#Hush up. Y'all know what following me means. This is what is in store for you. This or weird shitposts

[lemonnbug]

A poem titled My Father Died Again Today where I describe every time someone gets rid of or changes something that was my dad's or reminded me of him

[sunnyie-eve]

32 | Oh Lord

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: none

| MASTERLIST |

"Wait, wait, wait. The plan is for you three to be in the and cook us burgers for dinner?" Dani asks laying on Matt's bed as he sat at his desk.

"Yeah, Chris thought it was a good idea and help us save money from eating out." He spins around to face her.

"If something happens, I'm not helping."

"Don't worry, the smoke alarm won't go off." He laughs facing his computer again.

"Why would it even need to go off?" Her eyes widen so he just shrugs his shoulders. She gets off his bed going to Chris's room, "Whatever you guys do.... Don't try to make the smoke alarm go off."

"No, that is actually my worst fear doing this video." He tells her quickly agreeing with her, "I'm terrified about it might going off."

"Well then don't make it go off!"

"I'm gonna try not to!" He shouts back.

When the guys get back from the store Dani watches them set up, "I'm scared that all three of you are in the kitchen cooking. And following Chris's lead..." She makes a face.

"You have no faith in me. Watch, I'm going to make the best burgers ever and she's gonna take it back." Chris tells her and then his brothers.

"I'm scared of your way too. Dani might be right." Matt tells Chris.

"Dani just go to your room." Chris points his finger at her and Nick woo's, "Or hush." He adds.

"Can y'all just not make a big mess?" Dani asks them but Nick and Chris were bickering, "Matt, you know how I am about the kitchen. I hate when it's messy." Dani says so she looks over at Matt, "Are you ignoring me too?"

"No, I hear you." He lets her know before she leaves to get her phone.

When she comes back she sees what they were doing, "Guys, are you serious?" She asks them.

"This doesn't seem too smart." Chris looks at how they have it plugged in.

"Obviously!" She shouts at them as Nick shows the viewers how they have it set up.

Right as they start, Chris already dropped the meat on himself making Dani say she can't watch so she goes to her room. With the guys alone now, Chris plays around a lot since Dani can't tell him to stop.

"Stop." Matt tells him.

"Double 360."

"Dani would slap you." Matt laughs at him.

As more time passes it was Matt's turn to help out, "I want Dani." Matt whines as he messes with the meat getting tired of helping.

Both Chris and Nick laugh at him, "She always cooks so it's her day off in here." Nick tells him.

While the boys cooked and Dani was in her room she was texting Sam. They were making plans to hangout this upcoming weekend. She would go visit him while Colby was out of town with his girlfriend. She was just asking for a break from everything to relax.

"DANI COME TRY THIS!" She hears Matt yell for her.

When she comes out she sees Chris using a paper plate to fan the smoke away, "Oh, Lord."

"Just take a bite of this." Matt rushes over to her so she can take a bite of it so she does, "It's good, right?"

She nods her head going for another bite, "Not bad."

Sam: Yeah, I'll make sure your room is in perfect condition.

Back in her room she was packing a few things to take on her little trip to visit Sam to get away from everything.

"You moving out?" Chris laughs entering her room.

"No, I'm leaving in a couple of days to go hangout with Sam. A little vacation from here." She laughs.

"No Colby?"

"Nah, he's on a trip with his girlfriend." She tells him still fixing her bag.

"Have you even met his girlfriend?"

"Nope. Just know her name. His dating life isn't any of my business yet mine is all of his." She laughs.

"What dating life? You don't have one?" Chris laughs playing around with her.

"Exactly and it's his fault. He hates every guy I like or scares them away."

"And he doesn't 100% like you living with us as well." Chris adds.

"He likes y'all just not that I live with boys. He doesn't trust me... or Matt a bit."

"He trusts me? Does that mean he doesn't see me as a challenge?" He jokes.

"It's just we aren't as super close you know what I mean? Like Matt and I are. I can't explain it but you know?"

-

It's been about a week since Dani left and honestly the boys hated not having her home. As soon as it passed three days they felt like a piece was missing. Sometimes the boys would catch themselves either getting ready to shout for her or walk towards her room.

"Has Dani told you when she'll be back?" Chris asks Matt as they sit in the car so Matt nods his head, "I- I still don't understand why she chose you to be the closest to."

"K."

"I just mean... Nick is still right there. You know?" Chris tries to explain, "They got years vs our months. I just feel like... Like, y'all's connection is unfair." Chris keeps going as Matt just stares at him, "You two are just always attached at the hip and,"

Matt finally cuts in, "Are you gonna create a problem?"

