Tytus for a second before her eyes dropped to the goody basket he held in his hand. ‘I thought I saw it move. I know he said it may never hatch but, you could never be too sure about these things. They’re creatures like you and I. Stubborn when they want to be.’ The woman laughed heartily as she walked over to her son.

‘I ever tell you about when I was pregnant with you?’

A small smile returned, ‘Yes mama. More times than man could count.’

‘You and—‘ she paused for a second as if she was catching herself from giving away something.

Tytus caught that, causing his brows to pull together as he listened further.

‘You gave me so much pain, I wanted the Gods to put me out of my misery. 10 long months, I felt every bit of it.’ She smiled softly, trying to push her secrets to the side once more. ‘Now look at you,’ she placed her hand on his jaw, ‘My son.’ Her thumb gently caressed his cheek before she brought her attention to the basket once again.

‘Alyssa brought this here for us.’ Tytus said as he placed it in her arms. ‘I have to fulfill my end of the trade now.’

‘Alyssa… What a sweet girl.’ Sondra smiled as she carried it off to the wooden dining table. ‘How is she and her father?’

‘I don’t know?’ He shrugged, ‘She seemed in fair spirits. Her father though,’ he smirked as he leaned against the frame of the door ‘Seems to have a thing for little ladies who tend to be mysterious.’

‘Who? Me?’ The woman laughed gleefully as she tore the cloth from atop of the basket. Revealed onto them both was a full bottle of mead, fresh warm bread, cheese and a jar of raw honey. ‘Ou! What a lovely spread!’

‘Good,’ Tytus sighed and pushed himself off of the frame, ‘You can enjoy it without me. I’ve got venison to catch.’

‘Be careful son.’

‘I shall.’ He called out before walking out the back door once again and went into the makeshift butcher house that he’d built. It was more than just a place to cut and skin meat. It was where he beat his steel and metal into place. Being on the run for 30 odd years, he and his mother had to learn to do things on their own.

That went from properly skinning meat to make pelts, to creating new weaponry that could cut down anyone that disrupted their journey.

But it was also a place of solace. Where he found peace and quiet.

Tytus made due to change out of his house wear quickly and stepped into something more comfortable. There was no telling how long his trip would be. But with his impressive tracking skills and his ability to make a decision promptly, he should be back in no time.

He dressed in thick, patterned leather. Then, he tugged on his boots and sharpened his dagger. Finally, he packed up his quiver nice and full, and tightened the string.

Once finished, he gathered all of his possessions and walked outside to the stables. It was a little bit busier now. The farmers next door had begun to work on their duties and the streets had come to life as the sun ascended further into the sky.

As he embarked on his short journey, the villagers greeted him with smiles and waves. Some even spoke his name: ‘Tytus! Good Morning to ya!’ ‘Tytus.’ ‘Be safe out there, Tytus!’

Children skipped, ran and laughed as they played without a care in the world. A soft smile had formed in his lips but then, he’d remembered that he wasn’t so lucky to experience such a mundane life as this when he was a child. At times, he envied them. These kids who laughed with their whole bodies and asked questions out of curiosity while having the chance to be children…

Not him though. He didn’t have time to wonder what the world was like or make friends.

‘Gardenia… good morning girl.’ He said softly as he rested his large hand against her neck. ‘Miss me?’

The beautiful Friesian mare nickered with joy as the sound of his voice. She’d even shoved at his torso in a gentle and affirming manner.

‘I know. I’ve missed you too. But, we’re going to be spending some time together today.’ He’d placed his dagger in his sheath and pulled on his bow and quiver over his shoulder.

‘We’ve gotten wrapped up in something… a promise that must be fulfilled.’ He spoke to Gardenia as if she was human. Well, he always knew his secrets would be safe with her.

***

Riding with Gardenia always did seem to take his mind off of more dismaying things. Such as his nightmares and his mother’s pompous attitude toward him seeing his father.

Tytus was aimlessly following an unmarked path in the woods. Sure, he’d made the deal to go hunting but right now his mind wasn’t in it. He’d just found out the man who he’d called father was dying from this rare disease. And he had no idea if he’d ever see him again.

His eyes burned with a vengeance as tears brimmed them again. His jaw locked into place as he clenched it hard while his fists held on to his reins tightly.

Finally, the sound of an elk calling brought him out of sunken depths of despair in his mind. Pulling at Gardenia’s reins, she knickered before shaking her head and stopping in her tracks.

‘Whoooa, girl. Eaaaassy.’ He’d reached forth and gave her neck a gentle pat before carefully unmounting. He quietly walked her over to a tree where he tied her up, nice and tightly.

Leaning into her neck, Tytus whispered, ‘I know you hate to lull these units back home. But, it feeds us. Behave.’ He uttered before pulling away and readying his bow. As soon as he turned his back to walk away, Gardenia quickly nudged her snout into his back; neighing and stomping as he stumbled forward.

Catching his footing, Tytus’ nose flared as he took a deep breath and looked behind him with a minacious scowl written on his face. The horse stared at him with an unimpressed glare as her ears twitched and flickered.

Look at him. What kind of man fights with a horse?

Rolling his bright golden eyes, he mumbled, ‘you women are all the same.’

When the elk called once more, Tytus took note that it was closer and that this was no average piece of meat. The way it sounded let Tytus know that it was much more mature than he anticipated from the first call.

Squatting down into the damp dirt, he took note of the human footprints here. They were small and the shape held form, a telltale sign that these were recent.

It wasn’t odd to see footprints in the wood, but for some reason— something felt off about this particular set of prints. But he wasn’t here for that, he lifted his bow and began on his way.

Every step Tytus made was crucial and timed as any step out of place, could possibly scare away nearby food. Or perhaps, invite a hungry bear or a pack of direwolves. Whichever the three, none were wanted. So he stepped slowly, and moved with as much patience as a mother with her rotten child.

They didn’t call him the best hunter in the village for nothing.

Eventually, after so many calculated steps and draws, he’d finally come across the source of the calls. Standing beneath a tree that looked to have weathered many centuries, it grazed on the lush green grass.

Tytus thought this was the perfect opportunity to claim his prize. So he stepped over broken branch and tread slowly, cautiously. He stood up straight and drew his string; aiming the arrow at its ribcage. But something… was off.

His mind kept thinking about those tracks from earlier. Who were they? Why were they here? Were they safe?

With Tytus’ questions throwing off his concentration, he mistakenly released the grip of the arrow, causing it to rip through the air, and spear the tree, just a second above the creature.

Tytus’ heart sank.

But to his surprise, the beast didn’t flee. In fact, its head rose and looked at his hunter instead. It began to emerge from the shadows of the tree, stepping into the sun that caused its coat to glow like snow. Its antlers appeared to shine like solid gold in the sun’s rays.

And unusually large in size.

Under the temptation of wanting to reach behind him and grab another arrow, Tytus couldn’t believe what he was seeing! He was completely frozen.

The Legendary White Hart.

He’d heard stories about this creature when he was just a little boy. But he’d never been the type to believe in fairy tales. As if dragons didn’t exist and he wouldn’t become a formidable dragon rider in the future.

The stag stopped only heartbeats away from Tytus, staring down the mere human. And the human stared up at it, slowly dropping his weapon to take in this godly creature once more.

Then, the creature let out a huff from its nose and turned away, trekking into a path. Almost instantly disappearing within the trees.

Tytus stood there as he felt as if air had been ripped from his lungs. If he’d remembered those tales well, he’d known what this meant. That the Gods had given him their blessing for him to be King… right?

Wrong. Because that’s not what he wanted. Tytus had no generalized idea of what it took to be a King. How responsible would he have to be? All the choices he’d have to make on behalf of others instead of being selfish. And he loved being selfish! Why would he give that up?! For a crown and gold?

Depending on who you ask… it didn’t sound bad.

But that wasn’t him.

At the moment, Tytus was no longer in a hunting mood. He was mentally exhausted after today. All the news and all the signs weighed on him like dumbbells. As he made his way back to Gardenia, he contemplated telling his mother about his finding. But knowing her, her relentless determination of convincing him to see his father, would only get worse.

He’d decided to keep it a secret for now.

Once he’d made it back to Gardenia, he’d noticed that the tracks had been replaced with 3 fresh ones. The wet dirt had been deepened by the weight of heavy boots.

But how odd was it that they didn’t steal his horse? Clearly these individuals were after something more important.

That gut feeling only deepened and now he felt the need to get to the bottom of this.

‘Gardenia… I’m afraid I must leave you again…’

The sassy horse neighed loudly and bobbed her head.

‘I know… something is not right here. And if someone is in danger… I must help.’ Tytus walked over to Gardenia and reached into his satchel where he pulled out a shiny red apple. ‘You do understand,’ He hushed against her neck.

‘Don’t you?’ He continued as he held out the apple in front of her.

The horse knickered quietly before she grabbed the fruit with her teeth, causing Tytus to chuckle softly. ‘I knew you would. I will be back soon.’

***

Tytus didn’t really care too much to be quiet on this journey. He put all of his attention in studying these tracks and what they could possibly lead to. And it could be a number of things.

At this point in the day, the sun had finally disappeared behind the mountains, alerting him that he’d spent way too much time out here and still didn’t catch anything.

But food didn’t matter when it came to protecting the innocent. So he pushed onward until he heard the loud drunken, cackling of men.

Crouching behind a bush, he allowed his eyes to try to study the area from afar. A fire had already been built and well lit. One of the men wore nothing but filthy undergarments. The other two, were fully dressed in their armored uniforms. Tytus recognized those cloaks and breastplates anywhere. Black and Red.

They served the King, under Lord Commander Criston Cole, who’d just taken after the Late Ser Harrold Westerling. A renowned white cloak, who proved to be more than a “pretty” face.

Tytus hated those self righteous pricks.

But these guys… were more dangerous than an average soldier. In fact, they were no longer that. Deserters, which made them all the more dangerous. They had no rules, as long as they weren’t caught… they’d do anything to survive.

The sudden whining of a woman had caught his attention almost instantly, causing his gaze to flicker from the gold three-headed, fire breathing dragon to the woman who was helplessly bound in a pillory. She struggled and wept as she begged the three men to free her.

‘Pl-please! I-I won’t tell a soul… I-I swear! Just please let me go!’

Her voice… that… voice.

‘Alyssa?’ He whispered softly.

Though, he couldn’t confirm it as her backside was facing him. He often tried to be respectful and not look at her that way. He felt he owed that to her father.

‘Oh you won’t be telling anybody… sweetheart.’ The naked man expressed as he took the ale from his comrade.

Tytus growled quietly as he grabbed the handle of his sword. But before he could make another move, he stopped himself. These are three trained soldiers. He had to do this right before it got them both killed.

He watched as that slimy bastard made his way over to her and stood in front of her where he leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Then, he leaned in as if to kiss her.

Tytus watched impatiently before a loud wail erupted in the air.

Snatching his face away, the male’s face was gushing with blood as she spit out what seemed to be flesh, ‘You won’t kiss anyone else you disgusting—‘

She’d snatched his bottom lip off of his face, completely exposing tendons and everything that made a set of lips work.

Tytus hissed at the gruesome sight. He’d seen a lot of things, but this? That was sickening.

One of the male’s backhanded her with his armored knuckles, instantly knocking her out.

This ticked Tytus off, he was over trying to be patient. These men brought her harm and they weren’t going to make it out of here.

As the male’s comrades tried to help him aid the wound and stop the bleeding, Tytus stepped around the bush, ‘Do you all—‘ startling the three men, causing the two men to pull out their swords.

‘Usually harm women this way?’

‘What’s it to you? This does not concern you!’

‘what did you all intend on doing to her?’ Tytus tried to remain as calm as possible.

The two dressed men stood there quietly as their companion tried to “glue” his lip back into place. What an idiot.

‘Do you all know… the consequences of deserting?’

‘We’re not deserters!’

Tytus smirked, ‘Oh yeah?’

‘We—we just got lost! Sh-she was suppose to help us find our nearest camp and—‘

‘You didn’t find it so you’re gonna rape and kill her instead?’

The three men looked at one another before looking back at Tytus.

‘You know what? Yeah. And then maybe we’ll rape and kill you too.’ The three men laughed.

And Tytus found absolutely nothing funny about that.

His stoic demeanor had instantly shifted into something colder and harsher. ‘Not if I can help it.’ Gripping the handle of his sword, he unsheathed his blade and readied himself.

‘Ha! You’re going to fight us? It's 3 of us and just 1 of you.’

Tytus' head fell to the side gently as a small smirk curled up on his lip. ‘You know, you’re right about that.’ Quickly reaching behind him, he grabbed the handle of his dagger and aimlessly launched it in their direction. To his luck, it hit the injured one right in the throat.

The other men watched as their comrade fell to the ground and choked on his own blood. Then, they turned their attention to Tytus who readied himself in stance. They both charged towards him in hopes of defeating this individual. But that hope was short lived when Tytus swung his sword across one’s neck, chopping his head clean off. And slicing the other from across his stomach, instantly bringing him to his knees.

Unfortunately for him, he lived a little bit longer to feel the torturous pain of his insides falling upon the ground before him. Wailing as he even made the attempt to grab at his intestines and try to shove it back into the wound but failed miserably when he’d succumb to his wound.

Splattered blood dripped across Tytus’ face and some even got in his hair. He’d sighed heavily and walked over to the one with the missing lip. He was still choking to death. Tytus’ brows tugged into one as he noticed that his dagger was probably keeping him alive?

‘Well, isn’t this interesting?’

He squatted down before him and flicked the handle, causing the man to gargle in pain. ‘You’re really fighting it aren’t you?’

He tried to speak, chomping his jaws together but it had appeared that the blade severed his vocal chords too.

So instead of watching him struggle, Tytus reached over, ‘Alright, that’ll do.’ And he shoved the blade deeper, finally ending the individual’s torment.

‘To be honest that’s more than what you deserve. Fucking prick.’ He hissed as he snatched his blade out of his throat and wiped the blade upon his pants before sheathing it home.

Tytus took in a moment to take in this mess. 3 men massacred by his blade, and a woman who had been knocked unconscious by the brute force of one of them. In that moment, he worried that perhaps someone would find the bodies here.

It wouldn’t be a good look if the townsfolk saw these slain soldiers. But, he did what he must. And the sun was descending further behind the mountains; illuminating a orange glow in the sky. They had to get back home before dark. Or at least be on their way.

Huffing heavily through his nose, the tall brute walked over to the body that lie hunched over it’s on mess now. Tytus kicked the corpse over, and studied it for a moment. ‘What to do with you…three pigs..’

His golden eyes roamed over the body; a pile of its own intestines lie next to him.

Then, he looked ahead at the raging fire that they’d once created just a few moments before their intruder’s arrival.

‘Well.. into the flames you go.’

One by one, Tytus drug the 3 corpses into the fire and watched them burn; watching as the metal fused with their flesh as if it were becoming apart of them instead. In exposed skin, he watched the flames cauterize and bubble them up until it turned crispy and charred.

He wrinkled his nose at the unfathomable scent. It was a smell, one could never truly get use to.

Finally turning his attention to the damsel in distress, he let out a gentle sigh. ‘As for you…’ he said as he walked over to meet her.

He carefully grabbed her chin and lifted her face. Semi-dried blood stained her lips and chin from her attack on her abuser. Then, he noticed a dark purple bruise that had been instantly cast upon her tawny flesh where that bastard split her cheekbone.

‘Mmm. Your father will have your head for this.’ Tytus murmured before carefully releasing her head. He began to take his blade and slice at the thick rope that kept her bound.

After freeing her from the pillory, ‘Silly woman.’ He muttered as threw her over his shoulder and began his journey back to Gardenia. ‘You did well.’

Random Tags: @megamindsecretlair @ladylaviniya @virgosapphire79 @blackterrae @iwudbutnah @augustsprincess @holylulusworld @xsapphirescrollsx @viking-raider @peternoonewantsthat @littlemelaninfics @goldieccentric @multiversxwhore @targaryenvampireslayer @raccoon-eyed-rebel

[angelharness]

Thank you for giving me the chance to talk about this asjshw, I hope to get the chance to write a proper fic to explore my interpretation of him, but as I’m still constructing it, I’ll just take this opportunity to ramble! And throw in some headcanons

WARNINGS: none? usual ghostface behavior

DANNY JOHNSON / THE GHOSTFACE

• I think he would actually grow attached to the reader, but isn’t sure why he does, or even what feeling it incites in him really. It’s easier to come to terms with his unlikely fondness for you when it’s an ambiguous, debatable concept. He doesn’t take the time to define it, but it’s perhaps closely akin to affection.

• Where he and Michael are in many ways similar in their dynamic with the reader, Ghostface doesn’t see you as a plaything in the same way Michael might. He doesn’t keep you in constant fear; he lets up, gives you room to breathe so that the fright he does pose is comparatively more effective. He’s not one to ‘tire’ of his partner either.

• A man of signature-ly few words. I don’t think he’s as talkative and smarmy as many write him; he barely ever speaks actually, not even to taunt you, which works, for somehow his mocking (but wordless) gestures are just as sharply insulting. You’ll find his silence is more powerful than any spiteful or provoking words, and he is very aware of this, utilizing it to dangerous success.

• I don’t see him being fond of nicknames and I personally can’t stand dollface. I think, on occasion, if he’s feeling sentimental, he’ll use a shortened, cutesy version of your name.

• Pre-Entity, he’s a lot more talkative and can keep up the caring boyfriend role expertly while continuing with his work on the side. He keeps his unsightly hobbies well under wraps—anything you come across you are meant to see. He thinks it’s fun to keep you a little unsure, but never outright suspicious.

• Again assuming this takes place before the Entity’s Realm, he’s surprisingly good with housework and domestic chores. With his work (both forms) you’d expect he might dump it all on you, but he does a good job consistently pulling his weight. A pretty solid cook and dedicated cleaner, but you often question his impressive collection of heavy-duty cleaning supplies. Danny knows how to sew, as well, something he originally learned to keep up his Ghostface robe but a skill he utilizes for more standard procedures as well. If you go to him with a tear in your clothes he’ll offer to fix it up.

• You think it’s so sweet how he insists on doing the laundry, remarking, sympathetically, how you’ve had a long day, urging you to rest and let him handle it. As far as you know, it’s a kind gesture. For him, though, it’s to keep you from seeing the browning smears of blood on his clothes.

• Loves talking about his work and is sure to fill you in on absolutely everything that’s happened. He has such a charming joy when he rambles, a delight that quickly becomes unnerving as he talks at length about the more unpleasant details of crime scenes and murder cases. It doesn’t help that he keeps clippings from articles he’s written all throughout the house.

• Entity’s Realm-wise, he doesn’t have much left to hide, so loves freaking you out. He breathes loudly behind you, accentuates his footsteps, leaves notes on walls or picked out in dirt; he sees this all as the process of courting.

• His favorite thing is to grab you off generators then let you go. He loves to see you scramble to your feet and snap to look at him all wide-eyed. You sometimes catch his shoulders shifting in silent laughter. He’s weirdly playful about it all like this isn’t some disturbing dance of lethal cat and mouse.

• In trials, he’ll fluctuate between targeting you, ignoring the other survivors who stumble out of the way in favor of chasing you across the entirety of the map and back, and then inexplicably ignoring you. Sometimes it’s mid-chase too, where he’ll screech to a sudden halt and turn tail to find a new subject to torment, leaving you panting, checking behind you every so often, straining your ears for the crunching of leather or muted footfalls despite his absence.

• Loves to leave you gifts. Keychains from other survivors, flowers, if he comes across any not long-dead, pretty coins or lockets, though you receive them all with conflicted feelings.

[moonyswolfie]

Full Moon

Hello, tumblr. Long time, no see. I took a well needed break from writing, but now I am hopefully back in the game and I am starting with a Remus fluff.

I hope you enjoy and my requests are, as per usual, open.

Remus Lupin x Reader

Trigger Warnings: cuts and bruises after the full moon, other than that none I think.

The clock showed 5:30 AM when the door creaked open and woke you from your slumber. You jumped awake and got up from your boyfriend’s bed in an instant, helping James and Sirius to gently lay a half unconscious Remus Lupin on it, mindful of the pain he is in.

Fresh cuts and bruises cover his skin and break your heart piece by piece as you inspect each and every one. You hated that he had to go through this every month and you couldn’t do a darn thing about it.

Sighing softly, you move to his nightstand and grab the bowl of warm water and the cloth you prepared earlier, and sat carefully on the bed next to him, taking in his tired features and the dark circles under his eyes.

