#From the empty and lonely mouth of the wolf

[fortheb0ys]

FUCK ME LIKE THE MEN BETWEEN THOSE PAGES

Bottom John Price x Top Male Reader

Just Price brain rot🤤 I've always wanted to a model for MLM porn sites ngl so I'm living through this fic🙏 As usual not proofread :)

FEM ALIGNED + MINORS DNI

Prices would be one of those faceless models for those erotic gay romance novels. All his work would be faceless. Just something he did to make money on the side.

It was a secret that was long forgotten. Memories replaced by his military service. His body more scarred than his younger self's. His own books but they were just collecting dust in a box.

When you got together, you had found one of the books Price had forgotten that was on a shelf. Your eyes grew wide as you noiced it was Price's shirtless body on the front cover. A small mole on his left hip was telltale that it was him.

Flipping the book over and reading the synopsis reveals the dirty content of it. All the colour washes from Price's face as he sees what you have in your hand.

Price was about to open his mouth to quickly deny it but saw your giddy excitement. Though Price felt a bit shameful, he told you that there was more. A lot more.

With much hesitation from him and a whole lot more convincing from you, Price lent you the books. His amazing body on every single one of them. A new scar here and there as the

He had been surprised that you never poked fun at him and that you were genuinely interested in his past works.

You'd admit that the sex scenes depicted were the main thing that got you interested. You'd imagine Price vividly as the characters he model on the front covers. It didn't take long for you to read through the lot of them.

When Price would be on deployment, he'd get a text from you.

Cum on the front cover or on the pages. Or others with your erect cock slotted like a bookmark between the pages with the dirtiest scenes, precum dripping onto the sheets.

You'd send worded texts underneath the photo like "Try these with me?" or "What if were we the ones to do this?"

Price hated himself for showing you the books right before the mission, making the wait painfully long.

Sexualy frustrated and slightly pissed he had to wait for his deployment to end, Price would have a lonely wank in his barracks. His fingers didn't feel right. His fantasies never felt like details in the books. Nothing felt like you.

Once he got back, Price had to fight back a boner as the anticipation took over him. He went through countless cigars trying to get his mind on something else. The 141 Boys knew something was up. Soap had to control the intrusive thoughts to ask if you were waiting naked when Price returned home.

Which he wasn't wrong. The moment Price came through that door he was already painfully hard. Before he could even open his mouth to greet you, you were on him like a fly to honey, attacking his neck with bruising kisses. Whispering the dirty dialog from one of the books made Price weak in the knees.

Thus was the beginning of your roleplay sex.

Your playtime is always different. Numerous scenarios with one thing in common: Mind blowing sex.

Price would play a royal guard, and you, the prince. A prince in a loveless engagement to a princess. A guard pleading loyalty as he rides the prince on the royal throne.

A grade slipping college student fucking his teacher in an empty classroom for extra credit. Blowjows underneath desks replaces the outdated method of study and paying attention to lectures.

A hunter who falls in love with a werewolf he's supposed to kill. The wolf is just a dumb puppy who needs to be told what to do. With a collar around his neck, ready to be tugged at and the willingness to please his master, puppy soon becomes skilled at lapping at master's hole.

A rowdy rockstar and his stressed out manager. The musician needing to burn off the adrenaline after the show and the poor management needing the stress fucked out of him. The real show was played backstage. The manager put on quite the proformance, his deep moans sounded much better than your singing.

A sex therapist that prefers to take on a more hands-on approach. That skilled tongue was used more than just giving advice.

Or lastly, a priest beguiled by a gorgeous sinner. Guilt was all he felt but it felt like true heaven. God would forgive any sin if he showed true repentance, right? Wouldn't Jesus have died for nothing if we didn't sin?

Sure, some where terrible written and some were written by women with a fetish for gay men. Seeing you act out the scenes without missing a beat or breaking out into laughter while you quoted the dirtiest and most ridiculous things.

You'd remember every dirty word uttered. Every scenario memorized. Price was starting to understand what those white women on TikTok saw in those fucking books. It was just too bad they couldn't live it out like he could.

[hederasgarden]

Series: Bound - Part 1

Summary: When a dangerous situation pushes you out of the only home you've never known, you take refuge with an unruly pack of wolves. Tyler Owens might not be the alpha you think you want, but he’s the one you need. [Werewolf!Tyler Owens x Human!F!Reader | 2.3K]

Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Magical realism, supernatural themes, violence, and angst. Future chapters will include explicit sexual content  This series will include untagged themes and elements. 

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who patiently helped me write this including @mermaidxatxheart @a-reader-and-a-writer @blue-aconite and @clairewritesandrambles. The beautiful banner was created by @writercole.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day. 

Masterlist

The rain comes in droves, the wipers on your car barely able to keep up with the deluge. Anxiety grows with every passing second, fear blooming in your chest when you glance in the rearview mirror. You half expect to see lights from another car but the road remains empty. You should be relieved but all you feel is mounting unease as you navigate the winding gravel path. The lack of moonlight makes it hard to see much of anything.

Your hands tremble on the steering wheel, and you grip it tighter, leaning forward to navigate a sharp turn. It's difficult to see beyond the narrow beam of your headlights, and despite the growing sense of panic, you’re forced to follow the winding path slowly. Suddenly, the dense thicket of trees gives way to a large clearing, where a massive wooden cabin stands in the center. Warm light spills through the bay windows onto a wrap-around porch, illuminating a line of rocking chairs.

You cut the engine, but pause with your hand on the door. Coming here seemed like the best option earlier, but now in the moment, your courage flags. You know from experience that lingering too long on that doubt will consume you, and the truth is, there are no other choices. You push the door open and sprint for the porch, the cold rain soaking through your clothes. There hadn’t been time to grab a raincoat when you left home in a hurry. Besides the car and the hastily packed duffle bag in the backseat, you have nothing—no personal belongings, not even the necklace with your mother’s wedding ring.

As soon as your boots hit the bottom step, the front door swings open. A young wolf with shoulder-length brown hair stands there, a bag of chips in hand. He tilts his head, taking in your disheveled and drenched appearance while he pops another chip into his mouth. You can only imagine how you must look to him, a half-drowned human seeking refuge on his porch.

"Hey," he greets. "Can I help you?”

You climb the final two steps and straighten your shoulders, trying to muster some courage. “I need to see Alpha Owens.” You pause and then add, "Please.”

The young man leans in, his nose twitching as he not-so-subtly takes in your scent. "Yeah, sure. Wait here," he instructs, closing the door.

You wrap your arms around yourself, seeking some warmth and comfort. It’s hard not to think about the last time you were here over four years ago with your father when the cabin was still under construction. Back then no one thought much of Tyler Owens and his small, ragtag pack of lone wolves. The Alphas’ council had dismissed them as insignificant and unworthy of attention. In your father’s world, those bitten and not born held little power, and the idea of Tyler becoming an Alpha of a pack seemed improbable at best. 

Despite this, your father kept a semi-friendly relationship with Tyler over the years, mostly because their lands bordered each other. No one, certainly not even your father, could have predicted how Tyler’s pack would grow the way it had or how he’d become a formidable Alpha with exactly the kind of strength you needed now. 

When the door opens again, Tyler stands in the entryway. His honey-blonde hair has grown longer, nearly touching the collar of his shirt, and his sharp jawline is obscured by a light beard. He's dressed casually in a pair of jeans, feet bare. You stare until he clears his throat.

"I’m not sure if you remember me..." you begin, but he interrupts with a smile. 

"I remember you," he says kindly. "I was sorry to hear about your father's passing. He was a good man and a great Alpha."

His words stir up the familiar ache of grief in your chest, threatening to choke off your response. It’s only been four months since you lost your father and you feel adrift without him. A nod is all you can manage for a long moment before you’re able to speak again. “I'm here because I need your help. I need sanctuary."

Tyler’s expression shifts to one of surprise, his brows drawing together in confusion. When he doesn’t speak for a long moment, you hurry to add, “It’s just for the night. I promise I’ll leave in the morning.”

"You need sanctuary from your father's pack?" He questions. 

You shake your head. "It's not his anymore."

Without thinking, you touch the unmarked skin of your throat, and Tyler’s gaze follows the movement. 

“What about Daniel?” Tyler questions. 

"He’s dead.”

Tyler's brow wrinkles, his sharp little "What?" nearly lost as the wind picks up.

Although you were never in love with your father’s chosen heir, Daniel was good and kind. You liked to think those feelings might have come with enough time but that’s impossible now. You should be grieving him too but it's hard to feel much more than numbness and horror when you think of what happened to him. 

“Let’s talk inside," Tyler urges, cupping your elbow to draw you closer as he surveys the darkness behind you, his green eyes flashing golden. Relief washes over you at the invitation.

Inside the foyer you’re overly aware of the wet squelch of your shoes against the hardwood floors and the water dripping from your clothes. The young wolf who greeted you earlier observes from a doorway to your left, exchanging a meaningful look with Tyler that you’re all too familiar with. The nonverbal communication an Alpha could share with their pack was something your father often utilized to dole out commands.

A light touch on your elbow draws your attention back to Tyler, who guides you into a spacious living room filled with couches and mismatched throw rugs. He urges you closer to the fireplace until its comforting warmth reaches you. You stay like that, staring into the flames until Tyler speaks again but when you turn to face him, you realize he’s addressing the young wolf who hands him a towel and steaming mug.

“Thanks, Boone.” 

“Aye, aye captain,” Boone replies, giving his Alpha a sloppy salute before leaving. 

You stare at Tyler, shocked by the casual way the other wolf addressed him. His only response is a raised brow as he offers you the towel. You take it, drying your face and hands. There’s nothing to be done for your clothes. 

“Here,” he directs, hooking his leg around a chair to pull it closer. “Sit.” 

“I’m drenched.”

He quirks a brow. “Sweetheart, it’s a chair, not my grandmother’s hope chest.”

You lower yourself gingerly and accept the mug of tea Tyler presses into your hands. Though you’re not especially thirsty, you take it, finding the warmth that seeps through the ceramic soothing. 

“Tell me what happened,” he encourages.  

“Daniel died three days ago. Sheriff Riggs—” you falter, your eyes darting nervously behind Tyler as if mentioning the man's name might summon him. Your voice trembles as you continue, now barely more than a whisper. “The sheriff says it was a car accident, but h-he—” your voice fizzles out, your throat tightening around the words you want to say.

“You can tell me. Whatever it is.”

You shake your head and look up at the ceiling, fighting to keep the tears at bay. The lump in your throat that’s been there since Daniel died feels like it's choking you. Telling the truth would be a relief but it’s dangerous. To accuse another Alpha without proof….

“I can’t.”

Tyler says your name softly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. Everything about him, from his tone to the expression on his face is gentle and encouraging. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I think… I think Scott had him killed.” The words tumble out before you can stop them, and as soon as they’re spoken, you wish you could take them back.

“Scott?” He repeats, his brows knitting together as he tries to place the name.

"Scott was expected to be my father's heir, until, out of the blue, he chose Daniel a few months ago.”

You never liked Scott, always wary of his ambitious and calculating nature. While most wolves were feared for the beast within, Scott’s human side set him apart. He was cunning and careful. Every move he made seemed designed to advance his own interests, often at the expense of others. You had half-expected him to leave the pack and start his own after being passed over for the coveted position of your father’s second. Instead, he stayed, and now you realize he was biding his time.

“That’s a serious accusation,” Tyler says, his tone guarded.

You shrink back as if trying to distance yourself from the weight of your words. Tyler’s nostrils flare, and you wonder if it’s the acrid tang of your anxiety or the sourness of your fear he smells on you.

“It’s not that I doubt you,” he adds quickly, “but I need to know what makes you think Scott is responsible.”

"Scott was careful not to show it but he was angry my dad chose Daniel.” You take a deep breath, summoning the courage to reveal what you’ve kept to yourself since Sheriff Riggs delivered the news to your pack three days ago. “The official report said Daniel was drunk, but I saw him earlier that night. He was sober.” 

Thinking about the last time you saw Daniel brings a sharp, painful sting to your chest. You didn’t see it at first, too caught up in your grief, but Daniel was the right choice to replace your father, handling things with the same calm confidence as his predecessor. It’s still hard to believe that the man who looked at you with those sweet, hopeful eyes, that promised he would be everything your father envisioned, is dead.

“It’s possible he went out after you saw him,” Tyler suggests. 

You breathe out sharply, shaking your head. “He wouldn’t, not with so much going on. He was a good Alpha. He was focused on the pack."

Tyler seems on the verge of saying something more but then he nods and gives you a soft, “Okay.”

You look away from him, trying to gather your thoughts. You need him to understand, to believe what you’re about to say.

“Scott’s uncle is the sheriff,” you continue. “He was the first to arrive at the scene of the accident. He and Scott have always been close.”

Tyler’s brow furrows as he processes your words. “So you’re saying Riggs might have altered the report?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “All I know is that with Daniel gone, Scott finally has what he’s always wanted—what he believed he was owed.”

“Do you think Scott would hurt you?”

“I don’t think so. He needs me to win over the rest of the pack.”  Scott certainly had his supporters, his uncle chief among them, but your father’s influence ran deep. The pack would expect to see you at the side of the next alpha. “But,” you continue, thinking of what drove you to run tonight, “I don’t think he plans on waiting to make me his mate.”

Tyler’s lip curls in disgust at your unspoken meaning. “You mean he intends to force you.”

“Yes,” you whisper, stomach churning at the idea of being bonded to a man like Scott. Someone who saw you as a means to an end to solidify his own power. Daniel was so different, allowing you time to grieve and adjust after your father’s passing before even broaching the subject. Part of you wonders if he would still be alive if you hadn’t waited to establish your bond— or if he would have just died sooner.

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Tyler assures you, tilting his head to catch your eye and hold your gaze. “As long as you’re here, you’re safe.”

“You’ll let me stay?” 

You didn’t really think he’d turn you away—after all, that’s why you came to him. Still, there was always a chance. Wolves were loyal to one another. You were painfully human. 

“I’d never turn away a lady in need,” Tyler says with a grin, that easy confidence you remember surfacing before his expression turns serious again. “Will Scott know to look for you here?”

“No. He probably expects me to seek out another Alpha on the council.”

“That’s good,” Tyler says. “But I gotta ask, why did you come to me? Your father has many friends you could have turned to.” 

"They would have sent me back," you explain simply. “Scott’s the new Alpha. In their eyes, I belong with him."

“Well,” Tyler begins, a small grin on his face, “I’m flattered you chose the charming but rogue Alpha over the law-abiding ones.”

His response startles a watery laugh out of you, a foreign feeling after all the grief and fear that’s kept you company these last few months. “I also chose you because my father always respected you.”

“Even when the others didn’t,” Tyler agrees. “I’ll always be thankful for that.”

You share a small, bittersweet smile with him and exhale, your shoulders slumping. Suddenly, you feel exhausted. 

“Now come on, let’s get you out of your wet clothes. In the morning we can figure out what to do.”

“We?” you ask, surprised.

Tyler flashes you a brilliant smile, leaning in close as if sharing a secret. “Didn’t you hear? Our pack is fond of strays. You’re one of us now, sweetheart.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Throbbing

Summary -> Daryl needs you, however you’re out on a run, so he has no other cure other than to take care of himself (0.8k)

Warnings -> 18+ minors dni, smut, masturbation, swearing, implied smut

daryl dixon // norman reedus works main masterlist

It had been a long insufferable day for Daryl, and he was glad to be back in his basement, however something was missing that made the tracker continue to yearn.

That something was you.

He had supposed that when he got home you would be there to relieve his amorous aching, however you were nowhere to be seen. You must have still been out on a run, your boots and rucksack where gone suggesting as much.

And so he sat impatiently on the couch, lulling his head back onto the supporting headrest and breathed an impatient groan.

Daryl needed you, more than he ever had, or so he thought but it felt the same each time. His body had a craving and it would continue to be unfulfilled until you fixed his aroused ‘wound’.

You were consistent with tending to his injuries, and you were no different when it came to appealing to his desires. He tried shutting his eyes, but all he could see as he did so was your face, batting your eyelashes up at him as your mouth swallowed his eager cock.

He’d give anything for your return, however as he sat there and numerous minutes passed him by, there was no suggestion that your presence would flood him with freedom soon.

As much as he wanted to wait for you and your sultry aid, he knew he couldn’t. Picturing you in his mind was definitely not helping his matter, and so he reached his hand down and skilfully unbuckled his belt, shifting the material of his denim jeans down so that he could pull his pulsating length out and into his grasp.

It wasn’t the same as your own, but his hand have him some satisfaction, and whilst it wasn’t the perfect pleasure that he imagined, he knew he could get the job done by his lonesome. And that was his only option.

He began to stroke his cock, blowing out huffs of air threw the partition of his lips as he thought of all the sinful things he wanted to do with you.

As soon as you returned from your scavenging chores, he wanted you to apologise for whatever delay you had been caught up in. He would make you beg for his forgiveness, willing to do anything to make it up to him.

He would tease you as the thoughts he had of you had been doing to him all day. He’d use you for his own needs, leaving you begging to cum after he filled you up with his seed contentedly.

That thought made him bite his lip, he adored cumming inside of you. It made your bodies feel aligned together, composing into a singular source of passion that was a taste of solace for both of you.

In all admission, he felt like a horny teenager as he masturbated, it made him feel a little embarrassed, but he was too turned on to give into that feeling. There was another that he craved, and that was the sensation of release. And he was adamant to reach it with or without you, even if he preferred the latter.

He wanted you here, sharing bliss as one, rather than him chasing it by his lonesome. He wanted your body heat pressed against him, hearing his name gasp from your lips and into his ear, he was still astounded that you even wanted him. He’d always been a lone wolf in the sense that he liked doing things by himself, but he was starving for your touch.

To imagine that you were out there now, killing walkers without flinching and directing your friends onto the next step home had his chest feeling tight. He always liked to see you take those fuckers down.

His head reeled back, as he chewed on his own lip, daydreaming about you and how your ass looked in the jeans that he witnessed you dress yourself in during the morning, and the memory only brought him closer to his release. “Daryl.” He could hear your voice in his mind, giggling, and that was the end for him.

He emptied his load over his hand, and he felt relaxed. That was until he continued to hear your addictive laugh, and he drowsily opened his eyelids, turning to face the door, only to see your face flushed with a wave of amusement.

Your hand covered your mouth as you attempted to calm your laughter, however he saw straight through the useless convey of in-suspicion, and grumbled a ‘shut up’ through his teeth.

“No wonder why you were in a bad mood this morning, and I thought it was because I had to leave.” You were smirking, tilting your head as he rolled his eyes at your sarcastic humour. “And all you wanted was some time alone,” you faked a pout, batting your eyelashes in his direction, “all you had to do was ask for me to give you some privacy.”

He grabbed his red rag, cleaning his hand of his release as he composed himself, narrowing his blue eyes towards you. “Ain’t no privacy in this goddamn place with you sneaking up on people. Get here woman, and close the stupid door.”

You were already exhausted and covered in sweat from your supply run, however you weren’t going to say no to a naked Daryl.”

[neoarchipelago]

Hello, I don't know if you're taking requests but I loved your bunny and werewolf price fic. Could you maybe do werewolf könig and bunny reader? 👉🏾👈🏾 I'd love you forever. Thank you!

A/N: I'm just... Going to... Scouch over here.. shh...We've been trying to contact you about your car's extended warranty... JK, loved writing this. As always this was supposed to be a simple one shot but my mind keeps trying to write full fucking series so this is long... My bad. Did not proof read, too excited to share it with you

Warnings: ADULT CONTENT 18+ KONIGXF!READER , SEX WITH WEREWOLF, BLOOD, GORE.

Kinda Sub!Konig, cuz the thought of a whiny whimpering mess of this man is just... Damn...

Sleep token - Alkaline

I know I am what I am, the mouth of the wolf the eyes of the lamb.

Konig integration to squad 141 had been quite stressful. As a lone wolf, entering a team, entirely constituted by a pack of wolves, he had been anxious. Fortunately, Price and the others had been kind, and after the first few days of weariness, especially from Ghost who clawed to his mate Soap like a demon hungry for a soul, he had settled in. When he realized Konig had no interest in him, he had calmed down, though Konig tried to remain a good few steps away from Soap through discussions. 

So after six months, Konig could say he was part of the team. He felt quite at home. Price as the leader of the group seemed to put him at ease, his usual lone wolf demeanor kept in check. He had been thrilled to see that Price had found a mate, after coming back from a long solo mission. Konig had remained respectfully away as well, making sure that the remaining mating frenzy of Price wouldn't overspill. 

No, what he hadn't expected, was that with her being part of the pack, she'd introduce you. A dear friend who just transferred from another base. They sat in the common room, everyone laughing and eating snacks. 

Konig sat beside you, the big man towering you. You threw a few glances at him once in a while, glances that he could feel on him. He tried to glance at you once in a while too. He was having a hard time focusing on the current conversation. You… smelt so sweet. He wondered how you'd taste- Konig's eyes widened. No! What was that? 

"Konig?" Price called. 

Konig snapped his head towards the captain, blinking. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, a glint of something in his eyes. 

"Ah, ja! I'm alright" he quickly answered, German accent tainting his voice. He rubbed the back of his neck, an awkward laugh past his lips. 

That had been the first distraction. After a good week of settling in, where he had watched from far away, sniffing a few times your scent that made him want to pop out his tail and frantically wag it. So he had tried to simply step back. He was acting like a pup in rut, and it simply wouldn't do. 

He walked into the empty common area as he closed his eyes and sighed. It took a fraction of a second to have your delicious scent ensnare him. He immediately looked at you as you sat on one of the couches, book in hand. You had glanced up and he nodded curtly at you before going to grab a cold drink from the fridge. 

"Konig?" 

He froze, eyes staring inside of the open fridge. You had called him. By his name. His ears almost popped out at the sound of you standing from the couch and stepping closer to him. He immediately straightened himself once he could feel you close enough. You looked up at him, arms crossed. 

"Konig…" you repeated. 

"Yes liebling?" He blushed under his hood at the pet name that had rushed through his mouth quicker than through his brain. 

"I.. why…" you tried to find your words. He closed the fridge, fully turning to you. "Did I do something wrong?" 

He blinked. 

"Bitte?" You frowned, confused at the foreign language. 

"Hum.." 

He noticed. Chuckling a bit. 

"I.. you didn't do anything…" he answered finally. 

"But. You've been avoiding me… is it… that you don't like me?" You tried again. 

His beautiful blue eyes widened. How could he possibly tell you that he was avoiding you because your scent made him want to cuddle with you as you pet him. 

"N..no… I'm sorry. I've been… distracted. You're okay.." he reassured. 

You seemed to relax, throwing a soft smile at him before turning back towards the couch. He watched closely how you rolled into yourself, your legs underneath you and you picked up your book. He had a hard time thinking. The lingering scent of you, the sight of you adorably sitting on the couch. He had to shake his head to bring himself back to reality. He picked up a cold drink before taking a long sip. 