"No."

"I don't force her to hangout with me. She comes to me because you or Nick are busy doing whatever." Matt explains to him.

"It's still unfair."

"How?" Matt asks confused.

"Just is."

"Oh well." Matt shrugs.

"I'm gonna ask her."

"What like on a date?" Matt asks.

"Why not? You think she'll say no?" Chris asks, "I gotta get some kind of information to see if she likes one of us." He adds as Matt didn't seem to care for the idea, "You hate the idea of it!"

"Go ahead." Matt tells him not believing he'll go through with it.

"Bet, I will."

"Okay." Matt nods his head, "How are you even gonna go about it?" He asks curious.

"I have no idea but I'm gonna prove that I'm not gonna chicken out of asking her."

[believeitseeitdoit]

Legos and Language

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: All bets are off when it comes to a Lego mishap in the Rogers-Barnes home 

Rating: Y'all shouldn’t be reading the filthy things if youre under 18 anyways but this one is pretty PG (but language is the exception)

Warnings: Domestic stucky, suggested and slight smutty times, 90% fluffy, some foul language, talk of murder and destruction of legos forever, feel good shit, Steve, Bucky and their girl have babies

don’t steal my little munchkin oc names please, I like them 

This is written from each lover’s POV, marked by ******** this 

This is a work of love and hated of legos, solely to be read for a smile and maybe some happiness, be kind or go away

        “Sonofabitch!” Your hushed curse rattles through the house as you stomp barefoot through your son’s pile of a semi built lego creation. With a few breathy “fuck’s,'' you hop over to the nearest chair to rub the new soreness out. Sharp indentations litter the underside of your arch, and you peel off a flat piece from your toe then mentally plot unmonitored use of the quantum realm to murder the creator of legos before they can cause any harm to you again.

       Continuing your muttering, you delicately set your foot down and turn to the mess. You sigh in relief that you didn’t destroy any of the built chunk, you were only subjected to the ultimate test of parenthood, the loose pieces.

     “Back to our regularly scheduled morning, coffee.” You say to the empty room, narrating your routine as if you were running a sitcom. Once in the kitchen, you set about making a hefty pot of coffee for you and your husbands, humming an 80s rock tune and letting your open robe swish around you loosely in the process.

********

      They both notice you slide out of bed, a super spy and a retired Avenger don’t miss much in their own home. But rather than follow you down to the kitchen to disrupt your morning ritual, Steve pulls his husband against him and nuzzles his hair so they could get some quiet time of their own. A few moments later, Bucky is softly snoring against Steve’s arm, and Steve is on the brink of sleep when he hears a barely audible string of curses and the unbalanced thunking of feet along the hardwood. Bucky seems undeterred, so Steve leaves him be and slips out of the bed to investigate what caused the early use of language, not that he’s surprised considering their wife’s colorful vocabulary when the kids aren’t listening.

       Pulling his discarded boxers back on from the night before, Steve saunters out of the master suite silently toward the staircase. He pokes his head into the nursery to check on the sleeping infant twins, and heads down the old hardwood steps, praying for them not to creak with every step. Halfway down the stairs, he hears you filling the coffee pot under the tap and the chorus to a White Snake ballad quietly playing from the speakers while you hum along. With a smile and a small head bob as he catches the tune, Steve steps across the threshold of the stairs toward the living room and kitchen, unaware of the torture devices scattered on the floor.

      Steve intends to follow the wall to get to the kitchen without his presence known, until you hear a series of words that would make Tony blush and an unfortunate crunching sound of your son’s creation being smashed to bits.

     “SONOFAFUCKINGMONKEYSASSHOLE WHAT THE FUCKING DICK ON A STICK GOD DAMN PIECE OF TORTUROUS BULLSHIT IS THIS?!!” He yelps loudly and tries to hop over the new graveyard of legos.

     In his fresh misery, he misses you quickly dropping the coffee grounds onto the counter top and hustling toward him to make sure his verbatim doesn’t wake the twins. As you begin shushing him from a few steps away, Steve hobbles blindly toward your voice and you see it happen before you can say anything. Your big clutz of a husband smashes his un-assaulted foot through your son’s Legos, only this time Captain America is not the star spangled man with a plan. He has absolutely destroyed the near complete firetruck and you can only stand in awe at his ability to hit each remaining chunk of the build before he finally makes it to the couch.