It’s been a rough moon by the looks of it.

“Hello, my love” he mumbles with the brightest smile he could manage and your heart skipped a beat. Even in pain, your lover refused to worry you.

You return his smile and move closer to him, settling the bowl in your lap as to not drop it by accident.

“Hello, my darling” your left hand cups his face as softly as possible, lifting and turning it to get a better look at the nasty cut on the underside of his jaw.

He winces for a moment, but obeys and leans in your touch. He hates worrying you so much. If he could, he would hide every wound he gets, but you wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. So he lets you work, a faint smile lifting the corners of his lips at your gentleness. He’s still awed by the love and care you show him every second. He’s still unsure he deserves it…

You move the cloth over the injury, cleaning the dried blood and dirt and extend a hand for the essence of Dittany, placed on his nightstand. He chuckles fondly at your blind attempts to reach it and turns slightly, getting it for you.

A blush spreads rapidly over your cheeks and you move to take it, but he catches your hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it, your blush now redder than his curtains.

“Thank you, my sweet love, but you should rest now, s’been a long night” you whisper with the gentlest smile on your face, but Remus shakes his head; he didn’t want to sleep, he wanted to watch you work, hold you, kiss you, feel you close to him after hours of pain.

“M’not tired” he mumbles, but the yawn that follows says otherwise.

You shake your head fondly, an amused smile lifting the corners of your lips now and your boyfriend blushes faintly.

“Well, not too tired more like” he adds sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You cover each scratch and bruise with the healing essence, watching the mildest of them close and turn to faint scars and speeding the process as much as you could without hurting him. By the time you were done, Remus was already nodding off, against his wishes to stay awake, bathed in the first rays of the morning sun.

The sight took your breath away and you take him in, capping the potion with clumsy fingers. Tousled chestnut hair, a face so beautiful it would make painters cry trying to capture it perfectly onto their canvas, all lines and angles…even tired, he was the most beautiful man you’ve seen.  

The corners of Remus’ soft lips raise along with his left brow, opening one eye to peek at you, gesture that has your cheeks flaming up again. You look down and put the Dittany away as your lover’s smile turned to a slight smirk.

“I can feel your eyes on me, my love. Am I all that pretty to look at?” he asks smug, yet there was a hint of shyness in the pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

You nod with a sweet smile, before an idea comes to mind. You bite your lip seductively and look him up and down through your lashes, humming pleased when your eyes land on his beautiful emerald ones again. This time his cheeks are a deeper shade of pink.

“You’re not just pretty, my sweetest one, you are breathtaking. I’m still wondering, every single day, how come I’m so lucky to get to love you” you finish with the most loving expression on your face.

Remus is melted hearing your words and moves to sit up, ignoring your protests and wincing just a tad. His smile though, it is radiant. Pain be damned, his girl matters more.

He cups your cheeks so gently, you thought you could cry, and brings you closer to him. You lean in his touch and, to make it easier for him, move to straddle his thighs, but keep your weight on your knees, refusing to put even an ounce of pressure on him. You couldn’t forgive yourself if you hurt him, even by mere accident.

When you are close enough for his liking, he smiles cheeky and pecks your nose, watching the blush paint your cheeks his favorite color as you scrunch your nose adorably. His heart nearly bursts with all the love he has for you stored in it.

“Cuddles?” he whispers so soft that you are convinced you wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t so close.

You bite your lip in thought, watching his charming smile turn into a cute little pout. Of course you want to stay with him and snuggle, if it were after you, you’d never leave again. But he is hurt right now, and staying could do more damage than good.

He seems to read the worry in your eyes, for he smiles gently and caresses your cheeks with his thumbs in a reassuring gesture.

“My love, what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?” he asks softly, watching you through his lashes, blinking slow.

You sigh and give him a tired smile in return.

“Of course I want to stay, my love. But I’m worried I’ll hurt you more if I do. I move a lot in my sleep and I don’t want to open any cuts or press on any bruise…”

His smile doesn’t falter for a second before bringing you into the sweetest kiss he ever gave you. His lips move slow on yours, a tired kiss, but overflowing with all the love he has for you. You kiss him back sweet and gentle, your hands enveloping his on your face and squeezing them gently.

You feel him smile in the kiss and deepen it, the passion growing by the second. It was a painful effort to pull away for air, but when you do, the both of you panting messes, Remus leans his forehead on yours, eyes closed and sighing content.

“My darling love, you could never hurt me, never. I know that in my heart and with every fibre of my body. I know I can trust you, I know I can leave myself in your hands and that I will be safe. So” he lifts your face gently so he could meet your eyes “I also know that I can sleep and cuddle the love of my life and she won’t hurt me, not one bit” he smiles soft and holds your gaze, assuring you that he means it.

You take a moment, processing and turning his words on every angle possible until you are satisfied. He trusts you won’t hurt him. He is sure you won’t. And so should you be.

You nod, and his face breaks into the biggest smile he put on tonight.

“Yes, my love, I will stay with you and cuddle. But” you add before he can say anything else “I have one condition” you wait for his nod to continue “I don’t care if I’m sleeping or what I’m doing. If I hurt you, you tell me right away. I don’t care if you wake me up to do it, you do. Please” you bite your lip and add softer “please, to ease my mind?”

His arms move and wrap around your waist, bringing you closer. You maintain your weight on your knees and place your hands on his chest, watching his eyes as he makes his decision.

“I promise you, my love” he says finally and you let out a relieved breath, smiling.

“Thank you, Remus” you mumble leaning down and pecking his lips.

He smiles on your lips and hums “no need to thank me, Y/N.”

Returning his smile, you move and lay down next to your boyfriend, carefully snuggling into his side and draping an arm around his torso, bringing him as close as you thought wise. He sighs content and holds you tight, sleep taking over the both of you in seconds.

[punkrockmads]

Found Family

Abby x F! Reader Mini Series

Warnings: Small bit of angst, violence, this chapter is a little bit longer

Chapter Four; Light Of Our Lives

*A MONTH LATER*

Abby has been such a joy to have in my life. I've moved out of the guest room and into Abby's bedroom, the two of us rapidly growing closer over the past month. We've had a couple little bickering matches over whether I should be doing patrol at three months pregnant, but that's to be expected for any couple worried for their baby. She's been a huge help with the baby, always staying by my side during my bouts of morning sickness and my occasional nightmares. We still haven't told Lev, waiting for my baby bump to get a little bigger before telling him. Lev is such a sweet kid, always energetic and happy. He and Abby are always jabbing at each other with their sarcasm and jokes. I sometimes cut in with my own teasing remarks, usually teaming up with Lev to harass Abby. The other day, Lev and I got up early just to sneak downstairs and hit Abby with pillows while she was cooking. Scrambled eggs ended up all over the floor and she made us clean it up but we all thought it was hilarious.

I sit behind Abby on our bed, braiding her soft blonde hair back as she talks.

"So we fell like a thousand feet through a glass ceiling and into a fucking swimming pool." Abby chuckles, telling me the story of the sky bridges for the twentieth time. It's one of my favorites, I'm always asking her to tell it.

"It was not a thousand feet!" Lev yells from his bedroom across the hall. Abby and I burst into a fit of laughter. "It was like ten!"

"Okay well it FELT like a thousand!" Abby yells back between laughs. "Anyways." She sighs, feeling my fingertips brush the back of her neck lightly as I continue to braid her hair. "I crawl out of the pool and lay there sprawled out on my back and Lev looks at me like I'm crazy! He's just up and ready to keep moving as if we didn't just almost die!" The two of us laugh as I use a hair tie to hold the ends of her braid together. I lean forward, placing a kiss on the back of her neck.

"All done." I mumble against her freckled skin. Abby turns around, pressing a sweet kiss on my cheek.

"Thanks, babe." Abby smiles. "You ready to head out?" Abby and I have early patrol this morning. It's rare we get assigned together since Abby is much stronger so she's usually doing assignments that put her muscles to use. Things like helping out with construction, moving heavy equipment, sometimes even helping people move furniture in and out of homes. When Abby does go outside of the base, it's for a supply run that's in a more dangerous area. That part always scares me, knowing they intentionally send her places with unknown numbers of infected. I know why they do it, though. She's more than capable of protecting herself and her group.

"Yeah." I nod. "Just gotta get my boots on." I stand up, getting ready to leave the room when Abby grabs my wrist.

"Uh, babe?" I look back at her, confused. "What's goin' on with your buttons there?" She asks, referring to my black button-up shirt. I look down, noticing two of the top buttons were missing.

"Oh!" I laugh. "So THIS is the shirt with the missing buttons!" I shrug, searching through the clothes in our closet. I find a grey sleeveless shirt hanging up on Abby's side of the closet. I glance back, seeing her making the bed. I take off my button-up, letting it fall to the floor as I take the sleeveless shirt off of its hanger and pull it on. It's a little too big, but I tuck it into my jeans and it fits a lot better. I pick up the button-up, spinning around and tossing it at Abby. It hits her in the face.

"Hey!" Abby looks over at me with a playful glare before freezing. She points at me. "Is- is that my shirt?"

"Perhaps." I grin, doing a little pose with my hands on my hips. "New fashion statement?" I chuckle. Abby walks over to me, putting her hands on my hips. She pecks my lips lightly. I place my hands over hers.

"You're such a dork." She smiles. "C'mon. We gotta get going."

"Alriiiight." I groan. Abby grabs my hand, pulling me into the hall. "Lev, don't be late for school!" I yell from the stairs.

"I'm never late!" Lev yells back.

"Literally last week!" Abby reminds him.

"Fuck you!" Lev replies as Abby and I laugh. I kneel down by the door, putting my brown leather boots on and tying the laces. Abby watches with a playful smile. I grab my dark blue backpack and bow before looking up at her.

"What?" I question, standing back up.

"Nothing." Abby shrugs. She puts a hand on my stomach. "Pretty soon you won't even be able to tie your own shoes."

"Six more months!" I sigh. "And then this little bean will be the reason we don't get a good night's sleep for years."

"I can't wait." Abby chuckles, following me out the front door. The two of us head to the main gate, spotting a few people waiting around talking with each other. "Get us signed out?" Abby asks.

"If you grab us lunch." I reply,

"Deal." Abby agrees. She lets go of my hand, walking off to the right while I continue forward to the booth. A woman with long red hair and blue eyes looks up at me.

"Oh, hey Y/N!" She greets, setting down the clipboard she was holding. "How're you doing?"

"Hey, Kayla." I smile. "I'm doing pretty great! They've got you workin' at the booth instead of the farm?" I pick up the clipboard and pen, signing my name and Abby's on the sign out sheet.

"Yep." Kayla tsks. "Shawn's sick today so I said I'd fill in. Nice break from being covered in dirt all day."

"And the booth is always shady." I shrug. "I'd say Shawn's got us beat!"

"Got that right." Kayla laughs. I jump when I feel a hand on my lower back. Kayla laughs harder. I don't even have to turn around to know who the culprit is. "Hey, Abby!" Kayla greets.

"Hey there." Abby replies, looking at me with a mischievous grin. "I'd love to stay and talk but the rest of our group is here. We gotta head out." I reach up to fix a loose strand of Abby's hair that's fallen in front of her face. She's a couple inches taller than me so I stand on my toes to make to easier.

"Be safe out there, you two!" Kayla calls as I follow Abby toward the group.

"Will do!" Abby turns around to wave back. The two of us join the rest of the group, piling into the back of a military truck and heading out to the first checkpoint where we'll all split into pairs and take separate routes.

Ten minutes later, we get to the first checkpoint, an old bar. I hop out of the truck, Abby following close behind. We get inside, everyone double checking their gear and partnering up.

"Okay." I sigh, everyone looking to me for instructions. I'm not exactly sure why, but Abby says I'm a natural born leader and that they trust my judgement. I had taken on the role as unofficial team leader without even realizing till she had pointed it out to me a few weeks ago. "Our team's covering the north routes today. The northeast route's been a little more active lately so I want four people to take that one just in case things get hairy. Any volunteers?"

"Mike and I can do it." A woman with brown hair says.

I nod. "Alright. Who's going with Mike and Bonnie?"

"We are." A man in the back says, gesturing to him and his partner.

"Okay, Mike, Bonnie, Chris, and Eric on northeast. Hayley, I want you and Moira to take north, okay?" Moira nods and Hayley holds a thumbs up. "Abby and I will take northwest. Be safe out there, guys. Be smart." With that, we all head off on our routes. Abby follows me, making sure to keep an eye on the treeline. The woods around us are full of life. Birds, deer, squirrels, insects... they all create a beautiful melody; the song of nature.

"Y'know..." Abby starts, pulling me out of my thoughts. "It's pretty hot watching you boss people around."

I scoff, kicking the dirt on the path as I walk. "I don't boss anyone around!"

Abby walks beside me, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "You so do!"

"Shut up!" I shove her playfully. She laughs, lightly shoving me back.

"You love me." She hums, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles lightly.

"I do." I hum back. We walk for a bit longer before we reach the first lookout, a gas station attached to a mechanic's garage. We sit and talk for a few minutes, writing in the sign in notebook that there were no signs of infected. After dawdling long enough, the two of us make our way to the second lookout. Ten minutes into our journey, I spot something moving in the trees.

"To our right." I whisper, both Abby and I ducking behind a bush and aiming our guns toward the movement. Just as I'm about to move up closer to try and get an angle, I hear maniacal screaming. I spin around to see a runner charging at me. I have no time to react as I'm shoved violently to the ground with the runner pinning me down, using all of my strength to keep the runner from biting me.

"Y/N!!" Abby screams. Before she can shoot the runner, a second one comes out from the trees. Abby quickly shoots that one before rushing back to my side and ripping the runner off of me. "You motherfucker!" She growls, slamming the runner to the ground and crushing his skull with her boot, the blood splattering on her and me. I lay there frozen, feeling like the wind got knocked out of me. "Shit!" Abby whisper yells. She kneels down beside me as I gasp for air. "Are you okay? Did it bite you?" She's panicking, frantically searching for any sign of injury. I grab her forearms, keeping her from moving them.

"I'm okay, Abby." I assure her when I catch my breath. "I'm okay." Abby grabs my shoulders, helping me sit up.

"Oh shit, your head is bleeding." Abby says, seeing the blood drip down the back of my neck. I feel the warm, sticky crimson flow down the back of my shirt. "We gotta get you back."

"The baby." I whisper, feeling lightheaded as Abby hands me her bag and gets in front of me, helping me onto her back. "We gotta check on the baby."

"We will, sweet girl." Abby says, walking as fast as she can while I cling to her like a little backpack. "Just hang on." I rest my head on her shoulder, closing my eyes as she carries me all the way back to the checkpoint. From there, she uses the radio to call an emergency pickup. She leaves a note for the rest of the team before helping me into the car and telling the driver to get us back as fast as possible. The car ride is a blur. I lean against Abby while she presses her jacket against the back of my head to keep me from bleeding out. I keep my hand on my stomach the whole time. Finally, we get to the infirmary. A nurse cleans me up and stitches the back of my head, giving me water and crackers to help with the dizziness. When I tell her I'm pregnant, she immediately understands my concern and checks the baby's vitals and preps me for an ultrasound.

"Ultrasound?" I ask as the nurse moves the hem of my shirt up to the edge of my bra, exposing my tiny bump. I've never heard anything like that before.

Abby takes my left hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. "It's kinda like a camera." She explains. "It's so they can see the baby. I read about it in a book." As I'm looking at her, I feel something cold and sticky being rubbed lightly on my stomach. I flinch, looking back at the nurse who is applying a clear jelly-like liquid to my stomach. Abby immediately senses my panic, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple. The bed creaks beneath her as she moves. "It's okay." She mumbles against my temple. "It's just to help the camera." I take a deep breath, sighing as I nod, letting Abby know I'm okay. I peck her lips lightly before she sits back up.

"You two make a cute couple." The nurse says, reaching for what I assume is the camera. Abby thanks her as I laugh a little. "You ready to see your baby?" I nod eagerly, Abby doing the same. The nurse presses the camera against my stomach lightly, moving it around as what looks like static appears on the camera. "There." She says finally, holding the camera in one spot. "See that little blob that's kinda shaped like a bean? That's your baby." I gasp, suddenly feeling tears running down my cheeks.

"Abby." I whisper, staring at the little being on the monitor. "Are you seeing this?" I hear Abby sniffle, looking up to see her crying, too.

"That's our baby, honey." She sniffs. I take her other hand in mine, squeezing both of them. "That's our tiny human in there." She's just as amazed as I am.

"It's perfect." I say, laughing a bit at our reactions. The nurse simply gives a proud smile.

"The baby's perfectly healthy, no sign of injuries." The nurse says. Abby and I feel immediate relief. "If you want, I can print out a picture of it for you. This old equipment still works pretty well.

"Absolutely!" Abby says, barely waiting for the nurse to finish her sentence. The nurse cleans off the gel, prints out a photo of our baby, and hands it to me before Abby and I head out to go home. The entire walk home is spent gushing over the photo, feeling like a warm, beautiful light is shining down upon us. When the two of us get home, Abby closes the door before grabbing my face and kissing me hard. My hands instinctively move to her cheeks, my eyes closing as I feel Abby's lips on mine, curving into a smile. She pulls away, leaving me breathless. "You are incredible." She says, only loud enough for me to hear. She strokes my cheeks with the pads of her thumbs. "I love you... so fucking much."

"I love you too." I whisper, pressing my forehead against hers. She kisses me again, this time gently, as if I might break if she kisses too hard. She pulls away after a few seconds, taking my hand and guiding me into the living room. I sit beside her on the couch, my legs resting across her lap and my body leaning into hers. We sit there in peaceful silence, Abby and I staring at the photo of our baby while she rubs gentle circles on my stomach with her warm hand. Just as I'm about to fall asleep, the front door opens.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Phobia (one-shot)

Pairing: OC (female character) x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: suggestions of smut, violence, language, mentions of blood and gore

Genre: Mafia AU; Marriage AU

Word Count: 4K

Summary: He found her when she was nothing - disgraced by her family and cast aside as an outsider. Yet, Chan made her feel wanted for the first time in her life, in more ways than one, which leads to countless nights of passionate love...until their worst fears come to fruition. 

A/N: Chan, you will always be a perfect husband to me. Thank you for coming to my short Ted Talk.

This time when he came home, he was covered in blood...

I almost broke down in the foyer at the sight of him, but Chan was quick to reassure me, shaking me by the shoulders as he patiently explained that it wasn’t his blood - there was a shooting at their exchange, but neither Chan nor his men had been injured. Of course, it doesn’t stop me from leading him upstairs, drawing a warm bath in our shared en-suite while fussing over the state of Chan’s suit, or what was left of it. His pale skin was apparent behind the black fabric of his dress pants, and there were long tears in his shirt. 

Needless to say, I threw all of those blood-stained clothes away before urging him into the bathtub, carefully kneeling down onto my knees as I started dragging a soft cloth over his skin. Chan moaned in delight, throwing back his head against the shower tiles while he allowed me to fuss over him - to reassure myself that he was okay, and that the horrific image of my husband standing in front of me drenched in blood was nothing more than a terrible memory.

I softly ran my fingers through his blond-hair, working through the tangles while being mindful of his eyes, using my hand to move his head back when I used a pitcher to wash the shampoo out of his delicate curls. “Hey,” Chan said, voice hoarse from overuse as he watched me drag his hand out of the bath water, working on the dirt and grim under his fingernails. 

I paused when I fingered across his wedding band. “Don’t come home like that ever again.”

I could feel Chan looking at me, and there was a lot of regret in his eyes, but I didn’t feel any remorse over my sharp tone. “I’m sorry, babygirl,” he said. “They were shooting at Felix and I-”

“You don’t have to justify your work to me,” I interrupted him. “I know the risks, but I never want to see something like that when I’ve been waiting for you.”

Chan nodded, and I shifted back when he sat up in the bathtub, allowing sensual rivulets of water to climb down the toned expanse of his chest and stomach. Meanwhile, I used the towel holder to help myself stand up, grabbing a spare towel for Chan, and trying to ignore how red the water remained after my husband had climbed out to wrap the towel around his waist.

Afterward, I allowed Chan some privacy in the bathroom while I returned to our bedroom, crawling into bed while remaining mindful of my stomach - the evidence of life bloating the skin. I took a deep breath, smoothing my hands along the exposed flesh, and I knew that it was bad to feel any kind of stress while I was pregnant. Unfortunately, my husband’s chosen line of work never made things easier.