So, after that. He went back to talking to you. He'd love to walk beside you, watching your small frame by his side as your voice blessed his ears. Oh god he loved it. It quickly became obvious that you two were close. Sometimes you'd even slip into his dorm to watch a movie with him or simply read on his bed as he worked on a report. It felt odd to watch him, sweatpants and t-shirt. Your eyes wandered to the bulge in his pants before quickly looking away, embarrassed. 

After a good two months you were almost inseparable. If someone needed one of you they knew they'd simply had to find the other. Konig had grown fond of you. You had both gotten more touchy. You'd hug him often and cuddle while watching movies. You had fallen asleep in his arms a few times in his bed, Price scolding the both of you, calling you both an HR nightmare. It didn't stop you from sneaking into his room. Konig had first been hesitant, refusing to put you in trouble but nothing a little nuzzling couldn't convince. 

The first time you had popped out your black dotted ears and fluffy white tail Konig had almost looked at you through a trance. 

"K-konig?" You worried. His pupils had dilated as he watched closely your ears twitch. His eyes quickly wrinkled, a huge smile forming underneath the hood as he begged to touch them and pet them. You had complied and he had absolutely been addicted to the softness and smallness. It made you giggle. You often found yourself letting them show as much as you could in the privacy of his dorm. 

Him, however, it had been a slip of control. You were both on the bed, a movie on the background as you wrestled for the last chocolate bar. He could easily take it, but he found the way your small hands touched him and his large ones roamed your body was too tempting. He has ended in between your legs, hovering you as he tickled you, your laughter filling his ears. You had started kicking away, trying to turn and roll away, but in a synchronized movement your hips and his met, his obvious large member grinding against your clit perfecty. 

A startled moan had escaped your lips. Your hands rushed to cover your mouth as you looked up at the mountain of a man with wide eyes. You were both frozen, eyes staring into each other's, just your quickened breaths. You had blinked before realizing two things poking at his hood. You had relaxed, curiosity taking control as one of your hands rested flat on your chest and the other reached up. 

It had the effect of a cold shower for Konig as he instinctively grabbed your wrist before your fingers could think of the touch. You had yelped from the strength of his grip. His eyes flashed dangerously, red shine in them, something rare even for a werewolf. He eyed you like a prey before rolling his hips against you again, making you whine before biting your lip. 

"Konig…" you called. 

It seemed to make things worse as he rolled his hips again, grinding slightly now, is cock only hardening. Your legs tightened around his waist as you tried not to moan. No.. he had to snap out of it. You felt the fur of his tail at your feet. 

"K..Konig, snap out of it!" You called, louder. 

His tail wagged at the sound of your voice. You weren't exactly scared. God you even felt the way your body warmed under his touch, your cunt growing wetter under his grip and the grinding. 

"Konig!" Your voice rang louder. 

This time, a growl that resembled a roar echoed in the hallway, making Konig blink. His eyes had immediately fallen back into their beautiful blue as he looked shocked by his own actions. He let go of you as if your skin was burning magma. Abruptly stood to take various steps back. 

"es tut mir wirklich leid…" he quickly spoke before exiting his room in a hurry. The smell of Price in the hallway was strong as you closed your eyes. 

Konig was furious at himself for letting himself lose control so much. He had scared you, he was sure. Price scolded him, growling in his voice that showed dominance, trying to reason with Konig. He had decided to avoid you for a while until a mission fell on the table. Fortunately you both knew that you could remain professional. Talking to each other for nothing more than missions briefings and gear Control. 

It was hell for him. And unbestowed to him, it was also hell for you. You wanted to reassure him that it was ok. He hadn't hurt you or scared you. That deep down you kinda wanted it too. It was simply… too soon. Perhaps the fact that you both avoided gazes and voices was what created the upcoming chaos. 

The battlefield was a dangerous place, but you were both used to it. No. What was not usual was how much Konig had his mind set on you. He kept gazing at you, making sure you were ok. It wasn't exactly compromising the mission. It was simply making his beast claw at the iron bars of its cage. 

"Konig, focus!" Ghost hissed at him. 

Konig frowned before turning his head forwards. Yes. He had to focus. Until you found yourselves in an empty building, just him and you. Until that enemy jumped on you, combat knife in hand, so close to your throat. It was pure instinct, sheer force that rushed through him. He had turned in a flash, throwing the man across the room. When the man's team arrived he lunged at them, claws and teeth ripping through skin and flesh. When every single one of them laid as corpses on the floor you gently spoke. 

"Konig… it's over." You called out. 

He had turned to you, remaining far away. He looked terrifying. Blood coating his maw and claws. Splatter tainting his fur. Your strong, frightening beast. You had raised your hands towards him to invite him closer to you as you still sat on the ground. He had closed the space to you, wrapping you in his arms as he lifted you into his lap. His deep low growl was constant, fear and rage making his heart pound in his ears. His beautiful blue eyes were gone, red irises fixated on you. 

His head had lowered to your neck where little droplets of blood lingered from the enemy's blade. Long licks against the wound made you shiver. 

"Konig.. I'm ok.. it's nothing, I promi- ah~" the end of your sentence was lost in a moan as he nibbled softly. A shock of electricity ran through your nervous system. He was so close. So close to marking you. 

"K..Konig…" 

He was lost again. But this was the fear of losing you. His mind wasn't set on marking you, you knew it. But that's all you had in mind. And you needed to hide it from him.

Thankfully the team arrived quickly after, founding the big beast holding you close in the middle of a massacre. Price had to coax him out into letting you go as you promised him you'd stay by his side for the rest of the time. You had the Intel in any way, all you needed was to evac. He had turned back but his eyes were still red, fangs still poking out. You had never left his side as Price and the team constantly kept an eye on him. 

Returning from the mission, Konig had been presented in front of Price and Laswell. He had been suspended for a few weeks, which he completely understood. He had remained with price after Laswell left. 

"I know you're close to her. But is there something more?" Price asked. 

Konig didn't answer, simply staring at the pen on Price's desk. 

"Konig." He called firmly. "Are you imprinting on her?" . 

Konig swallowed. Was he? No… he couldn't. You deserved better. So much better than just a monstrous beast like him. 

"It doesn't matter… I'm going to step back." Konig mumbled. 

Price sighed loudly. 

"If you imprinted on her, walking away isn't going to help at all." Price reminded. 

"I know. But as long as she's not imprinted on me, I'll be fine staying away." 

Price shook his head but the conversation ended. Konig had gotten up and left the base an hour later. 

You were furious when you saw him from across the bar. It had been two weeks. No text, no calls, no nothing. You finally fell eye to eye in the middle of a team's night out. You had watched him stand from the booth when the boys walked towards it. You had stopped in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. You headed for the bar instead, sitting on a stool. 

Price had noticed the hurt in Konig's eyes immediately. He wanted to smack the large man for being so stubborn. He was scared to hurt you, yes. Price had been scared to hurt his mate too. But sometimes it is so much worse to stay away. 

The night went on as smoothly as it could. Konig kept throwing glances at you at the bar where you sat with Price's mate, your friend. 

"Konig, just go see her mate," Gaz said. 

Konig looked at the men sitting before shaking his head. 

"You're so stubborn." Ghost added. 

"You should listen to them…" Price's mate said as she approached the booth, closer to her man. "Before another tries to mark her…" she finished. 

Konig's head snapped towards where you sat. A boy was talking to you, smaller than him. He was about to stand when Ghost and Price pushed him back down. 

"Calm yourself down." Price's eyes flashed yellow. 

Konig realized his eyes were back to their hunting shade, fangs grazing at his lip. He was losing control again. 

"She's not yours." Ghost added. 

Price glared at Ghost as Konig instantly pushed past the both of them to walk towards you. 

You noticed the chaos arriving from the corner of your eyes. Konig striding towards you as Price and Ghost tried to catch up with him. You could see the red shiny eyes under the hood. Shit…

You took a step back from the man who was trying to find his friend in the same bar. Konig stood next to you in a flash, his hand, a hint of claws, gripping at the back of your shirt. 

"Konig." You warned. 

His bright eyes fell on you. You felt yourself crumble under the predatory gaze. God did you feel warmer all of a second. 

"Sorry.. I… was just looking for…" the boy stuttered. You put your hands on Konig's chest. 

"It's fine. Your friend is in the bathroom, went there a few minutes ago." You told him, the man nodding before walking away. 

You turned to Konig, crossing your arms. 

"What are you doing?" You asked with a frown. 

"Why were you talking with him?" He asked, soft growls behind his words. 

Price and Ghost remained far enough to not listen to you two but close enough to intervene. 

"He asked me a question." You glared. "What's it with you who I talk to anyway?" You snapped. 

"Y/N.." he started. 

"You left. Why do you care?" You snapped again. 

Price shook his head, knowing exactly where this was going. 

Underneath his hood, Konig clenched his jaw. God he wanted to show you. Make you understand how much he cared, how much you meant to him. How unbearable it had been to be away from you, how he only came tonight because he knew you'd be here too. 

"You know what. Whatever. I'm going home captain." You said, grabbing your coat before walking away. 

When you walked through the door, Gaz stood behind Konig. 

"Konig, I swear to God if you don't ask her out I fucking will." 

Konig glares at him before something in his mind clicks. Images of you in someone else's arms, kissing another's lips. Letting another's cock- 

He rushed past the boys, hoping to catch up to you. As soon as the air of the night hit him he looked around, seeing you on your phone, probably calling for a cab. He walked to his car, jumping inside, speeding to stop in front of you with a screech. 

"Get in the car." He ordered through the open passenger window. 

You frowned, crossing your arms again. You were going to say something, brat at him, but he purposely growled softly. 

"Don't make me step out of the car to bring you in." He warned, German dripping in his voice. 

You swallowed, something about that growl making you shiver delightfully. Konig was a sweetheart. He'd cuddle and pamper you with anything you need, anytime. But this part of him. The one he let out on the battlefield, it made something kneel deep in you. 

You rolled your eyes, pushing the car door open before sitting in. Konig lunged forward grabbing your seat belt and putting it on, tightly pulling on it to make sure it was secure. It made your heart skip a beat. That, and the way he raced away towards your place. 

"Konig. What are you doing?" You scolded again. 

"I'm taking you back to your house." He stated. 

"Why? What if I wanted to go somewhere else?" You crossed your arms. 

He took a deep breath, hand slightly shaking on the steering wheel. 

"We need to talk." He said, keeping his voice steady. You remained silent, waiting for him to continue. 

"I.. Scheiße…" he cursed. 

"Konig. Pull over…" you asked softly. He obeyed, the car coming to a stop, as he killed the engine. 

"I… care. For you." He tried. You felt your heart swell at his words.

"Why did you leave…" you asked in a low voice, hurt lacing the sound. 

"I… was out of control. I got, suspended. I thought that, maybe, walking away would be better. You. Deserve better…" the last words lost in whispers. 

"I wasn't scared." You stated, Konig's head turning to you in shock. "I know you'd never hurt me. Ever." You turned to him with a smile. 

"Never." He growled. 

You smiled. 

"Do you… will you let me… court you… liebling?" He asked, looking away. 

"That's all I want Konig…" you answered, relief washing over you. 

A second later, two things poked under his hood, making you crack a chuckle. 

"Gottverdammt…" he mumbled. 

You chuckled again, leaning towards him. He kept his eyes on you as your hand rose to his head. Your fingertips touched his ears underneath the fabric as they twitched, Konig whining a bit. You smiled, not pushing further. 

"Let's go…" you said softly. 

The thrilling sensation of finally being able to take you out on dates and cuddle with you non stop made Konig giddy. After that night, he went to Price, asking him for advice on how to keep control with you next to him. Price had been a mix of happiness that you two were finally letting yourself go for it, and worried because he knew trouble would be brewing. Something along the lines of a Soap-Ghost, was about to start again. 

You were on cloud nine, it was amazing to be able to have Konig back next to you, finally letting himself show you how much he cared. At first he had refused too much physical contact. After a little while, he started with the small touches, hugs and cuddles. Something Price told him must have made something click in his brain, he was now much more controlled when you spoke. A simple 'stop', even lighthearted, made him freeze and step back. It almost made you miss the beast. 

You'd also spend a lot more time with the group, now taking your rightful place on Konig's lap as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Price and Ghost still eyeing Konig once in a while. If there's one thing that they noticed, it was the dark looks sent to Gaz when he sat slightly too close to you, or joked around too much. Something about the comment he made in the bar must have stuck to Konig. 

And it was true. Konig felt a ping of jealousy and possessiveness every single time Gaz looked at you or smiled… 

You were oblivious. You hadn't heard the comment. It was probably not true either. Gaz probably said that to make Konig realize how much he needed you, but the words kept circling in mind every time he was in the same room as you. 

And it had poisoned his mind. He'd cling more to you as time passed. He'd find himself nibbling at your neck without even realizing before you called out to him. He noticed the way your cheeks flushed a delightful pink. He tried to stop his painful erection every time. Too soon. He didn't have enough control on his wolf. Not with you. 

In the middle of that mess, you felt safer letting your tail and ears out. Only accentuating his fixation on you. He had also let his ears and tail out a lot more. You were so happy every time and he'd let you pet his ears, making his tail wag. He wasn't ashamed anymore. He'd be your perfect little puppy if that's what you wanted. 

Until it happened. After a very long and annoying two day field training with new recruits, Konig had walked into the common rooms, grumbling. The sweet scent of you immediately relaxing his tense shoulders. When he looked up he froze. The instincts and reaction was on the spot. His eyes flashing red at the scene before him. The way Gaz hovered over your shoulder, looking at the file on your lap. His mouth was so close to your neck. You could probably feel his breath on your skin. 

The growl erupting from his chest wasn't controlled. And it immediately caught your attention and Gaz's one. The boy took a step back immediately, hand raising in the air as surrender. You stood, skipping to Konig. 

"Konig…" you called softly. 

His gloved hand tangled in your hair, pulling softly as he nuzzled your neck, eyes glaring at Gaz. Gaz simply looked away. You decided to avoid the storm brewing by pulling Konig with you into the hallway straight towards his room. Cuddles would help calm him down. The door almost slammed shut behind the two of you. It made you shiver and bite your lip as you turned towards Konig. His hands met your waist, pulling you up before slowly bringing you down on the bed. 

You giggled, watching him pull off his hood. His beautiful face made you warm up. It had been a couple of weeks now that he felt comfortable enough to take off the mask and reveal himself to you. 

"Why was he so close to you… did he touch you?" He growled against the skin of your collarbone. You stifled a moan. 

"Of course not… Konig… he wouldn't dare… he knows I'm yours.." you reassured. 

"Not… fully…" he mumbled. 

You blinked, heat rushing through your body. 

"K-konig…" you stuttered. 

He rose from the bed, pulling you up to sit as he brought you to the edge. You watched in awe as he kneeled in front of you. 

"Bitte liebling…" he whined, hands on your ankle as his teeth grazed the skin of your thighs. Your stomach twisted at the sight, feverish shiver and wetness pooling in between your legs. The bunny in you wanted nothing more than to offer itself to his beast. 

"Let me.. mark you. Bitte…" he looked up, blue begging eyes. "Ich bitte…" 

You inhaled a sharp breath, hand meeting both sides of his face as your thumbs caressed the skin, soft stumble underneath your fingertips.

"Yes…" you whispered in a breath. 

His eyes lit up, red flashing at you as he rose to his feet to pull you back up on the bed again, taking his place in between your legs. 

"Are you sure schatz? I… I'm not… I…" he looked anxious for a second, the fear of losing control and hurting still lingered underneath the scorching need to have you. 

"Yes Konig… you're all I want… I need you to mark me…" you whined. 

His hand hid your eyes, making you gasp. You felt the way he transitioned, claws and fur now tickling your soft skin. It made the bunny react, tail and ears popping out. He removed his hand, letting you see his enormous frame. God he was large in human form, but the sheer size of him as a wolf was terrifying. 

You dropped a soft kiss on his maw, your ears plastering back. He whined, licking at your cheek, jaw, avoiding your neck to go for your collarbone. 

"Can… I..?" He asked, how voice graveled and claws pulling at your clothes. 

"Of course…" you giggled. 

The fabric tore to shreds, as he whined and his tail wagged frantically. You felt yourself burn. The mating frenzy overrides anything else in your mind. He lapped at your skin, traveling to your legs, thighs. He softly bit the plush flesh, not drawing blood but earning a gasp from you. He used his large maw and head to spread your legs, giving him access to your aching core. 

"K..Konig…" you begged. 

He licked softly at your cunt, not applying enough pressure to dip in your folds. 

"Konig!" You scolded, impatient. 

He obeyed, tongue pushing past your lips to lick at your wetness and lapping at your clit. 

The moan of relief and pleasure that escaped your lips made Konig's erection react, cock twitching.

His tongue didn't hesitate pushing at your entrance, making sure to stretch you slightly as you squirm underneath his large hands. He could break you. And the thought made you open your legs wider for him. You were already so close to your orgasm. He could smell it in your scent, feel it in the tremble of your body. His tail wagged happily, the thought of you cumming from his tongue making him feel proud and thrilled. Your hand dived down to his head, grabbing at the fur in between his ears as his ears fell back. He whined, tail now slamming on the bed as he wagged. 

Your breath quickened as you felt yourself so close to the edge. One last long lick made you throw your head back, a loud moan erupting from your throat. 

Konig let out something in between a growl and a whine against your squeezing count that made you jolt through your pleasure. He didn't stop, lapping greedily. You giggled in between moans and gasps. 

He finally stopped, straightening himself to hover over you. He still happily wagged his tail, his ears back as he licked his maw. You blushed and smiled as your hands met the sides of his neck. 

"Good boy…" you let out. 

He whined again, this time grinding his hips forwards as his hardened cock rubbed against your clit. You moaned. He was big. God… so large. He looked down at you, awaiting your orders, trying to hold himself from ravishing you. You rolled your hips against him, the friction making him pant. 

"Bitte schatz… bitte bitte bitte…" he whined. 

You bit your lip, nodding. 

"How… Do you want me?" You asked, unsure of which position would be best. 

"On your tummy…" he growled against your cheek, nuzzling you. 

You giggled again, rolling over. He licked at your back, small bites at your tail and ears before his hand snaked underneath your hips to pull you up to your knees. 

He looked down, his tip at your entrance, making sure to coat himself. He pulled away, opening his maw to let his drool fall on top of his member and your ass, watching it drip down to your entrance as your skin filled with goosebumps. When he finally put himself at your entrance, tip just slowly probing at the entrance he froze, waiting for you. 

"You choose… take your time…" he said, one hand bracing himself, the other on your hip. 

You wiggled your hips, his member in between your folds. When you felt yourself unable to resist any longer, you pushed back slightly, hit tip dipping into you as you gasped closing your eyes. You took your time, small movements forwards and backwards to ease himself into you, each inch only stretching you further. Konig whimpered above you, his hips trying their best to remain still and to not buck into you, his claws ripping at the bedsheets next to your head. You lowered your front, hips up and back arching to take him better. 

He finally bottomed out, you closed eyes, your lungs trying to keep up with your blood flow. When you finally felt yourself adjusted enough, you bucked back into Konig, a whine escaping him. 

"Please… Konig…" you whined as well. 

He struggled to fight himself, hips pulling back slowly before pushing forwards to dive into your drenched pussy again. You could feel how hard he was holding back. 

"Konig… please…" you urged. 

He allowed himself to slam himself slightly harder into you, making you moan loudly. He increased his pace, hips slamming into yours, the bed shaking. His hand underneath your front, right in between your breast, his hand clenching at the sheets right underneath your face. 

"Bite… if .. you need to…" Konig tried through moans and whimpers. His other arms were firmly wrapped underneath your hips so he had better access to you. You could feel yourself clench around him, count filling so full, Tip hitting your cervix in a mix of pain and pleasure. You felt the familiar coil in the pit of your stomach ready to burst. You glanced to the side, eyes catching a divine view. There in the mirror, you could see you, sprawled forwards on the bed in Konig's strong grip as his hips slammed into yours, his ears back and tail curled against his legs as drool fell from his maw, eyes flashing in between red and blue as he looked drunk from the mating fuck. 

It made you burst, eyes closing shut as you crumbled in his arms, orgasm washing over you again. 

"Oh… good… so verdammt gut…"  he moaned in your ear. 

You felt the tears burn your eyes, overstimulation ensnaring your senses. Your ears barely picked up the sound of a worried Price calling for Konig at the door. Barely picked up on the ear piercing growl Konig produced as an answer. A deadly warning that if one of them dare to enter to interrupt his marking and nearly fucking breeding he'd tear them apart. He was too lost to care. Fuck the rest, it was you. Your scent, your pretty moans of his name, the smell of your salty tears and the way your perfect pussy squeezed him. 

You didn't hear Price ask the rest of the team to evacuate the rest of the building. Cursing that this was the second time this year and Laswell was going to yell. No. The feeling of Konig pounding you mercilessly was making you lose all sense of reality. The next orgasm creeped up on you, almost painful blurring your vision and making your ears ring. Everytime you could feel him wag his tail, almost beeping with joy that you were cumming around his cock, just for him. 

You were drooling yourself, the sound of him whimpering and moaning your name telling you he was close. He was going to mark you, the thought made your pussy clench tightly around him. His hips faltered, pounding your mercilessly. 

"Please… bitte bitte… ich bitte… can I cum… pleasepleaseplease…" he whimpered against your neck. 

You cried out a yes in between hiccups as he slammed roughly into you now. If he wasn't holding you firmly by the waist you wouldn't have kept in place. Your orgasm was nearing, creeping again around the corner as Konig panted loudly, cock burying itself so deep in you, you almost felt him in your belly. You chanted his name, both of you ready to release as he lunged forwards, teeth sinking into your neck painfully as you both came. You felt yourself lose focus, the world spinning around you at the force of your pleasure, only doubled by the marking. 

His hips bucked into you a few more times as he licked at the blood on your neck. You didn't register him pulling you with him to lay on your side. On the way he wrapped a blanket around you, more than him. He cuddled you tightly to him, cock still buried deep inside you. He whispered and mumbled nonsense German in your neck that only made you smile. You felt yourself drift off to sleep as the last thing you heard from Konig roared through your whole body. 

"Mine.." 

 

In the morning you didn't get up. You had tried but your aching muscles and the soreness made you unable to stand. Konig apologized profusely. He had gone back for a few rounds again during the night, having you mewling for him. You were so full of his cum your thighs could feel the stickiness and wetness in between them. You felt like he had gone through the mating and the feeling of breeding you all together. 

He had been absolutely adorable for the entire day, bringing you snacks and drinks, cuddling with you. Price had made sure that everyone avoided the common rooms and dorms, letting the freezing come to a stop while he dealt with angry HR's breathing down his neck. 