     “Fuck fuck fuck fuck, why the fucking legos? FUCK!” His wailing is not going to gain any sympathies from you, only entertainment at the weaknesses of men.

     “Steven Grant, you shut the hell up before you wake my babies or I WILL send Bucky to the store and you can have twin duty alone.” Sitting down at his feet to pull the pieces off his skin, you scold him lightly but without any venom or intention. He hisses as you pull the flat plastic off his big toe, and you chuckle as his pathetic whimpers cease.

     “So, coffee?” You stand and pull him up with you toward the kitchen, letting his calloused hands and leftover cologne embrace you like a blanket as he leans down to caress your cheek. He kisses your forehead and softly brushes hair behind your ear with one hand while the other grips your plush hip under the loose robe.

     “Maybe something sweeter to distract me first? This robe is teasing me.” His lips ghost down your neck and he nips at your collarbone while pulling the thin silk off your shoulders.

     “You kept me up late, baby. I need coffee before anything today.” You whisper breathily against his tanned, thick chest, whimpering and shivering as you feel him trace the marks littering your skin and gently squeezing the flesh he is so obsessed with.

     He allows you to pull away only after you shudder again, but he stands behind you, hands locked onto your hips as you pour the bitter amber liquid into 3 mugs. Steve’s love bites on your neck keep you distracted long enough for Bucky to come down the stairs without being noticed.

     “I thought we agreed there was no third wheeling in this family, and yet here we are.” Your bonus husband is perched against the refrigerator offering your favorite coffee creamer and his signature pout.

******

     Bucky is roused by his husband rolling out of bed and the accompanying coolness that surrounds him as the sheets flutter back down against the mattress. He listens to Steve pad lightly down the hall to check in on the kids, Hudson in his room first, then Charlotte and Talia in the nursery.  As the footsteps recede down the stairwell, Bucky lets his body sink into the bed and the scents of his partners surround him and lull him back to sleep.

     Until he hears a string of words leave his husband’s mouth, and a series of crunches and shattering sounds buried under more very inappropriate words. Now wide awake, Bucky shoves himself from bed and puts a loose sweatshirt over his head while he walks toward the stairs. He is halted by a whimper from one of his little twins in the nursery, but his ever present super senses note that both babes are still firmly asleep so he continues down the steps.

       Not sure of the state of things on the main floor, Bucky alertly scopes the space and finds their son’s legos strewn about the floor. With a sigh, Bucky steps around them and shakes his head as he follows the sounds of his husband and wife to the kitchen. He is met with tangled hair and soft pants, an open robed woman more stunning than Aphrodite, and a man barely containing his impressive erection in his low hanging boxers. Bucky can feel the energy in the room, can practically taste the arousal on them, and his subconscious stirs awake, begging to join like a wolf waiting for the hunt.

*******

      “And who plans on fixing our son’s firetruck creation? Because it sure as hell won’t be me, I will be taking care of our little girls where I am wanted.”

     Steve is the first to respond, an arm opens toward Bucky in the same moment. “Honey we didn’t mean to leave you out, c’mon over here let us show you how much better it is with you.” 

      As Bucky steps into Steve’s reach, you push off the counter and into the thick warmth of your husbands. Their desire envelops you as kisses are peppered on skin and fingers prod at bits of flesh for a better grip on reality. The moment is nearly bursting with love and lust, blinding both man’s super senses of their incoming visitor.

        “Who da hell bwoke my WEGOS!!!!????? MOMMYYYYY!” Hudson screeches from the bottom of the stairs and you’re running for him in an instant.

        “Hudson Anthony! You do not speak like that. You know better young man.” Steve and Bucky hiss at the use of their boy’s middle name, knowing how he feels in both respects.

       “Baby boy, I’m so sorry about the Legos, but you cannot use that language. No naughty words right?” You hate scolding him when you completely understand his frustrations, but heavens forbid he say any of that in public, the boy would be shamed and sent to his principal so fast even the Daily Bugle couldn’t catch it first. 

      Hudson sniffles and rubs his nose, trying to fight off tears of frustration in front of his daddy and papa, but quickly fails.

“But, is bwoken mommy. I woked so hawd on it! Wuh happened?” He begins wailing and stuttering breaths, and you pull him into your arms to hug and comfort him gently.

       “Shh, handsome, it was an accident. See, they were left too close to the stairs and mommy stepped on some, then daddy heard her yelp and ran through them too. Papa moved them out of the way and reminded daddy that he needs to help fix it with you baby.” You bounce him on your hip, trying to push the sadness away like you did when he was a small tike.