Eventually, Chan joined me on the bed, leaving the towel hanging loosely from his hips while he shot me a concerned glance. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, and his eyes immediately dropped.

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” I said, and I looked over at him as Chan slid one hand around my waist, holding me and our unborn child protectively.

“You’re right about everything, baby girl,” he said. “I’ll never scare you like that again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warned him, but Chan shook his head sternly, keeping me close before landing a soft kiss to the edge of my lips.

“I have a lot to clean-up tomorrow,” he said. “Work might take awhile.”

I sighed in return, looking up at the ceiling. “Wake me up before you go.”

Past

When Chan and I first met, his ledger wasn’t nearly as red. He actually served my family, taking on small cases with his friends, Jisung and Changbin, in service to my father. However, he had started to garner a reputation for being a quick hand and a good shot when it came to using guns, and Jisung and Changbin provided the perfect support for their little unit.

My father considered Chan to be one of his favorite apprentices, and he even approved of my early relationship with Chan. Despite my tendency to rebel against my father’s chosen favorites, I couldn’t resist Chan’s dark persona and contagious personality. He could probably talk the wealthiest man into giving away half of his fortune once he listened to Chan’s cunning words. 

On our first date, he showed me how to count cards in the Casino that my father owned, and after only three weeks of dating, he fucked me so hard in the backseat of his car that I saw stars after almost passing out from the pleasure.

We technically met in my father’s office because I had stormed in on one of their meetings unannounced, ready to confront my father because he had forced my youngest brother, Jeongin, to attend some lousy military school. Jeongin had cried for the entirety of the days leading up to his unwanted departure, and I had stood outside on the porch fuming as he was taken away from me.

But my father was really good at screwing over the members of his family, and I had finally had enough of his intervention. However, I also remembered hesitating when I saw Chan standing next to my father’s desk, freshly dyed hair glowing under the Chandelier. “Oh, it’s you,” my father grumbled. “What the hell do you want?”

“Nothing,” I said in return, maintaining eye-contact with Chan as I retreated from the office. 

Later that day, I asked my mother about Chan, and she told me that she didn’t know much about him, other than the fact that his parents had been killed in a raid - probably from my father’s doing - and he was serving our family. “Your father seems to like him,” my mother said, and it was only one of the very few times in her life that she had told the truth. 

Thereafter, I developed an unfavorable opinion of Chan since my father liked him, but it didn’t take Chan very long to change my mind and prove me wrong. He wasn’t blindly loyal to the man who destroyed his family - he was cold and methodical, and he told me how he planned to eventually break away from my father and form his own business with Jisung and Changbin. He spoke so passionately that it was hard not to fall in love with the burning look in his dark eyes. 

From then on, we became close to one another, sharing our deepest fears and desires, and we weren’t afraid to demonstrate our affection for one another. I was actually happy for once, which meant that something had to go wrong in my life. And it turned out that one of my father’s business partners was threatening our family because we owed them a lot of money, and my father planned to pay his debt by doing something rather despicable: selling me into their service.

It was humiliating, and I knew exactly what I would become working for a family that was notorious for its influence in the adult entertainment industry. I was enraged that my family would sentence me to that kind of life, but I wasn’t nearly as upset as Chan. We had been together for six months, and Chan had already started to include me in his future plans...the exchange was unacceptable.

So, on the night when my family planned to sell me to their rivals, Chan and I drove away in one of the cars that we stole from my father, bringing along Jisung and Changbin who fired off rounds of bullets from the windows as we escaped into the solitude of the night. Consequently, my family disowned me, snatching my last name and removing me from the family tree. But it never concerned me, especially when Chan offered me his last name instead, vowing his loyalty by exchanging intimate vows and marrying me on a warm, spring afternoon. When he fucked me that same night, he whispered sweet little nothings that contradicted the filthy way that his hips moved against mine, driving his cock deep inside.

After that, the two of us were inseparable - a dynamic duo that was ready to take the underground mafia world by storm...

Present

Before the sun had completely risen, Chan was stumbling out of bed with exhaustion written across his wearied countenance. I watched him move around the room, admiring the hard planes of his back as he dressed himself in the usual combination of black dress pants and a white button-up shirt. Chan claimed that it was important to look his best when it involved meeting with our rivals.

I closed my eyes when he neared my bedside, and I could feel him leaning down to press soft kisses to my forehead, fingers trailing across my stomach before he was leaving our bedroom with a heavy sigh. I swallowed hard against a sudden wave of emotions, remembering his appearance from the previous night, and the same restless anxiety managed to bleed its way around my heart.

Graciously, I managed to eventually fall back asleep, but it was only for a few hours because I was brought back to reality by the sound of the fire alarm blaring throughout the house. I groaned in complaint, throwing off the sheets before grabbing my dress robes and trudging downstairs. 

As I grew closer to the commotion, I could hear two men loudly arguing from one of the adjoining rooms, attempting to be heard over the sound of the annoying alarm. When I walked into the kitchen, I wrinkled my nose at the burning smell from the stove, waving my hand to clear the smoke. And standing at the center of the drama was Chan’s younger brother, Felix, as he engaged in a heated argument with my brother, Jeongin. “It’s your fault!” I heard Felix say. “You can’t cook bacon like that!”

“I told you to watch the pan!” Jeongin retaliated, and I rolled my eyes at their immature behavior.

“Hey!” I yelled, forcing both of them to pause. “Can you seriously not do this right now?”

Felix was the first to notice me, pointing an accusing finger at Jeongin. “Hey, he started it!”

I closed my eyes. “How old are you again?”

It was a surprise to me that they had both managed to live with us this long without engaging in more than just verbal altercations. After Chan and I rescued Jeongin from his cruel military academy, my husband invited him to join the organization. At first, I was hesitant of the decision, but Chan never invited Jeongin out on missions with them. Instead, he and Felix did most of the reconnaissance work from behind the scenes, and Jeongin was remarkably good with computers. Maybe he wasn’t on par with Felix’s hacking skills, but my younger brother continued to expand his skill set because she was determined to be the best.

Unfortunately, working in close proximity to one another on a regular basis inevitably led to numerous arguments. They were both strong-willed and stubborn, and neither Jeongin nor Felix was capable of flexibility, especially when it meant admitting that they were wrong. So, they often argued over trivial things, and I was usually left around to mend their bruised egos.

But a cooking dispute? At this hour? I shook my head because I didn’t have the patience to deal with them. “Leave the pan and go upstairs. I’ll take care of everything.”

Felix and Jeongin shot each other nasty glares as they obeyed, and I waited until they were gone before opening the windows in the kitchen and resetting the fire alarm. Finally, I turned my attention to the mess on the stove, cleaning with an exaggerated sigh. It was moments like this that made me long for the days when I used to accompany Chan on some of his missions...

Past

Chan only ever brought me along with him when he felt that a situation was incapable of turning violent, and he liked having me around to distract lesser men as he talked them into agreeing with anything that he said. I, of course, liked being helpful to my husband, and I always played my part well. For example, dressing in low-cut affairs that tended to produce insatiable responses from my husband who loved to drag me into his lap.

It made me feel powerful, arching my back as Chan ran one of his hands down my waist. “Look at your tits,” Chan said, stroking his fingers across the swell of my breasts. “Gorgeous.”

I beamed at his compliment, allowing him to handle as he liked while Chan turned to finally address the impatient man sitting across from us. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been waiting all night,” the man said with a challenging stare.

“My apologies,” Chan smirked. “I’ve been rather busy.”

“I can see that,” the man said, but his smirk suggested that he wasn’t entirely understanding of Chan’s delayed commitment. Apparently, Chan was trying to sign some kind of arms deal with him, and my husband was very greedy when it came to our money. 

“I have my price listed,” Chan said, shoving the contract at the other man. “You can sign at the bottom.”

“Isn’t this a bit cheap?” the man asked. “The cost of labor alone is barely covered by your...generous offering.”

“It’s my final compromise,” Chan said, feigning boredom as he tugged at the neckline of my dress. “What do you say?”

“How about one night with your whore?” the man asked, leaning in across the table to reveal two rows of slimy teeth.

Immediately, I could feel the way that Chan tensed from underneath me, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the man. “I hope you’re not referring to my wife.”

The man chuckled. “What difference does it make?”

Chan was quiet for a moment, and I saw a myriad of emotions reflected in his narrowed eyes. “Baby girl,” he eventually said while looking at me. “Why don’t you go get us some drinks?”

I nodded my head, scrambling to find my footing as I left the comfort of Chan’s lap to retrace my steps to the bar at the opposite end of the club. The bartender recognized me, sliding two beers in my direction with a smile before sending me on my way.

However, I suddenly paused when I started to approach our table, realizing that Chan had wanted to keep me away for a valid reason. He had also drawn a crowd of onlookers who watched as my husband smashed our target’s face into a pile of broken glass on the table. There was already so much blood, and Chan’s eyes were wild with his rage. He was also flanked by Jisung and Changbin whose fingers wrapped around the handles of their weapons. “You learned a lesson tonight, didn’t you?” Chan growled, grabbing the man by his collar to toss him into the floor. I winced when Chan’s heeled boot pressed down against the man’s throat, and his hands immediately wrapped themselves around my husband’s leg as he choked. 

There was every reason to feel horrified, watching my husband handle a man with so much violence while surrounded by blood and gore. But I didn’t feel scared. Instead, I smiled as I stood aside with our drinks, watching the action unfold with greedy eyes.

Present

It was late, and I could feel myself growing anxious. I passed the time by pacing the floor, resisting the urge to run into the other room and demand an update from Jeongin and Felix. They were playing a pivotal role in tonight’s mission, and they didn’t need my distraction.

But I could tell that something was wrong. The clock was ticking away loudly in the background, and every instinct was screaming at me to call my husband and demand his whereabouts. “Come on,” I muttered, hugging my arms around my stomach as I was prone to do these days.

Sleep wasn’t an option. Becaus my mind was a chaotic mess of restless thoughts and horrible scenarios flashing across my eyes. What if something bad happened to Chan?

I couldn’t stand it anymore. He had always promised me that he would come home, but it felt shallow on nights like this. Because life never promised any guarantees, especially when you put yourself in harms way on a regular basis.

I was approaching my wits end when Jeongin burst into my room with wide eyes. “What is it?” I snapped at him, allowing my frustration to boil over like a steaming kettle.

“We have to go to the hospital,” Jeongin said, and he somehow managed to catch me before I collapsed in the floor.

Past

But I suddenly couldn’t breathe, looking down at the seemingly mundane object in my hand. It was forecasting a fate that neither Chan nor myself had planned for our future. Something that could be dangerous in our world, and I already feared for my unborn child’s life.

However, it wasn’t something that I could hide - a secret to hold onto because it wouldn’t bear any consequences. This changed everything, and I had no idea how to tell Chan when I saw him later that evening. We had plans to have dinner together, and he looked divine as always, dressed impeccably with his hair slicked back, and perhaps to anyone else he would appear perfectly put together. But I knew better than most.

“How was work?” I asked, staring down at my dinner plate because I had lost my appetite.

“It was fine,” Chan said, shoveling another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth like it was his last meal on Earth. “What did you do while I was gone?”

“Not much,” I said, hesitating as I looked down at the pregnancy test in my lap. “Felix kept me entertained.”

“As long as he’s staying out of trouble,” Chan said, reclining back in his chair as he looked at me from over the table. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” I said, and my tone was quiet and uncertain, but Chan must’ve had a billion other thoughts on his mind because he didn’t comment on my mood.

“I’m not busy tomorrow,” Chan said. “We can do whatever you want.”

It made my heart swell with affection to hear him say that since I knew that he was either lying or exaggerating. Because Chan never had any free time. “Channie,” I started, “I have something to tell you.”

Chan adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his forearms. “What is it?”

I bit my tongue, wrapping my fingers around the pregnancy test as I carefully brought it onto the table. There were so many ways that I could tell him, but nothing seemed to sound correct inside my head, and I was fumbling with an explanation. However, when I met Chan’s sweet smile and kind eyes, I managed to latch onto an inkling of confidence, finding my voice the longer we continued to look at one another. “I’m pregnant,” I whispered to Chan, watching him carefully as he listened.

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and I would’ve never noticed if I wasn’t paying such close attention. But then he noticed the test I had brought resting on top of the table. “It was positive,” he said, almost like an observation.

“Yeah,” I said with a nod, waiting with bated breath as he folded his arms across his chest - and it was a vulnerable position.

Eventually, Chan stood up from the table, and I shivered when I thought that he might leave the room, but he instead came to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “We’ll make it work, baby girl,” he said, holding me like I was something fragile that he needed to protect. There were tears in my eyes before I could hold them back, and Chan was kneeling on the floor and looking at me with so much love. “I’m gonna give you the world,” he promised, and it was a solemn declaration, sealed with a kiss to my shirt-covered stomach.

Present

Time was a social construct, and we can feel its effects most profoundly in the moments when it feels like it might run out before we can do anything to stop the inevitable. In desperation, we struggle to breach the surface of the water and take a much-needed deep breath - but there’s only so much that we can do for the things beyond our control. Yet, we still try to remedy them, and I found myself pacing anxiously outside of his hospital room, ignoring the suggestions from his other members to relax and sit down. Because my mind was incapable of settling down, and I could only chant the words, he can’t die, as they repeated over and over again inside my head, remembering how the doctor looked at me when I confronted him.

“We’ll do the best we can,” the doctor had told me, but it wasn’t good enough.

I was on the edge of total self-destruction, and maybe it was the first time that I finally realized just how affected I would be without Chan. Because the world would be so cold without him next to my side, and I couldn’t bear the thought of facing that oblivion of darkness.

He had to keep living for me...

“Mrs. Bang,” a nurse said, pulling my attention to the smiling woman approaching me. “You can see him now.”

I sniffled and nodded, following the nurse as she led me to Chan’s room, feeling my heart grow lighter with every step in the right direction. Until I was confronted with Chan’s familiar presence, watching me from his hospital bed, and I was on cloud nine as I rushed to him. Wrapping my arms around him as I cried softly into his shoulder. “Channie,” I whimpered, pulling back to press my lips against his for the necessary reassurance of his touch.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Everything’s fine.”

I shook my head because the fear was still there - lingering at the edges of my subconscious, acting as a reminder of the utter dread that I had experienced when Jeongin first told me that Chan was somewhere I never wanted to see him. “I thought you were gone,” I whispered, grabbing his hands to ground myself in this reality with Chan, surviving the impossible for another day. “This is my worst fear, Chan,” I continued. “That you won’t come home, and our kid will grow up without their father.”

Chan sighed, and I noticed that his eyes were swollen around the rims, and there were unshed tears waiting to fall. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“It can’t happen again,” I told him sternly, hoping I looked more fierce than I felt on the inside. Because Chan needed to be explicitly told these things in the only way that he would understand.

“I’ll always do my best for you,” he said, and I realized that his tone was thick with emotion and the unsaid words between us that we were both still too afraid to vocalize.

“I love you, Chan,” I said. “I know you like the work that you do, but I think it might be time to take on less responsibilities.”

“You’re right,” he said, looking up at me with a sad smile. “I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“I just need you,” I said, allowing him to pull me onto the bed next to him, and we both savored the silence humming throughout the room and the familiar presence of the person who we needed more than anything else in this cruel world. 

[morgana-ren]

Empty

Another small short for Shigaraki this time. I’m sure it had a point originally. Yandere Shigaraki and his captive darling and him being a real dick about proving that you’re better off at his side under his protection than you are on your own in the cruel, cruel world. After all, better the devil you know that the devil you don’t.

Warnings: Kidnapping, allusions to death, rotting corpses and rot (indiscernible animal), noncon, captivity, Shig being fuckin’ mean as usual, purple prose again, whump I guess? (In my sister’s words “It’s sad. Is it supposed to be this sad?”)

Rating: Definitely E on this one.

You can tell a lot about someone by their eyes. 

Eyes are how we see the world, but in equal capacity, it’s also how the world sees us. Someone’s eyes, unlike their mouths, don’t have the same capability to lie. They can be a tell-all when we’re reluctant or can express the things we don’t have the courage to say. The things you can learn can be overwhelming. Sometimes you see too much. Sometimes not enough.

And when you looked into his eyes, it was like there was nothing inside them. Nothing at all. 

His eyes were beautiful, even if you couldn’t see any of your own humanity mirrored back at you in your reflection. Stark red and violent, an open wound bleeding contempt for the waking world and everyone in it. 

It hurts you more than you care to admit to know that you’re included in the group he believes to be the scum beneath his ruby red shoes. 

Even as he watches you now through narrow lids with a casual sense of detachment, every bone in your body longs to see something in those eyes other than carefully concealed disgust. Something. Anything. Some shining light of pride or care or even just simple recognition that you aren’t just a parasite that clings to him for some sick sense of purpose, even if he is the one who has bound you here.

But you know that’s impossible. Even if he wanted to. Even if he had the capability. 

Truthfully, you’re not sure what it would be like if he did.

The closest you will ever get is that he allows you to ride his coattails alongside the dirt and mud, slowly shrinking in the darkness of his shadow as you follow behind him and stare resentfully as he eclipses the sun and all the light it brings. It’s impossible to bloom without nurture and care but somehow, like a weed, you’ve found a way to stay alive in an environment that wholly starves you and deprives you of love and affection. He makes you whole. He makes you real. 

He makes you sick. 

Worms and maggots crawl across a dead something or other, blood matted fur giving next to no indication of what the small mammal might have been when it was living. Small pieces of bone are visible through the rotting muscle tissue, mangled limbs sitting limply beside the body. It’s a tableau of death he wants you to witness; decay that makes your still living flesh crawl. 

“That’s what happens,” he states matter of factly, pale, thin finger pointing at the carcass as the other squeezes the side of your waist tight enough to make you seize. “When you die. You rot in the ground and no one will remember or care.” 

The sick crawls up your stomach, bile resting uneasily at the low of your throat. You don’t want to look anymore, but you know if you try to look away, he’ll make you look again. There’s still tender bruises on your skin from the last time you tried to defy him, and you know what happens if you make him angry. Your tears mean nothing to him and you swear you see the ghost of a smile twitch on his lips as he watches your eyes well up.

He’s not giving you a simple organic chemistry lesson, of that you’re completely certain. He wants you to know the power he holds, wants you to understand that if he so chose, he could easily expedite the process of your own fragile form’s decay.

He didn't used to be like this. He used to be Tenko. Used to have a soul. 

But he sold that soul the day his daddy took a step too far and then overtook the devils throne and used the contract to wipe his hands clean of the blood. Tenko doesn’t exist. He’s made sure you understand that. Any mention of the boy he used to be is enough to get his fingers twitching and ready on your throat. 

He watches as you cry with an expression that’s equal parts elated and aroused, not bothering to conceal it from you any further. Desperately, you shove down your sorrow and keep your back straight against him; your pain is an aphrodisiac for him. Wipe the tears from your eyes and cast them bitterly to the floor. Swallow the hiccups and sobs that bubble in your gut and keep a trembling straight face despite your every instinct longing to curl at his feet and hide your face in the dirt.

It’s far too late. 

Anytime you concede to the power he wields, it re-energizes him, and you’re his favorite little power source. He’s learned to tune you like a fiddle until you play whatever song he desires and he’ll dance with you until your feet bleed and your body crumples. He’ll step on the arch of your back and use you as a pedestal to reach the greatness he knows he’s destined for and punish you if you falter under his weight. 

It’s a mock symbiosis you live in, neither wholly at peace but each one needing the other. You’ve tried to leave, tried to run. He finds you, dragging you back to him kicking and screaming and clawing at the ground. With a gnarled hand twisted through your hair, he tells you how pretty you are, puckers your ruddy cheeks with his nails and kisses you deeply as the tears stream down your face. 

‘Don’t kid yourself. You couldn’t survive without me, idiot. Where would you go? Who would take you after I have?’

You hate it, you despise him, but he’s right. Who could ever accept you after you’ve allowed him to have you time and time again? Where in the darkness could you hide that he wouldn’t find you? Even if you did find someone who would care for you after your body had been tainted by his touch, Tomura wouldn’t stand for it. He’d find you as he had time and time again, seek out the source of your light and snuff it out. 

“Don’t you care about me?” He’d say, leading you away with hands still stained red. “Don’t you want me to be happy?” 

And when you start to cry again, he’d simply wipe them away with a filthy thumb, smearing the grime across your cheek. 

“Don’t worry. I forgive you. But don’t do it again.”