But you couldn't care less. As you laid down in konig's arms, his piercing blue eyes looking down at you full of love you couldn't care less about the rest of the world. 

"Konig…" you whispered. 

He hummed happily, eyes squinting. 

"I love you…" you let out in a breath. His eyes widened in shock before he hugged you tighter. 

"Oh liebling… I love you…" 

[soulfullives]

regulus black had a lonely funeral; carnations scattered around a black coffin. orion and cygnus were carrying it, and in their eyes, there was a strange sorrow, a strange regret.

walburga and druella were trailing behind. walburga, solemn as always, mourned the spare son. druella mourned the lesser of the two brothers, the weak, the meek.

bellatrix was walking in front of them, her head high, her face dry. she was not going to mourn a traitor, she was not going to cry over a man that had ruined their master. she, however, allowed herself to grieve the young man that her cousin had been, aside anything else.

narcissa stood beside her, and her eyes glistened with tears. she clung to lucius' arm, as if it was the only thing that could keep her away from falling apart, from spilling away. she had loved regulus, she really had. she had seen deep within him. she had seen the boy he hadn't been allowed to be. she had seen deeper than the façade, deeper than the skull mask, deeper than the dark mark, etched into his skin, forever black ink, now, white.

maybe that was forgiveness. in death, there are no sinners. the dead are pure, the dead are forgiven. the dead would soon be forgotten. was the change of color something meaningful, or was it a mere coincidence?

was it death that united a family so distant?

regulus black had died in a cold, empty cave. the crisp air of december was biting at their cheeks, leaving them rosy and cold, the same way their hearts were. their hearts were red and alive, and regulus' was deep within the carcass that his body was; his soul, however, had ascended (had it? or had he been such a despicable person that no one would forgive him?)

it snowed on the night of regulus black's funeral. his headstone was simple, and it read the same thing that ot read for everyone else in the black family.

regulus arcturus black

1961-1978

he hadn't been special, of course. the noble and most ancient house of black knows no exceptions, even for those they were supposed to love.

regulus black died a lonely death. regulus black had a lonely funeral; however, in the dead of the night, a slender dog knelt beside the gravestone, white tulips in his mouth. a wolf howled in the distance, pained, a wail of grief and madness. the dog's body was pressed against the cold stone.

there was something holding him there, a pulse of the earth that kept him close to a boy he had once loved, to a man he had resented.

[kayawolfhorse]

The changes were as gradual as gaining new extremities overnight could be.

First came the ears, tufted in fur the same brown as Pearl’s hair, pricked upright upon her head. The morning they appeared, Pearl’s waking thought was how much louder the birds’ chirping tune seemed to be, how she was able to pinpoint exactly where they perched, along the roof of her tower and in the boughs of the highest treetops below. She tried not to think about the whispered remarks made behind her retreating back she could hear all the clearer now.

The tail appeared next, and Pearl almost crushed it rolling out of bed. Though it was often hidden by the drape of her scarlet cloak, Pearl liked her new tail, and petting the long, coarse fur soon became as natural to her as idly playing with the strands of hair that fell loose around her face.

On the third day, Pearl awoke with a bleeding mouth, pierced by long, pointed canines she wasn’t used to having. Those took the longest to adjust to, weeks of bruises along her bottom lip as Pearl learned how to hold herself, how to rest, in harmony with her new traits. The teeth felt most natural bared in a snarl. Their sharpness didn’t quite fit into her soft, human mouth. Pearl made it work.

The other differences weren’t as initially noticeable. At night, Pearl’s vision seemed sharper, and with the moon shining above her, she could see just as clearly as she could during the day. When running together, Tilly didn’t have to slow her stride to keep pace with Pearl, and leaping over a fallen trunk or puddle hardly became a feat at all.

Pearl’s favorite change of them all was her newfound ability to howl.

She’d always responded to Tilly’s call in kind, but Pearl’s vocal cords could only mimic so much. Now, between them, under a clear night sky filled with more stars than Pearl had ever seen, they created a choir, two voices pitched to sound like ten.

Pearl had howled to an empty, half-built tower the night Tilly lost her first life, before she’d found her way back to Pearl.

Perhaps it was her new wolfishness, perhaps they were the desires Pearl hadn’t allowed herself to feel, that made the pangs of loneliness worse.

She had Tilly! She’d always have Tilly, Pearl would make sure of it. Her beloved wolf was her true soulbound, the tail and the ears and the teeth said as much. Tilly protected her and Pearl defended her fiercely in kind. Pearl wouldn’t be alone ever again. It was fine. Pearl was fine.

In the quietest cracks of the day, between the time the moon set and dawn colored the sky, Pearl admitted to herself that she wasn’t fine.

The yearning ached in her chest, next to the invisible spool of thread that connected Pearl to a partner who never wanted her. She’d never be invited to the fireside circle, accepted into the band of safety and trust the other pairs had found in each other, in their alliances, however unsteady those tended to be in a place like this. At least there was ground to shake beneath their feet, purchase Pearl had never felt so high up in her tower.

Even with Tilly at her side, Pearl was a lone wolf, and she knew, like every abandoned dog did, how badly she longed for a pack.

—

An excerpt from a piece I’m never going to finish, but liked enough to toss onto Tumblr away. Reblogs do more than likes and all that

[darling-heffron]

Sorry all my wifi had been acting up and then I got busy doing other things, then poof, Saturday came and went! So sorry this is late but I hope the chapter makes up for it. Also I got my nails done and didn't think of the implications to my typing lmao! ✨

Taglist: @mellow-human , @malarkgirlypop , @next-autopsy

Chapter Seven: And then there were Two

Sam’s POV: 

Walking was the easy part of Sam’s journey, the hard part was avoiding everyone else. Especially the humans, she didn’t need to meet anymore people like the family she had only buried days ago. 

There could be no guilt clouding her thoughts during these times, she needed to be focussed not sentimental. The last thing she needed was a friend. 

Her army comrades often called Sam the lone wolf of the pack, often adjacent from the other troops who were bonding and making lasting friendships. Sam enjoyed her solitude and didn’t have the patience for stupid people, she had other activities that filled her boredom. 

Fighting mainly, as it was a good way to release her stress. She often found that after having a rough day, letting out her pent up emotions on the punching bag felt good. Sam never felt the need to vent to her “friends”, her fists did all the talking she needed.  

If she didn’t feel like fighting, books had the same effect as talking to people. Except she didn’t have to say anything back to them. She didn’t enjoy fictional novels about romance and friendship and adventure. The blonde preferred the cold hard facts of history, she would learn from everyone else's mistakes and not make them herself. 

Unfortunately sometimes Sam would have to deal with people during her job. On her tours in Afghanistan she was paired with the most annoying girl in the squad. 

A lucky dip that was not so lucky. 

Her partner drove her mad almost every single day, trying to befriend the tall woman. Sam was not having it, she didn’t need nor want a friend. The soldier was a petite brunette that was only a couple of years younger, but for some reason she was always so happy. Always a pep to her step and a song in her heart, the girl was joyful on crack. 

Even in her demise she still somehow had a smile on her face and was optimistic about her doomed fate. 

The girl, Abby, had died only days before they were set to depart back home. She had offered to do the final sweep of the night for Sam, which she had been scheduled to complete. On her route back she had misstepped, accidentally setting off an IED that in turn took her life not hours later. 

Lying on the street with her limbs scattered about, she bled out slowly and painfully. But still the young girl managed to smile and laugh, making a joke. Abby had laid in Sam’s lap as she lost her blood and quickly turned cold. The last thing she had said was, “I’m glad it was me and not you.” 

Abby had died later that night in hospital from her wounds. Her death still haunted the angry blonde. 

Her depressing thoughts were interrupted by boisterous noise. Sam looked up with disgust etched into her face. These were the stupid fuckers she was talking about. 

Even from a distance she could see their unkempt oily hair and dirty clothes. They smiled at each other while they joked, some misogynistic comment falling from the shorter ones mouth as the other two chortled together. 

“Ugh, gross.” She muttered out loud. Sam didn’t enjoy people, but men were her least favourite. It may have been her army upbringing but all the men she knew were cunts, especially her father who seemed to be the worst one of all. 

The only reason there were other people here was because she had made it to Albany. Walking all day for two days she had made good time from Pittsfield. But even though the city offered food and other resources, it attracted everything else along with it. Just like the group of men who stood only 50 feet away, laughing amongst themselves. 

Somehow luck didn’t seem to be in favour of the young woman; she accidentally kicked an empty can across the street as she tried to evade the group. 

“Fuck me.” Sam cursed under her breath. She watched the men swivel their heads around to investigate the noise. Sam ducked quickly trying to hide behind the abandoned car she was standing near but she knew she had been spotted. 

“Hey pretty lady!” One of the men cooed. Sam rolled her eyes so hard she was concerned they were going to get stuck in the back of her head. 

“We see you blondie, come out!” The other greasy man joined in. 

Sam silently screamed in her head, she was not in the mood for people. Drawing in a deep breath she stood. She cracked her neck as she walked out from behind the vehicle. 

The men started to walk briskly towards her. Her fingers flexed at her side, itching to latch around the weapon on her hip. But she stood still, a relaxed posture and bitchy face, well her normal face but still, she looked menacing. 

“Quite a scowl you got blondie.” The tallest man of the group smirked at her. 

Her face didn’t change even with the comment. Sam didn’t speak, she didn’t want to seem like she was trying to make excuses. Plus men dug themselves into deeper holes in silence than in conversation. She would bait them. 

“Not much of a talker.” The short thinning haired man stepped closer, even though he was still a good foot away she could smell him from here. 

“Yeah but she is a looker, hey Jeremy.” The snivelly looking man egged on the tall one, Jeremy, elbowing him in the side.  

“You sure are pretty.” Jeremy licked his lips. Sam’s disgust was audible at the action. 

The young woman flicked her eyes around the group. They didn’t seem to be all that well equipped, noting the baseball bat the short chubby man held, and the grimey machete on the rodent looking man’s belt. Jeremy seemed to be the only one with a gun, tucked into the front of his waistband. Sam scoffed that was only good for one thing, getting his dick shot off.   

“I think she’s scared of us.” Weasel man continued. He looked like the fucking jester of the group, though he didn’t seem all that funny. 

“You don’t have to be afraid, we’re really nice.” The chubby man had the audacity to reach out to try and touch Sam’s arm. 

Her reflexes were faster. Sam’s hand shot out from her side and gripped the man’s limb like a vice. 

That set the group on edge, the other two sprung back, hands clasping around their own weapons. 

“I’m not afraid of you horrible fuck-eyed wank cloths.” Sam growled, squeezing the man's hand even harder. He let out a whimper of pain and tried to wiggle free, but Sam’s hold didn’t budge. 

“Leave me the fuck alone, before I rip of every single one of your ballsacks off and feed it to the rabid motherfuckers while you watch.” The man guffawed at her statement, her words were clearly not enough for the men, she would have to show them. 

“Oh you need proof. Well baldly, how many fingers you want broken?” Sam sneered at the man, his face bright red with rage and pain. 

“Now you’re quiet?” Sam wrenched the thinned haired man’s finger backwards extending them towards his back. “That means I get to choose.” She whispered before completely twisting the chubby man’s hand completely backwards until there was a satisfying crunch. 

Baldy howled in pain as he clutched at his now broken wrist. It hung limply from the joint, the men who had watched the whole interaction, now began to rile up. 

“What the fuck is your problem blondie?” Jesterville Jones piped up, his buck teeth exposed as he hopped around like the rabbit he was.     

“I chose wrist.” Sam shrugged, seemed like he wasn’t paying attention, or was an idiot. Most likely an idiot. 

“We didn’t do anything to you.” Jeremy whined as if his mum had just taken away his PS5 privileges. 

“You approached me, that was your first mistake. Then you called me blondie, you half chewed pencil looking fuck. And this literal easy bake oven tried to touch me. So if I counted correctly, which he can’t.” Sam pointed to weasel face. “That would make three things you did to me.” 

“Now do you all want limp wrists, you slimy turd canoes?” Sam threatened the gaggle of fucking morons. “Or would you like to leave with the little dignity you have still intact?” 

As soon as she finished her sentence the men fled. Tails between their legs like the small chihuahuas they were.  

Mars POV: 

Getting to Albany was simple. Marleen packed up and left as the sun was rising, unwilling to be near that house any longer. She followed along the highway, using road signs as her guide. 

The houses began getting closer together until she found herself at the city's edge. The closer she got the more her nerves started to scramble. Mars spotted several small groups and lone rabids and did everything she could to avoid them, turning a three hour journey into five. 

Marleen had never been to Albany before, but she could imagine what it was like; the roads bustling with vehicles, people everywhere, everything teaming with life. 

And now, it was barren. Abandoned. 

If she had to guess she would say there were live humans in this vast city somewhere but nowhere that she could see. 

That could be a good thing though. At least that’s what Denver always said. And just like that she was tearing up once again- how many tears did she have left? Surely her eyes would run dry at some point? 

Shaking her head, Mars headed into the eerie ghost town. 

She didn’t get very far before noticing undead stumbling in her direction. Shit. There were too many for her to stay and fight, she had no choice but to flee. They hadn’t seen her yet, giving her the advantage of stealth. 

As quietly as she could, Mars turned and treaded down a side street, off the main road and out of the zombies' sight. 

This repeated a few times; Marleen would come across a number of rabids and sneak away unseen onto a new path, slowly making her way through the maze of a city. 

Her luck was seemingly up. Avoiding certain death had never been easier for the young blonde.  

Until it wasn’t.

Mars rounded a corner, making her way down a narrow road- a glorified alleyway. And she did so without checking to see if the way was clear, her first mistake. 

Her second mistake was immediately dropping her only weapon the instant she bumped into something. 

Marleen had walked straight into a solid body and squealed. It took her a moment to realise that whatever she had walked into could be a human; like her or an undead and she had yet to find out which.

Her yelp was mixed with a low voice, arms wrapped around her body and held her close, it felt all too familiar. Mars cried out and struggled against the unknown person until she heard a distinct voice- the undead can't speak.  

Her head flicked upwards, revealing her captor as a living. In fact, there were three living men standing in front of her. 

All caution was thrown to the wind, she hadn’t seen real people since she and Denver had been separated two nights prior, and she found she was missing the social interaction. Being able to talk to someone who was capable of talking back, who didn’t have blood covering every inch of them- that was priceless to Mars. 

“Hey, shhh, It's okay.” The man holding on to her spoke, his grasp on her had stabilised the both of them, keeping the pair upright. Now that they were in no danger of falling, he released his grip on her and held up his hands in mock surrender.

From where she stood, she had a second to give them a once over and take in their appearances. They looked like they’d been through hell. Dirty and greasy and covered in filth. 

Something that stuck out to her was the shortest one favoured his left hand, like it was hurt. She would bring that up at some point, make sure chubby hadn't been bitten by a rabid.

She had two voices telling her two very different things right now and wasn’t sure what to do. 

One said: Absolutely do not trust these guys, turn and leave right now, you don’t know these strangers.

While the other said: Maybe they could help you? It’s tough being out here all alone, having friends is never a bad thing. Talk to them, ask if they can help you get to Illinois. 

“Uh-Hello?” Was the greeting she settled on, this seemed to please them as all three grinned at her. It should have been a good sign, the smiles; but for some reason it unnerved her. 

“Hello beautiful.” The tallest man, her ‘saviour’ spoke out, “you out here all alone?” Mars nodded slowly, still not totally convinced she could trust these guys. 

“Well what would a pretty girl like you be doing out here all by herself?” One of the others spoke up, he had buck teeth that resembled a mouse or a rat. All three men still smiled at her waiting for her answer. 

“I-I’m trying to get to Illinois.”

“Illinois, eh?” The rat man echoed the words as he stepped closer to her, “We can help ya get to Illinois.” 

“You can?” Mars felt a smile creep onto her face. She held hope that these men would be kind and helpful, regardless of their appearance. Don't judge a book by its cover and all that.

“Sure.” The tallest, who seemed to be their leader, smirked. 

“Yeah, we can help you.” Rat-man laughed as he nudged his friend's arm with his elbow, like they were sharing a joke- one that Mars was not privy to. 

It was then that Mars noticed the machete in the rat's grip, that paired with her dropped knife gave her chills- goosebumps rippled over her body. 

“You just have to do a little something for us first….” His voice gave Mars the heebie jeebies and she began to rethink her openness to the trio- maybe she should have been more skeptical of the strangers. 

“Scratch our backs, we scratch yours, blondie.” Rat-man reached out his hand and stroked Marleen’s cheek, her body instinctively flinched back, trying to get out of his reach.

“Really?” A louder voice sounded from behind the group of men. The trio seemed to recognise the person who had spoken, stilling in their actions and slowly turning. 

Between the gap of the men, Mars could see a tall, lean woman with a menacing stance. Her glare made the men shiver and Marleen found that she too was intimidated by this lady. 

Sam’s POV: 

Sam had tried her best to avoid the group after they had retreated. She continued on her search for food and water, but unfortunately before rounding a corner she had heard the slimy idiots talking amongst themselves. 

However what piqued her interest was a soft feminine voice that spoke back. Sam had stepped into the alley just as weasel face had said, “Scratch our backs, we scratch yours, blondie.” 

That pissed off the tall woman. For one, they had gone from one woman to the next, and secondly they didn’t even have the creativity to think of any better lines. 

“Wow! I thought you guys were fucking stupid, but this just really proves my point!” Sam gave her best cheerful sarcastic tone. 

“You seriously can’t think of any better material than Blondie?” She peered over their shoulders, finding a young petite woman backed into a corner by the group. The woman’s face said it all, please help me.  

A sigh left Sam’s lips, she was not in the mood for playing hero, but also the young girl, not even woman, looked so helpless it felt like a crime to leave. 

She cast her glare towards michelin man, who cowered under her hateful stare. He didn’t give her a second glance before darting off and ditching his so-called friends. 

“Dylan what the fuck dude!” Jeremy called out after fatso. Damn she had never seen someone of that girth run so fast. 

“Roly-poly has the right idea. Why don’t the rest of you scram and leave Bambi alone.” Sam looked over to the young lady, aptly named for her big doe eyes and deer in the headlights stare. 

“We aren’t scared of you, blondie.” Jeremy snarled. 

“Which one are you talking to, cause remember we are both ‘Blondie’ according to you.” Sam pointed out that the one name that had given each of the girls now didn’t work in the situation. 

“I’m talking to you-” He paused for a moment, pointing in her direction. “Angry blondie.” 

“Look at you using adjectives. Kind of embarrassing it took you that long to think of one, and angry at that.” Sam grimaced at the fucking idiot sandwich stood before her. 

“Can we be done now, I’m so fucking bored of this conversation?” Sam glanced down at her watch, she literally had better things to be doing than standing here wasting her breath on these white-trash shart hounds. 

“Well- uh- you.” The weasel man stuttered over his words. 

“You-uh-uh-um.” Sam mocked them. “Spit it out, speech impediment.”

“Right, that's it!” Inflatable balloon man bellowed in the least intimidating voice he could manage. In a quick motion he whipped out his gun from the front of his pants. Sam shied away worried he was going to whip out something else at the same time. 

“I don’t need to see all that.” Sam gestured to the man’s crotch. The young woman during the chaos, had bent down and grabbed the knife that had laid on the floor just in front of her. Sam watched her stand again, clutching the weapon to her chest. 

Jeremy surged forward with his gun, he flailed it around, it seemed as if he was unsure if he wanted to shoot Sam or hit her with it. It didn’t matter, the tall woman had disarmed him in seconds. 

Now she had the man by his neck and his gun in her grasp. Jeremy was pinned to her chest as he stared out at his mate who looked shocked but was still fixed in his position, not helping his buddy. 

Sam pressed the barrel of the man’s gun to his temple. Everyone froze, collectively holding their breaths. Weasel man’s face had drained of blood and he looked sickly pale. Bambi continued to wear her brown doe eyed stare, her mouth hanging slightly agape, Sam was unsure if this was due to shock or awe. 

“Alright lady!” Rodent man held out his hands showing his surrender. “We’ll leave you alone, just let us go!” The man pleaded. 

“Yeah just let us leave.” Jeremy sobbed like a young child who had lost their mummy in the supermarket. 

Sam brought the butt of the gun down hard into the side of Jeremy’s head, the man yelped out in pain as she pushed him away from her and he stumbled to the floor. Rodent man collected his friend from the floor, and urged him to leave. 

“My gun.” Jeremy held out his hand for his weapon. 

“It’s mine now. Fuck off.” Sam dismissed the command. She watched in amusement as the pair fled together, moving so fast they were falling over each other in panic. 

Turning on her heel she walked the way she had come from back out onto the street. 

Mars POV:

“Wait!” Marleen called out to her retreating saviour, “where are you going?” Her feet began following the mysterious woman- who completely ignored her. Her pace quickened, only slowing when she came side by side with the fiery lady. 

“Hey! I asked where you’re going.” Her statement came out whiny and she reached for the other woman's forearm. The moment her fingertips touched their target, the stranger sprung into action. She halted her steps and raised a closed fist so quickly that Mars barely had time to register what was happening.

“Woah-wait wait wait- it’s me! It’s me!” The shorter woman released her grip and raised her hands to cover her face, dropping her knife yet again. 

It clattered to the floor as both women watched.

“Who?”

“Me, it’s me?” Mars peered up at the taller blonde, her voice squeaked out from her defensive position, “From just now… you know, with those guys- Bambi! I’m Bambi…remember?” 

Recognition crosses over her face, “Oh. Right.” The woman lowered her fist, “You dropped your knife.” Her parting words as she turned swiftly and continued in the same direction. 

Mars huffed, bending over to pick up the weapon and then straightening to run after the other blonde. 

“You didn't answer my question.” Her words were spoken in between breaths, “Where are we going?” 

That seemed to gain the attention of her ruthless heroine, making her freeze in place once more. 

“We?” Her eyebrows raised in surprise, “WE aren’t going anywhere.” She gestured between the two of them with her finger. 

“But,” Marleen’s face scrunched in confusion, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout, “You just saved me?” 

“And?” 

Mars had no reply. It seemed logical to her that they buddy up, everyone needs friends and Mars could surely use someone as capable as her. 

The lean girl, hearing no reply from the smaller party continued on her journey. Once again, leaving ‘Bambi’ behind. 

And just like before, Mars chased after her, this time calling out “Can’t I come with you? I’ll be so quiet you won’t even know I’m there!” 

“No, I don’t pick up stragglers.” The woman’s husky voice sounded as she kept walking away from the young girl. 

“So why did you save me? Why not just let me die?” Marleen argued, genuinely curious. 

“I-”

“So you clearly have a conscience, or else you would’ve watched me be attacked by those men.” She spoke her thoughts aloud as they popped into her head, no filter and not even waiting to hear her responses. 