       Bucky and Steve step closer, each wrapping an arm around you and Hudson to initiate a bear hug. Hudson whimpers a bit longer then picks his head up from your shoulder and leans toward Steve, signaling he wants his daddy to hold him next. Steve pulls him close and whispers apologies only audible to his boy, but you and Bucky smile knowingly. They head to the far corner of the couch where they can have a quiet cuddle and talk about how Hudson can teach his daddy to rebuild the LEGO vehicle. 

      You lean against Bucky, enjoying the moment until he turns to the stairs.

       “Time for round 2 with some sleepy babies?” You tie your robe closed and head up the walk way, stubbing your toe on the first step.

       “Mother fu—dge on toast that was unpleasant.” You yelp and grip tightly onto Bucky’s vibranium arm. He chuckles and scoops you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining steps.

     “Careful, I don’t want to use your middle name today too darling.” He winks, setting you down at the doorway of the nursery. With a huff, you begin fluttering about the room, softly waking your girls and beginning their morning routine.

    “My sweet little Charlotte Ann, and my lovely Natalia Rose, you two are the most precious angels in this world. But for the love of all things holy, no Legos when you’re older ok?”

Tagging those who may appreciate this or can give me a helpful bit of advice on my writing : @bxccxdxll​ @iraot​ @sagechanoafterdark​ @tuiccim​  @thebescht​ @makbarnes​

[bitchassbucky]

.eps (explicit)

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment/beheading, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: i told y'all there's more <3 the special character treat is for @sarge-barnes-sir mwah!

this is queued shdhhsh gonna fix the links in the mornin’

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS ABOVE, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS VERSION, GO AND CHECK OUT THE NON-EXPLICIT VERSION.

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

So you stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walks into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Starting with his left shoulder, you jab the knife between the bone and the soft flesh of his armpit, bringing the blade downwards. The sickening smell of blood swirled along with the image of muscle and fat being sliced made you gag.

Does the brain know that it’s seeing something it shouldn’t?

A rational part of you wanted to look away but the time is ticking, it’ll be much harder once rigor mortis sets in an hour.

You swing the knife down, cracking the bone once, and then again, and again, and again until the shoulder bone splinters and dislocates itself from the rest of Bucky’s torso. You had to switch knives and blades and a fucking bone saw to get through the rest of his limbs, leaving only his chest, head, and stomach untouched. After taping up and packing the arms and the legs, you work on putting the rest of Bucky into a nondescript suitcase.

The only problem being his head getting into the way of things.

Wanting to preserve even a shred of his dignity, you left his face untouched. Well, save from the crack in his skull.

You begrudgingly take a hefty chef’s knife and start cutting through the jugular vein, only stopping when the blade hits the spinal cord by his nape. The serrated blade of the bone saw sits on your blood-soaked gloves, scrape-scrape-scraping until it snaps into two.

The human head weighs around 10 pounds, kinda like a bowling ball.

An opaque black garbage bag containing Bucky’s head looks nothing suspicious as you put it inside a backpack—into a firepit you go.

His limbs—arms and legs alike—are going deep into the ocean, forgotten and to be used as fish food.

The limbless torso will be finding its home in a deep hole in the middle of a densely wooded area, far from the city.

But you’re not quite sure what to do with the mason jar of teeth though; the clinking noises of it remind you of the seashells you used to collect when you were a kid. Maybe you’ll stash it away with the torso.

Placing the bags into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale.

The drive to and from the places was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and went straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.

[bentforkent]

merry christmas, spencer reid

derek morgan x spencer reid x penelope garcia

a/n: this is a spencer-centric morceid fic. i find spencer the easiest to write, so i enjoy framing these moments through a spencer-lens...hope that's okay with y'all :)

content warnings: none! this is straight FLUFF, love, and banter baby!

word count: 2087

in which derek, penelope, and spencer are at the airport, heading to chicago for christmas

- - - - - 

Arrive at Airport - 6:47 AM

It’s cold. Spencer Reid is certifiably a genius, and all he knows at this moment in time is that it is cold. A fog has settled over the airport drop-off zone, wet and enveloping. Spencer thinks it might be melancholy if not for the sun just barely peeking over the horizon and Penelope’s bright pink coat bouncing around in front of him. She’s wearing enough layers that it’s difficult for her arms to move, leaving Derek and Spencer to pull their luggage from the trunk of the Uber. To compensate for her lack of involvement, she flits around the pair, pressing gentle kisses to their cheeks.