Long have you given up your silly dreams of freedom, but still he likes to drive the nail further, either out of necessity or malevolence. So he drags you far from home into places you could never find on your own to show you the pitfalls of life without him. Cold and shaking, you’ll follow wherever he leads you because when he asks you nicely to come, there is no other choice. He’ll take you on a personally guided tour of the horrors of the world, horrors he orchestrates just for you and watch gleefully as your vision tunnels and your view of life becomes even darker and more damning until it’s as cynical and deprived as his own and you cling to him for safety.

Only when your eyes clouded and your outlook bleak will he pull you into the dirt, touching you in places that contrast starkly against the misery you feel and coaxing a bliss from you that makes you bend to him all over again. He’ll kiss you softly as he pushes your face harder against the floor, letting the leaves and the muck tangle in your hair, forcing you to face the maggot ridden corpse not far from your entwined bodies. In this moment, he offers you only two choices: Pleasure or pain? Him or death. 

Sometimes you wonder how long it will take before you finally shove him off and opt to let him touch you for the last time, placing five fingers down instead of four and watching as you rejoin the Earth as newly formed ash. And that’s if he decides to be merciful. You doubt he’d give up his favorite plaything so easily.

But apparently you haven’t reached your breaking point yet, because you let his fingers wander lower, arching into his touch and keening against his bony shoulder as it digs into your own. Quickly enough, your clothing is cast aside and he marvels in your flesh like it’s the first time all over again. He leaves you bared before him, vulnerable and quaking beneath his cage of limbs. Brand new bruising patterns over the old in a myriad of colors as his hands grip just a little too tightly for comfort wherever he can reach. He holds you callously down, as if you could run even if given the option, and soon his pants are pulled down just enough over his hips to allow him to violate you the way pleases him most. 

He pushes inside of you, stealing your bodily warmth for his own. It’s the closest he comes to removing the mask that is his personality now. His mouth slacks and his eyes close and you can forget, if only for a moment, that the man who has chosen you is incapable of loving you, and equally incapable of letting you go. When you can no longer see your reflection in his apathetic eyes, it’s easier to stomach that you’ll be stuck in the suffocating purgatory of his desire until you perish. 

It becomes easier to play pretend that he actually cares. 

He goes through the motions and hits all your sweet spots, but you know this isn’t for you. It’s for him. He prides himself on being able to feel whatever it is he wants you to feel, and even though you know damn well he’s manipulating you, it’s almost impossible not to take the tenderness when he offers it. Though you are fully aware he is conditioning you to favor him and his cruelty over the world and its cruelty, you are beginning to relent. You can only struggle against the tide for so long before you have to acknowledge that you will never make it back to shore. 

So you’ll allow his kisses, sometimes even returning them when you lose yourself enough in the moment. You won’t hold back the noises he wants you to make because the ones he will coerce from you if you do will be less kind. You’ll lock your ankles around his waist and follow his rhythm because he will get what he wants, one way or another. 

No matter how uncomfortable, no matter how filthy, you’ll allow him your body because it’s easier when he asks rather than when he takes. It’s better to try and fool yourself into believing that his are the gentle hands of a lover rather than a captor. You’ll revel in the one simple time you are allowed to mark him, and that’s when your nails dig into his skin, pulling him closer. You’ll croon into him and say his name in a manner that’s genuine, because in the moment, it is. 

You’d give anything for him to love you. Not to own you, but to love you. Maybe then, just maybe, you could find contentment in your place in his world.

There may come a day when he no longer wants you. There may come a day when the indifference in his eyes might seem a gift in comparison to boredom or irritation. On that day, you might find yourself wishing that you had been a little more convincing in your act, or perhaps that you had been a little less difficult. Maybe if you had scooted closer instead of running away, he wouldn’t have tired of you. 

Or arguably worse, perhaps he’ll never tire of you at all. Perhaps he’ll keep you caged until your wings have lost the ability to fly entirely and even when offered the chance, you’ll cower at his side. Perhaps he already has. 

Chances are that you’ll never know, because when he’s finished and your thighs are slick from his completion, he’ll lead you back home and you’ll follow despite there being no tangible leash that pulls you along. You’ll lie in his bed and eat his food and find false comfort in his arms even as your mind screams to the wind for freedom and you pray for some deus ex machina to set you free. 

But even as he sleeps soundly and those empty red eyes aren’t focused on you, you can hear his voice in your head. 

‘What would you do without me? Where would you go? Who else could love you?’

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s better to accept your fate with a sense of dignity than to fight against him and drown. 

Maybe this is where you’re meant to be.

[kd-holloman]

Good evening, everyone! I bring you mur. MURDER. That’s right, have a very R-rated short story for you all. I’ve never written anything quite like this before, but I’ve been listening to a lot of true crime podcasts and in the spirit of spooky-season I wanted to write something about the scariest creatures of all: humans. I will tag everyone that seemed interested in my original post about it at the end, but PLEASE read the warnings before you decide to read further. 

Content Warning(s): Language, Violence, Blood, and graphic depictions of murder. 

Stupid fucking April. 

The day I married her, I’d  promised to love her through richer and poorer, sickness and health. I vowed  to provide for her, to keep a roof over her head, and food in her belly. And how did she repay me? By not ironing my fucking pants. 

Her life wasn’t that hard. She had to take care of the house and make sure the kids didn’t kill themselves. 

And she couldn’t even be bothered to iron my fucking slacks.

“Where are we going?” Jaime, or Jenny, or Jessica asked. She reeked of stale cigarettes and dollar store vanilla body spray. “We’re, like, out of town. I thought you said we were going to get fucked up.” 

I clenched my fingers around the steering wheel so hard they ached. Jenna didn’t need more meth. She needed to stop asking questions. “Do you want this shit or not?” 

“Well, yeah.” 

“Then, shut the hell up and stop asking questions.” 

She scoffed and sat up a little straighter in her seat. Her bony arms held over her front to ward her off from the chill of the air conditioner. She watched as we passed below a giant sycamore, a gangly branch draped with Spanish moss stretched over the rutted goat-path that led to the cabin. “It’s kind of creepy out here. You’re not going to murder me out here, right?” 

I smiled in spite of myself. “Yeah, it’s pretty creepy.” 

I pulled the truck up in front of the leaning cabin. It had been in my family for generations. My grandfather had brought my father here when he was a boy. My dad used to tell me stories about how he and his old man would spend weekends during the summer catching catfish in the swamp and hunting squirrels that jumped from the boughs of the red maple trees. 

By the time I was old enough to go to camp, the cabin’s roof had caved in and my dad hadn’t had the money to fix it. The inclimate weather had rotted the floorboards, and a family of raccoons had made themselves at home in the walls. 

As nice as it would be to restore the shack to its former glory, I didn’t go to camp for the cabin, anyway. All of my business was done in the barn. 

“What the fuck. Do you live here?” Jasmine asked as she squinted through the darkness. 

I sighed. “Didn’t I tell you to shut the hell up?” 

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

I turned on my flashlight to see the overgrown path that led back to the crooked barn. Getting struck by a cottonmouth would put a damper on my evening plans. 

I pushed the barn door open, gestured for Jeanine to enter, and followed behind her. 

There was no electric in the rickety old barn, but the propane lanterns I had did the job just fine. I needed just enough light to see. I could feel the pulse of anticipation thrumming through my body. I had to fight to keep my hands steady as I hung the last lantern on its rusty nail. 

Jill stood in the middle of the barn, shivering in her stained tank top. “It’s cold.”

I couldn’t feel a chill in the air, but that didn’t mean much. I was starting to sweat beneath my thrift store threads. “I’ll light the woodstove.” 

I lit the woodstove and let Jenny try to warm herself by it in favor of inspecting my workbench. It was just as I’d left it about a year ago. All of my tools were in their assigned spots. I hovered my fingers above them: pliers, saw, bolt cutters. 

I picked up the hunting knife and ran my thumb along the blade. It had been dulled by use and time. The steel winked in the orange lamplight. It reminded me of the time my dad had given me my first pocket knife.

“Remember, son,” he said seriously as he held the folded pocket knife between his thumb and forefinger, “a dull knife is more dangerous than a sharp one.” 

At the time, I hadn’t cared. I had only wanted to take my knife and whittle sticks down to sharp points. Now that I was older, I understood what he meant. A sharp knife left clean cuts. It did less damage to the tissues around the blade. Wounds caused by sharp knives were easier to heal than dull ones.

“Do you have the stuff or what?” Jeannine asked. 

Again with the fucking questions. I held the knife down by my side. “Come here.”

She hesitated at the harshness of my tone. 

It was too late for sensibility. She should have thought about before she’d gotten into my truck. 

“Get your ass over here!”  

One step. 

April should have iron my fucking slacks. 

Two steps. 

If my slacks hadn’t been wrinkled Leslie Wilford wouldn’t have looked at me like that. Like I was a rat that had scurried from the gutter. 

Three. 

This dumb bitch, Julia, Josephine, Jane--what ever the fuck her name was--should have never gotten in my truck.

Four. 

And I couldn’t stand the stink of her cloying vanilla perfume. 

Fury had blood roaring in my ears. The hunting knife shook in my hand. When Juliet was close enough to reach, I grabbed her with my left arm to hold her steady and jammed the blade into her gut, below her sternum. It took a little more force than I anticipated. The first cut always took me by surprise. 

Her expression went from cautious to stunned. Her eyes widened, her bony fingers wrapped around my wrist. She tried to pry my hand free, but years of sacrificing her meals for drugs had left her weak. 

I pushed harder. The blade scraped against bone. 

A sound pulled its way from her lungs, in a nearly-sensual moan.

I yanked the knife free.

Blood bloomed on the front of her tank top, dark and spreading. It looked like one of those tests psychiatrist gave their crazy patients. What does this look like to you?

It looked like release.

I stabbed her again. 

Her body lurched with the force of the impact. She staggered back a step or two. 

 I yanked it free and thrust the knife back into her body. The handle was slick with blood, warm and wet against my palm. 

Her knees gave out and I let her fall to the floor. 

I knelt down over her, knees pinning her arms to the cool dirt below. 

She opened her mouth, a trickle of crimson ran from the corner, staining her pale skin like ink. She tried to speak, couldn’t, closed her mouth, and then opened it again. She looked like a fish that had just been yanked from the stream. “Please,” she gurgled, “stop.” It was such a feeble sound. So frail. So tragic. 

I reached up and pressed my thumb to her cheek. It left a bloody smear behind. I leaned down so I knew she could hear me when I murmured, “No.” 

As I felt her blood sticking to my hands, a primal force overcame me. It had tasted blood and wouldn’t be sated until the life had fully drained from her eyes. 

I stabbed her again, and again, and again. Blood splattered my face, hot and wet. I could taste the copper of it on my lips. 

Well after she took her last breath, I pulled the knife free for a final time and dropped my aching arms to my sides. While I caught my breath I took a few moments to bask in my adrenaline-laced euphoric high.

Humans were bound to this lifeless rock, doomed to work nine-to-five jobs they hated until their very essence ran dry. Killing was the only thing that made me feel alive.

                                                 ###

Dawn was just breaking by the time I pulled into my driveway, exhausted and sated. I got out of the truck, balancing a box of muffins and coffee while I tried to work up the energy to pretend like I hadn’t spent all night dismembering and spreading a corpse through the swamp.

“Good morning, Rob!” 

“Good morning, Luanne,” I greeted. 

“What are you out doing so early this morning?” She asked, her schnauzer sniffing around her plushy pink slippers. 

Luanne was a sweet lady, but I really fucking hated it when people asked me too many questions. “Oh, I just wanted to get April and the kiddos something special for breakfast.” I held up the box of muffins as if it explained everything. “Would you like a muffin?” 

“Aw, you’re so sweet.” She waved me a way with an arthritic hand, “I can’t. I don’t want to mess up my sugar too much. Have a nice day, Rob!”

“Take care.” I smiled until I watched her take her dog inside. Then, I went up the steps to my own front door. I mentally prepared myself to greet my family. I was going to have to be my best self for them and for the students at Van Buren Academy. 

After all, their vice principal needed to look his best. 

And I would. 

As long as April remembered to iron my fucking slacks. 

Tag List: @lordkingsmith, @howdy-writes, @lanawritesalittle, @pertinax--loculos, @kirsten-is-writing, @heytherelindsay, @lukawriting, @alicewestwater, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @baconkat02, @bottichelli

[drwcn]

Hi anon!! :) I’m so thrilled to get a btsf ask because my brain has been on discordance waves for the past week. It really has motivated me to write more for btsf. It’s turning into a such a complex plot that I’m feeling a little daunted. I’ve got a lot of stuff written, bits and pieces... just not....chapter two >___>

Wen Qing and Meng Yao do not necessarily work together. For the most part, they are two independent spies existing simultaneously, each with their own agenda. Below cut is a little snippet of Wen Qing. 

Warning: SPOILERS & graphic displays of violence. 

Wen Qing doesn’t burn. No Wen ever does. 

Still, she winces when the tea touches her tongue, a degree left of too hot, ruining the flavour. Hissing in more annoyance than pain, she flashes a cold side glare towards the underling who brought her the drink. The boy lowers his head immediately, curling into a deep, embarrassed bow. His name is Wen Tinglu, and he’s even younger than her A-Ning.

She frightens him. 

Wen Qing sets the ceramic cup down on the table with one hand, the dismissal in her gesture clear. It lands louder than necessary, eliciting a round of half-suppressed flinches from the Wen soldiers - disciples, a reminding voice whispers - waiting at her beck and call. 

She frightens all of them. 

Good. 

Wen Qing inspects her nails, drawing out the suspense she knows is eating up those around her. They’re painted a nice dark red, a Wen red, and long too, not too long to be inconvenient, but longer than she would’ve had them in the past. She has no use for short, sensible nails these days. Nails that short were meant to prevent injury when she bandaged patients, to not get caught on sutures when she stitched together wounds. 

These hands do heal anyone anymore.  

Across the room, her victim shivers on the rack. Winter rain in the south is a wretched ordeal. The poor thing is soaked through, dragged from the muddy ruins of their latest battlefield. 

Wen Qing approaches him silently, letting her fingers gently caress the row of instruments she has ordered to be prepared and laid out neatly in clean, wooden trays. They’re thoroughly washed and soaked in alcohol daily, and in the flickers of firelight illuminating this dingy little countryside hut, the metal shines and glistens. 

She sees the man’s gaze follow her movement, his eyes though drooping from exhaustion remained focused, unblinking. She sees him swallow and his body tremble. This time, she knows it’s not because of the rain. 

From the colour of his tattered robes, she realizes he’s one of Nie Mingjue’s men. From experience, she knows they’re hard to break. 

No matter, Wen Qing always gets what she wants in the end. 

She picks up a scalpel and puts it underneath his chin. The press of her hands is gentle as she lifts his face so he can meet her smile. “Tell me, brave soldier, what’s your name?” 

He spits in her face. A drop lands in her eye. 

“Demoness!”

Her disciples lurch forward to defend her, but Wen Qing waves them off with a nonchalant flick of her wrist. 

Dabbing her face with the edge of her sleeve, Wen Qing laughs. “You make your Nie-zongzhu proud, I must admit. I’m sure he won’t blame you for all that you’re about to tell me.”

“I will tell you nothing!”

Wen Qing flashes him her best and brightest smile. He is stunned momentarily, the full force of Wen Qing’s beauty giving him mental whiplashes. It must be disconcerting, she muses - fully aware of her appearance and its effect on the people around her - to see such a lovely smile on a such an abhorrent face, too beautiful surely to belong to a woman promising the most terrifying of ends. 

“We’ll see.” 

The scalpel cuts down the prisoner’s sternum before he could speak another word, one long stroke from nape to navel. The cut is shallow, just a thin red ribbon rippling in its trail. 

The man does not die, but he does scream. 

From the corner of her eyes, Wen Qing spots the boy who ruined her tea sway from where he stands, probably imagining himself in this poor sod’s place. To her satisfaction, he’s not the only one who appears mildly green around the gills. 

Wen Qing twists on her heels, swirling around almost dance-like. “Would anyone like to try?” She holds out the bloodied blade towards her disciples, waving it in a welcoming gesture at the myriad of other instruments available. 

No one takes her up on her offer. She doesn’t expect any of them to. Back in the early days when Wen Ruohan gave her free rein to form a team, she had chosen her men and women carefully. She picked the loyal, the humble, the competent, and even the brave, but she had searched into their eyes and made sure she could not detect any trace of blood-lust. Those, she argued, should be kept on the front line where the enemies are. The disciples at her side need to be efficient, obedient and nothing more. That, is paramount. 

“Useless!” Her expression darkens, and her friendly, teasing tone vanishes in a heartbeat. “Why does His Excellency even bother keeping you lot around? Get out.” 

Her Wen disciples do not need to be told twice. 

“You,” she stops Wen Tinglu. “Bring me another cup of tea when I’m done. Try not the ruin it this time.” 

“Yes, Wen-guniang.” The boy bows repeatedly, backing out of the room and nearly tripping on his feet in the process. 

Once she is left alone to do her work, she turns back to the Nie disciple. He has closed his eyes, trying, she imagine, to retreat somewhere deep in his mind where there is no pain. He will not have much luck with that. 

She steps up close to him, so close she can smell the sweet metallic tang of his blood. “It would be easier if you told me your name. I’ll keep you in mind, as I keep all of them in mind.” 

“Go fuck yourself, Wen Qing!” 

Wen Qing takes out a small vial from her robes. She let the darkness slip from her disguise just a fraction. “I’m sorry I have to do this, but this will help. You’ll be with your family soon I promise.” 

The prisoner’s brows furrow, and he struggles in vain as Wen Qing forces the liquid into his mouth and makes him swallow it. 

“What did you just give me,” he pants, retching at the vile taste of the potion. 

Wen Qing does not answer. She closes her hand over one of his and whispers against his ear.

“The Sunshot Campaign thanks you for your service. Now, don’t forget to scream.” 

And he does. 

Half a shichen later, when the screaming and begging quiets, Wen Tinglu returns with a fresh cup of pu’er. Wen Qing looks up from the meticulous washing of her hands as he enters, jittering and quivering, his presence announced by the cacophonous tune of the chinas clinking against each other in his tray. 

The boy meets her eyes, then steals glance over her shoulder to the flayed carcass left on the rack. He’s only just able to set the tea down on the table before doubling over and throwing up onto the dirt floor 

Maybe the pig’s intestine was too much...thinks Wen Qing, rubbing her arm where she has also made a cut into herself. 

Each clan has their own collection of forbidden practices, some more than others. Wen Mao’s rise to power was not entirely achieved by following the path of righteousness. One does not, after all, defeat an enemy like Xue Chonghai without a deeper understanding of the other side. This kind of cultivation is bordering on the occult, and it demands a heavy price.

Wen Qing is completely depleted; she hopes it does not show. Her spiritual core has never been cultivated to be strained in such a way. She can’t go on like this forever, she knows, but the war is far from over, and the path she has embarked on stretches endlessly ahead. 

“Burn him. I want a clean finish,” she says to Tinglu and takes a seat. She drinks her tea and closes her eyes. 

The boy does as he’s told, but he barely has enough gumption to grasp the torch and light the Nie disciple’s body aflame. It is no wonder then that he does not notice the protection talisman carved into the prisoner’s back. 

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

You and Me and You- Winchesters x OC Milania

Series Note: Before I dive into this story, I want to make something very clear. In NO WAY will this have ANY aspect of inappropriate content. No smut, no incest, just a very clean story. I imagine this as the concept of Twilight, just with the Winchesters; no vampires and werewolves unless they’ll be killed. There were two boys who loved one girl and that’s all this will be, the boys just happen to be brothers. Will there be kissing? Of course, but that’s as far as I write. I will also try to be as accurate to the series as possible but if something doesn’t sound true to the show, it’s probably my own take on it and the characters. I still hope this will attract plenty of readers and I hope everyone enjoys! -Monique

Second note: John Winchester, Jody Mills and Bobby Singer all work together on cases in the early chapters. Warnings will be added to each chapter.

Summary: Milania was left abandoned as a child, taken in by Bobby Singer. Being raised in the life of hunting monsters, it was a rough upbringing but she wouldn’t have changed a thing. When the Winchesters became involved, it was a whole different ball game, one that no one knew how to play.

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, child abandonment, injuries to a child, Bobby being a good Dad.