“Look-”

“Or you just didn’t want to watch it, so now you’re just leaving me to die when you don’t have to see.” 

“Jesus-”

“Cause leaving me now is like second hand murder. You know I’m not going to get very far by myself, but you’re still leaving.”

“Alright, alright! Fine! Christ, you made your point, I got it!” The lady finally got her words in before the young girl interrupted her once again. The taller of the two swung around to gesture for the persistent girl to cease her incessant yapping, “I will walk you to the next town over and then as soon, and I mean as soon as I find another group or person to take you, you are not my problem anymore. Understand?”

Mars let a cheesy smile break onto her face as she literally jumped for joy. “Deal!” Extending her pinky finger out to seal the promise the taller woman had just made. 

“I’m not making a pinky promise.” The lady shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Still Mars held out her hand, smiling widely, tipping her head to encourage the standoffish girl to accept her outstretched pinky. 

“No! I’m not.” The girl doubled down. But Mars ever so vigorously stood her ground, until the other blonde sighed and finally did as Marleen had asked. She reached out her hand quickly interlinking her pinky finger with the younger girl. The tall blonde snatched her hand away after sealing their deal. 

“Oh my God, are you normally this fucking infuriating?” 

“It depends who you ask.” Said with a shrug of her shoulders and a smirk on her face. “I’m Marleen, by the way.” 

“I didn’t ask.”

“You can call me Mars though.” Her cheery voice continued, “Sooo- what’s your name?” She was met with silence. “Okay, fine. Stay mysterious. I’ll just call yooou- Jessica?”

“No.” Her saviour deadpanned. 

“Okay, not Jessica…. Georgia?” Hope seeped into her words as she gently elbowed her taller companion in an attempt to gain her favour. 

“Please stop.” 

“You could just tell me your name? I’d stop if I knew what to call you- maybe Lauren?” 

Realising she wouldn’t shut her mouth until she got what she wanted, the calmer of the pair offered a solution, “If I tell you my name, will you be quiet?” 

“Yes.” Her reply was instantaneous and full of excitement. 

“It’s Sam.” She sighed out exasperatedly. 

“Sam!” Mars grinned, barely one second of silence passed before she was speaking once again, “Sam Sam Sam… is that short for Samantha?” 

“Shut. Up!” 

AHHHHHHHHHH our girls finally met oml oml, so excited for this duo you have no idea! But ah, Sam doesn't seem all the keen on it ahaha sorry girl you got lumped with a whole ball of sunshine. Let me know if you also love these girlies together as much as I do.

Esra ✨

[writersmess]

CRAZY EX GIRLFRIENDS | DEREK HALE

Pairing: Derek Hale x fem!reader

Summary: you and Derek never really argue, but when it happened, it was not pretty.

Warning: just a fluffy family

Word count: +1k

a/n: hey barbies, here i am again, at this point im not sure if i am living or just dreaming about Derek 24/7. Just to remember, english is not my first language so sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Masterlist

................................

You’ve been dating Derek for some years now.

Neither of you was looking for love at the moment. Derek had just received a newborn at his door with a note that it was his son, he was completely lost.

You had been friends for some time before that, after all you were part of the pack. When you realized how desperate and clueless he was, you had no doubts, you had to help him.

Derek had no idea what was going on with him, but every time he caught a glimpse of you with the baby in your arms, putting him to sleep or simply cuddling him, it was as if something inside him became so restless to the point where he felt the need to stand in the doorway watching you, until he was caught by your loving gaze.

A few months later, you decided you should give it a try, you got along so well. In fact, at some point in all of this, you didn’t even go to your house anymore, little by little your things took over some of the empty spaces in the once so empty and lifeless apartment. That place was becoming a home and suddenly a family was being formed.

A few years has passed by, you decided to move to a bigger house so Eli could have more space while growing.

You and Derek learned to love each other, at the point that you could no longer live apart. You completed each other, needed each other.

It was so funny to imagine that one day that lonely wolf would have a family. A happy one. That every Sunday Peter, Malia and even Parish would gather at his house for family lunch, that they would be in the backyard together chatting and watching little Eli run around and have fun with his toys.

Everyone could see the love you felt for each other and the respect you had. You rarely fought, and when you did, it was over Eli’s upbringing and that you soon came to an agreement for the good of the family.

But that was until two days ago.

Derek heard that some hunters were prowling the town in search of some supernatural creature. The pack was no longer around, at least most of it. The Alpha and his friends had left town to go to college, so Derek felt the need to check out the threat.

Alone.

Without even leaving a note for you.

You only found out when he came home all bruised late at night.

You could not believe your eyes when you saw him like that. You’re so pissed.

He didn’t dare to say a word, he just stood there while you took care of his wounds that was taking time to heal.

What brings you to the present day.

You were having lunch with the Hale’s and Parish, and somehow Derek started bragging about having defeated the hunters all by himself.

That was not like him.

“you must be out of your fucking mind” you couldn't stand it anymore and dumped in the middle of his superheroic stories.

“excuse me?” He looked at you in astonishment and suddenly you had the attention of everyone at the table.

“you have a three year old waiting for you everyday at home, and yet you decide to go out and save the world all by yourself? That was fucking stupid and reckless, Derek” without noticing you were raising your voice as the words were getting out of your mouth.

“oh im sorry if i saved your life, and everybody’s life”

“for fucks sake, are you listening to yourself right now?” you gasped and everyone looked at you in shock. No one had ever witnessed a fight from you before. “im sorry if you’ve only had crazy girlfriends who never cared about you, but I fucking do”

“or maybe you are becoming exactly like them”

Wow

“okay that’s enough” Peter got up and broke up the fight, but before he could reach you to get you out of the room you were quicker and got out of there.

Not before Derek noticed the look you gave him. A look he had never seen in your eyes before.

Malia followed you but also gave him that disappointed look.

He knew he had screwed up really bad.

“that was fucked up even for me” Peter said still surprised for what he had just witnessed.

While he was mulling over everything he had said, you were in the room with Malia by your side, trying to comfort you in her own way

“i can just punch him in the face if that’s okay with you, or Parish can just do his fire thing and scare Derek a lit bit, or maybe-“

“im okay sweetheart” you smiled at her, but the smile never reached your eyes. And Malia noticed it.

“no! He can’t say these things and leave it like that. Not to you. Especially not to you.” You felt your eyes watering and hugged her, leaving Malia with no reaction.

“thanks” you meant it.

You let her go and decided it was the moment to take all the doubts of your head.

You left the house with the excuse that you needed to cool down and passed the men in the living room ignoring all their calls.

A few hours passed and you couldn’t get out of the car that was in the parking lot of your old loft. Your hands were shaking, tears were falling from your face, and you felt completely lost.

You didn’t even imagine, but Derek was almost getting out of his mind searching for you. He was so afraid something has happened to you. When he drive past your old loft and saw your car, it was like he could finally breath.

You heard the knocking on your window and when you looked at him and he saw your teary eyes he became desperate.

“what happened, are you okay? Are you hurt? Who hurt you? I’m gonna kill th-“

“Im pregnant”

He froze.

You both were definitely not expecting this to happen right now. Not when Eli was still just a baby.

“what”

“i am pregnant” you repeat. Hearing these words getting out of your mouth for the second time ever.

Derek kept looking at you. You didn’t know what he was thinking, you couldn’t read him this time.

“I’m pregnant and you think I’m like your crazy ex girlfriends, how amazing is this”

You left out a muffled laugh and Derek slid into the passenger seat. His eyes never leaving yours.

“im sorry baby, I’m so sorry” he grabbed your face, forcing you to look into his green eyes. “im so sorry I hurt you, I never meant to do that, quite te opposite, I was only trying to protect you. I am nothing without you guys, you gave me a reason to live again, to dream with a family that I didn’t know I could have. I could not just be there waiting for things to happen, I couldn’t leave you unprotected, I had to do something, I had to protect you and now...”

He paused and put his hand on your stomach.

By now you were sobbing your eyes out.

“by the time Eli was at my door I had no idea what I was going to do, how could I be a father to him, or even how to have a solo parenthood and suddenly you were there to help me, to love me, to love us. And now I am here, to show how loved you are, and how good you are as a mother and will be again.”

“i love you” you said in tears.

“i love you so much baby”

You could see his eyes shinning with tears.

“We’re gonna make it, like we always do.”

And you did make it.

You had a perfect little girl, she looked so much like you. Derek couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Again, he never ever imagined he would be in this place, a father to two beautiful kids, with the love of his live by his side.

Derek Hale was completed.

[shootybangbang]

Red [Part 1]

[Ao3 Link]

[Summary]: My take on an Arthur Morgan/Reader Little Red Riding Hood AU

“The greatest feat of civilization,” Dutch had once said. “Lay in the act of domestication. Aurochs to milk cows. Wild fowl to chickens. Wolves to dogs.”

What separates a wolf from a dog? The curse of obeisance. The soft underbelly of complacency. The fanged mouth filed dull by the laws and inventions of men. To the untrained eye, he is of the same construction as his progenitor, perhaps. But no trace of that prior nobility is left in his servile silhouette. 

Such was the fate of those who allowed themselves to be tempered by society. “Dogs in human form,” Dutch had thundered from the pulpit of his tent. “Who are content to live leashed and subservient to the whims of their betters.”

And if that were so, then what could the Van der Lindes— who roamed the outer peripheries of civilization, who were governed by nothing save appetite and instinct— be but wolves?

Yet consider the wolf in winter— so thin that his ribs flash through his coat with every step of his loping gait. Yellow eyes gaunt with hunger, and at the mere scent of prey, slaver runs down his jaws like water. Deer and ducks were his usual fare; no longer. With his stomach empty, he will feed upon high and low alike. Where there once might have dwelled pity in his heart, there lives instead the specter of starvation. 

And times have been lean for the Van der Lindes, as of late. 

———

Your fine red coat had been like a tongue of flame among the black and grey dusters that flanked the bar in that riverside saloon. It caught Arthur’s eye the way a cardinal loosed among crows might. An outsider, and an easy mark. 

You could blush that same pretty shade with just a well-placed compliment, he soon found. Confessed with little resistance that it was your first time round these parts. Riding along to Strawberry to visit an ailing relative. 

Offhand, he mentioned the prettiness of the view along Diablo Bluff. Well worth a detour for anyone with a serviceable horse. He eyed your glossy-coated mare— a pale palomino with a mane like beaten electrum, newly groomed and newly shod— and offered to mark out a choice location on your map. 

The cheap room he books that night is solitary and bare as an anchorite’s lonely cell. Its cracked oil lantern magnifies the shadow of its wound across the wall. The washbasin is flecked with rust. When he splashes the grime from his face, the water that trickles over his lips has the coppery tinge of old metal. 

They say that sparseness leads to contemplation of god. Carves a hollow in a man in which repentance can trickle like rain to a well. And so here he is. Harboring a dog’s guilt. 

He had spun you in a simple two-step as the band downstairs had played Oh! Susanna. You seemed surprised that he knew the steps, laughed when he leaned his arm across your shoulder blades and dipped you down. “Do that again,” you told him, and the unbrokered ring of command in your voice had garlanded him like a vine. He did so twice more. Each time the bell of your skirt had billowed and flared like the pulse of a candle.

You had a clear-eyed way of looking at him that spanned him through like a shot from a rifle. As though you saw the wolf in man’s guise and would not flinch away. You stood on tiptoe to glance your lips chastely against his cheek before you excused yourself upstairs, and he had carried it for hours afterward, the purity of that touch seared like a brand upon his liar’s pelt.

Tender, naive little thing. Wrapped in a coat the color of apples and blood, the shade of raw sin. The scent of wealth drips off you like perfume, and wolves trail behind close as breath. The stitching on your riding gloves was finer than he’d ever seen. The bills that you passed over the counter had been crisp and new. His pack has not fed upon such a bounty in quite some time.

He ought to have warned you to keep to the road. He ought to have urged you to steer clear of strangers like himself. He ought to lay himself down in a ditch somewhere and put the barrel of his gun against the roof of his mouth. 

From the other side of the shared wall comes the sharp, complaining squeal of unoiled bedsprings. Then a soft susurration of a sigh, a quiet thump like a weight coming to rest against the plaster.

You do not see them, you guileless girl wandering the wood. The yellow eyes that peer luminous in the dark. You do not hear them, you hopeless creature stepping into a snare. The beast that circles you tight as a noose.

Arthur cups his hand against the rim of his ear and presses it to the wall.

He hears the dull drag of heavy fabric, the click of clasps. Your coat, perhaps. Then a series of quick, fastidious flicks followed by the busy rustle of silks and linens. Another sigh, longer and more luxurious than the last. When he feels the faint vibration of another thump shiver down the wall, as if someone had decided to lean the length of their spine against it, he lays the flat of his palm against the chipped plaster, and imagines it warm as skin.

———

The dawn breaks cold. Frost laces the edges of fallen leaves and his breath mists in the air in a forlorn shape. Astride his horse and tucked behind a stand of trees, Arthur watches its pale rise dissolve into the morning dark. He yanks his bandanna up to the bridge of his nose. He waits.

[toberkus]

That's totally fair. This is an indecisive household. I seemed to have made up my mind, though.

Maybe a story about Logan, who works at a bakery, and a new florist shop opens up next door that's run by Kurt/Nightcrawler, and it could be a meet-cute, begrudging-friendship turned awkward pining turned healing romance?

Just Logan being all "rahhh I'm a lone wolf I don't need nobody" but then Kurt turns up like 💐😊 "hallo neighbour" and Logan gets the Feelings

I hope that's enough, if not I can add more! Sorry I'm really bad at this 🥲

The au shop part doesn't have to be totally accurate, and you can keep them as mutants (because Kurt needs his fluff and his tail)

- 🦚

WHAAT THIS SOUNDS SO CUTE ACTUALLY I can totally write this augh Kurt is such a cutie :3

Fair warning! I am not yet fully caught up with the comics so super sorry if some of this is inaccurate to the characterss

Baker!LoganHowlett x Florist!KurtWagnar

Short Summary: Two very different mutants end up being shop neighbors, what happens when gruff and rugged meets kind and soft?

Logan centered/POV

A trinkling brought Logan out of his thoughts, his head turning to the door as one of the customers left. The bakery feeling emptier than before. Although Logan wouldn't complain, he preferred it this way.

Slow days like these gave Logan time to himself, so he made sure to enjoy them as much he could. Customer service wasn't his strong suit, if anything he wished he could just serve the customers without ever needing to see their face. The smell of baked goods was nice though, and being able to bake in general was a good way of relaxing, therapeutic even. It gave him something to do, an escape from life.

Logan was leaning over the display counter with his arms, his hands holding onto the edge of the other side, his thumbs drumming in a rhythmic pattern as he counted the seconds between when the next customer would come in. After a good while the mutant had decided that nobody would be coming in for a while, perfect timing for a smoke break. Logan let out a deep sigh, his muscles relaxing a bit and he loosened up his posture. Grabbing the essentials and making his way to the door. Compared to the cozy clean bakery, Logan looked out of place yet he also fit right in. He was very unnecessarily ripped for a bakery job, and had this intimidating look. Yet his efforts to be friendly to customers and always having a fresh batch of baked goods up for grabs made him fit the role well. Logan has always been an honest worker and an honest man, having found somewhat of a passion in baking he will do what it takes to do the job right.

The door jingled as it opened, the mutants figure slipping out from the bakery and placing himself next to the bakery entrance. cigar ready and already hanging out of his mouth as he brought his lighter up to it. The familiarity of the metallic clinks followed by the sound of light sizzling cued Logan to inhale the cancerous air into his lungs, the dopamine of it going straight into his system. Blocking out any other smells that could possibly bother his enhanced senses. The satisfaction of it was rewarding to the mutant.

Halfway through his little break, Logan became aware of the sound of cardboard rubbing against cardboard. And as the smell of his cigar lessened it was replaced with a more earthy, floral scent. Logan turned his attention to the source, Head turned as he scanned over the area. The building next to his had been empty and up for sale for a while, and from what it Logan can tell by the amount of boxes and shop items someone finally made something out of it. Trained eyes quickly skimmed over the array of flowers and plants out in the front, a sign hanging above the entrance in calligraphy Logan couldn't be bothered to read.

A blue figure stepped out of the shop, an array of flowers in the persons grasp as Logans eyes locked with theirs. His curiosity piqued at the striking yellow looking back at him. A wide smile adorned the persons face as they gave Logan a three-fingered wave, "Hallo! You must be the my new neighbor, yes?" The stranger spoke, revealing a thick German accent Logan hadn't quite expected. He blinked for a moment, a bit awestruck by this persons appearance, the sun reflecting against their blue skin and yellow, almost golden eyes. Logan caught sight of the tail behind this stranger swaying low to the ground in a content rhythm, Logans eyes travelling back up to the others' face. They were patiently waiting for a response, now holding onto the array of flowers with both hands. Logan cleared his throat, realizing his lack of response and rude staring. "Uh- yeah, I guess so." Logan quickly took the cigar out of his mouth out of politeness correcting his posture with vague nervousness.

The florist swiftly put their flowers down near the entrance of their shop and made their way over to Logan, extending a hand. "My name is Kurt! Kurt Wagnar,"

The gruffer one of the two carefully looked at the hand offered to him. Logan switched the Cigar over to his left hand before accepting Kurt's handshake. "Logan," His voice came out a bit roughed than intended, visually cringing a bit at his own voice. The handshake ended with a small tug and to logan, an awkward release. "Logan," Kurt repeated as if to test his own pronunciation. Kurt's eyes flicked to the windows of Logans bakery for a moment before travelling back to said mutant Infront of him. "Your bakery looks lovely! I am glad to have found such a great spot, I think we'll make excellent neighbors." The taller chirped, Logan felt a bit intimidated with how sociable Kurt seemed to be, being able to continue a conversation so fluidly. Logan had never been much of a talker, being known for his vague grunts and sighs as a response to pretty much anything. But the way Kurt spoke to him was unusually inviting, it gave Logan a hard time thinking of how to respond.

"Yeah, I'm sure we will."

After some more small talk (Kurt informing Logan of how excited he was to move to here and being able to open his own shop as Logan made poorly efforted responses in yeah's, mhm's and nods.) Kurt asked Logan if he would be able to help him out with moving into the shop, only having stuff like boxes and bags left. As Kurt made this request he made sure to point out that Logan seemed very capable to doing so. Logan was caught even more off guard, unused to flattery. Unsure how to properly form a response Logan cleared his throat and begrudgingly agreed to doing so. Making sure to close the bakery first before following Kurt to his own little store. The cigar being long gone from Logans grasp. Upon following Kurt, Logan was greeted with the smell of Flowers, plants and wet soil, his brain buffering with the immediate nostalgia it gave him. His eyes travelled along the flowers and plants, nature always gave Logan a sense of ease. Bringing him back to his old life in a way. But as quickly as the nostalgia came Logan pushed the feeling down, not wanting too linger too much on the past.

He was impressed with how organized it was already, yes there were still big bags of soil and supplies out and about, but Kurt seemed to be a quick worker. Must help when you practically have three hands, if you include the tail. Speaking of his tail, Logan found amusement in watching the way it swayed in sync with Kurt's emotions or actions. In some moments it looked like it was its own being, in other moments it mimicked Kurt exactly. Watching it flick or seemingly bounce away once it sensed an obstacle in its path. It had barely been an hour and Logan already found himself enamored by this mutant Infront of him.

"I already have most of the main parts set up, I just need help moving those bags to the back and organizing more of my pots." Kurt informed, Turning his head to Logan to see if he understood to which Logan gave another, small nod.

He lifted two soil bags over his shoulders. Breaking zero sweat as he did so, Kurt smiled at Logan with a gleeful grin, practically beaming at Logan. The gruff one cocked his brow, turning his head upwards at Kurt with questioning hum vibrating out of his throat. "As I thought, you are very capable Logan," The florist replied with clasped hands before bending down to grab his own soil bag with significantly more effort. Blissfully unaware of the affects his words truly had. Logan was buffering again like a slow computer, something in him fluttered, trying his best not to break out his own little smile at the compliment. He didn't respond, blinking away the bashful shock Logan instead put himself to work. Treading over to where he was told the bags should be put, needing to keep himself in motion.

A significant amount of work had been done already, Kurt proudly looked around his shop, only having to move one more pot which Logan had in his grasp currently, waiting for Kurt to tell him where it should be placed. Thoughtfully Kurt motioned over to an empty space on one of the tables, Following his lead the baker had turned around, about to take a step forward but instead the sudden sound of porcelain breaking and shattering joined with the harsh thud of Logan landing on flat on his back filled the room, A wheeze pushed itself out of Logans throat, hissing as he slowly sat up on the ground. Kurt stood beside Logan wide eyed, jumping to his aid with worried hands trying to figure out what they should be doing, "Ah- You're hurt!" Kurt exclaimed, Logan blinked, looking down and noticing the porcelain sharks sticking out of his arms. The blood collecting at the base of the wound but not having space to spill out with the obstacles wedged into his skin. Logans brows knitted together, the florist quickly stumbling to his feet. "Let me grab the first aid-" "No need," The baker cut him off, letting out a rough sigh. "Sorry about the pot, should've watched my step." Kurt tilted his head, one of his ears twitching upward. "Wat? I don't care about the pot right now! You should be getting aided those are serious wounds!"

Logan just shook his head, before motioning back to his arms. Kurt looked in concerned confusion, but still watched as the shards slowly pushed themselves out, which Logan sped up by simply pulling them out. The wounds bled for a couple seconds before closing up on their own. His regenerative abilities taking care of the rest. "See?" The baker stood up with a groan, cracking his back and bending down to collect the broken shards. Not adding any more commentary to what just happened. "I'll pay for it, don't worry." Kurt's tail stilled for a moment before dancing back into motion, suddenly the blue mutant had also been helping Logan pick up the shards, a smile finding its way back onto his unique features. "Don't worry, it's not your fault. I can live with one pot less!" The mutant beamed again, making Logan pause to look up at him, his eyes scanning the mutants peaceful features as he was still collecting the shards off the tiled floor. "How about next time I help you out?" Kurt looked back at Logan when he said that, the baker feeling that tightness in his chest again as he looked into those golden eyes. "Sure,"

The jingle of the door once again brought Logan back to the current situation. His head moved up spotting that familiar blue figure smiling at him as if he were the highlight of his day. "Hallo!" Kurt greeted, Its been a couple weeks since they first met and it had become a custom for them to visit each others shops, well, mainly Kurt randomly walking into Logans bakery to talk or actually order something. Logan nodded at Kurt as he walked in, a small smile tugging on his lips as the blue one marched to the display counter. He placed a medium sized bag atop the display, Infront of Logans view. the mutant in question looking across the counter at Kurt. "What's this?" Logan asked as rugged hands grabbed at the paper bag. Looking at Kurt for a response before opening it. "A gift!" "Gift?" Logan repeated to himself, looking at the florist for a moment longer before opening it and peering inside.