She’s moving a little too much for Spencer’s liking. It’s still early and he’s feeling quite overwhelmed. Late minute packing, bickering, and a sugary coffee before 6 in the morning will do that to you. But he loves Penelope--oh, he loves her so much--and he’s been working through this type of sensory overload response in therapy, so instead of snapping at her to calm down and please stop moving, he reaches for her hand with the one that isn’t white-knuckling a heavy suitcase.

Penelope, ever intuitive, ever loving, laces her fingers with his spindly ones and slows to a still next to him. “Oops. Sorry, lovebug,” she says, and Spencer, relaxing, kisses her flushed cheek.

“Are you excited?” She asks him.

Spencer nods rapidly, curls bouncing. It’s Spencer’s first Christmas spent with Derek and Penelope, his first time going to Chicago with them, and his first time meeting Derek’s family. He’s nervous, but so excited. Spencer watches as Derek lifts the luggage onto the curb, and finds himself wishing it wasn’t so damn cold so he could watch Derek’s muscles flex in the absence of a heavy jacket. Penelope follows Spencer’s gaze and squeezes his hand as if she can hear his thoughts and agrees.

As if on cue, Derek thanks the Uber driver and turns to them.

“You guys are no help,” he remarks, gesturing to the disparity between the amount of luggage each of them were carrying. Penelope pulls her empty, suitcase-free hands from Spencer’s, hiding them behind her back to playfully feign innocence. Spencer’s heart swells as he watches Derek’s smile widen and overtake his whole face.

“Spence, you want me to take that bag?” He asks. He reaches for it, brushing against Spencer’s exposed wrist tenderly.

Spencer beams at him. “No, you’ve got all of them. I can handle this one.”

As they bustle into the airport, the cold air feels a bit warmer.

Check Bags - 7:12 AM

“Babygirl, I hope you checked that bag’s weight twice, because I am not paying extra for you going over the 50 pound limit again,” Derek says, looking down at Penelope where she’s perched on the edge of her suitcase. The line they’re in to check their bags hasn’t moved in a while, and once Penelope had discovered that her suitcase was sturdy enough to hold a human body despite the wonky wheel she’d broken trekking through this very airport last Christmas, she’d been sitting on it ever since. She offered Spencer a spot next to her, of course, but he was enjoying standing with Derek. Every so often, he reaches over and pinches Spencer’s hip playfully, kissing his cheek when Spencer squirms in response. So yeah, Spencer is enjoying it.

Penelope kicks her leg out and hooks it around Derek’s. “Oh, you love me, you’ll pay for it,” she replies, with a toothy smile up at him.

“Did you know that there was once a tiny Samoan airline that actually determined ticket prices based on the weight of their passengers, instead of weighing their luggage? Each kilogram someone weighed was 93 cents onto the price of their ticket,” Spencer says.

“How did that work out for them?” Derek asks intently, enthralled by Spencer’s words. 

“They closed. A lot of people were really upset by the weight thing, but because it made children’s tickets cheaper than the average ticket, a lot of traveling families actually preferred that method.” 

Penelope hums, standing from her seat and wrapping her arms tightly around Derek’s waist. On instinct, he rests his hand on her lower back protectively, holding her close and pressing kisses to her forehead in quick succession.  

“Probably would be cheaper for us to fly that way,” Derek says. “Penelope’s earrings alone are about 49 pounds in there.” He gestures to her floral luggage. 

Penelope turns her head to make mock-serious, unwavering eye-contact with Spencer. “He’s mean to me,” she says matter-of-factly. 

Derek shakes his head with a chuckle. Spencer notes that his smile hasn’t left his face. He hadn’t thought it possible for Derek to be any happier, but apparently Penelope makes it so. Spencer knows the feeling. 

“I love you, Penelope, you know that,” Derek replies, kissing her chastely.  

(Penelope’s suitcase weighs at 27 pounds.) 

Go Through Security - 7:44 AM

“Hey, those are my socks!” Spencer says, looking pointedly at Penelope’s feet.

The socks are yellow, ankle-high, and covered in rainbows. They’re cute, and Spencer knows they’re cute because they’re his, a pair he’d picked up at a random general store in Des Plaines, Illinois, while on a case. He remembers sending Penelope a photo of them that night, just his socked feet next to Derek’s where they laid on the hotel’s puffy white comforter. She answered with a smattering of emojis, saying she was “So jealous!” Spencer had thought she was referring to the quality time with Derek, but it’s apparent now as she puts her shoes into a gray bin, sliding them onto the conveyor belt, that she’d really been jealous of the socks all along.  