Word Count: 2,147

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter One- 1984

Bobby’s POV

I was out on a hunt in Washington State, trying to track what was causing a string of murders of daycare children. Storybrooke Daycare Center, founded in 1921, was the source of missing children that later turned up dead. Investigating this location, I unraveled a web of secrets that no one in the town knew about. In the thirties, one of the daycare workers had been a pedophile and not caught until seen in the act on the property, and was he fired and sent to jail. However, once released a year later, he came back and killed several of the children. Fast forward to today, and the reason for these killings was linked to the ghost of the worker. I and my pal Rufus had ganked that son of a bitch, causing the center to be closed down indefinitely. As police arrived on the scene, social workers worked with the remaining employees of the center, to wait or parents of the children. Slowly, every child was taken home and offered guidance from the social workers. When everyone was accounted for and I was no longer being interrogated, I start packing all my belongings. I head out to my car to load back up for the next case when the faint sound of crying filled my ears.

“What the?” I say aloud, following the sound coming from a small child. As I grew closer, I see a little girl, no older than three, sitting on the wet rocks in the playground area. Her clothes were stained and ripped, her hair a matted mess.

“Hey there, little one. Where’s your Mommy?” I ask, crouching down to her level. Instead of answering me, she continued to cry. Looking around and seeing absolutely no one left to pick up kids, I figured she was abandoned.

“Here, come with me. I’ll help you.” I try to coax the little girl into coming with me.

“She’s not going to go with you, Bobby. You’re just as scary to her as those monsters were.” Rufus said, seeing what I was doing. 

“Well, I can’t just leave her! I found her and no one is left to care for her, so I’m taking her.” I yell back to my partner, who still disproved.

“Look you old fool, I’m not asking for your permission! This is what I’m doing so you can either join me or leave me the hell alone!” I turn to look back at the little girl, who had now come to my side and was staring up at me.

“Do you wanna come with me? I promise I won’t hurt you.” I say in the softest voice I could come up with and she nodded at me. I pick her up and walk to the car, and buckle her in. Unfortunately, she was too small to sit by herself, so I move her to the front with me and cradle her into my side.

Honestly, I have no idea how to raise a child. I’ve never had any of my own considering my wife died from a demon before we were ever able to think about that. However, I do know a few female hunters that would probably be more than happy to help out. So, I threw the car into drive and drove off to the first person I could think of.

“No Jody, she was abandoned. No one was there to pick her up. You know I couldn’t have just left her. Not at all. Okay, yes, I know I have no experience raising a kid but I couldn’t just let her stay there. She’s a mess and since the daycare ended up shutting down, I decided to take her. Look, will you just help me, please? Okay. Thank you. We’ll be there soon. Bye.”

Arriving at Jody’s a few days later, I get out of the car, and I can tell the little girl was afraid but her mood changed as she saw me on her side of the car. Damn, this kid is getting attached fast. I help her out of the car and put her on my hip as we walk to the door.

“Hey, Bobby, and hello, who is this?” Jody said to the child in my arms.

“That’s a good question. All the kids at the center had nametags they kept on their backs but I think hers fell off.”

“How about Milania? Millie for short.” Jody suggests.

“You know, that’s quite fitting for her. What do you think, Milania?” I look down at the child who squeals and claps her hands.

“I’d say she likes it.” Jody and I chuckle as Millie runs off to the couch in the living room.

“Okay little lady, you are in desperate need of a bath,” Jody says, going to pick Millie up and take her to the bathroom. Much to both our surprise, she didn’t fight Jody on it as most children would. I followed the two into the bathroom since I was going to have to learn how to care for Millie on my own, and saw the shocking and sickening part of her neglect. Underneath all her little clothes, her arms and legs were bruised, she had food and dirt all matted in her hair and spots of dry blood around her body. It also seemed like she cigarette burns scared onto her skin too. Jody filled the tub and slowly set Millie into the water, and that was when all hell broke loose. Millie screamed at the top of her lungs and was crying uncontrollably. It must’ve been because she still had wounds that weren’t healed. 

“Bobby, can I get some help over here?” Jody yelled to me, trying to hold Millie in the tub, but it was a battle she was losing alone.

“Come here, sweet girl,” I say, sucking in some air and trying to assist as much as possible. I hold Millie in my arms as Jody washed her hair and body, getting all the dirt and blood off. I’ve seen plenty of people, adults, who looked like this, but most of the time, they’re monsters and they deserved it. It was a whole different story seeing a child treated in such a terrible manner. I may not know what I’m doing when it comes to raising a kid, but I do know I will always protect Milania; she’s been through enough.

Once we got her all cleaned up, Jody took her into the next room to put some clothes on. She said she had gone to a clothing store and stocked up on as many toddler clothes as she could find. Our whole worlds had flipped when I found Millie but it was what needed to be done.

“Hey get ready, John said he was coming by with the boys to get some help on a case he is suspecting in Colorado,” Jody said, as Millie ran back into the living room, looking much happier than she did a few minutes before.

“I gotcha. How’s he been doing?” I ask.

“He’s been okay. Things are still hard on him since Mary died and I don’t think it’s getting any easier.” Jody said.

“How are the boys?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, Sam is about to turn two and Dean just turned six. They still rely on John a lot but I know he hasn’t quite been all there.”

Just as our conversation about the widower ended, there was a knock on the door; it’s them.

“John, good to see you and the boys.”

“Hey Jods, thanks. We’ve surely missed having any female perspectives on certain things.” John tries to joke but his face is full of sadness.

“Jod-Jod!” Dean yells, waddling his way over to Jody, who bends down to the boy and scoops him up in a big hug.

“Hey Deano, how’s it going?”

“Good!” He answers, with a big smile on his face.

“Have you been keeping an eye on Sammy?”

“Yes.” He giggles as Jody tickles him before he gets set down and he runs to me. 

“Hey, sport.” I ruffle his hair and wrap around him as he hugs my leg. 

“Bobby, how you doing, man? Jody tells me you have a kid?” John asks. 

“Hey, yeah I do. I found a little girl abandoned on the location of a hunt Rufus and I worked on the other day and I decided to take her in.”

“Wow, well I’m not doing too well in the parenting department myself but I do think she’ll be in good care with you.” John compliments.

“Thank you. Jody here has been helping me out a lot, giving me all the tips, I may need, but I have her on speed dial for emergencies.” We both laugh as Jody comes into the room with Millie.

“Hey, there she is.”

“Daddy!” Millie yells as she runs over to me. That was the first time she’s said anything and she already knows me as her Dad.

“Hey Mills, I want you to meet some people, okay?” She nods as I pick her up. 

“John, this is my daughter, Milania. We call her Millie for short.”

“Hi Millie, I’m John.” She hides her face in my shoulder, still not used to people.

“I guess she’s still shy. That right there was the first time I’ve heard her talk since I found her.” I say to John who just smiles.

“Guess you got a magic touch or something.”

“Hey Millie, come meet my boys,” John says, walking over to where Dean was sitting, next to Sam on the floor.

“Dean, this is Millie. She’s Bobby’s daughter. And that little guy there is Sam.”

“Hi, Millllllie,” Dean says, singing Milania’s nickname out. She looks over to Dean and just stares at him.

“Say hi Mills.” I try encouraging her to meet new people. 

“Hi.” She spoke in a small voice, before turning back to me.

“Hey kids, I have an idea. Do you guys wanna draw? I’ve got crayons and paper in the kitchen.” Jody said, leading the children away from John and me.

“So, what do you got?” I ask, taking a swig from a bottle of beer, looking to the younger man.

“It looks like Wendigos. They’ve made quite a mess in the town of Silverton, Colorado. But it seems like more than I can handle on my own.” John explains.

“Well, I’d be more than happy to go with you and try to figure this thing out.”

“What about the kids?” 

“We can always ask Jody if she could watch them?”

“Of course, I’ll watch the kids while y’all go on a hunt. It gives me more time with Sam and Dean and gets to know Millie a little better. Plus, she’s been through a lot; she needs a chance to catch a break.”

“Thanks, Jody. We’ll check in often, make sure the kids are alright.” I say.

“They will be; they’ll be with their Aunt Jody.”

“So, we’ll head out in the morning then,” John suggests before gathering the boys up and leaving to stay in a motel in town.

“You and Millie can stay here for the night. Can’t have Baby Girl in a nasty motel room after what she’s seen. She deserves to sleep in a neatly made bed.

“Can’t argue with that.” Putting Millie to bed was easier than I thought it was going to be but it was later than any child should be up. She sleeps on the bed, next to me, and soon we both are taken over with sleep.

When morning arrives, I get Millie dressed and get her some breakfast before John and the boys come over. I try to explain to her that I will be away from her for a while, which went well.

“Hey princess, listen. Daddy is going away for a few days and you have to stay here with Aunt Jody. But I’ll call to check on you, okay? You be good for Aunt Jody and get along with Sam and Dean.” I say to the toddler as she rocks back and forth on her heels.

“Okay, Daddy.” She says as she leans in to hug me tight. She was tiny but mighty when it came to affection.

“Dee!” Millie yells when she sees John and the boys walk in the front door. Dean lets go of John’s hand and runs over to me and Millie.

“Millie!” Dean yells back to the young girl and hugs her tight like she just hugged me.

“Alright guys, I got a movie and popcorn all set up for you in the living room,” Jody says as the kids rush into the other room, and taking Sam from John’s arms.

“Thanks again, Jods,” I say.

“No worries. You guys be careful out there; you have kids counting on you to come home.”

Tag list: @tloveswriting​ (if you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know!) @akshi8278​

[tisfan]

Always a Moment

Title: Always a Moment Written by: @tisfan Card: 3023 Square: T5 - Last Chance Rating: Teen and up Triggers/warnings: none Tags: prisoners together, Winter Soldier!Bucky, hopeful ending Created for: @tonystarkbingo Word count: 1690 Written for ezazahaz, WinterIron Exchange

Prompt - Tony is captured by Hydra, who try to get him to create weapons for them. When he keeps refusing, they throw him in a cell with the Winter Soldier--hoping some time with the Asset will scare him into cooperating, but also accepting that the Soldier might just kill him. Like a snake befriending the mouse given as a meal, the Soldier instead takes Tony as a (consensual) snuggle buddy, becoming fiercely protective of him. Eventually, the two find a way to escape.

Link - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138426

Story below the cut

The Hydra soldier, with his fresh, pressed and cleaned uniform and the tentacled skull badge, barked something to Tony in Russian.

Tony spoke seven languages, in addition to English.

Russian was one of them, but as far as Tony could tell, Hydra didn’t know that, and he wasn’t about to correct the assumption. Making someone repeat what he’d just been told, or try to make polite noises with the often profanity laden comebacks that Tony issued bought him time.

Time for what, he hadn’t yet decided.

But time.

And every moment counted, because sooner or later, there was always a moment to act.

Tony just hadn’t found it yet.

“He says this is your very last chance, Mr. Stark,” the woman said who was translating. She was the second -- or maybe the third -- such translator that Tony had had since Hydra captured him. He wasn’t sure what happened to the second one, but the first one had been shot in front of Tony and left to bleed out in their cell.

As a lesson.

They were all pretty, these Hydra women, and they’d all attempted at one point or another, to get close to him. Tony didn’t trust them either.

He knew Hydra’s method, he knew what they were like; these women were Hydra, no matter what he said, no matter what they said, and no matter if they died in Hydra’s service, kicking their life out on the floor while they slowly bled to death.

If didn’t make it easier for Tony to look at his translator and know that she might die because of what he said.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Tony said, nodding. “Getting tired of this routine anyway. Last chance. Last time for me to say, no thank you.”

He would not convert. He would not cow. He would not break. He would not build weapons for Hydra.

No.

The cost of one, or a dozen, Hydra agents didn’t come close to the debt that would be racked up, if Tony agreed. And, he reminded himself, those choices were still on Hydra. They didn’t have to kill people. They chose to.

Tony wasn’t making them.

Maybe they’d finally shoot him and have done with it; he wasn’t panning out on their investment. God only knew what a good torturer cost these days. 

Stark Men are Iron. He met the eyes of his translator. “I’m sorry for you.” Because that was true. “But the answer is still no.”

“I am sorry for you, Stark,” she told him. And then she told the other officer what he’d said, including his remarks about her. 

The door to whatever his fate was was unlocked and he was shoved inside, hands still zip-tied behind his back, legs still hobbled by the chain and cuffs they’d welded onto his ankles. 

They locked the door behind him and--

Walked away.

What, the plan was to starve him to death now? To forget about him.

An oubliette.

He took a few steps forward, squinting, trying to see.

A narrow bench was fastened to one wall, maybe long enough to lay on, uncomfortably. The corner would probably work pretty well for scraping the damn zip tie off, and maybe then he’d be a little more comfortable. He shuffled forward again--

The faintest sound of breath warned him, more than anything else. He had no sense of another person, no feeling of being watched. He was alone, and then a shadow moved in the darkness.

Tony did not shriek and stumble backward, falling on the metal bench and banging his head on the wall. That didn’t happen and he would deny it until his dying day. Which was probably today, all things considered. He whined a bit because he couldn’t rub his head with his hands behind his back, and now his nose itched too, which seemed somehow extremely unfair.

“Ow,” he complained. “Look-- whatever this is, can we just get on with it?”

The shape moved again, came closer, and Tony could see a man, dark ragged hair and dark clothes, who moved with feral grace. Beautiful, under a layer of dirt and grime and blood. Good cheekbones, and a strong jaw. Could use a shave and a shower, and maybe a few candy bars--

“Hey, hey now, what are we--” 

The man picked Tony up, pulling him to his feet, and then turned him around, ignoring all of Tony’s attempts to wrench away.

With one hand, the man tugged the zip tie free, which was mostly nice, except it left a bruise on Tony’s wrist. “Well, that’s handy-- oh, wow, look at your arm.” Because brain to mouth filter was still in its default off position. Prosthetic, metal arm, fully functional, it made soft whining noises as the servos moved, the plates clicking into place like metal skin. “Wow, this is beautiful tech, can I see, do you have a name, what should I call you, are you Hydra, or another prisoner--” He pushed the man’s sleeve up to see how far the arm went up, but the sleeve wouldn’t go any further than the elbow joint.

“Bucky,” the man said, his voice a low, almost inaudible growl. Pressure in the air, the shape of a word on full, lush lips.

“What?”

“My name. Is Bucky.”

“Hey there, Buck. I’m Tony Stark,” Tony said, turning the arm again. “So, Hail Hydra, or no? I prefer no, because Hydra sucks, but I realize I’m in here to be punished, so--”

“No.”

“No covers a lot of territory, can we be a little more specific.”

“You’re mine,” Bucky said. “You’re in here as a reward.”

“Yeah, okay, no, so I don’t--”

Tony found himself squashed into a hug, with Bucky’s nose stuffed in the crook of his neck. 

“--awkward.” He took a few breaths and when it seemed like Bucky was not going to break his back or squeeze him to death, or even, for that matter, do anything else, Tony patted the man on the back. “So, is this what you do with all your rewards.”

“No. Usually I kill them.”

“I can’t say that sounds appealing to me,” Tony mentioned. “Why?”

“They fight me,” Bucky said. 

“Hmmm, yeah, no, that’s not the plan,” Tony said. “I mean, I will fight, if I have to. But as long as you don’t try to hurt me, or make me build weapons, I’m just as happy to let you sit on your side of the tiny little prison cell.”

“It’s not a cell,” Bucky said, pointing. The dark corner had concealed a doorway to a narrow hall. Perhaps not a cell, but still, a prison. Even a gilded cage was still a cage, no matter how nice. 

“What?”

Bucky eyed Tony up and down, noting the chains at his ankles. “Come on,” he said, and then, rather than dragging Tony after him, stumbling and tripping over the hobble, he picked Tony up in a bridal carry and strode off. 

“Uh--”

“It’s easier,” Bucky said. “And you weigh nothing.”

“I am five foot ten, and a respectable weight for an adult male,” Tony huffed.

“You’re tiny.” Bucky paused. “Smol. Sweet bean. Precious cinnamon roll.”

“Oh, come on,” Tony protested.

Deeper in the building, Bucky had a few rooms, bedroom, a living room with a television, a kitchen. There was a coffee pot, oh thank god. When Bucky noticed Tony staring at it, he threw another filter and grounds in, started it up. 

“I think I love you already,” Tony murmured. “What is this place? If you’re not Hydra.”

Bucky shrugged. “My home. They sent you to me, to show you the truth of things. You will do-- I’m not--” He poured coffee and handed it to Tony. “I’m not Hydra. I’m an American. I-- but I am also The Fist of Hydra. The Winter Soldier. You will-- comply. No choices. You will… hear their words and you will do what you’re told. It’s a long process. There will be pain. And you will lose. You can’t fight them. Not anymore.”

“What, you mean, brainwashing? That’s a load of crap. Pseudo science. A bad movie plot.”

“It’s real,” Bucky said. “I wish to Christ it wasn’t. But sometimes, between missions, I have a home. I get a friend. If I don’t kill them, they-- go to the Chair. They comply. They always comply.” He sighed, sitting in the chair, gesturing for Tony to take the one across from him. 

“You sound like you don’t like that idea much,” Tony said, turning it over in his head. 

Bucky put his hand on the table, the nails bitten to the quick, the knuckles dirty. “Then I’m alone again. Or sent on a mission.”

Tony reached out, and Bucky took his hand, twining their fingers together. Touch starved. Lonely. They both were. “What if I said it doesn’t have to be like that? That I might be able to get us out.”

“I’m listening.”

“Are they?”

Bucky shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

Tony finished his mug of coffee, but weirdly felt more tired than stimulated. Maybe it was just being able to rest, to relax, for the first time in months. He yawned.

Bucky nodded, then said, “Give me your feet.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, but put his feet, chain clinking between his fettered ankles, up on Bucky’s lap. Bucky wrapped his hand around one end of the chain, then using that metal arm, pulled, strained-- the metal of the chain squealed as Bucky’s bicep bulged, and--

The chain broke, two links breaking entirely.

“Holy shit, you’re strong. Why-- how can they even keep you here?”

“The words,” Bucky said. “I comply. I will-- Tony, I will kill you, if they tell me to. You can’t trust me. I can’t… I can’t be trusted.”

“You let me worry about that, Buttercup,” Tony said. “Sleep, food, and then-- planning.”

Bucky touched Tony’s cheek, light, with one metal finger. “All right.”

It wasn’t much, but Tony nurtured that little speck of hope, that could ignite a blaze, and light their way to freedom.

It was a chance.

It was a moment.

There was always a moment.

[stanbillyhargrove]

Ghosts chp 14

Billy x Katrina

A/N: this is a multi chapter series that will contain smut, angst, fluff, substance abuse MURDER, GORE, HORROR

Katrina's POV

Billy and Steve had been glued to me since we got back from Salem, barely giving me a chance to breathe on my own. But I'd finally convinced them that I was fine, that they didn't need to watch me all the time. That I was only a wall away from Billy if something happened.

I padded through my apartment, rubbing sleep from my eyes as I entered the bathroom. Turned on the shower, sloughed off my clothes and inspected myself in the mirror. Took in the rough look of makeup that had started to wear off and smear and let out a tired huff before sliding into the steamy spray. Soaped up and let the hot water ease sore muscles until it started to cool. Stepped out and wrapped up in a fluffy towel to wander into the kitchen. I set a kettle of water on the stove and a mug with a tea bag on the counter before going back to the bathroom. Hung my towel on the hook and massaged sweet smelling lotion into my skin, taking my time to relax and enjoy this time by myself.

I pulled my pajama top over my head and caught a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye. Turned to see a glimpse of the twisted man from my nightmares. Just a brief second of his mutilated, bloody face before the kettle started to screech, making me jump and look away. When I looked back at my reflection, it was just me looking back, completely normal.

--

I was curled up in bed, on the brink of falling asleep when I heard it. A loud gurgling, choking sound. I jumped up out of bed, fumbling for my phone on the bedside table. Used one hand to pound on the wall that separated mine and Billy's rooms as my phone rang.

"Jesus, what?" Billy's voice was gruff, just this side of angry.

"Are you okay? I heard choking."

"Wasn't me, I was sleeping."

"Sorry, I just thought I'd check in. Night, Billy."

He hung up with a huff and I settled back onto my bed for a minute before I heard it again.

A wet, choking, "weak.."

-- March

"Babe, what are you doing?"

I shook my head and looked over at Billy who was staring at me with one eyebrow cooked, "what?"

"You just stopped and stood there in the mirror for a few minutes, you okay?"

I smiled at him, "yeah, I'm fine...I just zoned out. Come on, let's go get something to eat."