Logan brought the contents out by the pot, his hands gently taking it out displaying a small potted plant. Delicate flowers sprouting from the top. A wooden stick poked in the middle of the pot to guide the flowers upright. "I thought you might like a little touch of nature in here," Kurt grinned, impressed by his own generosity. Logan gently placed the flowers down by the counter, next to the pay area. His hands guiding themselves slowly up the stem to gently caressing the flowers petals. Its been a long, long while since Logans ever willingly gotten a gift from someone. Especially not a gift this.. nice. He admired the flower, its Prescence adding more life to the bakery. "Do you like it?" Logan smiled softly, eyes still on the flower. His fingers tracing the patterns on the pot it lived in. "It's great," He nodded, finally looking up at Kurt. "I love it," Logan spoke, his answer holding an honesty he didn't even know he was capable of.

Behind the Florist was a tail that practically wagged at this response. Ears going up a bit as his smile grew. He seemed satisfied by Logans response, but even more in awe with the soft expression on Logans face, Taking in every second. "Maybe I should get you gifts more often," Kurt laughed, the sound making Logans heart flutter in a way he forgot it even could. Quickly the mutant cleared his throat, "You- You don't have to, bub." His hand rubbed the back of his neck, his ears warming up a bit. A comfortable silence grew between them, Logans eyes switching from admiring the flower to admiring Kurt's face. The way he was still smiling and admiring Logan the same way.

The sudden tinkling of the bakery entrance made Logan tense up and Kurt slightly flinch. Turning around quickly to spot the customer that had walked in. Kurt turned back to Logan. "Ah- Before I go, Are you doing anything after your shift?" Kurt rushed, leaning over the counter. There was that feeling again, that fluttering in his chest that made everything weirdly light.

"No, why?"

"Good, Then I'll pick you up after you're done! Ja?"

"Oh- Uhm, Okay sure." Logan blinked.

And then he was gone, disappearing as fast as he came. The rest of the day was boorishly long. Logan was horrible with waiting, patience wasn't really his thing after all. Between each customer his eyes would flick to the clock, practically counting the seconds. Ten more minutes, and they were the ten longest minutes of his life. The shop wasn't even full either. Nothing was there to distract him. The hum of the mechanics added onto the silence, and the glow of the lights started feeling annoyingly bright. Logan groaned to himself. His fingers tapping impatiently against the glass.

His kept looking at the flower, admiring its petals. Did Kurt plant it just for him? How long has he been growing this flower? The thoughts just made Logan fall deeper into his emotions. He picked at his own nails. Did he have a thing for Kurt? Yes. Yes he did. Last time he fell in love was, well… Nevermind. Its too early to call this feeling 'Love' anyways, He just has a 'crush'. With lack of better words. The mutant rubbed his face in his hands bashfully at the thought. God he felt stupid, all someone did was smile at him and treat him like a person who deserves good things and Logan was already folding like a lawn chair. Logan knows himself, and he knows that when he falls for someone he falls hard

Suddenly Logan looked up at the clock, his entire body going into motion as soon as he saw it reach the end of his shift. As if on autopilot Logan clocked himself out and closed up the shop at speeds he'd never done before, because this time he had something, or rather someone to be looking forward to at the end of the day.

The keys jingled in his hands as he put on his leather jacket, stepping out of the shop and locking the door behind him.

"Logan!"

The baker turned around, greeted by Kurt, wagging his tail at the mutant Infront of him.

"You ready to go?" "Ready if you are,"

They walked through the empty streets of the evening, the sun setting behind the buildings. "We're almost there," The florist remarked. "Where exactly?" Logan realized he never bothered asking why Kurt wanted to pick Logan up after work, only now processing how trusting he is of Kurt. "You'll see,"

They walked in comfortable silence. Kurt's longer lankier figure complimenting Logans shorter stockier one as they walked beside each other. "So, I was thinking and I realized I never really see you outside of work. So I thought it would be nice to just.. hang out with you." The blue one spoke, for the first time this was Logan sensing his slight nervousness. The gruffer one felt his face heating up at that thought, Kurt thinks about him, huh? Well, that was probably already obvious with the flowers. "And you didn't think to ask me in a less spontaneous manner?" Logan joked, smirking up at Kurt.

"Was that a bad thing?" Worry a little evident in the florists voice. Logan shook his head in reassurance. "I don't mind, I appreciate it if anything." Logan smiled.

Kurt smiled back, his confidence kicking back in.

"Here we are!" Kurt smiled and plopped himself down on a bench, it was an isolated bench placed on a hill that had an astounding view over where they lived. Plus amazing for watching the sun go down. Logan had looked for a bit, standing and admiring the view before sitting down next to Kurt,

Logan leaned back, hands in his pockets. For once in a long time, he felt calm. A calm he lost a long long time ago, no found again in this moment. His ears picked up the sound of the breeze, the trees rustling in the wind. Critters like squirrels and wildlife scuttering near. The mutant inhaled deeply through his nose, holding that breath for a bit before breathing out. That earthy air, that smell of nature. He missed it. His eyes lit up as they reflected the setting sun, curls flowing lightly in the soft breeze. Kurt watched the man beside him, admiring his features as they fit his surroundings so well. Golden eyes slowly meeting hazel ones.

"Its nice here," The baker said.

"I'm glad you like it," The florist responded.

"Logan," Kurt started, Logan hummed in response. "You're like me, right?"

"Like you?"

"Different," Kurt said looking off into the distance. Golden eyes shining.

"You could say that." Logan could feel his heart beating. But not in the manic stress he was used to, this was different. Different from the pain, different from the agony. He could feel it in a way that made him feel alive, more alive than ever. His eyes turning soft. when Kurt looked back at him.

"You're lucky, you can still pass without people knowing what you are with a single glance. I wish to live like that too someday, undercover from the world."

Logan was shocked at his words, of course Kurt knew nothing of Logans past. Hadn't know about the animal apart of Logan. But yet he couldn't understand why a creature as beautiful as he is would ever feel the need to hide himself. And this was something the baker suddenly felt he needed to put into words, his mouth speaking before he could stop it.

"Undercover?" He rasped, his throat suddenly feeling dry from the nerves even though he just started talking. Logan turned his body to Kurt's direction, his hand filling the bench space in-between them. "You don't need to hide, bub. You're perfect the way you are. The world is just scared of a beauty they can't control," He went quiet for a moment, processing his own words for a second. "I-"

Kurt cut logan off, putting his hand onto his softly. "You think.. I'm a beauty?" A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Ears rising upwards.

"Am I wrong for thinking that?" Logan replied, swallowing dryly. His palms growing sweaty. "I.. Thank you, Logan." The florist laughed a bit, blushing at Logans words. His thumb traced Logans knuckles, both of them turning back to the sunset now fully gone. Replaced by the glow of the moon above as the streetlamps started buzzing to life.

"You're very handsome yourself," Logan laughed at Kurt's words, the butterflies in his chest flying free.

They held hands, gazing at the stars.. Logan faced Kurt, intertwining their fingers the best he could. "How about.. next time we go out, we make it a date?" The baker offered with a soft tone,

"I thought this was a date?" Kurt huffed a laugh,

"Oh," The baker thought for a moment, he looked at Kurt with hesitance. "Does this mean I get to kiss you?"

They both blinked at each other, and before Logan could take back his words Kurt pressed a soft kiss onto his lips, a three fingered hand soft on logans cheek, brushing through those overly recognizable mutton chops. The kiss deepened before they both pulled away, a giddy smile on Kurt's face with a bashful smile of Logans.

"So does this mean we're dating?" Kurt asked,

"What else would it mean, Kurt." Kurt's name rolled off his tongue softly, as if it were a compliment or a pet name. Kurt's tail wagged softly at hearing his name on Logans lips, fighting the want to kiss them again.

The door opened, the sound of the bell making Logans head perk up. Kurt walked in with a bit of pep in his step, "Hallo!" He chirped, walked up to the display and leaning over the counter to press a kiss against Logans lips, the baker smiled into it, brushing his hand against Kurt's cheek.

Kurt leaned back, looking at Logan and suddenly putting a rose between their faces. "For you," The florist winked. "Again?" Logan laughed endearingly, "Bub, You know how much I love your gifts. But I'm starting to run out of ideas on what to do with them," He said, still grabbing the flower and spinning it in his fingers, staring at it intently,

"Sorry! I just can't help it," Kurt giggled,

"Well, guess what." Logan put a container out on the counter, nodding at Kurt. "This time I got you a gift as well,"

Kurt gasped, biting his bottom lip in excitement before opening the container, pleasantly greeted by an arrangement of cookies. All of them fresh, Kurt bounced on his heels. "You didn't have to," The florist beamed, eternally grateful.

"You always get me stuff so I thought it'd be nice of me to do the same, don't make a big deal out of it." Logan huffed, the endearment in his voice contradicting the choice of words. He watched as Kurt put the cookie contained in his bag pouch, giving Logan a quick peck on the cheek as another thank you. "I'll see you after work!"

The baker held his own cheek, watching the florist walk off with a wave. "See you, bub."

AAUUU SUPER SORRY IF THIS IS LIKE POORLY WRITTEN AT SOME POINT IM SUPER TIRED RN I TIRED MY BEST I HOPE THIS WORKS!!! They are so cute im killing them

[hippolotamus]

(Way more than) Seven Sentence Sunday

Thanks for the tags @jesuisici33 @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @tizniz @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @fortheloveofbuddie @wildlife4life @indestructibleheart @steadfastsaturnsrings @elvensorceress @honestlydarkprincess @spaceprincessem I haven’t gotten to all of your snippets but I will and already know they’re amazing and everyone should check them out 💖

Mirrorball (aka pole dancer Buck) won the poll yesterday so here are some sentences from that (prev snippet here) Unsurprisingly, he is producing as many feels (if not more) as I expected. So, uh, sorry about that (but also not sorry at all).

The pole – warmed by the house lights, previous performers, and heat from the three hundred something bodies legally allowed by the fire marshal – presses through his black mesh shirt, around the vegan leather chest harness, finally grazing his spine. He applies more pressure, allowing it to bear more of his weight, raising his arms and caressing the brushed stainless steel like a lover. A gentle touch he’s never experienced but aches with longing for anyway.

Just after the first musical bridge, a series of twangy guitar riffs and soulful keyboard notes, a member of the bachelorette party – maid of honor according to her hot pink sash – approaches the stage. There’s a bit of a wobble to her gait, but she’s still holding her own as she confidently struts forward to offer some bills she not so subtly clenches in her teeth.

If Buck was interested in her, he would make a show of crawling on all fours and take the proffered cash between his lips. But he’s not, so he holds onto the pole as he swings around, dipping low to pluck it from her with his fingers, giving her a wink as he does.

It’s possible she’s familiar with his act because she pouts a bit at that, even as the rest of her group cheers and wolf whistles, tugging up her cutoff short shorts to further reveal the swell of her ass as she flounces back to her seat. As if she’s daring him to reconsider lest he miss out. And maybe he will, if the offer’s still there at the end of his shift and he’s feeling lonely enough.

Buck tucks the money into a hidden pocket between the waistband of his royal blue hotpants and his dance belt. The stuff is loaded with enough germs, he’s not particularly interested in having it touch his sweat beaded skin before redistributing it out in the world.

When he resumes his routine, letting his gaze drift to the back of the room, he works to quickly recover as his breath catches in his throat. Dark eyes suddenly look impossibly darker – hungry and possessive – as lips wrap around the mouth of a beer. It’s tilted back in such a way that they never break eye contact. Maybe it should scare Buck, make him consider asking Bosko or Williams from security to see him to his jeep. But, strangely, it doesn’t.

The opportunity to let that process or sink in passes when his music ends and he begins collecting stray cash that’s been tossed on stage. In the time it takes him to stand back up, and throw a flirty kiss to the audience, he realizes the back table is empty save for a bottle and a chair sitting askew as if the occupant left in a hurry.

No pressure tagging @lizzie-bennetdarcy @disasterbuckdiaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @shortsighted-owl @stereopticons @911onabc @apothecarose @barbiediaz @buddierights @chaosandwolves @eowon @fionaswhvre @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @hoodie-buck @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @loserdiaz @messyhairdiaz @monsterrae1 @rmd-writes @statueinthestone @singlethread @the-likesofus @thekristen999 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @thewolvesof1998 @underwater-ninja-13 @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @welcometololaland @weewootruck @your-catfish-friend and anyone else who wants to share 😘

[kristannafever]

Big Sky Ranch - 2

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: M (for now) WC: 3212

Chapter Index

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

Sven fed him another beer as they sat on the tailgate after the long day, shooting the shit with the other three ranch hands.  Kristoff knew damn well Sven was lubricating his brain so that he wasn’t a stick in the mud all night.  He didn’t mind going to the saloon per se, he always ended up having a good time.  Most of that due to the liquor.  However, he did hate how many women hit on him and how many men decided they wanted to fight him.  He’d been in his fair share of scraps that he didn’t start.  All of which he won. 

Most of the time they’d be out of there before any real trouble started, except Sven’s idea to pregame with the other ranch hands meant that they’d get there later and most likely end up in some sort of skirmish by the end of the night.  Especially since Sven had a big mouth and got ridiculously loud when he was drunk.  And it was clear to Kristoff that he was ready to go blow off some serious steam.

After they wolfed down cheeseburgers that Sven had cooked for all the guys, they piled into the dually and put the greenhorn behind the wheel.  The kid was their designated driver for the evening since he was barely even old enough to drink, and the guys had told him if he wanted to come that it was going to be his job.   He didn’t mind at all, he just enjoyed hanging out with the guys and was happy to do it, which worked out great for everyone.

The place was already packed when they arrived, loud country music filtering into the gravel parking lot as they walked towards the building in the last dusk of the day.  Inside, everything was wood; the floors, the bar, the stools, tables and chairs, even the walls were adorned in wood paneling.  A currently empty stage and dancefloor took up a sizeable portion of the righthand corner.  Large wagon wheels with old style lanterns converted to house electric light bulbs, hung from the ceiling across the entire space, separated only by dingy looking ceiling fans that turned lazily around.  There were neon signs around the bar in the center of the back wall, illuminating the area and showcasing the shelves of liquor bottles behind the bar top.  The place was filled with cowboys, cowgirls, city folk lookin’ for cheap thrills, surly bouncers and scantily clad waitstaff.   It stunk of stale cigarette smoke, spilled beer and fryer oil.  The food was good; the wings, a staple, and they had them going out of the kitchen all night long.

The five men found themselves one of the standing tables as far away from the Jukebox beside the stage as possible so that they could shoot the shit without having to shout too much.  It was pretty standard for them.  They ordered two pitchers of beer and a coke for the greenhorn.  In a short time, the table would be lined with shots.

The place seemed busier than normal.   Plenty of women came up to their table to hit on them, a couple targeting Kristoff exclusively.  He rolled his eyes, feeling tired of being singled out because he stood taller than any of the other men crowded around the table.  Sven was taken and Kristoff wasn’t interested.  The three other guys were looking, these ladies should stop wasting their time on him.

It still boggled his mind how Sven had managed to settle down and ask Dixie to marry him.  He’d been a wild man until the day he met her at a grocery store, of all places.  After that it was him starting to skip out on Friday nights and ignoring Kristoff completely for the rest of the weekend, forcing him to go fishing alone or just sit in his cabin at nights and read or play his guitar – he didn’t have a television –which Kristoff had to admit to himself, had left him feeling lonely at times.   But for him, being alone was far better than having to try so hard to impress a woman and maintain her interest when they had next to nothing in common.  And that included the few cowgirls he had tried to date.  It hurt a little, that even women who seemed as likeminded as him, apparently still had no interest in a romantic relationship.  Or maybe he was just that bad at it.

After the beers, the shots came and Kristoff felt a little more tipsy than usual.  Maybe it was the fact they’d worked through lunch to knock off early, or that he’d forgotten how many beers they’d crushed before they hit the bar.  Either way, he was smiling and enjoying himself because his mind was being intoxicated.  Which was why when Cadillac Ranch started blaring through the speakers, he didn’t hesitate to follow the rest of the guys to the dance floor.  It was an unwritten rule whenever that Nitty Gritty Dirt Band song came on.

No self-respecting cowboy didn’t know how to line dance to that song, and Kristoff fell in step with everyone else with ease, years dancing it every time they went the saloon behind him.  They were even taught how to line dance in school for fucks sake.  He grinned the whole time too, kicking his heels and turning in step with everyone else on the dance floor.

*****

Anna spotted him as soon as the new country song started.  He was making his way to the dance floor with practically everyone else in the place, her friends who had brought her included. 

From her vantage point along a wall – she had no idea what kind of dance this was after all – she could not stop staring at him.  He was absolutely gorgeous with a big smile.  And damn, he could dance!  The way he swung his long legs around, the way his hips moved… Anna felt desire stir deep within her to watch something so incredibly sexy.

Hell, all of the people looked sexy dancing in rhythm, all decked out in what Anna had become to think of the ‘cowboy outfit’.  In fact, the only people not in that outfit were the ones watching, and none of them were dressed like those dancing.  They were dressed like her; a city-based idea of what a western look might be, even if a lot of them were in jeans and t-shirts.  Not many of them had proper cowboy boots, or those worn in, scuffed, wear-every-day hats, and there was no tucked in shirts.  She realized that was one item she’d forgotten about the ‘cowboy outfit’… the belt and large shaped metal buckle.  It seemed as though every person on the dance floor wore one.

And none so well as that big blond cowboy.  In a t-shirt this time, tucked in of course, she got a better glimpse at his physique, which was nothing short of incredible.  His head stood out above the rest, his hat bobbing with every movement.  Anna pinched her bottom lip in her teeth and wished he would have been interested in her because she would have loved the affections of such a man.  He was something else. 

The song ended and everyone gave a hoot and holler followed by ruckus laughter.   Anna felt herself grinning watching them, and vowed to learn that dance so that she could participate the next time.  She couldn’t remember a time something looked so fun to be a part of.

Her friends came back and they found a table midway to the bar, Anna hastily sitting down in one of the chairs that faced the blond cowboy’s direction so she could look at him.  He might not be interested, or maybe he was one of the taken ones, but there was no harm in getting an eyeful of him for her to fantasize about later. 

The place seemed much louder after that dance, like it had recharged the crowd.  They’d only just stepped in the door when that song came on, and Anna tried to orient herself in a place like she’d never been in before.  It was somehow like the clubs in the city, and yet the furthest thing from them.   It confused her at first when her friends took off to dance in the midst of looking for a table, and she understood now that that song meant something to these people, and Anna found that endearing.

Someone ordered some pitchers and Anna didn’t complain, even though she didn’t drink beer that often.  She glanced at the table of cowboys to see the blond join his friends in tilting back a shot.  The way he did it, the fluid movement of it, and his face afterward, breathing out whatever he’d tasted through slightly parted lips before smiling at his friends, left Anna staring at him with her jaw on the table.  He was so good looking it was criminal.

Then his wandering eyes met hers.

Anna’s heart leapt in her chest and she snapped her mouth shut and turned her gaze to the left, then laughed along with whatever everyone else at the table had found funny.  She didn’t dare look back, embarrassed she’d been caught eye fucking him so blatantly.  Her cheeks were on fire.

It was torturous, keeping her eyes away from his table, only Anna wasn’t about to mortify herself further.  Instead, she pushed him from her mind in favor of paying attention to everyone else at her table.  It was hard. 

Until a group of men approached them to talk, she dared quickly glancing back at the table and he wasn’t standing there with his friends.  He’d probably gone off to the bathroom or outside to smoke a cigarette.  It surprised her how many people in their town smoked.  Did they not know how bad it was for them?  She had a second to wonder if that would affect her liking of that blond cowboy if he was indeed a smoker.

One of the guys in the group that approached sauntered over to Anna’s side and bent over, putting his face in her personal space.  His breath stank, and his icy blue eyes were the creepiest thing she had seen in combination with his unsettling smile. 

“Hey, sweetheart.  How’d you like to go home with a real cowboy tonight?”

*****

Kristoff kept glancing her direction to catch the waitress’s eyes again.  She never looked back his way.  He felt disappointed about that. 

The way she’d been looking at him… shit, it was lusty.  And he was drunk.  Longing stirred deeply within him and he suddenly did want to ask her out.  He realized, looking her way as she laughed and interacted with the other ladies at her table, she wasn’t just attractive, she was drop-dead gorgeous.  The pink hue on her freckled cheeks, that smile, those clear blue eyes that reminded him of his favourite glacier-fed lake up in the mountains… fuck, she was hot.  And every red-blooded man in the room could see that.

Which was why when he returned from taking a quick piss, he felt anger prickle inside when he noticed the table of women had been approached by a group of men that Kristoff knew were up to no good.  They’d been in scraps with those fellas plenty of times before.

“Kristoff, what the fuck, man?  You paying attention?”

He didn’t answer Sven, he could not stop staring at what was unfolding, his brow furrowed in frustration.  The greasiest of the assholes, their pathetic ringleader, was leaning over the waitress, clearly making her uncomfortable.  He saw her shake her head and say ‘no’, and the dickhole ignore her rejection.

“Those fuckers again?” Sven asked, following Kristoff’s line of sight.   The other three ranch hands turned to watch what was happening a couple of tables away.

“Thought we told them never to come back,” Kristoff muttered.

“We ‘bout to have another kerfuffle here boys,” Sven agreed. 

All five of them walked over, Kristoff’s focus like a laser on the one who was pestering the waitress.  They surrounded the other men and he took his position beside the slimeball who didn’t understand the word no.

“Not you cow-fuckers again,” one of them said.

“Thought we told y’all you wasn’t welcome here anymore,” said Buck, the oldest man on their crew.  The old timer had shown Kristoff a thing or two when he was a cocky eighteen-year-old coming up in the world of ranching.  Definitely had taken him down a peg, which he deserved at the time.  As did Sven.

“Fuck off old timer,” said the ringleader, who was still leaning over the waitress.  “Ain’t got nothin’ to do with the likes of you dude ranch motherfuckers.”

“I beg to differ,” Kristoff said with a menacing voice.  He’d had enough of these posers causing trouble in their bar.  Hell, in their whole damn town.  They were from the next county over and only came to theirs to stir up trouble.  They weren’t even ranchers.  Their ringleader’s daddy owned a farm equipment dealership.

“That so?” the ringleader asked, straightening to his full height and finally looking Kristoff in the eye.  The guy was just about as tall as him and had about fifty less pounds of muscle.  “We were just talking to the ladies.”

“These ladies don’t look too impressed,” Sven interjected.

“Damn straight we’re not,” the waitress spat.

Kristoff glanced at her, the redness in her cheeks and the anger on her face.  Shit, she was fiery when she was mad.  It made her even hotter.