“If they’re your socks, why am I wearing them, loverboy?” Penelope counters in jest, back turned to both Spencer and Derek as they follow behind her through the security checkpoint. She flashes a genuine smile to the stoic TSA agent ushering her through as if to say, “Boys, right?”  

Instead of arguing, Spencer turns to Derek. “Those are my socks.”

The TSA agent, still sporting a neutral expression and seemingly unimpressed by Penelope’s charms, calls for Spencer to move forward. He’s trying to keep up, obviously, but this morning he double-knotted his shoelaces as always and has slight trouble getting them off quickly. Once he manages to get all of his belongings--belt, shoes, coat, and hat included--into the tray, he stumbles into the security scanner.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. The TSA agent gives him a half-smile in return, and Spencer takes the emotion and holds it close to his chest.

It’s only when Spencer and Derek finally meet Penelope at the bench she’s at, lacing up her boots, that Spencer looks down at Derek’s feet.

“Der,” he says.

Distracted with putting his belt back on, Derek replies absentmindedly. “Yes, baby?”

“Those are my socks.”

Derek looks down at his feet. Two bright pink kittens smile up at him.

Arrive at Gate - 8:17 AM

Penelope passes the sweet-smelling hand sanitizer towards Spencer as they sink into the grimy, uncomfortable seats at the gate, dropping their carry-on bags.

“‘Frosted Snowball,’” Spencer reads aloud from the glittery blue bottle. He pours a generous amount into his hand, watching earnestly as the glitter spreads across his hands and in between his fingers. Something about disinfected hands and shimmer makes him feel as awake as he’s felt all morning, although he secretly hopes Penelope will propose going to get a coffee to help him maintain the feeling.

“Isn’t it cute? I got a few, there’s one in your stocking at home. I couldn’t leave it, look at the little polar bear!”

Spencer passes the sanitizer to Derek, who inspects it with a raised eyebrow.

“Why couldn’t they just call it ‘Coconut,’ if that’s the scent?” He asks, squirting a bit of the gel into his hand. “Makin’ me squint and read the fine print to find out what it actually smells like.”

Penelope presses her lips into a faux pout. “Because ‘Frosted Snowball’ is a cuter name than--” She lowers her voice to mock Derek’s--”’Coconut.’ And, it’s festive! Winter themed!”

Spencer pipes up. “Looks like someone isn’t getting ‘Frosted Snowball’ in their stocking this year.” He grins at Derek.

With a shrug and a smile, Derek slings his arm around Spencer’s shoulders and pulls him to his chest, pressing his lips to Spencer’s temple and letting them linger there. Locking eyes with Penelope, Derek smiles. “C’mere, pretty girl,” he says, patting the seat next to him.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Penelope says, patting Spencer’s thigh as she leaves his side to sit next to Derek.

The airport bustles around them, but they stop and sit, a peaceful bubble of limbs and public displays of affection and glitter and coconut scent.

Board Flight - 9:07AM

“Are you feeling okay?” Derek whispers into Spencer’s ear, letting his lips brush against it. Spencer leans into his touch. Penelope is tucked into her knitting already, and she’s pulled out an extra set of needles and yarn for Spencer.

Spencer nods.

“You’ve been quiet since we boarded,” Derek observes.

Spencer speaks quietly. “I’m just nervous, I guess. I read an article in Psychology Today about how your partner’s parent’s approval can affect how much love and affection you feel in a relationship, and I just don’t want to mess up.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Derek wants to quell Spencer’s fears and reassure him that everything is okay, but then Spencer is talking again, equally as hushed, but more panicked.

“I’m also nervous because, I know your mom and sisters love Penelope, and I’m...I’m new.”

Derek frowns. His palm finds a spot on Spencer’s chest, right over his heart. Derek knows the weight and warmth of his hand will stabilize Spencer, regulating his breathing, and preventing any anxiety attacks from blooming. Grateful for the touch, Spencer continues.

“They’re gonna think it’s weird that we’re together and that it’s weird that I’m a man and that I’m awkward and gangly and I’m not good with social situations and sometimes I say the wrong things at the wrong time and...yeah.” He stops himself from continuing, noticing how he’s working himself into a frenzy. Derek smiles a tiny half-smile, and Spencer returns it in acknowledgement.  