--

"Katrina?"

I hummed, turning around to see Billy and yelped when I realized we were on the roof. The last I remember, we were on the couch in Billy's apartment, curled up with Pudge and watching a movie.

"What? When did we come up here?"

"You just got up and left. You weren't answering me so I followed you up here. Are you sure you're okay? This has been happening a lot."

"Y-yeah, I'm okay. Just, stressed I think."

The corner of his mouth turned down, "right, well...let's go back inside, okay?"

-- April

"Hey! Katrina! Answer me!" Billy yelled, pounding on the bathroom door.

Everything felt heavy, and fuzzy like I was sinking underwater. I had to fight my way up through the fog and let out a shriek when my head cleared and I felt the scalding hot water burning my skin. Stumbled out of the shower, my soaked clothes streaming water on the floor as I tried to turn the shower off. The bathroom had filled with steam, so thick that it billowed out like a cloud when I opened the door.

"Holy shit, Katrina! What the fuck?"

Billy's hands gently skimmed my shoulders and neck, where the burns were the worst. I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a cry, making Billy curse when a whine left my throat.

"This is pretty bad, we need Steve," he grabbed my hips and led me backwards to sit on the edge of the tub, "stay here for a minute, okay? I'll call him and then I'll come help you change."

-

"Miss, can you hear me?"

I jolted, inhaling sharply as I awoke and saw a woman in front of me. I took in the sterile white room, the woman's pink scrubs and started taking panicky breaths.

"Where? How, how did I get here?"

"Miss, you're in the hospital. Do you know your name?"

"Yeah, my name is very fucking confused!" I shouted, swinging my legs off the bed.

She held her hands out in an attempt to stop me, "you need to calm down before I have to sedate you," she waited, eyebrow cocked until I stopped moving, "good. You're safe here. You were found wandering outside, soaking wet with second degree burns. What's the last thing you remember? Did someone hurt you?"

I shook my head, "I was at my boyfriend's...it was an accident."

She eyed me closely, "Did he do this to you?"

"No. I, the shower...I blacked out, the water was too hot."

"These black outs, do they happen a lot?"

"No, not really."

"Okay, hun," she soothed, "you got someone I can call to come get you?"

--

I had just gotten home from work and was washing the makeup off my face when it happened the first time. My reflection leaned back without me moving, it's head cocking to watch me. I stared in horror as it's eyes narrowed and it's hands came up, one grabbing the bottom of my mouth and the other grabbing the top. Then it started to pull. I watched it's mouth open wider and wider until the skin started to stretch and tear at the corners. I couldn't pull my eyes away from the ones in the mirror even as the skin started to tear more and more. Blood was running out of it's mouth, mixing with saliva to create red rivers down it's neck. The skin tore all the way to it's ears before it was met with resistance. My heart was racing, palms slick with sweat where I was clutching at the sink for support. A sickening pop and it's jaw hung free, only held on by a few strands of skin. It's tongue lolled out, hanging limply down it's neck.

My stomach lurched and I scrambled to kneel by the toilet before puking. I got up after my stomach had emptied and stood in front of the sink to wash my mouth out. Took a hesitant glance at the mirror to find myself looking back at me, completely fine and only moving when I did, how I did.

I ended up sleeping at Billy's that night, using the excuse that I was lonely to not worry him.

--

It's happening again. One moment I was lost in thought staring out the window and the next, my reflection in moving on it's own. This time, a cruel smile on it's face as it reached up and placed it's fingers around it's eye. My stomach clenched but I couldn't move, couldn't look away. It's fingers curled and pressed into it's eyelid. Further and further it dug, it's sneer never wavering as it wrapped it's fingers behind it's eyeball. A wet pop and it's bloody hand was fully curled around it's eye. The hand turned, showing off it's prize and I noticed the eye was different. A circle of blue had started to form around the iris.

The eyeball hung limp against it's cheek when it let go to lick the blood from it's fingers. I scrambled to get away from the window and barely made it to the sink in time for me to be sick.

-- May

The twisted man had slowly been becoming more and more human every time I saw him. Limbs started to line up, making his movements more fluid, alive. His face moved back to normal, wounds closing up to stop the flow of blood and leaving only soft skin behind.

Everything about him was crisp, sharp. From his angular features to his thick, dark hair swept back out of his face. Steely blue eyes looked down on me whenever I saw him, a menacing smirk deepened the dimple in his cheek.

He was beautiful.

I could never bring myself to look away, I was mesmerized by his presence. He even started to talk to me, at first just when I saw him and then he started talking in my head, interjecting in conversations. Despite his cold looks, he was actually nice to me. Bordering on affectionate the way he called me 'my pet' and the charming smile he'd give when I asked about him, though he never answered my questions, just deflected them.

--

A man, dirty and beaten was on his knees in front of me. Tears pooled in the corner of his eye but didn't dare spill. His clenched jaw stopped any trace of a wobble.

"Please, brother...don't do this."

I looked from him to our captor as he regarded me with disdain. His lip pulled into a sneer and he started to turn away.

I shut my eyes and swung, hearing the blade slice through my comrades throat. Flesh gave way easily under my blade, like butter. Heard him choke on blood, gurgling as he toppled to the dirt.

"Anything for the mission," I muttered.

I turned away and opened my eyes to find myself back in my cell, smashed mirror all around me. Picked out a curved piece to hide away before someone came in to clean up. Dug it out in another blink to drag across my ribs. A quick, sharp pain and a slow trickle of blood that would leave a permanent reminder.

Another face, followed by another and another. A line up of faces, some pleading and crying, others stone faced and silent. Each one followed by a quick slice and a body falling to the ground. Each one remembered with another scar across my ribs. Each one easier than the last until I began to crave the feeling.

I jolted awake, looking around frantically at my apartment walls. I could still feel each slice on my ribs but when I felt around, there was nothing there. No wounds, no scars, just smooth skin. Just a dream.

--

"Tell me something about you," I murmured to the mirror, to him.

He hummed, "come now, pet. You can't be that interested in me."

I adjusted myself on the small vanity to turn more towards him, "I am. You've been around for months and I barely know anything about you."

A smirk stretched across his lips, "alright. What do you want to know?"

"Those memories I saw...killing those men, that was you, wasn't it?"

There was a brief moment where pain crossed his face before he collected himself, "yes. Those are my memories."

"Who were they? Why did you hurt yourself after each of them?"

"They were my brothers...we were recruited into a special operations unit in the war. Our mission was to infiltrate the enemy base and make them trust us. Anything for the mission, that was our motto. None of us knew what we'd go through once we were captured, just a bunch of young men being sent in blind. We were tortured, beaten for days until we agreed to join the enemy. But they would only let one of us into their ranks, so we had to choose. Kill or be killed. My brothers were weak, they wouldn't do it...but I knew the mission was more important. I slit each of their throats and was welcomed into the enemy camp. They saw my potential, made me The Butcher and trusted me to be their lead torturer. I slaughtered many of my own men in the interest of my mission. The scars were my way of keeping track of them all."

"Why? How could you turn on them like that?"

His eyebrows creased, "easy. Love is weakness...and I am not weak."

--

Another round of sleep paralysis. I'd been waking up in a cold sweat more often than not since the spell. But this time was different. I was frozen, standing in a forest. Thick woods surrounded me and a feeling of dread settled heavy in my gut. I could feel the trees shifting, like they were alive, closing me in. Holding me still. Suffocating me.

Then, through the trees, I could see someone coming closer. Gliding closer and closer and then all at once they were in front of me. My heart was racing, a scream threatening to burst my chest open.

It was me.

I was face to face with myself. But there was something wrong with this other me. She was covered in blood and dirt and her eyes. They were completely black. She cocked her head to the side, watching me as the pressure built in my chest, like she was waiting for me to explode. Slowly, her arm lifted towards me.

Then, in an instant, she was gone and I could breathe again. The pressure in my chest lifted and I was flooded with relief. The trees shifted, letting a man through, the man I'd been seeing. Calm and collected, he walked through the trees like an angel, ridding me of my fear. He walked up close to me and gently ran his knuckles down my cheek.

"It's time to wake up, pet."

-- June

I looked up after brushing my teeth and yelped when I saw my reflection. It was me, the other me, the one that was in the woods. Black eyes stared back at me, unblinking. She stared at me for a moment before opening her mouth in a grin, black blood pouring through her lips. Then she slammed her fists against the mirror.

I screamed, running out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. But, as I tried to catch my breath I realized she was everywhere. In every reflective surface, slamming her fists against the reflection and screaming. Screaming so loud it rang in my ears. I grabbed the tea kettle off the stove and ran back to the bathroom, throwing it with all my strength into the mirror. It shattered, raining sparkling pieces of glass all over the counter and floor.

I smirked down at the pieces when the screaming stopped. Breathed a sigh of relief. But then the laughing started. Echoing louder and louder in my head. I could see her cackling in the windows, picture frames and the other couple mirrors around my apartment. Frantically, I started covering everything reflective. Taped sheets and blankets over the windows and mirrors, covered the kitchen appliances with paper. Picture frames got the glass pulled out to be smashed. I was just finishing covering doorknobs and taps with cloths when I was grabbed by the shoulders and shaken.

"Katrina!" Billy yelled, turning me to face him, "what the hell are you doing?"

I stammered, "I..there was, she...it was so loud...why are you here?"

"I heard you screaming bloody murder and thought you were being killed," he huffed, "I didn't realize you were just going on a crazy rampage against your apartment."

"I'm..I wasn't..."

"I'm worried about you, Katrina. You're not yourself, maybe we should go see the triplets..."

The man's voice rang in my head 'tell him you're fine. Tell him you just need to relax.'

"I'm fine, Billy," I repeated, "just need to relax."

He frowned at me, "I guess I could take you out of the city for a while? We could spend some time out in the country?"

I smiled, "yeah, that sounds like just what I need."

"Okay, I'll start looking for places to stay."

--

"Rina...Katr...Katrina!"

I woke with a start, looking down at Billy's confused face. His hands were tightly wrapped around my wrists, holding them still. I gasped when I saw the blade in my fist pressed against Billy's throat. He watched me carefully as one of his hands moved to grab the knife.

"Billy?"

"Let go, Katrina."

I opened my hands, letting Billy take the knife from me and started shaking, "I...I'm sorry, I, I was...was having a horrible dream."

He huffed, "you think?"

He set the knife on the bedside table and looked up at me, worried, "I knew we shouldn't have done that fucking spell."

"I wanted to do it. Had to do it, for you. For Olivia. I think I just got in my head about what happened, made myself paranoid, y'know?"

He shifted me off him and got up.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Back to my apartment," he mumbled, "until we figure out what's wrong with you."

--

Billy moaned against my lips before trailing down my neck, leaving a line of bruises in his wake. I arched into him, leaning heavily into the heat of his chest. Twisted my fingers into his hair and tugged gently to get my lips on his neck.

I started to get a little hazy, the edges of myself blurring. I swore I could feel Billy's heartbeat against my lips. Could hear it thundering in my ears as I nipped at his skin. He sighed, relaxing into me. I bit down a little harder, heard him hiss and groan. His heart was pounding between my teeth and I...I couldn't...I had to.

"Ah!" Billy cried, pushing me off him, "what the fuck?"

One of his hands came up to the side of his neck. When he pulled it away his hand was smeared with bright red blood. Beads of blood sprang up on his neck, in the perfect shape of my teeth.

"I...I don't, I didn't...I don't know what happened."

"That's it. If this weekend doesn't help you, we're going to the triplets. I'm not dealing with this shit anymore. Something is fucking wrong with you, Katrina."

He gave me a withering look before storming out of my apartment. Left me alone with the coppery taste of blood in my mouth and the fear that I was becoming something that I could never come back from. That I was becoming that monstrous version of myself and I'd never be the same again.

--

"Steve?"

He hummed over the phone, "yeah, what's up?"

"Are you real?"

"What? Katrina, are you okay?"

I sat down on my couch, twirling the spoon in my hand to look at my reflection. The dirty, broken version of me stared back.

"Can you help me? ...I need to wake up," I mumbled.

"What...you are awake, Katrina. What are you talking about?"

A sob bubbled up in my chest, choking me as I whispered, "I don't know what's real anymore, Steve."

'I'm real, pet.'

I could hear Steve mumbling, talking to someone else for a moment. I only heard snippets of what he was saying, things like 'panic attack' and 'sleeping' as well as Billy's cursing.

"We're almost there, Katrina. Just relax, okay? Just sit down, breathe, we'll be there soon."

@champagnesugamama @charmed-asylum @alias-b

[cosmicknives]

This is a bit of a sequel to something I posted like a year ago [link link]. Life has slowed to crawl and I’m trying to keep productive so, why not just edit more of that Gage x Gamma nonsense I still have on my computer? :D I still have a lot of fun writing these two, especially in the quieter moments between them, especially especially when it’s due to the sting of betrayal~! 

Synths, man, ruining all the good relationships in your life since 2229~.

 _______________________

Radiation sickness was never fun to deal with. It was even less fun when you had an insane Overboss. In the backroom of Fizztop, Gage slowly watched the RadAway do its damn job as he also desperately tried to ignore Gamma. 

"Seriously though, you want a new scope for your do-hicky?" It was a borderline impossible task. Looking over his shoulder, the tiny tyrant of an Overboss sat cross-legged at his weapons bench and Gage knew he was still out for his particular brand of blood. 

He had been real clear about that. A few members from the different gangs that had camped out by the entrance of Nuka-Town all but bombarded them with questions and hope as soon as they had returned from Safari Wild. Did they clean out the park yet? Fight anything fun? There's this odd rumor about a man in running around in loincloth too, did ya see him too!

It took every ounce of patience Gage had left not to scream at them all. Because, it wasn't his job to do scream. And it was Gamma’s. And just because he wanted to poke every wound Gage had just a bit more, Gamma had decided to be chatty with them. For the first time as Overboss, happily answering all their questions in wordy detail.

It was only when he feigned utter innocent, asking about Jackpot Royal's past though that Gage had put his foot down.

"Sorry, but we have business to attend to at Fizztop." He said curtly, tugging the short kid along with him.

"Yeah, that true. These injuries ain’t gonna heal themselves. Wait, did you know Gage give me this time?" Gamma dramatically exclaimed, poking out the bruised spot by his temple. "Me! His Overboss! God, Gage. We're really gonna haveta to work on your aim. Because not cool, not cool." He tsked, paying no mind as Gage pushed him on to the platform, harsh as could be.

Poor Jackpot Royal looked on hopeless, unable to tell if they should step in for their Overboss or if that would cost them their head. After a moment, they just waved goodbye and started to move back towards the Parlor. Smart kid.

After that, Gage just did his best to ignore Gamma, shuffling back towards his bed in the back room as he felt the radiation sickness finally start to settle into his body. It didn't take long to set up the RadAway, years of experience he'd never knock away, and he’d just let himself crash into his bed, hoping to sleep off the unpleasant he knew was going to come.

Gamma though had other plans.

After roughly five minutes of peace, he turned up in the back room himself despite having free-range of Fizztop. Instead of his typical mask, the kid had found a pair of over-sized road goggles and a rip-to-shreds puke green bandanna to cover his face instead.

"I'm gonna make some mods." He smiled in that same sweet and cold voice from earlier. “Have any requests?” Translation, I'm still pissed and fuck you if you think you're getting off scott-free.

"Some damn quiet and peace," Gage said though.

"Sorry, that's not on the menu today, friend." And that was that.

To his credit, Gamma wasn't really as noisy as modder as most raiders were. He worked fast and careful. And if he wanted to, Gage was almost certain he could work quiet too. But, that wasn't the case today. So instead, Gage gave up and just started to watch him from his cot. 

Gamma... He hadn’t been right earlier. Gage had had no clue about him being synth, being a tool of the Institute. If he were to guess, he would've just said the kid was a Vaultie because of a Pip-Boy but one who had been out in the Commonwealth longer than a Pip-Boy suggested. But, more importantly and more simply, he would've said that Gamma was basically like him: a fuck-up without a home just trying to survive as comfortably as possible. That was always the vibe he give out when they were up at Fizztop together, away from the other raiders down below.

"You know, tough shit, I made you a scope anyways. It's neon." He cackled a bit, turning to show off the piece.

And, Gage just replied. "Why are you even here?"

Toxic neon yellow scope in hand, Gamma paused along with the question, eyebrows arched in his own. It was weird seeing them do what exactly what Gage had always pictured them do, and a part of him was relieved. He could read this kid, at least a little bit. 

"I mean, here, in Nuka-World. What does the Institute want with us?" Because he wasn't stupid. He saw the endless possibility of this place, and he always knew others would see it too. That's why he recruited Colter. That's why he knew they needed an Overboss, someone to keep the rift-raft off their steps when they came trying to collect.

Over by his workstation, Gamma put down the scope and swiveled his chair around once and twice, until he was facing Gage again. “Not a damn thing, really." He said, shrugging slightly.

"Bullshit." Nuka-World had power, if nothing else.

"Not really," Gamma sighed again, spinning his chair around a little. "They're, ah, how would you put it." He tapped his bandanna playfully as he thought over his words. "Ah! Right! They're dead, so you know, Nuka-World? Not on their radar."

"Dead?"

"Ah, yeah. You haven't heard the rumors? Like, shit, they were everywhere out around Boston when it went down." Gamma sighed again as he rested his head in his arms. "Basically, some fucker blew us up."

"Someone, just, blew up the Institute?" 

"Well, I wasn't there when shit went down so it's a bit hard to say," Gamma said, trying to play it off with his normal dramatic air. But Gage heard an unfamiliar hard edge enter into his voice. ‘Bothered by something now, are we?’ He thought, filing it away for another time. "But that's the jist I got. Plus, you know." He frowned again, looking briefly away.

"I don't know, what."

"Urgh.” Flopping forward, his arm reached out to catch himself before he hit the floor. It was a short hop to Gage’s bed from there, Gamma plopping himself right beneath him as he started to fiddle with his Pip-Boy. Gage took to the moment to again quickly take in his Overboss under the bright, artificial lights of Fizztop. 

He didn't look like a synth, honestly. That was kinda the point, no, but still, Gage always figured there had to be some kind of tell to them, something that read fake. Even Gamma, odd and loud as could be, sitting next to him with Gage knowing, looked as human as anyone else. Was the Institute just that good with their abominations of science, or were there more synths out there than Gage ever thought to consider?

Gamma interrupted that line of thinking though, shifting as he could show Gage whatever it was on his Pip-Boy easier. "Just listen." And Gage did, and he heard nothing but static.

"There’s, nothing?" He said, unsure. Maybe that was a synth thing, but he dismissed that idea as Gamma sunk back down to his ass.

"Exactly," he said, pushing back a few strands of purple that fall in front of his face as the radio station played back only static.

"What's supposed to be playing?" He asked, figuring he did owe something to Gamma for saving his life earlier. Maybe letting him... talk was an okay way to pay him back, and one that wouldn't cost him even one cap.

He didn’t say anything at first, tracing the dirt on the floor instead. And it was nice, quiet as the RadAway sunk deeper into his body and sleep pulled him closer. But after a few minutes, Gamma’s voice tugged him back into the conversation.

"It used to play classical music." Quietly, his attention was entirely on the measured static tick up and down on his screen. And strange as it was, Gage did remember that funny little station. The only thing it played were these old instrumental pieces, no voices, no commercials, no updates about why they were going to die today. His mother listened to it religiously, never missing a chance to glare at his father every time he tried to change it to Diamond City radio in her presence. Gage had loathed that station so much as a kid, even as an adult too. It was just so frickin' dull.

But, still, after a hard day, hell if his hands didn’t twist the dial until he found that station once again and let it play for a few songs. Just a reminder how nice it was to be alive.

Until, maybe a year ago, Gage tried to tune into it one day and just, found nothing. Another loss to the ravages of the Commonwealth. He wondered how his mother took that news.

"It was the Institute's station, you know," Gamma smiled sadly. "We did fucked up things with it, of course, but it was ours. If it stopped playing, you know..." Trailing off, he didn't bother finishing that line of thought. It didn't need to be finished. Gage got the jist.

If it stopped playing, it was dead. The Institute was no more.

They sat together for a moment, Gage trying to process that new bit of news and he guessed, Gamma was trying to process the same bit of news albeit in a different context. And Gage thought, maybe he wasn't so wrong actually.

Maybe Gamma was a fuck-up too, just like him, one without a home just trying to survive as comfortably as possible in the fucked-up death trap they knew as the Commonwealth, albeit in a slightly different context than Gage originally had thought.