“Aw, darlin’, don’t say that,” the man drawled, still staring Kristoff in the eyes.  “We were just tryin’ to show you ladies what us modern day cowboys look like.  We ain’t kickin’ shit with our boots all day long for pennies on the dollar.  We make bank.”  His eyebrows flicked up at the last word, driving in the insult.

“You are the furthest thing from an actual fuckin’ cowboy,” Kristoff growled.

Sven spoke over him, “Man, fuck off on out of here you goat ropers.” It was loud enough that some of the other patrons in the bar started to notice what was going on. 

That brought everything to a head.  A bouncer came charging over and shouted at everyone to ‘take it outside’.  All of the men immediately headed for the door.  Kristoff didn’t even turn around to look at the gorgeous waitress.

When they spread out into the parking lot, two groups formed on either side.  Kristoff and the ranchers on one, and daddy’s boy dickhead and his cronies on the other, while curious bar goers hugged the wall of the building to watch what was happening.  It wasn’t the first time the groups had found themselves faced off like this.  Kristoff had personally given each one of them a black eye.  Not that they didn’t get their licks in.  He wondered in the back of his mind if the waitress might abhor his appearance with a shiner.  He’d gotten his fair share over the years. 

And he was sure he was going to catch one tonight.  They’d all been in the liquor pretty hard.  He was sure that Davy, who’d been on the ranch only two years, was going to go down with one tap he was swaying so much on his feet. 

Kristoff curled his fists and the two groups of men traded threats, ready to swing, when blue and reds lit up the night sky and a vehicle gunned it through the parking lot in their direction and pulled to a screeching halt. 

“Shit, it’s the fuzz,” someone watching yelled, and everyone in the parking lot besides Kristoff’s group and handful of others onlookers, hauled ass into the darkness.  No doubt many of them were carrying something they didn’t want to get caught with.

Two cops, one that the ranchers knew well, walked into the circle of light cast off their headlights.

“You boys really need to stop picking fights with other patrons,” the one they knew said by way of greeting.  Clearly someone had called it in as soon as Kristoff and his group approached the other assholes.  It was probably that bartender who looked like a Hells Angels reject.  That guy did not tolerate shit.

“Come on, Frankie!” Sven threw his arms up.  “You know them boys just come here to cause trouble.”  He grinned.  “Just like you did when we was in grade school together.”

The mustached cop laughed.  “You’re one to talk, Sven.  You, and Kris, have brought your fair share.”

“Those guys are always botherin’ the ladies and pickin’ fights,” Buck piped up, then hocked a loogie into the dirt at his feet.

“It’s a free country,” said Frankie.  “We can’t stop em from going into a drinking establishment.”

“What you need to do is start waiting for them on the back roads those guys take,” Kristoff chimed in.  “I know for a fact they’re not drivin’ sober.”

“That so?” Frankie asked, turning very serious.  “And you boys have a DD?”

“Yo.”  The greenhorn raised his hand.

“Alright,” Frankie said, and started to step back towards his cruiser.  “We will keep our eyes peeled near there tonight if those guys come back to grab their truck.”

“They will,” Sven answered, “long as they don’t catch a whiff of pig.”

Frankie gave Sven a hard stare.  Sven, taking the hint, lifted his arms and lowered his head to the side in a gesture of surrender.

It went the same way every time those groups got into a fight.  When all was said and done, or the cops showed up, those boys took off running, found another bar or wherever else they wiled the time, and returned after closing to grab their truck to take home.  Yet every time the cops were told the group was driving drunk, those boys would see the police waiting and hold up somewhere overnight until one of them was sober enough to drive, or until the uni’s waiting quit their post for their shift change.  Every time those boys got away scot-free. 

Which was why Kristoff was glad it was Frankie who showed up this time.  He must have been filling in for someone’s night shift as with his seniority he was normally always on days.  The other cops had no idea that daddy’s boy’s crew used a shortcut through a barren pasture that kept them on lonely country roads and off the highway their whole way home.  But Frankie knew about it.

Kristoff hoped that this would be the night those assholes finally got what was coming to them. 

People started filtering back into the bar as the cops drove away and Kristoff caught the waitress’s eyes again.  She was looking at him in that lusty way that stirred the longing up within him again, only it didn’t last.  She turned with one last lingering look, then followed her friends back into the saloon, leaving Kristoff staring after her in a bit of a daze.

“Come on, Hoss.”  Sven slapped his hand on Kristoff’s shoulder.  “Let’s get on outta here and head home.” Kristoff nodded his agreement.  Nothing good ever happened after midnight anyway.

---

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[jadewolf22]

Welcome to the Pack: Chapter 1

Summary: Zombie apocalypse AU with Gwendoline Christie’s characters x fem!reader x OC Character (Beth) Featuring: Phasma, Brienne, Larissa, Gwen (in Fabric), Lyme (Hunger Games), Jane, Jan, & Lady Jane (The Darkest Minds) with mentions of Miranda and Anna (Welcome to Marwen) based off of this post by @rippersz

TW: Apocalyptic world (?), OC is hit by vehicle, strong language, mentions of death/killing, mentions of PTSD/Trauma, implications of smut, implications of poly-amorous hierarchy/ poly-amorous relationships involving nine people, wolf pack-like environment (reader is referred to as “Alpha”), ext…

A/n: I apologize for the amount of Russian and French in here. I have Russian heritage and wanted to pay a little tribute to that here (ended up being a lot more than a little) and also just felt like it would be a nice little tribute to some of the people on here who aren’t native English speakers. I hope to use more languages in other fics for this same purpose. Reader is American but was taught fluent Russian by a close friend of hers.

Word Count: 8,073

No one truly knows where the virus came from. Some say the Chinese created it, others the Russians, still others claim that it wasn’t created at all but rather an effect of global warming or some kind of solar flare. All anyone could truly agree on was that it was dangerous and deadly. The Serix Virus, as scientists later called it, was a physically transmitted disease that transformed the infected into zombie-like creatures that were unable to feel pain with half-decayed, green skin and bloodshot, yellow eyes; you could shoot one and it wouldn’t go down until a bullet found its head. 

Eurasia fell victim to it in the first month, with Africa and Australia not far behind. Three months later South America and Mexico followed. The survivors came flooding to North America, hoping for sanctuary, but none was received. Not even a month later the first cases were reported in North America and the rest of the world went to hell. People scrambled, turning on one another like gladiators in an arena. Fear took over and humanity crumbled, all in less than a year. Now, nearly three years later, the world remains black and dead. The “creatures” outnumber the human race twenty to one, if not more. They travel in packs just like most of the survivors-at least the survivors who were actually smart-shuffling through the remains of towns and cities, searching for their next meals of sweet human flesh; all too eager to taste blood in their mouths and skin in their teeth. To feast on people like Beth. 

Beth was a small town woman of 29 from Luray, Virginia and the lone survivor of her hometown. Everyone, her friends, her family, were gone, having either been eaten or transfigured and she was, permanently, on the run. With no weapons other than a little glock with only one full mag left and almost no remaining food Beth knew her time was almost up. She was no survivalist; she had no impressive background or knew any kind of self defense other than her fairly good aim, which would do nothing to save her when her mag ran empty. With her hope fading as the days went by, Beth moved to camp beside a road, her last chance to find salvation-to get help. 

She sat there on the side of the road for days, watching helplessly as the sun began to set at the end of her fourth day there and there was still no sign of help. Beth was about to give up and move on when something-a low rumble in the distance-caught her attention. She stood up and turned towards the sound, walking towards the curve in the road from where the noise was coming. It grew louder-the steady roar of a motor-and Beth’s heart leapt. She ran towards the curve, hoping to see the vehicle as it approached and catch the attention of its driver, but it was closer than she’d thought. 

A large black blur came speeding around the corner, clipping Beth’s right side and sending her flying backwards across the road. Beth screamed as pain radiated through her. Her arm was on fire, her head throbbed, the world was spinning, and her legs ached. She didn’t dare move for fear that something had been broken. 

Beth jumped a little when she heard car doors open and voices shouting at each other from inside the vehicle,

“-Are you out of your goddamn mind-?!”

“-Just leave her-!”

“-Not gonna leave her when it’s my fault! Now get your ass’s out there and help me!” 

Footsteps came running towards Beth, two blurry figures kneeling beside her. She couldn’t see much but well enough to know that they were both pale, one with long black hair, the other with short blonde hair. Together they lifted her, Beth screaming in pain as her body protested the movement. They carried her up into the vehicle-a black mini bus, and laid her down across the seats, which had been turned to create two long benches along either side of the bus, leaving a wide space between them for boxes of supplies. 

“Let’s go, let’s go!” a third person growled from the front of the bus as the other two took their seats, one person beside Beth and the other on the bench across from her.

Beth screamed as the bus jolted forward, grabbing hold of her arm as she began to slip in and out of consciousness from the pain. 

“Gwen, you get to explain this to the Alpha when we get back,” the voice from the front of the bus growled. It was deep and cold, mildly monotone with a clipped English accent and a slightly rough edge to it. Beth couldn’t see its owner but could guess that whoever it was was not someone to fuck around with, “She’s made it clear that outsider’s aren’t welcome-”

“You know what, Phasma, foutre en l'air! I didn’t ask for your damn opinion!” another voice, this one softer, more melodic, almost haunty with a soft English edge to it, snapped, a low growl tearing from the throat of its owner, “I’m sure she’ll understand my reasoning-”

“Not fucking likely,” the deeper voice grumbled as the vehicle shook and swayed, causing Beth to whimper every other minute, “Last time one of us brought someone back, Alpha turned him into crawler food real quick.” 

Crawler? Beth had heard the creatures called many things; flesh-eaters, zombies, the undead, but never Crawlers. The term was fitting, though. They did move at a crawling pace until they smelled food. 

“Last time we brought someone back, it was a man,” the softer voice countered, sounding annoyed, “Alpha made it clear no men were permitted in the camp, she’s had no problem bringing in women. What about Miran-?”

“Enough Gwen, you made your point.” a third voice cut in, a commanding edge to their tone. This voice was quiet, crisp, and rather gritty. There were hints of an accent to it, but Beth could not place where exactly it was from- somewhere in Europe, if she had to guess, based on its resemblance to the other two, “This is not our mess to deal with. When we get home we’ll hand her over to Jane and Gwen will explain what happened to Alpha. If she’s lucky, the Alpha will let her stay.” 

The other two grumbled in agreement, silence taking over the vehicle, allowing Beth to fully succumb to the hold of sleep. When she faded back to a semi consciousness, Beth was no longer in the bus but instead lying on some kind of cot, listening to a rather heated discussion between a large group of people,

“-Why would you bring her here?! We barely have enough food to go around as it is-!”

“Don’t try to pull one of those again. We all know there’s enough food here to last us years-!”

“That’s a rough estimate-!”

“It doesn’t matter if we have enough food or not! They’re injured, which makes them nothing but a hindrance to us! We should have left them where we found them-!”

“Not everyone here is as much of a hardass as you are, Phasma!! Forgive us for trying to have a little empathy-”

“Empathy isn’t going to help us survive!”

“Alright, доста́точно!!” Silence fell immediately. Beth didn’t know what the word ‘dostátočno’ meant, but it was clear that the others did, “That’s enough, all of you… While I appreciate the input, the decision is mine to make. Gwen… I want you to stay with her until she wakes up. When she does have Jane give her a quick lookover then bring her to me. We can figure out what to do from there… Everyone else просто позвольте этому быть. It’s not the end of the world-”

“No. That’s already happened…”

“Phasma, I don’t wanna hear another word out of you, Вы меня понимаете??!”

“... Yes, Alpha…”

“Thank you. Now, все возвращаются на работу…Phasma, Bri, I want that hole in the wall patched up by sundown.”

“We’re doing what we can, but there’s not enough materials to fortify it completely.”

“Then we’ll make another run, tomorrow. We cannot stand to let that wall have gaps in it. It’s too dangerous to-”

The rest of whatever the person had been saying faded away as Beth slipped back under sleep’s sweet spell. The second time she woke, Beth was fully conscious, opening her eyes for the first time in what felt like days. She was in some kind of large, stone room with high, intricately designed ceilings lying on what seemed to be an old-timey hospital bed. Her right arm was in a sling, both of her legs were wrapped in compression bandages from the knees down, and there was a thick gauze wrapping around her hairline. Every part of Beth’s body felt stiff, her broken arm felt full of pins and needles, and her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat. 

“It’s about time you woke up, petite souris,” came a voice to Beth’s left, causing her to jump. 

Beth looked over to see who the voice belonged to, and found her breath taken by the beauty across from her. The woman was tall and incredibly pale, possessing a slender yet shapely figure, with graceful curves and a lustrous cascade of dyed black waves that fell in loose tendrils around her shoulders, framing her face like a dark halo. Her hair had a glossy sheen that caught the light streaming from the nearby windows, imbuing her with an almost supernatural radiance and her lips were full and painted with a deep, velvety shade of red. Steel blue eyes watched Beth closely, framed by thick lines of black eyeliner. She wore a fitted shirt with a black and white checkered pattern and with sheer, flared sleeves as well as black leather pants, a black choker and black, knee-high combat boots. There were two Ruger LCP’s holstered in a belt at her hips and an N4 short barreled rifle resting in her lap, her finger lying lazily over the trigger. 

“Where am I?” Beth asked, wincing as she fought her way up to a sitting position.

“Home, for now, petite souris.” The woman purred in French and Beth recognized her soft, melodic, almost haunty voice with its soft English edge. She was one of the women from the bus, “Unless the Alpha decides otherwise.”

“The Alpha?” Beth repeated, her brows furrowing in confusion. What kind of fucked up cult had she gotten herself into? “Who the fuck is The Alpha?”

“She’s our leader,” the woman explained, her voice hardening slightly at Beth’s confused, almost humored tone, “Our chef de file. The one who keeps us safe from those things crawling around outside… If you’re going to stay with us, you will need to learn to respect her, petite souris. Or she’ll throw you to the crawlers without a second glance.”

“Right… How long have I been here?” 

“About a day-”

“Gwen, you were supposed to come and get me when she woke!”

Beth and the woman-Gwen, jumped in surprise, turning to see another woman walking their way. This woman was about the same height as Gwen, Beth assumed, if not half an inch or so taller, with soft alabaster skin, and a mane of natural raven hair pinned up into some sort of plaited crown around her head. She had a wiry, haunting figure with a regal bearing about her and a rigid posture, conveying an air of authority and severity. Her angular jawline and high cheekbones contributed to that sense of severity, while her piercing sky blue eyes seemed to scrutinize everything with an unwavering gaze. The woman’s face was free of makeup, but by far no less beautiful than Gwen’s, with a small scar adorning her upper lip; something she must have sustained before the virus. She was dressed in a black linen dress that brushed against her mid-thigh with tight sleeves, accessorized with a black and silver corset as well as black leggings and black knee-high boots. Fitting for a post-apocalyptic world yet still fashionable.

“Ouais, peu importe, salope.” Gwen muttered under her breath, giving the second woman a dark look, “She just woke up, Jane. Give me a little slack.”

“Alpha’s orders.” was all the other woman “Jane” responded, her voice cold with a cutting edge to it and a heavy English accent, turning her attention to Beth, “Consider yourself one lucky woman. It’s a rare thing for someone to be hit by a bus and walk away with only a broken arm, a minor laceration, and a few bruises.”

“Tell that to my aching joints.” Beth grumbled. 

“Would you rather I say it to your corpse?” Jane asked, her tone anything but sarcastic. Clearly she was a ‘no-nonsense’ type of woman, “Up! I need to see you move.” 

Groaning internally, Beth swung her legs off the cot and planted her feet firmly on the cold floor, hissing as her joints protested against her movements. She could feel both pairs of eyes on her, sweat gathering at the base of her neck as Beth pushed off the bed with her good arm, standing on wobbly legs. Jane had her walking back and forth along the edge of the bed for several minutes before having Beth try a few stretches that would, hopefully, help to relax the muscles in her legs. 

“That’s as good as you’re going to get for now,” Jane said after a time, rewrapping Beth’s legs after inspecting the swelling, “I’m sure the Alpha’s getting impatient. She’s up on the balcony taking a smoke.” she addressed to Gwen, an indifferent look in her light, sharp eyes.

“Think you can handle stairs, petite souris?” Gwen asked, directing her attention at Beth and ignoring Jane as the imposing figure walked away.

“Do I have much of a choice?” Beth returned. Gwen shrugged, turning on her heel and heading out after Jane with Beth hobbling along behind her. 

Beth couldn’t help but look around in awe as she followed Gwen. They were in some kind of gothic mansion, with tall stone walls and ceilings decorated with intricate patterns, statues and paintings, as well as mahogany accents in the doors and stairway railings. Clearly, this place had been some kind of retreat or something for those who basked in wealth. Everything was well constructed and detailed, too nice for something people of a lower class would have had the privilege of seeing. 

With a little help from Gwen, Beth managed to make it up to the second floor of the building, hoping and praying that “the Alpha” was not on any of the upper floors. There was no way her legs were going to be able to make it up another flight. Relief filled Beth when Gwen began to lead her down a long hallway, away from the stairs. They passed many rooms, most of which were empty, but as they walked past one of the rooms on the far end of the hall, Beth caught a glimpse of a woman standing over a table inside but didn’t have time for a proper look before Gwen drew her attention away. 

“She’ll be in here.” Gwen said, placing her hand on the doorknob of a large mahogany door at the very end of the hall. There was a golden plaque nailed to it which read “Principal Weems”. Apparently, this place had been some kind of school, “Whatever you do, petite souris, don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. And, if you want to have any chance of staying or staying alive, be respectful. If there’s one thing Alpha can’t stand, it’s someone who can’t respect their superiors, comprendre?”

Beth nodded, able to loosely translate the french word. The corner of Gwen’s lips twitched upward in a light smirk before her face went void of expression and she opened the door, beaconing Beth to follow her inside. The room was massive, with well used leather furniture and a large mahogany desk in front of a set of open french doors which led out to a spacious balcony. There was a large marble fireplace to the left of the doorway, carved to look like… medusa? At first the room smelled faintly of wine and must, and then a gentle breeze blew the scent of cigar smoke in through the open balcony doors, drawing Beth’s attention to the figure leaning against the stone railing of the balcony, facing in towards the room; You. 

Beth didn’t know what she’d expected from someone who called themselves “the Alpha” but whatever it was was not what you were. When she and Gwen reached you and you rose to your full height you towerd over both of them like a fucking skyscraper with a broad, maculine body complete with soft ivory skin, thick meaty hands, prominent veins, and muscles that might as well have been chisled from stone. Short red hair cut in a 90’s bob framed a sharply defined, oval face allowing your deep green eyes with their frightful and unnerving gaze to stand to attention. You wore a loose-fitting bronze t-shirt tucked into black jeans decorated with custom-sewn pockets all down the legs with a brown and black flannel tied around your waist, a gold watch on your wrist glinted off the dying sunlight, and black, knee-high combat boots similar to Gwen’s adorned your feet; though yours had to be at least three sizes bigger. There were two Glock 19’s in a holster around your waist, a semi-auto .22LR slung across your back, and a knife as long as Beth’s forearm in a vertical sheath across the back of your holster; the many pockets of your jeans bulging with mags for the three guns.

“Give us a moment, would you малыш,” you addressed to Gwen, taking a long drag from the joint between your fingers, continuing to speak as you released the smoke from your lips, your voice silky yet harsh with a tough, demanding and authoritative tone that matched the rest of your persona perfectly, “Why don’t you go see if you can help Jan with the mending? I’m sure she could use a second pair of hands. If not, tell Jane I told you to help her with supper.” 

Gwen gave a small nod, turning and walking away without so much as a glance in Beth’s direction. Beth had caught the Russian word for ‘baby’ and realized that it was you who had been speaking the language earlier despite having a flawless American accent whenever you weren’t using Russian dialect. 

“So, маленькая полевая мышь, I hear one of my girls hit you with the bus?” you spoke softly, eyeing Beth like someone would a confused child, “Tell me… why should I let you stay, hmm? What can you offer us?” 

“I…” Beth paused, unsure how best to respond. She didn’t know what words would save her life and what words would end it, “I-I’m a fair shooter. I can hit a perfect bullseye four of five times-”

You chuckled, drawing her up short, “маленькая полевая мышь, I have four women who can hit a bullseye five times out of five shots. What need would I have of your skill when I already have others who are better at it?” 

“I’m a forager.” she tried again, “I know what plants around here are safest to eat, which ones can be used as medicine, and which ones can end a life-”

Again, you cut her off, “And I have a woman who has a master’s degree in medicine and herbology.” 

Damn it. 

“I…” Beth was defeated. Shooting and foraging were her only helpful skills and you were right. What need would you have of her if there were already those who could do it better? “Those are the only things I can offer you…”

“Poor маленькая полевая мышь,” you purred with a small smile on your lips. You seemed to be enjoying watching Beth as she began to panic, “If you have nothing to offer me, why should I let you stay, hmm?” 

“Please?!” she begged, ready to fall on her knees and plead at your feet, “I-I don’t need to stay forever. Just long enough to heal-Please-!”

“There is no need to beg, полевая мышь.” a low chuckle escaped your throat, sending a shiver down the back of Beth’s neck, “You are lucky Gwen seems to have taken a liking to you. If not for her, I would feed you to the crawlers… You may stay with us until you heal but, while you are here, you will conform to my rules. Break or refuse to follow one and I will cast you out with only the clothes on your back. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes… ma’am…” Beth mumbled, looking down at your feet.

“Good,” you purred again, your lips pulled up in a tight, almost fake smile, “Why don’t you come inside and take a seat while I go over the rules with you, hmm? I’m sure your legs must be killing you for standing for so long. When we’re done, I’ll give you a proper tour and introduce you to everyone.”

Beth nodded, her body visibly relaxing in relief as she followed you back inside. You sat down in the chair behind the desk, motioning for Beth to take one of the leather seats across from you. 

“So,” you started as Beth sat down, looking down at her hands resting in her lap, “let’s get to it…?”

“Beth,” she answered when she realized you were silently asking for her name.

“Beth. Welcome to our little pack. I am y/n, but you will refer to me as Alpha. Calling me by my name is a privilege that must be earned. Is that understood?” “Yes.”