Penelope, having overheard bits of the conversation, pulls Spencer’s right hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles softly as a reminder of her presence, then turns back to the new scarf she’s making. It’s in a deep mauve, close to Spencer’s favorite shade of purple. (She hasn’t decided if she’s going to give it to him yet. On one hand, it is his color, and he wears scarves more than she does; but on the other hand, because it’s his color, whenever she wears it it would be a reminder of him. She’s torn. They’ll end up sharing it.)

Derek tucks a piece of Spencer’s hair back behind his ear.

“Let me ask you something,” he says. “Do you think it’s weird that we’re together?”

“No,” Spencer replies.

“Do you think it’s weird that you’re a man?”

“No.”

“So,” Derek shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If my family feels some type of way about it, that’s their own issue to get over.”

Spencer nods, letting his eyes search Derek’s.

Derek kisses his forehead. “But, I would never intentionally put you into a situation where I know you would be uncomfortable or unwelcome. You know that, right? Tell me you know that.”

Spencer nods, again. He knows. Derek always protects him. He taps Derek’s hand where it lies on his sternum as an example.

Derek nods, then plants a firm, wet kiss on Spencer’s pouted lips. “So trust me when I tell you it’s all going to be okay, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer says, and he means it.

Derek pats his chest lovingly and moves to put in his headphones. He’ll catch up on his sport podcasts, but in approximately 23 minutes, he’ll feel bad about having headphones in and offer one to Spencer. Spencer eagerly awaits this interaction, although he’ll decline, waiting for Penelope to get bored with her knitting. Then, the two of them will watch some campy 90’s movie together, and share the peanut M&Ms he snuck into his coat pocket to surprise her with.

But for now, Spencer takes Penelope’s extra set of knitting needles, laying them across his lap. 

Content in where he’s at, he smiles and folds up his itinerary.

[khaoticallykat]

◇The Prince and The Punk◇

Chapter 9: End of the Rope

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: language

A/N: YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE?! FAR FROM IT!! I had sever writer's block so I'm back y'all and I'm gonna finish this before the new year. I can't leave y'all hanging in 2020.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Ransom dreaded the days ahead as it all too quickly became Saturday evening, he sat on his bed, looking at the black tv screen. Messages came from Clarissa saying that she was excited to spend dinner with him tonight and pictures of her in different dresses followed through, some more revealing than the last. But Ransom didn't care what she wore, he rarely ever did. He remembered the first time they went on a date, to get acquainted with each other and the potential future they had together. He remembered being told to be on his best behavior by his parents, remember the way her very short dress hugged her tightly. Second hand embarrassment crossed his mind as he remembered only staring at her breast during dinner, getting a little handsy with her on the way to the car, and finally getting her out of that tight dress in the backseat. 

Things slowly began to take a turn, the first time she actually hit him was when he raised his voice at her over a stupid argument. He remembered feeling ashamed, but the hitting became more often as the little things he did annoyed her. Ransom remembered her slapping him across the face in public at the bar for being friendly with the bartender. The time she shut him out in the rain for getting the wrong purse for her birthday. But the worse was when he didn't want sex, she would scratch, bite and hit him for refusing any advances made by her. 

He felt trapped. Doomed to be in this relationship forever. 

But things were different now, he wouldn't have to go through this anymore after tonight. Tonight he was going to get his life back, even if it meant losing everything. 

Ransom rubbed the small amount of stubble on his chin and checked his watch one last time, "Let's get this over with."

The restaurant was simple yet grand, something that would at least satisfy Clarissa who was picky on where they ate. "What made you want to go on a date all of a sudden?" She asked him as they pulled into the valet, letting the attendees open the car door for them. 

"It's been a while and we've both been working hard." Ransom smiled as he walked with her through the doors and were promptly sat at their table.

"Aw, babe, you're such a sweetheart when you're not being dumb." Clarissa said, "You should have shaved your face, you're starting to look like a hobo."

Ransom laughed, despite the mean comments as they ordered, "I'll remember that."

As expected, during the whole dinner Clarissa talked about herself and her school work, if it wasn't school work, it was cheerleading, if it wasn't cheerleading, it was her life. Ransom, sat and listened to the whole thing, zoning in and out of Clarissa's speech, she could be a filibuster with the way she talked. 

"And also, when are we going to be getting anything from your grandfather?" She asked, "That old geezer should totally help us pay for our wedding, I'm sure he has the money for it, plus it's just two more years until we get married, do you think he'll stay alive that long? That house nurse looks like she's sucking him dry and not just in the boring way." 