"So," Gage started slowly, "Why are you here?"

It wasn't the only question still floating around in Gage's mind but, either because of the drugs, the exhaustion or something else, all the others had quieted down for the moment. The Institute was no more. Maybe it was a lie, it was kinda unbelievable, but Gamma never honestly struck Gage as a liar.

He made up stories and played games and loved to mock people endlessly, but he never outright lied to Gage, not in the way most people did. That's why ...this... whole mess stung worse than the Gatorclaw attack or the additional rad sickness. Gamma never lied to him, except about basically everything.

Below him, Gamma just halfheartedly shrugged his shoulders. "Caps are the rule of the land, Gage, you know that."

And honestly, Gage could let this go for the night with that. Betrayal still hummed under his skin like a parasite. He knew this wasn't over, not by a long shot. There still a thousand questions and concerns he had about this, about synths, about the goddamn Institute and about Gamma being Overboss too. But underneath that all, like with Connor and Colter before, his stupid rotten idiotic heart was still telling him to trust Gamma, that he wasn't lying, not about this.

And fuck if he didn't want to believe that.

"I'm gonna put that scope on your gun, okay?" Gamma said quietly, playfully poking Gage in the head as he laid his own head back on the bed.

"Do that and I'll throw you off Fizztop," Gage said back, closing his eyes. Exhaustion tugged him along towards the poppy-filled land of dreams he hated so much. But it wasn't before he saw Gamma’s eyes through his dark shades, the same intense look once again focused squarely on Gage. He had no idea why he found it comforting now, though it was easy to blame to the drugs.

Pulling himself back to his feet, Gamma pressed his ratty clothed mouth right above his ear in an utterly sarcastic feeling kiss. "Oh, Porter, I'd love to see you try."  And Gage could almost feel his lips move into a little grin before his Boss finally walked out of the back room, leaving him to a peace and quiet.

[19mrs-barnes17]

Plane Music

Summary: Its been years since first meeting the Winchesters, but something in Sioux Falls seems to draw them back to the small town.

Part: 2/?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: kinda dark, death, may be emotionally triggering

Word count: 2,932

A/N: Part two is finally here after a year! This one I got a little carried away with... lol. Anyway, enjoy!

~

Life after meeting the Winchesters, yes they make quite an impact, can only be described as fulfilling. Their sense of purpose and pride is absolutely infectious, so much so that Y/N found herself become bolder and more deadly. She had begun to wonder if the transaction had even truly occured when she got the first of many calls to come. 

Dean Winchester calling, her phone had said, and she nearly fell out her chair at the sudden sound. Calls came every now and then, she always accepted the invitation. Once the texts began, well, they never seemed to end. Her mornings began with a check of her texts and a smile upon her face when she saw the little number one on the message bubble. 

Years went by but nothing truly changed in their relationship, he was always traveling and she was almost always in her apartment. Y/N only left Sioux Falls for the occasional case, she had to keep up the appearance of a job to her mother. In reality, she paid her bills thanks to an agreement between her and Bobby Singer. He wasn’t the town drunk everyone cracked him up to be, and he had agreed to help her scam the money so it couldn’t be traced to her. She told her mother that Bobby had hired her to help him with cleaning his house and assist with car repairs. 

The ringing of her phone had Y/N shutting her book, a small smile slipping onto her face as she turned the device over in her hand. However, the caller ID threw her for a loop. Why was her mom calling? She was always working at this hour or doing rounds, Y/N’s heart dropped.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” Her mom’s voice so small on the other line spoke news that nearly ended with her phone on the floor. “That’s impossible, mom he died we went to his funeral pete’s sake. I stayed with you while they piled dirt on his coffin.” 

“Honey, I know. I know I sound crazy, but it's true! Here I’ll have him say something.” Y/N could hear her mother call for someone who she knew couldn’t be there, but when a little voice came over the line her world cracked and crumbled.

Her drive to her childhood home was erratic and warranted several tickets yet, there was no patrol car in sight. Y/N was too distraught to question such a thing, her mind was an absolute madhouse. Thoughts raced through as she began to question everything, a million inquiries and all she knew was that he was alive. 

The moment he raced into her arms everything slipped from her mind, she seemed to forget the questions that her hunter instincts were adamant on answering. All experience in questioning the supernatural completely clouded over by her baby brother’s reappearance.  He was alive! Alive and sitting on her lap as they watched cartoons, just like they used to. Somehow it felt as though she had been launched back in time, a time when life was easier. 

“Hey buddy.” She knocked softly on his door the next morning, a soft smile on her lips as she stared down at his slumbery form. “Mom’s at work, you want some donuts from the diner?”

“Secret donuts?” A nod from her had him smiling mischievously, a sight that had her heart feeling warm and full once more. It had been a long time since she had been this happy.

Sitting upon the stool, she beamed brightly and relayed her order to the server. He was quick to put in her order and she was soon exiting the diner with a bag in hand. However, the moment her eyes landed on him she froze in place and her smile faltered a little. 

“Y/N?” She made a speedy recovery, a cautious smile dancing onto her lips. She raised a brow at the Winchester brothers and placed a hand on her hip. Sam waves but continues muttering into his phone exasperatedly while Dean utters a hello.

“Don’t tell me this lil’ ol’ town has you boys interested. On a case are we?” Dean nods, a strange look in his eyes and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “What drew you in?”

“A Mr. Wells claims to have seen a dead man kill.” Sam answers as he ends his call, shrugging at the claim. 

“Digger? You here about his ravings on the Benny Sutton murder? Hate to say that may be a lost cause. Benny had a lot of enemies here.” She hated lying to them, but at least it was more of a white lie. Benny was widely hated but, between her brother coming back and Digger’s hollering about a dead man, she knew there was definitely a case here. 

“Really?” Y/N nodded and made an apologetic face, but the boys both had a look on their face like they weren’t quite buying it. 

“Afraid so. But he’s right inside if you want to ask him yourself, always good to check. Anyway, happy hunting. I’ll see you guys around.” She waved them goodbye and hopped in her car before they could question her further. 

Owen was jumping up and down by the time she got back, his eyes wide as he glanced down at the paper bag in his big sister’s hand. She had to hold it high before he yanked it from her grip, setting it on the counter. She chuckled at his excited face and placed a donut on a napkin before him. It wasn’t there for long.

“Woah buddy, you gotta slow down. Can’t inhale your food remember?” He smiles sheepishly as she takes a bite of her donut. “See. Nice and slow.”

“Can I have another?” He began begging insistently, something she had somehow missed him doing in their time apart. 

“You remember our rule bud?” 

“Three donuts, one for each and we split the last one.” She nodded, her hands already reaching into the bag and tearing the donut in half. “Left hand.”

Y/N handed her brother the piece and ate hers while tossing the bag in the trash, her phone ringing in the process. She motioned for Owen to answer it and cleaned up their places as he spoke to their mother.

“What’d she say big guy?” 

“She said I should eat an apple. I don’t want an apple.” Y/N chuckled before grabbing an apple from the basket and slicing it half.

It was late when her mother came home from work and she seemed exhausted. Y/N suggested take out and her mom couldn’t say no, far too tired to cook. They spent the evening watching movies and making up for lost time together. Her mother and her were cleaning dishes in the kitchen when Y/N heard Bobby’s name come up in her mother’s talk about her day.

“Singer?” Her mother nodded and went off about how he was helping two fake FBI agents parade around asking questions about the dead rising in Sioux Falls. Y/N’s heart dropped, Sam and Dean had been caught. “What happened with them?”

“Oh, I let em go. Gave them a stern warning” Nodding her head and dropping the subject, Y/N couldn’t help but feel relieved that her mother had turned her cheek. She was simply glad her mother didn’t bring up her disapproval of her daughter working for the Bobby, again.

Y/N went home to her apartment that night, promising her little brother she’d be back the next day to take him to a movie and out to lunch. When she returned, however, there was a certain tall hunter peering in the side window shaking his head. Shit. Sam turned and froze in place as she exited the car looking guilty as hell.

“I can explain.” He nodded, a disapproving gaze set on her as she spoke. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to be involved. When I saw you two here I was panicked, but I think in the back of my head I was relieved.”

“Because then it fell on us, and you wouldn’t have to deal with it. Your hands would be clean and you could go on living with him back.” She shook her head as tears threatened to spill over, Sam’s face softened a bit.

“No, I was relieved because it meant there was someone else to pull the trigger. Someone who could be stronger than me, who could get the job done.” A tear slid down her cheeks she cast her gaze to the side, breathing deeply to try and pull herself together. “I knew the job had to be done, but every time I look at his sweet little face… I wasn’t sure if I could do it. And I couldn’t take out the rest and leave him behind. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Sam pulled her into an embrace and she sobbed into his shoulder, because she knew that this meant her time with Owen was dwindling down to its last few hours. Her heart shattered at the thought of losing him again.

“I know, I couldn’t do it if it was Dean. So I get it. We’ll be back when he starts to turn, you shoot a text when it starts okay?” All she could do was nod as she tried to compose herself.

“You better get out of here before my mom sees you. She’ll go ballistic.” Sam chuckles at the image in his head before waving and heading to the car.

It was a perfect way to go out, smiles and laughter from the pair all day. Y/N had forgotten for a little while that this was not forever. Owen was beginning to feel unwell after running around the park and she was jolted back into reality, brow furrowed as she drove him back home. Lying that he was going to be okay broke her heart to pieces, she hated preaching false hope when she knew what was to come. She dropped him off and sent Sam the dreaded text, ‘His temperature is rising’.

With her car parked in the street, all she could do was wait and it was excruciatingly painful to do. She felt as though her chest were under a car being lowered to the ground, the pressure increasing the longer she sits there until eventually it becomes too much. She burst through the front door and found her mother standing in front of a blood trail. Rushing to her side, Y/N grabbed her mother’s shoulder and pulled her back. Her father’s lifeless body on the floor nearly froze her in place, but she pushed through the tears and horror. 

“Mom. We have to go! It’s not Owen anymore! Please, he’ll eat us too.” Tears were pouring down her cheeks as she did her best to pull her mother from the room. When Sam charged in she begged for his help in ushering her mom out the door, and as he began reasoning with her a dreaded thought entered Y/N’s head. It has to be me. 

While Sam was distracted talking to her mom, Y/N grabbed her pistol from the glove compartment and slowly made her way toward the door. Sam put a hand on her shoulder, concern evident in his eyes.

“You don’t have to do this Y/N. I told you I would do it for you, it’s okay. You don’t have to see it.” But Y/N shook her head, because she couldn’t bear to hear someone shoot her brother. She needed to do it, she needed to be with him in his last moments like she wished she was when he had died. She never got to hold his hand as he went, to say goodbye. It may not make sense to any other, but in her mind this was her chance to say it to him.This time she would have to burn his body, there would be no funeral and no other opportunity.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t feel it mom. He’ll go quick and peaceful like he should have.” Her mom nodded through the tears, an understanding in her eyes. “You two make sure the town’s safe.” 

Her heart felt heavy as she entered her home for the last time, she would never be able to look at these walls the same. Owen cocked his head to the side as he looked at his sister with emptiness in his eyes.

“I love you so much Owen. Goodbye, little buddy.” Y/N aimed the pistol and with a shaky hand,  fired a single shot. Immediately after she dropped the weapon and ran to her brother’s side. She released everything, tears streaming down her face as she rocked back and forth with his lifeless body in her arms. Y/N cried out, her voice hoarse and pained as she held him close and grabbed her father’s hand. Her thoughts were filled with memories of the two of them dancing around the living room in their pjs and singing at the top of their lungs. When her father had surprised her with a car on her 17th birthday, because he was proud of the person she’d become and couldn’t wait to see what she would do. And of all the times the four had had together in this home.

Time passed slowly, she was unaware of how long it had been since she had last seen her mother or Sam. The only thing on her mind was the pain in her head and heart, the pain that would become a reminder and painful memory. Gradually she placed Owen back on the floor and used the couch to stand, her eyes scanning for the closet. Soon she had both her father and brother cover and then wrapped in multiple sheets, tying the ends with rope she found and cut in the garage. Both bodies lay away from the pools of blood, side by side, as she began to clean the floor. She couldn’t quite grasp why she was doing all this, but it kept her busy and gave her less time to think. Any minor distraction she welcomed.

She didn’t turn to face whoever opened the door, doing her best to ignore the creaking of the floorboards. Until suddenly, a hand grabs hold of the mop and an arm is wrapped around her protectively. Her eyes met Dean’s and, though she had thought all her tears had been cried, she once more fell apart in his arms. There was a comforting feeling enveloping her as he gently rubbed her back, saying no words because he knew that none would help. Y/N held onto him tightly, knowing he would be there to help take care of things. A friend, and someone to lean on.

Dean held onto her as they watched the pyre burn, her mother sent a look that had Dean recoiling his arm with an awkward chuckle. Y/N grabbed his hand instead, eyes remaining on the burning fire before her with a melancholy that she would never quite be free of. 

“Walk with me?” She spoke loud enough that only Dean could hear, eyes searching his for a sign. He glances over at her mother for a moment before nodding, following as she leads him through the gravestones. She’s silent for a while, and she can feel his eyes on her but that only makes it harder to speak.

“What's on your mind?” She chuckled at the broadness of the question, and he muttered a ‘you know what I mean’. But in truth, she wasn’t sure what exactly was the drive to be alone with him and away from her mother’s gaze.

“I know this timing is weird, but right now I could use some clarity.” He nodded for her to continue, and after a deep breath she collected her thoughts. This is a lot harder than the movies make it seem. “Listen, I’m just going straight to the point. What are we?”

She pauses and drops his hand when they’ve put a sufficient distance between them and the pyre that would haunt her memories. Refusing to move her gaze from his Y/N furrowed her brow and scoured his expression for some kind of sign. His eyes grew soft as they gazed in hers, his hand reached for hers and held it firmly. 

“Something, I hope.” She gazed at him quizzically, likely with the same question in her head that had bugged his for the past couple of years. “Something more than just a friendship. A shoulder to cry on, someone to help carry the load that is this life and to help forget its trauma for a little while.”

Dean held onto her hand as if letting go meant rejection, meant saying goodbye. There was a sorrow that hid within his eyes, one she would come to recognize in her own. Her hand moved to caress his cheek and he held it there against his skin, almost like he had been without a loving touch for too long. She wasn’t sure whether it was the way he held her or the look in his eyes, or even the long drawn out phone calls during her drives to join a case. Whatever it was, it made her bold. Not enough to go the mile, but enough to meet halfway. And it felt like she had found a new home in his touch and his embrace, but most importantly, in his heart.

~

Tag list: @qtmeryr @broken-hearted-barnes

Please send me an ask if you'd like to join any tag lists!

[uniqueimagines]

Tough Girl Taken Down pt.1

Paring: Fangs x Reader

Requested: Nope

Description: Walking home from the lake doesn’t quite go as planned but you manage to call for help before you black out. Fangs, Toni and FP gather others to look for you and Fangs brings you home to care for your wounds.

Warnings: Violence, Assault, Cursing, Nudity

Word count: 2,173

______________________________________________________________

You were born and raised a Serpent and made it official when you were just 16. You are now 20 and have been working full time at the Wyrm since you graduated high school. There were no women in the Serpents that were quite like you as you never slept with another Serpent or even dated anyone in the gang. There wasn’t a real reason to why other than you just didn’t date much at all and you weren't the kind to just sleep with someone you didn’t date. To add on to of the fact that you didn’t flirt much you were one of the toughest female members in the gang. You were meaner and stronger than a lot of the male members and this was a huge turn off for a lot of them. You didn’t mind that nobody flirted as you dated a little outside the gang and you were close with Toni, Fangs, Sweet Pea, and Jughead. You weren't desperate to get in a relationship but if something came along you wouldn’t necessarily say no either.

Because you were known as one of the toughest people in the gang you were rarely messed with by Ghoulies or anyone else. The few times anything did happen Fangs and Toni were always the first two people there to help along with FP if there was something series. Your parents had passed away in a car accident when you were 14 and FP had helped you out and served as a father figure from time to time. Since graduating you worked a fairly consistent schedule at work and even the group hangouts became a fairly routine thing. Fangs, Toni and Sweet Pea always met at the Wyrm around 8 every Friday night. Whenever it was warm your favorite thing to do was to swim at Crystal Lake before meeting at the Wyrm. Today it had gotten into the nineties and you went for a swim before meeting at the bar.

You were walking through Fox Forest on your way back to the trailer park from your swim. You were wearing jeans and a t-shirt over your bikini. You were carrying your Serpent jacket with your brass knuckles, keys, and phone in its pockets. You didn’t hear a Ghoulie sneaking up behind you until he lunged at you shouting, “Now your gonna get it you Serpent Bitch.” The Ghoulie tackles you to the ground and you drop your jacket in front of you. You manage to escape out from under him and get to your feet before he lands a punch on your cheek splitting it with his ring. As blood began to stream down your cheek you swing back landing a solid hit to the cheek that causes him to stumble back and fall to the ground.

When you go to pick up your jacket the man pushes you into the tree in front of you causing you to hit your forehead. You turn to him and he lands another  punch this time to your jaw before kicking you in the ribs and causing you to fall to the ground gasping. He kneels on top of you putting his knee on your throat and pulls out a knife. He begins cutting a line from the bottom of your ribs to your mid thigh as he growls, “You are gonna be mine if you want to or not you Bitch.” You look at his crotch with a struggled laugh and choke out, “I don’t think you got enough there to make me yours.” He digs the knife deeper as you struggle to reach for something to hit him with. Just as the knife is nearing the bottom of your thigh you grip a rock hitting him hard in the head. He falls off you giving you enough time to scramble to your jacket and dig your phone from your pocket and get half of FP’s number dialed. The man lifts you slamming the back of your head into the tree again before you land another hard punch on his cheek. He stumbles back tripping over a tree root and hitting his head on a rock and not getting back up.

Your vision is blurry from the numerous head blows mixed with the blood loss. You blink a few times looking around for your phone that you had again dropped on the ground. Grabbing it you finish dialing and hear the ringing whipping your head around trying to see your jacket through your blurred and bloody vision. FP’s booming voice comes from your phone sounding confused as he asks, “Y/N? What’s up?” You struggle to take a deep breath or find a clear thought as your vision becomes more blurry and you stutter through the blood filling your mouth, “W-woods… F-f-ox…” You cough seeing bloody spit land on the forest floor as more blood from your head streams into your eyes and you see the man laying on the ground bleeding profusely and you try to continue, “I t-think he’s d-dead… P-please help me…” You drop the phone before falling to the ground as your vision goes completely blurry and you black out.

The conversation only lasted about a minute before you blacked out and FP heard a thump before silence. FP had his volume turned fairly high on his phone and Fangs was sitting close enough to hear. Fangs could hear your voice but only hearing a few words bringing a confused and worried look to his face. When FP hangs up Fangs asks worries, “Where is she?” FP stands getting ready to talk to the whole bar but whispers to Fangs, “Get Toni and head to Fox Forest. I don’t know what happened I will get the others together and be there in a minute.” Fangs grabs Tonis arm in a death grip dragging her outside without explanation. Once outside he puts his hands on her shoulders and states, “Something's happened to Y/N/N. We think she is in Fox Forest. The others will be there to help look shortly but she may not have time.” Without a thought they both began running full speed into the forest with Toni going to the left and Fangs to the right.

Within  less than five minutes Fangs and Toni can hear others coming behind and calling out for you. It was coming up on ten minutes from when you had passed out when Fangs saw you laying face down on the ground and running up to you as he calls out, “FP! Toni! I found her. She’s over here!” Fangs rolls you over into his lap seeing dirt and leaves stuck to your abdomen, leg and face as the cuts had stopped bleeding and the blood was clotting and drying. As Fangs looked you over he sees you had a split on the back of your head and the front of your hairline along with your cheek and lip. You also had bruised ribs along with the cut from your ribs to mid thigh with the clothing falling open from being cut in the process of cutting you. FP and Toni begin running over to you and FP hollars at Pea as he sees the Ghoulie, “Check out that guy. She thought he might be dead…”

There was some worry in his voice about the Ghoulie but FP made his way over to you doing a quick one over of your injuries before stating, “He had to have stocked her while she was swimming. If she had seen him coming this wouldn't have happened. Anyone see her jacket?” Toni was a couple hundred feet away raises them up and pulls your brass knuckles out of the pocket and holding them up, “She was caught off guard. Didn’t even have a chance to get them out.” As Fangs brushes some of the debris off your cuts you regain consciousness and are extremely startled grabbing his sleeve with a death grip and whipping your head around to see those around you. Fangs pulls you closer to him, “Y/N its me. Your safe now.” You loosen your grip but do not release his sleeve as you look down at the cut on your side bringing your other hand to touch it and seeing your trembling.