“Good. Now, in order to keep everyone safe and keep our pack from falling apart, I have set a few rules in place. Failure to conform to these rules will result in your immediate removal from the pack. Get caught breaking a rule and you will be punished accordingly.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Beth muttered, her eyes still trained on her hands. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, милый,” you reprimanded, smirking when Beth’s gaze shot up to your face, “Good. Now, our rules. One; you will obey every command I give you without question or complaint. As the alpha, it is my job to ensure that the pack remains safe. You must trust that my actions and commands are made with this in mind. Two; you must return to camp by nightfall every night and are not permitted to leave again until sunrise. Crawlers are most active at night, that is when we need to be the least active. Three; never leave the camp alone. Always in groups of three or more. Four; if you are injured, whether by a crawler or something else, you must tell someone. You cannot expect us to treat you as if you are injured if we do not know that you are. Am I clear so far?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“хорошая девочка. Rule five; in order to ensure that we have enough water for drinking and cooking, each of us are only permitted to use the showers three times a week unless given verbal permission from me. Six; everyone must use the gym at least two times a week. We need to keep our strength up. Once you heal enough I will have you working with one of my girls to build your muscles back up. Seven; never keep helpful supplies hidden for yourself. We share everything of great value with the pack. Less important things like jewelry and perfumes and such are fine. We have no severe need for them.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Beth repeated again, showing that she was still listening.

“Number eight; don’t bring men into the camp. They cannot be trusted, nor will I pretend to tolerate them. Nine; do not ever turn off the safety feature on your weapon. It must always be ready should another group attempt to raid us or a horde of crawlers find its way through our defenses. This also means that you must be extremely careful. No one has accidentally shot someone yet, but we have had one too many close calls in recent months. And finally, ten-this rule will not apply to you without my explicit permission which you are highly unlikely to receive; do not touch another one of the girls in an intimate sense without verbal permission from both the woman and myself. As the alpha, it is my job to attend to the needs of my pack, whether that be physical, mental, sexual, or otherwise. The others know they are not to touch themselves or each other without my permission and the same goes for you.”

A mildly disgusted look overtook Beth’s face as the realization of your words sunk in. You were fucking all of them?!

“Don’t worry, полевая мышь,” you laughed, the sound harsh and rich, “I have no intentions of mating with you. You are not a permanent part of the pack, not like my girls.” 

“Is that how you became the alpha?” Beth asked before she could stop herself, “By fucking the rest of them into submission?” 

A dark shadow filled your eye as a bemused look crossed your face. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the desk as you eyed Beth, running your tongue against the inside of your bottom lip.

“I’ll give you one pass since you are new, but if you ever speak to me like that again I will gut you. Do you understand, полевая мышь?” you hissed, your smile widening when Beth nodded, “Yes, мышь, that is how I became the alpha. Before me, it was the principal of this school. Fuck the right people in the right ways and they’ll give up everything to you… But don’t let that fool you into thinking I only fuck them to keep my position, oh no, I fuck them because I truely love them, and will do whatever I can to make them forget about what goes on outside these walls, even if it’s just for a night.”

Beth nodded again, her mind still reeling as it tried to process everything you had just told her.

“So, now that you know our rules and how our pack operates, would you like to stay? If not, we’ll give you back your things and send you on our way.” 

She didn’t know what to say. Beth knew leaving now would inevitably result in her death, yet she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to stay here. You were incredibly fucked up in the head, that was for certain. However, you did genuinely seem to mean what you said about protecting your ‘pack’. As much as Beth didn’t like either option, she ultimately decided that a month or so with you was better than being eaten alive by crawlers in a night. 

“I’ll stay.” she muttered, “And I’ll do whatever I can to be of help while I’m here.”

“Good,” you cooed, clasping your hands together with another tight smile as you rose to your feet, “Come, let’s get you familiar with the camp and properly introduced to everyone, shall we?”

Beth nodded, pushing off of the chair, her legs shaking as she stood. You waited a moment, giving her legs a moment to adjust to carrying her weight again before you strode out of the room, walking slowly so that Beth could keep pace. 

“This is our command center,” you said, leading her inside one of the rooms she’d passed earlier, “In here we keep our main radio as well as our maps, supply lists, and other things of that sort. And this is Larissa.” 

The woman-Larissa looked up from the map she’d been studying and offered Beth a soft smile that had her weak in the knees. Like the others Beth had met, Larissa was tall. Taller than Gwen but not by much, with silvery-blonde hair done up in a complex updo half hidden in a silver headscarf, a shapely, feminine figure dressed in white pants and a silver blouse accentuated with a thick brown belt and brown ankle boots, skin like a porcelain dolls, and long-fingered hands tucked into white gloves. Her eyes were a brilliant, sapphire blue framed by thick mascara-coated lashes and her lips were soft-looking and full, stained a deep ruby red in color. 

She was prestigious and well put together, seeming almost out of place in the modern world. Too gentle, too clean, too pure. But something was off. There was a weary look on her heart-shaped face as she eyed Beth, as well as a sense of falseness to her smile. To Beth, it seemed as if the woman was afraid, But afraid of what? You? Beth? 

“Larissa, сладкий голубь, this is Beth,” you announced, smiling gently at Larissa, a comforting gleam in your eye, “She’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“You’re letting her stay?” Larissa questioned, her voice velvety and melodic, yet there was something enigmatic about it…

“Only because I don’t want to hear Gwen’s pouting for months.” you teased, momentarily drawing a true smile from the woman before it turned false again.

“I suppose that’s as good a reason as any,” the blonde concured, eyeing Beth again before returning her focus to the map on the table as you strode back out of the room, beaconing Beth to follow. 

“You’ll have to excuse her demeanor. Larissa is not one to trust easily.” you said to Beth as the two of you descended down the stairs, “It will take her some time to warm up to you.”

Beth nodded, half-listening as you went on to tell her about what the school had been before the virus, following you into what at one point had been the school’s cafeteria. All of the tables but one were gone, leaving space for eight beds set in a circle in the middle of the room. There were hospital curtains on the sides and in front of each of the beds, allowing for some separation and privacy, though not very much. Also beside each bed was a small stand, on top of which lay an array of objects; hair brushes and hair ties, makeup products, jewelry, photographs, knives, gun magazines, notebooks, books, ect. Then at the foot of each bed was some kind of trunk Beth assumed was for storing larger possessions and clothing. 

There was a large, clearly handmade, circular stone fireplace in the center of the circle of beds, surrounded by an array of well-used, mismatched chairs. Very homey, Beth thought, a sudden wave of homesickness overtaking her. It had been so long since she’d seen anything that even remotely resembled a normal home. 

“This is our sleeping quarters and-for want of a better word-dining hall. We eat and sleep here as well as simply lounge around after curfew. I’ll have the twins help me bring down a cot for you later… My room is just past that door.” you pointed to a mahogany door on the far wall, not too far from the circle of beds but far enough to make it very clear you were separate from the others, “Should you need anything during the night or notice something off while you’re on watch, just knock. I’m a light sleeper.”

Beth nodded again. She wanted to make a comment about you sleeping separate from everyone else but that unnerving glint in your eye kept her at bay. You moved on, showing her the infirmary, makeshift gym, bathrooms and showers. 

“How do you have running water?” She inquired as the two of you made your way outside. Without humans to run things, places like power plants, dams and such had ceased working. Very few places still had electricity and water, none of which were anywhere near your camp. 

“We were able to create our own water system by connecting the plumbing to a river a ways up the mountain. By connecting it to a filtering system, we were able to obtain clean water for drinking and cooking.” you explained, “In order to do that we had to first shut off and drain the preexisting system, remove and close off several pipes from the upper floors, making it so that the plumbing would only run through the ground floor-not that we needed it for much else.” 

“And the electricity?”

“Solar power. We raided a solar power plant not far from here about a year and a half ago and figured out how to use the panels we’d taken to power everything here, including the bus one of my girls hit you with.” you said, stepping outside.

The area you’d taken her to was a courtyard at what appeared to be the center of the mansion. Most of it was made of the same stone as the inside, the other part of a thick wrought iron fence, both of which were decorated with beautiful scrollwork designs. Intricate arches lead off to other parts of the school, while thin cobblestone paths weaved through the grass, which was luscious and oh so green compared to the rest of the world. Several tarps had been stitched together and hung over the entire courtyard, protecting it from the rain and sun. Stone benches lined the courtyard’s edge, there were several tables littered with supplies off to one side, as well as a makeshift shooting range, and a large sparring mat staked to the ground with tent spikes, where two more women were currently occupied. 

The women on the mat were both broad and muscular, though the one facing away from the two of you had a much more haunty feel to her figure. Her short, snowy-white hair was slick with sweat and brushed against the nape of her neck. 

“Phasma, lower your hands!” you shouted, causing Beth to jump, “You’re leaving your ribs exposed! Brienne, widen your stance! If she pushes you, you’re done for!”

The two paused, unfolding from their fighting stances and turning to you, Beth unable to keep her jaw from dropping when she caught sight of-who she assumed was Phasma-'s face. The woman was tall, standing about two inches shorter than you, and had a square face and prominent jaw with a clearly broken nose. A single icy blue eye glared at Beth coldly, the left side of her face marred by a burn scar accentuated with a pearly white eye; clearly the injury had left her blind. Intimidated by her gaze, Beth dropped her eyes to the rest of Phasma’s body. A ripped gray shirt clung to her broad chest and shoulders like a second skin, green cargo pants covered her legs, showing off the muscles there when she flexed them just right. When she shifted her stance a light clinking filled the air, drawing Beth’s attention to the chain of military tags around her neck. 

“Come on ladies, you would think I wouldn’t need to tell you these sorts of things with your track records.” you scolded lightly as they approached you.

“Sorry, Alpha,” they muttered in unison, giving Beth a chance to look at the other one while their attention was trained on you.

The other woman was just as tall as Phasma, with the same square face and chiseled jaw, though her hair reached her shoulders and was the color of straw rather than snow. She had the same small, blue, almond-shaped eyes but hers were darker, more like the ocean, as well as the same porcelain skin. There was a large scar on her cheek; it looked rather like a human-made bite mark. It must have been something she sustained before the virus or she would not have been amongst the “living” now. The woman wore a dark blue tank top that showed off her pale, freckled shoulders tucked into brown cargo pants belted with a thick black belt around her broad hips. Both women were barefoot with linen strips wrapped around their hands, raw pink flesh peeking from beneath the strips. 

“You’ve already met Phasma… in a sense,” you said to Beth, drawing her from her thoughts as you pointed to the one-eyed woman-Phasma, “This is her twin sister, Brienne. Ladies, this is Beth. She’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

It was easy to note the similarities between the two sisters. As well as being similar in appearance the two women had the same posture and ora, and the exact same look on their faces as they eyed Beth like she was merely a piece of meat.

“You’re letting the rat stay?” Phasma practically growled, her voice deep and cold, mildly monotone with a clipped English accent and a slightly rough edge-the bus driver! Realizing Phasma was the one who’d hit her with the bus, Beth narrowed her eyes at the woman, shifting her stance ever so slightly in an attempt to appear stronger and more confident, though the bandages and sling did little to assist her, “Why?”

“Because, Phasma, I don’t think you want to hear Gwen whining for the next few months because we didn’t help her little field mouse any more than I do.” you answered, your voice firm and assertive, causing the frightful-looking blonde to go silent. 

“Alpha,” the other sister-Brienne, stepped forward slightly. Her voice was gravelly and had a natural stentorian and authoritative feel to it, but when she spoke to you it was in the most submissive and respectful way, “our resources are spread thin as it is. Taking on another member… it is not something we can afford…”

“I understand your concerns, Brienne. Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind, but we will make it work.” you assured, “You both know I would never do anything without fully thinking it through-”

“If you had, the runt’s corpse would be halfway up the mountain by now.” Phasma muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, her sister going white beside her as you flushed scarlet.

“Phasma, то есть достаточно!” you roared, raising your hand as if to strike her before lowering it again with a deep breath, “As of now, Beth is a part of our pack. You will treat her with the same respect as the others… And if you ever speak to me like that again, you will be sleeping outside the walls. Is that understood?” The woman merely shrugged, cracking her knuckles as she shifted her gaze to Beth, the one blue eye narrowed dangerously. You sighed, clearly annoyed with the woman’s behavior. 

“Finish your match,” you told them, “Once you’re done go ahead and begin evening procedures. I suspect Jane will have supper ready here soon.”

Phasma shrugged again, her gaze never leaving Beth, causing sweat to form at the base of her neck. Brienne put a hand on her sister’s shoulder, whispering something in her ear that caused Phasma to scoff, roughly shoving her sister away and turning and walking back onto the mat. Brienne shot you an apologetic look, nodding at you before following after her twin, ignoring Beth entirely.

“Ignore them,” you said to Beth, turning away from the sisters, “The twins have always been wound rather tightly, especially Phasma. Give them their space and they’ll give you yours. Just, whatever you do, try not to piss them off… If you couldn’t tell, they’re not afraid to break a couple of bones.” 

“What happened to them?” you looked down at her, your head slightly tilted in question, “The scars…?”

“Those are stories for another time,” you said dismissively, moving towards the cluster of picnic tables where two figures were conversing on one of the benches along the edge of the yard, “Lyme, познакомься с нашим гостем!” you called as you and Beth approached the two.

The woman you’d addressed-Lyme stood up from her spot on one of the stone benches as you and Beth approached, Beth unable to keep from ogling at the goddess before her. The woman towerd over Beth, standing just shorter than the twins with a muscular and powerful, yet curvy build that suggested years of some kind of combative experience and flawless, ivory skin. Her face was strong and angular, free of makeup with chiseled features that conveyed determination and resilience, and eyes like pools of silver that had Beth struggling to breathe. Her dirty blonde hair was cut in a short, stylish pixie cut that kept it out of her face at all times. There was an air of confidence and authority to her, exuding a sense of quiet power and strength. She was dressed in a dingy white tank top that hugged every curve, dark acid wash jeans, a bloodstained jean jacket, a long silver chain hanging around her neck, and gray boots. There was a large AK-47 slung across her back and two knives sheathed at her hips. 

The woman beside Lyme was a few inches shorter than her companion with that same authoritative presence and long, silky brown hair tied back in a low ponytail. She had flawless, sun-kissed skin, a strong, lean and almost cat-like figure and a soft round face void of makeup and splattered with the lightest freckles Beth had ever seen, accentuated with small, dusty blue eyes. There were several small tattoos on her fingers and more poking out from beneath the sleeves of her brown shirt which she’d paired with military-style pants and brown boots, accessorized with a western-style leather holster that housed a silver Glock 17. Her jaw was clenched tightly, and her eyes were narrowed as she eyed Beth up and down, stopping both ways when her eyes reached the sling around Beth’s arm, seeming to size her up. Clearly, she was as keen on having an injured stranger in their midst as Phasma and Brienne were.  

“Beth, this is Lyme and Lady-” you introduced, gesturing to each woman as you said their name. 

“Lady?” Beth asked, releasing a breathy laugh at the odd name which she instantly regretted when the brunette gave her a dangerous look that would have had Beth six feet under if looks were able to kill.  

“Her real name is Jane, but we call her Lady to keep from confusing her with our other Jane.” you explained, stepping slightly in front of Beth as Lady’s hand twitched towards her Glock, “Lady, оставь пистолет в покое.”  

The brunette grumbled, folding her arms across her chest as you gently steered Beth away from the two women.  

“I’d watch your back around her,” you warned, “She’s the wild card around here. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to use you as target practice... At least for the first week or so.” 

“Don’t think she’s the only one.” Beth mumbled, eyeing the twins sparring on the mat with a worried glint in her eye. 

“Phasma and Brienne may want to put a bullet in your head, but they’d do it with good intentions-at least, Brienne would… You must understand, we haven’t had a new member in over a year and, well... it didn’t end well.” 

“What happened?”  

“...She died...” you answered, your voice soft, “We were all close with her, and her death shook us quite a bit. In truth, I think the others don’t want you here because they’re afraid of having that attachment again.” 

You went silent for a few moments after that, leading Beth away. She longed to press, to learn what had happened, but it was clearly a touchy subject and she dreaded what would happen if she pushed too far. If she was being entirely honest with herself, Beth was afraid of you. Everything she’d heard, everything she’d seen gave her the impression that, though some of the others in your ‘pack’ were scary, you were the only one who she needed to be terrified of. Your authoritative demeanor, your commanding presence, the unnerving glint in your eye, the harsh edge to your voice all pointed to one simple fact; you were dangerous. In what way exactly, Beth did not know, but she was in no hurry to find out. 

You lead her back inside to a new area of the first floor and into a room piled high with boxes of supplies and racks of clothing categorized by the item and sizes. She followed you through the maze of racks to the back of the room to where a figure was sitting, pointing as you spoke. 

“Jan is who you will go to tomorrow to get fitted for proper clothing. Not only does she have the best sense of fashion, but whatever we don’t have, she can make. She’s quite handy with a needle and some thread.”

The woman you pointed to was like an angel in mortal form with a lean, angular body and pure white skin. A halo of platinum blonde hair fell to the base of her neck in waves framing a sharp, heart-shaped face with blood-red lips and dark eyeshadow with thick black eyeliner that accentuated cerulean blue eyes. Her black, five-inch platform boots seemed a little out of place given the world’s current predicament, but looked quite good with the flared red pants and ruffled white blouse. There was a box of clothing at her feet and a pincushion and several spools of thread on the desk beside her while she methodically stitched away at a shirt laying in her lap. 

“Jan, мой павлин,” you practically cooed, drawing the angel’s attention away from her work, “Why don’t you put the mending away for a while and come meet our guest?”

Jan nodded, gently placing her work on the desk as she stood, her eyes flicking over Beth. Unlike the others, her gaze wasn’t disapproving or judgmental, but rather curious and intrigued. She walked closer, flicking her eyes between you and Beth as she drew near. Even with those boots on she was still an inch or so shorter than you, and as she came to a stop in front of Beth a sweet mixture of warm vanilla and cherry scents filled Beth’s nose.

“I’m Beth.” she offered, holding out her hand to the beauty standing before her, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jan murmured, taking Beth’s hand in a dainty handshake. Her voice was like a breath of wind, angelic, crisp, and oh so silky. It would have been all too easy for Beth to get lost in its sweet spell. The woman’s skin was like satin against Beth’s coarse hands, deep ruby nails standing out against the pale flesh. 

Beth went to say something, what exactly she was not sure, but the loud, deep ring of a bell cut her off. She released Jan’s hand, looking to you for an explanation as to what the bell was for. 

“That’ll be the dinner bell,” you said to Beth, though your eyes were trained on Jan. To Beth, it seemed that you favored the platinum angel over the rest of your packmates, “Best we head to the dinning hall before Jane or Larissa have our heads for being late.” 

Jan nodded, turning off the lamp beside the desk she’d been using before taking hold of your arm as you led her and Beth back out of the room. The three of you joined the others in the dining hall where you did a quick check to make sure everyone was accounted for, scowling when you noticed one member was missing.

“Where’s Phasma?” you half growled to Brienne, your eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“She went to put the bus away,” Brienne shrugged, “Best bet is she’s still in the garage.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple before muttering, “You lot go ahead and get started. I’ll run out and grab her.” 

You left without another word, leaving Beth alone with the remaining seven members of your pack. She stood back, staying out of the way while the others lined up to get food much like you would in a school cafetorium-which they were currently in-unable to keep her eyes from glancing over the strong, shapely figures standing about ten feet from her. As much as she wished to deny it, Beth could see why you would find it hard to choose only one of the women here; she was caught in the claws of these beauties… and no force on Earth would save her if she woke the beast…

A/n: This is the first fanfic I've written that was over 1,000 words so I apologize if it drags a little at times. Pt.2 should be released in a few weeks. Hope you enjoyed!! :)

[daemyiel]

A/N: it has been yonks since I've been on this account, as in actual years. Anyway here is a fic no one asked asked for, and i guess request are back open

Current obsession wolverine especially agnst💛

Logan howlett angst, set after x-men 3

1 swear word. 1,846 words

I wrote half of this and then got writers block. Saw this at like 2am and it made me finish it @stxrddst cheers for the inspo

Self proof read so be prepared

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Logan smirked as he heard the familiar CLANG echo around his head. The cocky little shit that thought he could take The Wolverine, smile drop off his face in an instant. He screamed as he lifted his hand up and saw his right index knuckle pushed further up his hand. Logan stood from his barstool and turned grinning down like a wolf to a sheep. "You know, a hit to the back of the head is quite a cheap shot, bub." He slurred slightly but still working a slight threating edge. The slimly little man trembled as he looked into the taller man's cold blank eyes and scarpered.

Logan rolled his eyes, sat back down and ordered another whiskey. "You always find 'em" chuckled the bartender, pouring whiskey over ice. "And you never make a mess, that's why I keep serving ya." Logan hummed in response and the bartender, Benny, left to serve leaving the mutant alone.

He's been feeling very alone lately. He usually didn't mind solitary, prefered it actually. But recently he's been lonely. Even in a room full of people. This was a new feeling for him, it scared and confused him. So he, in he's own sense, 'took control' by choosing how much he drunk tonight, which was more than usual.

The mansion felt so empty to him. Echoes of ghost was at every turn for logan. He thought he had learned his lesson about attachments and loosing people, but he had never felt so accepted and at home than he did at the school, despite how distant he acted.

He was still mourning Jean, the love of his life, promised already to another man, when Scott had died. With everything going on at the time and the return of Jean, Logan felt guilty that it seemed as if there was no time to properly grieve Scott. Contrast to popular belief, Logan liked and respected Scott. Their back and forth digs at each other was Logans sign of affection. He knew Scott could take it and he expected it back.

Then the professor was next. Logan watched Jean tear him apart atom by atom and no matter how hard Logan tried to reach him, to save him it wasn't enough. He knew he shouldn't have stayed outside, he knew he should have trusted Charles more about Jean's power. He just couldn't believe that she could do anything of the sort. Turning on Scott, on Charles. The two people she trusted the most. It made his head spin just thinking about it.

And then he was the one who had to stop her in the end. Of course it had to be him, it was just his luck. The universe or God or whatever higher power thought that Logan Howlett had not suffered enough, and it would be comical if he was the only being that could end the life of the only woman he had loved.

He could still remenber every moment. His particals getting ripped away from his body. His regeneration powers replacing them to be peeled away again. And the feel of Jean's skin, bone and flesh scrapping against his claws as he watched the life drain from her eyes. Falling limp against him. Her warm blood running down the adamantium and onto his knuckles.

He took another mouthful of whiskey letting it burn his throat in a comforting way.

And now Rouge had left. Getting the cure she desparetly wanted. She didn't want to take up space and a room that a young mutant could need, much more than herself. Logan took her leaving hard and yet he didn't even know why. She wasn't dead, they could still talk to each other. He knew where she was and she expected him to come visit, but still he grieved for her like a sibling moving away. Still there, but not like before.

He felt so stupid for feeling all this. For feeling anything at all. A weight had settled in his sternum that he couldn't shake.

He finished his whiskey.

The bar fell silent. Eerily silent like an old cowboy film. Logan could feel eyes on him. He sighed and rolled his shoulders out. That little prick must have come back. "Listen asshole-" He started as he turned as stood. He was shocked to see Storm with a face of thunder. "How'd ya find me?" He slurred, struggling to focus on her. The problem with drinking sat down is that it hits when you stand.

"Marie mentioned this was a pitstop some years ago. I thought you might have gone to see her. That would have been a better idea." she sighed, tone mixed with sympathy and dissapointment. "It's a good thing she remembered, we couldn't find you anywhere."

"She's a smart girl." He smiled affectionatly. He really should go visit her soon he thought.

The trip back was a long silent one, with Logan not being one for small talk or music in the car. For once Storm preferred it. They both had so much chaos in their heads that never silenced, the quiet in the car was almost a comfort.

When they entered the mansion Logan pushed past Storm and stomped his way up the staircase, swaying slightly. Storm sighed and shaked her head at him. She's worried about him. He's barely been out of his room, more withdrawn than usual, even for him. He usually forgets to eat, but lately he's only been spotted in the kitchen past midnight looking for beer. She's trying her best for him but she's also dealing with a lot of grief and at the end of the day he's a grown man, there's only so much she can get him to do.

Storm has been laid awake in bed for hours now, tossing and turning with no sleep coming to her. The mansion was dead silent and the moon was shining bright through her curtains. She had nothing to do but let her thoughts carry her away. They wasn't happy thoughts, like logan, everything single misfortune that had happend lately raced through her mind. She picked apart all scenarios where she could changed something and saved the people she loved. It was all becoming so overwhelming and soon tears started streaking down her face. She had never felt so alone before.

Storm knew he'd still be up. Even though it was close to 3am the wolverine has an infamous sleep schedule. Holding back a small sob herself and in desperate need of comfort, she quietly swung Logan's door open. She gasped at the scene before her.

His bed had was messy, this wasn't uncommon, Logan tossed and turned in his sleep, the odd time waking up almost sideways, starfish in his bed. But tonight Storm could see deep trios of claw marks in the quilt, pillows and mattress. It was a massacre of white bedding and feathers.

She followed a trail of claw marks in the wall and the floorboards like breadcrumbs, to Logan in the corner with the pale blue moonlight shining on him. He had tucked himself into the very back of the corner, his knees pulled up to his chest, his right arm draped over his kneecaps, hand resting on the opposite sholder. His head cradled by the inside of his elbow, Storm couldn't see his face at all just his hair, the kitten ears following the shape of his forearm. His left arm was hugging his shins and the painfully obvious depiction was his claws, shining in the nightlight, pushing beads of blood onto his knuckles.

Storm gasped "oh Logan" she whispered softly, carefully sitting on the floor infront of him. He sniffed deeply, and slowly raised his head until Storm could see his eyes briefly. They was glossy, full of tears threating to spill and bloodshot. A vein from the outer corner of his right eye running until it almost touched his iris was prominent, revealing how exhausted he really was. For the first time Storm didn't look into his eyes and see the gruff and violent Wolverine of the X-Men. She just saw Logan, with vulnerable, almost childlike expression. Confused and scared and lonely.

As quickly as he had lifted his head it was back down again. Storm looked him over again, noticing the slight tremor in his hands, he was also shivering slightly, without the warmth of his duvet his white tank top wasn't warm enough in this old mansion.

She also heard him sniffle.

That is what broke her.

That is what made her start to cry again. To see and hear Logan who was always the strong one. Always in control of his emotions. Who until tonight she would have believed had never cried in his life, not even as a baby. Yet here he was huddled in the corner crying almost silently and tucked in on himself.

Logan heard Storm sob, he felt her gently touch his arm, and he guiltily and painfully pulled his claws back in, his knuckles would start to heal now.

He felt her move to sit next to him. She was still crying. She rested her head on his shoulder and wound her arm around his knees to nonverbally tell him that she had him, that they had each other, and she knows what he's feeling right now. Logan couldnt remember the last time anyone held him, comforted him. He could feel her, her love and security. And shared grief.

He broke.

He pushed his face further into his arm as sobs racked his body, his shoulders heaved, he's breath uneven and a great weight settled in his sternum again trying to suffocate him. Every so often a small gasp would escape as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Storm stayed with him all night. Rubbing small, gentle circles across his shoulder blades, quietly shushing him, comforting him and letting him know she was there for him. She knew logan wouldn't have handled any of this well, but she suspected this was the first time he had actually processed any of his emotions at all.

The next morning Hank was doing his best to get the school into some sort of order. He had promised Logan and Storm to stay and help until everyone was back on their feet a little. He knew Storm and gone to find Logan late last night so he would take on breakfast duties.

It was early so no one else was awake. Walking past he found Logan's door wide open. Figuring he could use all the rest he could Hank moved to close the door for him when noticed the pair in the corner. Logan's head had rolled back, his mouth open as he snored softly. One of his legs had stretched out while the other remained in an 'A' shape. And carefully laid on his shoulder was Storm. She had curled up to his side and used him as a pillow.

Hank smiled and pulled the door to, glad that in this horrible time at least they had each other.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Thanks for reading 💛

[irellia]

What are you shooting for?

( This, reworked. Cait POV. Set between 1x08 & 1 x09. Caitlyn x Violet. )

Her mother says she's good at finding bad and making it stick like flypaper to her; Caitlyn says: okay but at least no fly dies lonely and squashed under a cruel hand too impatient for their buzzing. How sickening. A small insignificant death. No one wants to listen. No one spares the unwanted things a second thought. Flies, she tells her, they’ve got 5 eyes, see things a different way. They’re harmless.

Caitlyn is bitter; she's the things her mother has buried inside of herself reborn and shining bright like teeth in front of her and mother does not want to feel the bite.

Her mother says,  different is unnecessary, Caitlyn. You’re just bored.  Her voice is oddly thin, as though it’ll snap like a bone crushed under the weight of the walls put up between the two of them. She does not look at her, Cait thinks; she does not see her, she looks right through Cait like she is paper thin, crinkled, and Cait doesn't say anything, she scoffs her off, shuts herself away into her bedroom and locks the door. Before she shuts it, she catches a glimpse of her father, stood at the end of the hallway, his eyes like a hand on her shoulder, squeezing.

But Cait has seen the world through her eyes now, and it’s no longer a cave and she the sheltered small thing inside of it, pretending that she is not afraid; she has come out, stepped into the mouth of the wolf laying in wait at its entrance; she has witnessed, she's testified, dove into the throat of the real world like a bullet, and she's got bite marks where its teeth sank into her body, where she's been viciously gnawed at and spat out, chewed skin and shakiness. She's felt Vi's fury in her blood, her grief in her throat, her hand in hers, a promise. Her hand in hers, her fingers on Vi's cheek. Vi's body next to hers on her bed: a new world. Revelation. Their hands intertwined, a swallowed cry promising devotion. Their heads plunged in a close, trembling darkness, the rushing sweetness of Violet's warm breath, spilling like fire from her parted lips, tickling her chin. The two of them, falling asleep next to each other in her bed. Her sweat on her pillow. Her hand on her thigh. Her back to Vi's chest, the warm, dark shelter of her body.

Caitlyn gets more tired in her bedroom now than out there where the world feels like a net cast over her and she only a fish, thrashing wildly on a dried up riverbed. There’s so much that she doesn't know; she feels half blind, a hypocrite, a liar, and what does she fucking know anyway, she knows nothing; has lived a lie half her life, sheltered, hidden away so that she might not see, not hear, not witness. At dinner, Cait picks at her plate: smoked fish and honeyed plums, exquisitely dark, rich wine flowing; she hears her mother pour her father another glass. She listens to the clink of her mother's black patent heels when she rises from the table to put on music, something lavishly melodious that sounds empty to Cait's ears. She stabs the fish with her fork and laughs. Sharklike, her teeth are gritted, make the bark of it sound stifled. She feels her father’s eyes on her like a question; Cait hears a high note in her head, a buzzing, and whispers to her thoughts: let’s pretend it’s not my fault; I can fix this, I will fix it, I will find a way, I have to, must to, going to.

She wonders if Violet is thinking of her, too. She wonders if she’s alone. She wonders if Vi feels the world close in on her like it has closed in on her too, as if time has dimmed, and color and sound are gone and made strange. Changed. Unrecognisable. Wine is not wine to her any more, food tastes like murder in her mouth. She’s got nothing and Cait's got everything and there are people dying down there, ugly loveless unwanted things; and here she is, in a glass palace, wine smouldering on her tongue. She feels like she's going to be sick. She pushes her plate away and does not do her mother the favour of returning her stare; her eyes are a rope around Cait's neck but she does not yield under its pulling. She gets up and turns the music off. Cuts the rope off.

She's been chewing her cuticles again. Short, small nails, sleek and perfect, painted a deep shade of dark blue. Cait stares at them obsessively, there’s a chip in her right thumb, and she can’t be bothered to paint over it. She sighs. She tosses and turns, listens to the plashing patter of a dark, hard rain against her window.

But she is better today; 17 hours without her and Violet's absence is a bruise the colour of her mouth inside of her. Cait blinks at the ceiling and suddenly she cannot breathe, the walls are swallowing her up, she's suffocating. There is smoke inside her room, but nothing is burning.

She closes her eyes and it feels like Vi is slowly disappearing. Her fingers curl into her palm, chasing the ghost of Vi's hand in hers. She puts her hand on the bedsheets where she’s been and tries to find her there, but she’s gone, she’s that space at the back of the mouth, where a tooth has been violently removed, but the memory of it still lingers. When she opens her mouth, her voice feels sharper now, like a warning.

She is better… today she is better than yesterday. She only stares at the ceiling for three hours at a time. There’s a fly on her door, a black, big ugly thing, buzzing incessantly and Cait slips out of her bed and opens her window, hopes it will fly away. She doesn’t remember the last time she cried.

She slips in and out of sleep. Her mother’s laughter wakes her up. Caitlyn rearranges the pillows on the bed with painstaking flawless concentration. She sits on the floor and stares at her map, puts her finger over the little sketch of Stillwater Hold, trying to chase something she can hold onto, trying to fold the hours neat enough that she can find some sort of meaning, a sick desire to please, a sicker need to remake or fix the world she’s part of— make it right, make something right. Her mother’s voice leaks through her door like kerosene, and Cait shuts her eyes when she hears her call for her.

She found a family of spiders in her room last night. She stayed there and stared at it and brought each one outside. One by one.

She doesn't fall back asleep.

Caitlyn takes a shower and thinks of her; the way the rain had kissed her skin, the back of her neck, dark and slick with rainwater, and suddenly in her mouth she feels the taste of fire again; she blinks and bites into the flame on her tongue until she feels the blood gushing, thick and metallic between her teeth. Cait scoops up water in her palms and watches it run out. Her thigh is throbbing, the water has gone cold and crimson with blood around her feet, and she doesn’t know how long she's sat in it, she must have washed her all off, washed Vi off, (her hand on her cheek, Vi's blood on the back of her neck, her mouth her voice her desperation, her hand in hers; Vi's hand in hers) and suddenly panic gathers in her throat and she pulls away from the water like she's been scalded, she puts her hand on her thigh where her wound has torn open and turns off the tap.

She drips water all over the floor, her feet are cold and she can feel a sharp deep hunger in her stomach. The fly has not flied out the window; it’s there on the bedpost, buzzing when she comes out of the shower. Cait stares at it blindly. Lightning flashes in the mirror.

The fly stills its wings. Streaks of thunder shake the house. A deep dark silence fills the room, suddenly airless. The windows steam up and as she moves to stand at the mirror, Cait inhales, feels the salt in the air, a familiar desperation.

Her bedroom smells like a storm.

When she looks up, Vi's still gone, but part of hers greets her in the shadows.

The world suddenly stops spinning.

[jellycreamjammedart]

Lost and Found (Super)Stars

PT. 7 (index/parts) (Tag: desktop/mobile)

read on AO3 (registered users only)

FNAF Security Breach Ruin, post-"betrayal" elevator ending

hurt/comfort, Found Family, something I like to call "Hopeful Horror"

Summary: Having had her kindness stomped on then spat back at her, betrayed by who she thought was her friend, and now stuck at the ruined remains of Freddy Fazbear's Mega PizzaPlex, Cassie tries to find the slightest bit of meaning and worth in all of this.

Roxy had a surprise for her? Cassie honestly found it hard for anything to be able to save this birthday party...

Nevertheless, she doesn't want to doubt the wolf.

"It's time for the birthday cake! So I asked a friend to help me make this a little extra special." Roxy stepped further away from the door, and seemed to mouth a 'Come in!' to whoever was next there.

After her, came in the very familiar face of a bear beloved by many. "Happy birthday, Superstar!"

Glamrock Freddy greeted with his usual charisma and joy, though pauses for just a second to take in the drastically empty party room save for literally only two kids. "... you were not exaggerating, Roxy. This looks like a very sad party." He discreetly whispers to Roxy, his ears dropping slightly once he could actually set his eyes on how precarious the situation was for this girl's birthday. Still he tries not to waver in front of the lone kids.

"I am truly terribly sorry that your birthday party has not been a bright experience here at the Mega PizzaPlex. We try our best to make sure every child has their special day as something to smile back at. So of course I had to help my good friend Roxy!"

Cassie does smile softly; it's not even like it was the Glamrocks' fault her party was disappointing. If anything, they're single-handed the ones who kept it from being a totally unsalvageable disaster.

"You got it with you, right?" Roxy asks Freddy, to which the bear nods, his ears wiggling.

"Of course I do!" He confirms joyfully, before lightly clearing his throat to address the kids again. "Anyway, Superstar, it is on behalf of both me and Roxy that I bring you this!" He states before there's a light hiss coming from his gears, and the front of his torso opened up, revealing a fresh birthday cake resting inside.

"It's your birthday cake, Cassie!" Roxy elaborates cheerfully, while carefully taking the confectionated treat out of Freddy's stomach hatch; Roxy's frame was much too thinner to deliver cakes like that so she lacks the feature. And she thought getting at least Freddy to also chant Cassie happy birthday as well and deliver the cake could be more enticing than just she bringing the cake over by tray.

"It is a delicious carrot cake! Roxy told me it is your favorite!" Freddy says once he could close his stomach hatch.

Roxy carefully sets the cake down on the table in front of Cassie. "It's a carrot cake made especially just for you on this special day!" The cake had a light hued creamy cover, stripes of orange icing on the sides. The top had the likelyhood of Roxy in a kart with Cassie sitting on the hood, drawn with colored icing, the kart's wheels being actually icing each with a cherry on top. The words 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY CASSIE' were written in colored icing with orange and blue little lightning bolts surrounding it.

Naturally, the candles were unlit; it would have been hazardous to have them lit up inside Freddy's stomach hatch.

"Ah. Allow me." Freddy politely excuses himself past Roxy to approach Cassie and the cake. "Please lean back, Superstar." He requests as his index finger folded back, revealing a built-in lighter. The bear carefully uses the little flame to light up the candles on the cake. "There we go!"

"Are you ready, Cassie?" Roxy excitedly asks while her hands rose in front of her while Freddy did the same, indicating they were about to start clapping to the birthday song. The only boy to show up to this party readies his hands as well.

"Happy birthday, Cassie!!"

-

Cassie felt her heavy eyelids flutter and creak open slightly, still feeling much too heavy to do so. She barely squinted them open so all she saw were dim blurs. Slowly she registered feeling her side to be resting on a soft but mildly unkempt surface.

Huh, she could feel some kind of fabric on her forehead, and when she tried to sit up it slid off and onto her chest, her elbows propping her up.

"Oh! Cassie!" Roxy was across from her, her endoskeleton ears wiggling lightly. She sounded happy to greet the girl.

"Uh... uh. What happened?" Cassie slurred, still a little disoriented. And if Roxy still had her eyelids, she would have blinked.

"... nothing? You fell asleep."

"Oh." Yeah, okay. That actually made sense. The girl slowly shifted until she was sitting up, slowly registering her surroundings again. She had been asleep on one of the couches in the ruined Winner Lounge room of Fazer Blast. Looking down at her lap now, she realized that what had been on her forehead was a piece of cloth, torn off one of the couches, and it had a round dark red stain on it. Roxy must have tried using it to stop or slow the bleeding on her forehead.

"You really looked like you needed to rest, so we let you be." Roxy explained; after everything Cassie has gone through down here, that was an understatement however true.

"Wait..." Cassie begins once she realizes something, looking around them. "Where is...?"

"... Freddy?" Roxy guessed. "Actually that's a different Freddy. A prototype version." The wolf felt the need to clear that up; Cassie's brain might not have had the chance to process that information. "But I don't think that matters right now, really. A prototype Freddy is better than no Freddy. He was fretting really badly over you actually! So he went back out there looking for any medical supplies while you were asleep."

But if Roxy is being honest, she doesn't think there is much of that that could be found. But if Prototype Freddy found anything at all, it would be better than nothing.

"You may have survived that elevator, but you didn't come out of it unscathed, Cassie. You need medical attention."

Cassie frowns a little but not because she disagreed with Roxy. Rather, she just didn't want to think about her moments in that elevator. "I'd... I'd rather not remember that right now, Roxy..."

The wolf goes quiet in apology... though something nags at her. "I'm sorry Cassie, but... what even happened?"

The girl groaned softly while shaking her head; she didn't want to think about it, but also understood why Roxy asked.

"I... I managed to get in the elevator, I could've escaped... but..." Cassie felt an imaginary lump form in her throat while having to hear the voice of who she thought was her friend in her skull, over and over, telling her he was willing to throw her under the bus, willing to kill her for his own benefit-- then actually attempting to do so. "... Gregory didn't let me. He... he cut the elevator... s-sent me crashing back down..."

Just thinking about it made her head hurt.

Roxy is eerily quiet, but then her ears slowly pinned back. "Gregory!? Gregory did WHAT!!?" The wolf's voice cracks with red hot anger and hatred while also trying not to blow up in front of Cassie... though her claws clearly dig into the old couch, leaving holes in them. "Why, when I get my hands on that brat..." She sneers, but doesn't finish her sentence. Her vendetta against Gregory was of no real use at this present moment. Her ears unpin from her exposed endo skull, then drop.

"... I'm so sorry, Cassie." Sorry for what, exactly? Roxy didn't have words for it. For helping Cassie escape into what essentially became another trap, perhaps?

It's not like she could've predictated that Gregory would have accessed the elevator, much less sabotage it thus sabotaging Cassie's way out. No one could truly have predictated that. Who would have imagined the brat was that much of a selfish monster, anyway? But the wolf still felt sorry.

"No matter what he did or tries to do, I'll make sure you are safe and sound, Cassie." Roxy promises through a low, subtle growl, trying to suppress her anger.

Cassie doesn't really have it in her to continue on that topic, but knew Roxy meant her words seriously. "... I know. Thanks, Roxy. You're the best." That made the ruined wolf's ears wiggle and improve her mood by a good deal; She was the best. It was great to hear that again, it's been so long.

Cassie's expression shifts, lightly fidgetting with the cloth that had been on her forehead, rather antsy to move away from that topic for the time being. "... why did Freddy want to hurt me?" She asks; it's especially confusing with him now being friendly to her. What changed his mind?

"He didn't 'want' to hurt you, believe me." Roxy starts a bit candidly, thinking how she's going to explain the situation to Cassie without getting too technical.

"A lot of his systems and protocols were down, and he didn't have his head to command a booting of those protocols. He was sticking to barely any running programming he had, which was contain and apprehend trespassers and potentially dangerous individuals." That probably explains why Prototype Freddy tried shoving her in his hazardous stomach hatch, it was just to apprehend her, and he couldn't tell how hazardous his own body was without his head to assess it.

Roxy continues. "When he detected your blood, it... let's say it force-booted or 'jump-started' those protocols into booting even without his head. We all are programmed to act immediately to help in case of injuries or symptoms of sickness. So when all those dormant systems booted back up in him, he could assess things a little better and realize you were not a dangerous trespasser, but just a child. An injured child who needed aid, no less."

"Oh..."

So... Prototype Freddy just didn't really know what he was doing. He was just trying to do what his programming could tell him in his sorry state.

"Ah! Speak of the devil..." Roxy looks out the Winners Lounge, but with her ears twitching, it seemed like she was 'seeing with her ears' Prototype Freddy returning from outside.

The headless bear walks in with a few things in his arms, which looked like old table cloths, which Roxy took from him. "I mean... those could be useful as bandages, I guess." But they needed more than that for Cassie, both robots knew that. But it's still much better than nothing at all.

"Hello, Freddy." Cassie greets softly, to which the prototype responded with a low rumbling of his inner mechanisms that almost sounded like purring. His shoulders rose slightly as if to convey excitement to see her awake. "What did he find, Roxy?"

"Table cloths." The wolf folded them then handed them to Cassie to tuck into her backpack. "Could be useful, but not much by themselves. If only we still had the Medical Stations at least..." Roxy laments, Prototype Freddy dropped his shoulders to indicate a shared feeling.

Cassie looks down at the folded fabric in her hands, looking a bit deep in thought. Until a certain thought came to her.

"I think we could ask the Daycare Attendant."

"The Daycare Attendant!?" Roxy parroted with a knee-jerk reaction. Prototype Freddy, even without a head, was clearly cringing. "You can't be serious, Cassie! That guy's clearly missing all their screws!"

"No no! It's okay! They're okay!" Cassie tries to reassure. "I had to reboot them but they seemed fine afterwards!"

"You- you rebooted them?? The Daycare Attendant???" Roxy asks incredulously, her endo jaw dropped. Prototype Freddy matched with his jagged stomach hatch lids hanging open. "No offense, Cassie. But I can hardly believe that you managed to get close enough to that lunatic to reboot them, and make it out in one piece. Any endoskeletons that wandered into the Daycare got torn to pieces!"

"Well, I never said it was easy." Cassie retorted with a shrug.

"But even then... why them?" Roxy asks at first then immediately facepalmed mentally; it's not like there were many left in this rotting place to nit-pick. But the Daycare Attendant still seemed especially volatile.

"I mean... they were always serious about having supplies and having things be organized. If anyone would know where to find things here, it would be them." Cassie points out, thinking back when she was younger and put under Sun and Moon's supervision.

One of Roxy's ears twitches as she thinks the child's reasoning over. "You make a fair point, Champion... But are you sure they're trustworthy now?"

"Yes! They actually helped me out of the Daycare after I rebooted them!" The little girl reassures.

Roxy crosses her arms, mulling over the topic, lightly stomping her foot in mild anxiety. Prototype Freddy, meanwhile, stood quiet, occasionally turning his upper body between Cassie and Roxy. "... okay. Okay. The Daycare's going to be our next stop them... But getting there might be tough. A lot of the place has collapsed thus a lot of paths have gotten blocked off by junk!"

At this, the headless Glamrock chimes up, chittering a grinding noise. Roxy's ears perk up at him. "What, you think you can open a path for us?"

"I think he could, Roxy." Cassie interludes. "He's burst his way through Fazer Blast several times!" Which was scary to think back on, when he was chasing her.

"I see..." The wolf reflects. "I guess we have a plan, then."

To Be Continued...