“Don’t touch it. You don’t wanna make it bleed again.” You nod as he whispers in your ear and you look around seeing Pea leaning down examining the guy and making your grip tighten on his flannel shirt again. “Toni will you come check her out before we take her back to the trailer?” Toni comes and kneels in front of you blocking your vision as FP heads over talking to Sweet Pea. You are hearing a ringing and can’t make out what FP is saying as you begin squirming to see the Ghoulie, still not knowing if he is alive or not. Fangs holds you still leaning close to your ear again and whispering, “He is alive they are just talking about what to do with him. Calm down it will all be okay.” Toni looks over your wounds before stating, “She should be okay to be carried back home. I don’t want her walking and pulling open the cut down her body.” Fangs nods and kneels before lifting you as he stands. Toni talks to FP before following Fangs and you to your trailer. Toni catches up in time pulling your keys from your jacket pocket and unlocking your trailer.

Fangs sits you on the side of the tub and sits beside you as you do not let go of his sleeve. Toni comes in and kneels down looking up at you after looking at the cuts covered in dirt, “It is gonna be easier to clean it all if you just shower first. Me or Fangs can help or if you can stand you can do it alone.” You don’t look Toni in the eye keeping your eyes on your knees as they dart back and forth and your grip tightens on Fangs sleeve again. Fangs leans in to whisper in your ear again, “You don’t have to talk. Tap on my wrist once for yes and twice for no. Do you want Toni to help?” You keep your eyes on your knees tapping his wrist twice and he asks, “Do you want me to help?” After tapping his wrist once Fangs nods and tells Toni, “I will help her. Will you get some loose clothes she can put on after the shower and run to my place and grab me some clean clothes?” She nods and takes Fangs keys leaving the bathroom.

Once the door is closed Fangs helps you stand and asks, “Are you okay with me being naked. I can ke…” You tap his wrist once before he can finish his sentence letting him know it is okay. Fangs nods and takes a deep breath, “I  need to take off my shirt then. If you need to keep a hand on me for comfort you can put it here okay?” Fangs lifts his shirt so his lower abdomen is exposed and you slowly move your hand from his wrist to his abdomen. You still haven't let your eyes move above waist level and your eyes are constantly moving back and forth, not staying looking at one thing for more than a few seconds at a time. Fangs pulls his flannel and t-shirt off before pushing his jeans and boxers off. Your eyes stop on Fangs crotch for longer than anticipated and you instantly blush and look up to his face for the first time. Your face is red and eyes wide as you begin to hyperventilate and lift both of your hands to block your face.

Fangs slowly and gently grabs both of your hands and puts them on his chest. You can feel his steady and calm heartbeat as he looks down on you with a small smile, “You are safe and nothing will change that.” You nod as your breathing calms and you can comfortably look into his eyes as he explains, “I’m gonna help you strip now. If something hurts or you need me to stop just let me know by tapping or squeezing or whatever.” You nod and lift your arms to let him take your shirt off. Bits of the fabric are stuck to the dried blood on your skin and pull at the cut but you remain relaxed. You pull your bathing suit top off with shaking hands as Fangs leans down pulling your pants and bikini bottoms down to your ankles. You step out of the clothing as you rest your hands on his shoulders. As Fangs stands you move your hands down to his chest again and he holds one of his own out for you to take and asks, “It will hurt when the water hits bruised skin or cuts. Feel free to squeeze my hand or whatever you need to help. You ready?”

Masterlist

[quickeningheart]

Twenty

    The garage doors were shut, which meant either the gang was still out investigating, or it was later than Alley had thought and the Last Chance was closed for the night. She hoped for the former as she typed the security code into the panel on the wall, allowing the door to raise halfway before slipping under it.

    No such luck. They were all back. She wasn’t particularly shocked to find people still inside the garage; she was surprised to find that Chris and Chex were among them. She hadn’t noticed either of their cars parked on the street.

    “So, you totally blew off lunch,” Chex scolded as she bounced forward. “I was mad until I got your text. Man, that blows. I can’t believe—Holy hell what happened to you? You get into a fight or somethin’?” She stopped talking long enough to give the frazzled blonde a lengthy once-over.

    Embarrassed, Alley glanced down at herself, noting the state of her clothes, wrinkled and liberally stained with grass and dirt. She was sure her hair was a tangled mess, their braids long undone. She couldn't even guess where the elastic bands had gotten to; she strongly suspected they were still back at the lake. “Oh. Uh…” She felt herself blushing under the scrutiny. “M-My pet rat just died.” She held up the empty box. “Throttle took me out to bury her.”

    “What, did he try ‘n bury you along with her?” Chex jumped when Chris elbowed her sharply in the side.

    “Ignore the birth defect. She suffers from chronic Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome. I’m sorry about your pet, Alley.”

    “Uh, yeah. Me too. That bites.” Chex offered a sheepish grin. “Rats are cool.”

    “It’s okay. I feel a little better now. I was afraid I'd just have to dump her body, but Throttle helped me bury her under a tree. It was kind've therapeutic. He carved her name into the trunk. Even said a little blessing over her grave and everything. It was really sweet.”

    Charley and the mice exchanged glances, eyebrows raised all around. “Yeah,” Vinnie sniggered. “Real sweet of ‘im.”

    Now it was Charley’s turn to make use of her elbow. “You gonna be okay?” she asked her cousin, concerned. “That’s a lot of bad news for one—”

    “Holy shit, girl, is that a hickey?” Ignoring her brother’s exasperated sigh, Chex grabbed Alley’s sweater and peeled it back. “It is! There’s like a whole flock of ‘em!” She looked inexplicably delighted by the discovery, eyes sparkling with devilish humor. “Sooo … after burying your pet, I guess he decided to help distract you from your grief with a little wrestling and—”

    She was once again cut off by a swat from her brother. “Don’t be disgusting, Chex,” he snapped. “She’s a human! He’s a giant rodent! There’s no way they could—”

    “Says you,” Vinnie cut in with a derisive snort, stepping forward to sling a possessive arm around Charley’s shoulders. “From where I’m standin’, we can just fine, thanks.” Two jaws dropped, and Charley looked like she wanted to crawl into the floor.

    “You mean … the two of you are—” Chris choked out.

    “She’s my girl,” Vinnie confirmed proudly. “An’ I’m her mouse!”

    Charley just sighed and shrugged in a what-can-ya-do gesture.

    Chex’s shock slowly faded as a delighted grin reappeared. “Gettin’ frisky with the furries!” She nodded approvingly. “Dude, that’s hot.”

    Charley and Chris both choked. Vinnie preened. Modo looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Alley kind've understood how he felt. She groaned and wiped a hand over her face. “Chex, really?”

    “What?” Her expression was all innocence.

    “I’m goin’ to bed.” Alley stalked to the garbage bin to dump the empty box into it.

    “Aw, come on, it was just gettin’ good!” Laughing, Chex moved to keep her from leaving. “What happened between you two while you were out burying things? And how come he’s not here?”

    Alley was wondering that, herself. Damned mouse, throwing her to the wolves like this… “Nothing happened,” she growled.

    “Your appearance would suggest otherwise,” Chex teased. “Come on, tell!”

    Alley shot a pleading glance at her cousin, who merely raised an eyebrow in return as a small grin twitched around her mouth. Clearly, she would be getting no help from that quarter. Huffing, she turned to stomp up the stairs, only to run headlong into a furry body directly in her path. Startled, she looked up to find Stoker standing over her, shirtless, with a towel draped around his neck. His fur was damp, clearly just from a shower. “Yes,” he deadpanned, expression droll. “Do tell us what happened while you were out tonight.” He stepped back to look her over, face darkening as he took in the smattering of love bites visible under the open sweater. He reached out to yank its hood until it slipped down around her elbows, revealing the bruises peppering her throat and collarbone and even further, vanishing under her clothes. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he took in the suspicious hole in her shirt, dotted with traces of blood. She could feel the hot flush spreading over her skin, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a crack and hide.

    “Did he attack you?” Stoker finally asked, voice deceptively soft.

    She gaped at him. “Do you even hear yourself?”

    “Yeah! She was obviously a willing participant,” Chex put in with a snicker. Stoker shot her an annoyed glance; she held up her hands in surrender and backed off, still smirking.

    “Nothing happened,” Alley growled, stamping her foot.

    “I can smell him all over you. Those bruises don’t look like ‘nothing’.”

    Blush darkening, she yanked her sweater closed and glared. “It’s none of your business, either way!”

    Chris shifted uncomfortably. “It’s getting late,” he muttered. “We gotta get back to the dorms or we’ll miss curfew.”

    “But we just got here! You were soooo insistent on coming out and making sure Alley was okay. What happened to helping her in her time of need?” Chex asked, pouting.

    He sneered. “Looks like someone already beat me to it."

    Alley straightened, shooting him a wounded look. “That’s not fair!”

    “Oh, don’t mind him.” Chex smirked. “He’s just pissy ‘cause his crush totally got laid.”

    Chris’s face slowly turned a deep shade of crimson. “Blow it out your ass, Connie,” he snarled over Alley’s denials. “I’m going back to the dorm. You comin’ or you gonna walk?” He turned to stomp off.

    “Wait! Chris…” Alley called after him. He ignored her.

    “Ooooo, touchy. No worries, I can catch a ride!” Chex shot Modo a hopeful glance, who in turn frowned at her, the very picture of fatherly disapproval. She heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Okay, fine. Should’ve drove myself. Hold up, Spaz, I’m comin’!” Mouthing a quick “call me” to Alley, she turned to trot after her twin.

    Leaving Alley to face the wolves by herself. She gulped.

    There was a long, awkward silence, during which Alley fidgeted nervously and considered making a mad dash for her bedroom. Of course, Stoker effectively blocked her route up the stairs, but there was always the fire escape...

    "So," Charley began, effectively breaking the silence. "Can I take this to mean that you've become more open to inter-species relationships?"

    Alley pursed her lips, nonchalantly picking caked dirt from under her fingernails. “I’m no longer … completely opposed to the idea,” she mumbled.

    "How generous of Throttle, steppin’ up to help you overcome your aversion to our species," Stoker snorted, looking anything but happy. "Way to take one for the team."

    Jaws dropped all around. Modo and Vinnie exchanged alarmed glances as Charley sighed heavily and wiped a hand over her face, shaking her head.

    Alley calmly stepped up, hauled back, and delivered a clean uppercut directly to Stoker’s jaw.

    His head snapped back as a startled grunt escaped. The force of the hit caused him to stagger back a step or two, where he promptly tripped over the bottom step and stumbled backwards, landing right on his tail, sprawled over the stairs. He gaped up at the blonde, who stood over him with an evil glare, shaking the pain out of her hand. “You’re an ass,” she hissed, stepping over him and marching up the stairs. A few moments later a door slammed.

    He gingerly worked his jaw, rubbing the abused skin; he could feel the welt already swelling under his fur. Charley knelt beside him, her expression a mix of sympathy and amusement. “You okay?” she asked, shooting a scolding glance at Vinnie and Modo, who were trying (and failing miserably) to hide their snickers.

    He let his head rest against the step. "Been better," he sighed

    She grinned. “She clocked you a good one, huh? Need some ice?”

    He huffed, insulted. “What do you take me for?”

    She patted his shoulder. “I hate to say I told you so—"

    "No, you don't," he snorted. "An' I know. I had it comin'."

    She hummed in agreement. “I think you’ve probably got a bit groveling to do.”

    He chuckled. “Stuck my foot in it, huh?”

    “Sure,” she teased. “Your foot, your knee, your upper thigh…”

    “Okay, okay. Smartass.” A grin twitched his mouth and he tossed his damp towel over her head. "Think she'll forgive me if I buy her another rat?"

    "I dunno, Coach. Rate you're goin', you better make it a pony," Modo quipped, earning more snickers from Vinnie.

    "I think she'll forgive you if you offer a heartfelt apology." Charley tugged on a lock of his hair.

    "I was afraid you'd say that."

    "You do know what one of those is, right?"

    "Sure! It’s that thing where you tell your lady that you were wrong about everything in your entire life, an’ pray she won’t make you sleep on the couch for the rest of it.”

    “Oh, stop it.” Charley laughed and delivered a playful smack to his shoulder.

    He smirked and hauled himself to his feet, wincing when his back popped with the effort. He was gettin’ too damned old. His sleek black racer rolled over to him, and he hopped on with a grateful pat to the crankshaft.

    “Where ya goin’?” Vinnie asked. “Ya ain’t runnin’ away, are ya?”

    “Better let her calm down a bit. Word of advice, punk. It’s a lot easier to apologize when yer not too busy dodgin’ the blunt objects bein’ hurled at your head.” Stoker pulled on his wing-eared helmet. “‘Sides, I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”

    “You realize there’s a perfectly good phone right over there,” Charley offered, bemused.

    “Ain’t the right kinda phone, honey.” He gave her a wink before revving his engine and shooting out of the garage, barely missing the half-open door on the way.

     ~*~*~*~*~

    After convincing the guys to go to the scoreboard for the night, Charley found herself standing outside of Alley’s bedroom. She took a fortifying breath, knocked lightly, opened the door a crack to peer into the room.

    Alley looked up from her spot on the floor, where she was busily cleaning out the empty cage. “I’m not gonna apologize for hitting him,” she warned.

    “I don’t expect you to.” Charley wandered into the room and made herself comfortable on the bed. “He deserved a punch.” She smiled at Alley's surprise; clearly, she’d been expecting a scolding. “Don’t hold it against him, though, huh?” she added. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on anybody.”

    The blonde snorted and turned back to the cage. “Where is everyone?” she asked after a moment.

    “Dunno where Stoker got off to, but I sent the other two home. I suspect they might’ve gone looking for Throttle.”

    “They’re not gonna yell at him, are they?”

    “Of course not.” Charley shrugged. “Not like he did anything wrong. Right?” She watched her cousin for a few moments, before nudging her leg with a booted foot. “So. You and Throttle, huh? How long has this been going on?”

    “It hasn’t,” Alley muttered, dumping a tray of used wood shavings into a garbage bag.

    “He’s been spending an awful lot of time with you, hasn’t he? Not that it’s a bad thing. I’m glad to see you’re both getting on so well, actually. But…”

    Alley sat back with a sigh, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not like I went out there planning to seduce him or anything,” she mumbled. “We were just talking and then … and then he was kissing me and…” She flushed, glancing away. “I didn’t … hate it.”

    “So, he’s a good kisser, huh?” Charley’s eyes sparkled.

    The blonde shifted, blushing. “Well, honestly, it was kind’ve awkward,” she confessed. “I mean, he doesn’t even have lips! We didn’t quite … mesh.”

    “Soooo … he’s a bad kisser?” The mechanic’s lips twitched.

    “I didn’t say that.” Alley rolled her eyes, smirking. “Once we figured out what went where, it was actually quite—” She stopped, clearing her throat as her cousin laughed. “But then I had to go and bring up Carbine.” She sighed heavily, dropping the litter scoop and sitting back against the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. “After that he got real quiet. Then we came back here. He dropped me off, and took off on his own. Said he had to clear his head.”

    “Hmmm. Probably feels guilty. At least you stopped when you did. It’d be worse if you’d kept going.”

    “I know.” She leaned against Charley’s leg. “But part of me wishes I’d never mentioned her name. Now things are gonna be all awkward between us and I don’t want that. I really like him, you know? I want to get to know him better.”

    “Well, the fact that he made a move suggests definite interest. What kind and how much is another issue.” Charley sighed. “Carbine is the problem. Those two have been together for a long time, but I know their relationship has been pretty rocky at times. They hardly see each other as it is, and now that she's been made general, I don't imagine it will get any easier. What with her being on an entirely different planet and all…” She shifted. “Fact is, he might just be lonely, you know? And if you've developed any feelings for him, he might be picking up on that.”

    “Oh, that makes me feel much better,” Alley grumbled.

    Charley grimaced. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—I'm just trying—” She huffed and ran a hand through her hair. “I'm not very good at this love advice thing, am I?”

    Her cousin offered a faint smile. “No, I understand. What you said makes sense, I guess. But what am I supposed to do now? Pretend like it never happened? I don't want to be just a convenient placeholder until he can go back to his real girlfriend."

    Charley tipped her head back. "Well, I imagine you and Throttle will have to figure that out for yourselves,” she replied. “Either way, I suggest having a conversation. Soon."

    “Yeah.”

    The two women sat for a few moments, lost in their own musings. Alley finally shifted, breaking the silence. “So, Throttle said you’d gone to the college to try and break into the computers.” She raised an eyebrow. “How’d that work for ya? Did you have to flee a zillion security guards?”

    Charley wrinkled her nose. “Please. Do I look like an idiot? I sent in backup.” She reached into her shirt pocket, withdrew an object and held it out.

    “What is that?”

    On closer inspection, “that” turned out to be a small mess of metal components, smashed microchips and hair-thin copper wires.

    "It used to be an electronic beetle," Charley explained. "But it sort've met with a little ... accident." She sounded perturbed.

    “You mean it’s like a robot or something?”

    “Mmmm. Something like that. It’s essentially a spy cam. It’s purpose is to plug into a computer and wirelessly download information to another hard drive. In this case, my laptop. That’s what I was trying to do last night. As you can see, it didn’t work out so well.”

    “What happened?”

    “The secretary spotted it. Thought it was an actual insect. She brought a book right down on it. Feedback damn near blew out my eardrum, lemme tell you.” Charley huffed a laugh. “And that was the end of that. It was a good test run, at any rate.”

    “Where did you even pick up something like this? Spies R Us?”

    “Oh, it’s just something I cobbled together in my spare time.” She gave a casual shrug as her cousin gaped at her.

“Cobbled toge—Charley.” Alley pinched the bridge of her nose. “You cobble together a backyard tree fort, or a quick fix for a broken table leg. You do not ‘cobble’ a technologically advanced … robotic … spy beetle!”

    “Sure I do!” The redhead grinned. “It’s just a prototype, like I said. I built it using spare parts. I needed to test it, and this was a good chance. Now I know its limitations. I’ll take them into account when I build an upgraded version.”

    “What sort of limitations?” Alley asked, curious.

    “For one thing, its signal range is too small. It only extends about twenty meters or so. I had to sit in a tree last night to get close enough to the third floor to maneuver the bug through my laptop. The commands weren’t getting through very well, though. It couldn’t read the order to disappear when the secretary showed up, which is how it got smashed. Good thing she didn’t look too closely and realize she’d just killed a robot. Adding working wings next time might be useful. It does climb walls pretty well, though.”

    Alley shook her head, impressed. “I dunno, Cuz. I think you totally missed your calling. Why are you fixing cars for a living, barely scraping by? You’re like a real-life James Bomb with all this spy crap! You should be making billions selling it to the government!”

    Charley hummed. “You know, I used to design bikes and stuff for small companies and private investors. Even had Washington sniffing around, expressing interest in my engines and a few of my weaponry designs.”

    Alley stared. “And?”

    “Martians crash-landed my hometown.” Charley grinned wryly at the blonde's expression. “I tried for a few months to keep working on my prototypes, but…” She sighed and shrugged. “The problem with private investors and the government is they’re all incredibly nosy. And they tend to be super paranoid about their investments. They wanna know exactly what they’re getting, how it’s all put together, what sort of equipment I use, where I get my parts… I couldn’t have the CIA poking around the garage with the guys constantly in and out. Three giant, talking alien mice would be just a little hard to explain. Not to mention where I acquired some of the more advanced components in my gadgets.”

    “Yikes. I see your point.”

   “Yeah. So, I just content myself with using my creativity to help out my best friends against the Plutarkian invasion. Little things like my spy bug will be a great help in the future. Once I perfect it, if we need info on Limburger's schemes, rather than putting ourselves in the direct line of fire, I can just send in a few of these little beauties to gather all the intel we need, safe and sound.”

   Alley scoffed. “I dunno, Charley. That's all well and good, but isn’t putting themselves in direct line of fire sort of what they do? Being the psycho adrenaline junkies that they are and all…”

   Charley snorted. “They might be. As for me, I have no such issues about giving my heart a few less attacks per month, thanks very much. Constant kidnapping never did sit well with me.”

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