Ransom's jaw clenched, "You know, babe, funny you should mention my grandpa." He chuckled darkly, "He's not giving us shit, my family isn't even his fucking will, can you believe that?" 

Clarissa's jaw dropped, "what the fuck? How are your parents going to pay mine back?" She seethed, "That fucking old dick, we have the right to his money!" 

"I don't know how my parents are going to pay yours back, it's messed up actually, because since he told me that, I'm ending this relationship." 

"You're…. What?" She asked, dropping her fork, "You're fucking with me Ransom, you can't just 'end this relationship', we're engaged basically." 

"There's no paperwork saying that we're together," Ransom said, standing up from the table, "so I'm done, I'm done with how you treat me like shit, beat on me and assault me. We're done Clarissa, I'm serious. You will get nothing from my family." 

The whole restaurant stood still, watching Ransom and Clarissa, hushed voices could be heard but it was clear that everyone knew this was a break up. 

"Ransom, you can't do this!" 

"But I just did, waiter, she's paying for the dinner, I forgot my wallet at home." Ransom said, turning and walking out the door, Clarissa chasing after him. 

"Where the fuck are you going?!" She yelled, "You can't leave me here!"

The car was brought around and Ransom received his keys, getting into his BMW and rolled down the window, "Call an Uber." 

"You're gonna fucking regret this!" 

"I don't have anything to regret if it gets me away from you, eat shit Clarissa. " Ransom said as he pulled away from the restaurant, down the road while Clarissa stood in shock. 

Monday rolled around as your weekend went by, taken up by work and school work, it was strange but not unusual to not hear from Ransom, but you saw his BMW in the parking lot at school and figured he had a busy weekend like you did. What you weren't expecting was Clarissa's dirty look as she walked by your car, weird. Later that day you found Ransom in the library, wearing the leather jacket you picked out for him. He looked gorgeous, his skin glowed and he had a smile on his face, which only grew more wide when he saw you. The warm smile made your heart flutter as you sat across from him. 

"What's that look for?" You asked him, "finally understand your math homework?"

"I broke up with Clarissa." 

Your eyes widened, "Seriously? Is that why she was giving me a dirty look today?" 

"Ignore her," he said, "I got tired of it, of her, controlling me and making me feel like shit." 

"God damn, I'm happy for you then, what girl are you gonna swoon next?" You laughed, but felt a sting in your chest from the thought of Ransom being with someone else. That wasn't jealousy was it? No, no, you don't get jealous. Especially not over a himbo like Ransom fucking Drysdale. 

"I don't know," he said, stroking the imaginary beard he had, his blue eyes staring deep into yours, "I could try to swoon you, make you my girl, my sweetheart."

Oh fuck. 

You both burst out laughing as people who walked by gave you both looks. 

"Shut the hell up Ransom!" You said, wiping tears off your face. The statement only made your heart swell more, Ransom was your friend and that was the boundary that was set. 

"Alright, alright, it was worth a shot," He smiled, "but do I still get to take you out places?" 

"You can take me anywhere you wanna go Ransom, I'm always down for a road trip with you, even to the store." You smiled as you stood up from your seat, "I gotta get going, I got work today, catch you later?" 

He nodded, "have a good day at work, sweetheart." 

"Eat shit, Ransom." 

You walked out to your car, noticing as you got closer, your tire was flat. "Fucking great-" not one, but two, and they weren't just flat, your tires were slashed. You blood began to boil as you looked around for the culprit, your eyes landing on the cheerleading squad, laughing loudly with some of the football players. Among them you saw Clarissa, laughing and smoking a cigarette. 

You tried to rationalize that maybe she wasn't the one that slashed your tires, maybe it was someone else who had it out for you. But who? That's when she made eye contact with you, a big smug look on her face. 

Ok, this bitch is just asking for it. 

You marched across the parking lot to group, silence falling as you walked up to Clarissa. 

"Hey, it's y/n! What's up?!" She asked. 

"You slashed my tires." You answered, it wasn't a question, but you know it was a fact.

Clarissa gave an exaggerated gasp, "what?! Why would I do that?" 

"Listen, Clarissa, I don't know what you have against me, but if this is about you and Ransom breaking up, leave me out of this. I'll give you a chance to pay for my tow and tire replacement before I-"

"Hm, I assumed Ransom told you we broke up?" She asked, stepping closer to you, "or were you waiting for him to break up with me? Controlling him so you could get your slutty hands on him."

"Ok," you breathed, getting annoyed by the minute, "first of all, I have no interest in Ransom, he's just my friend and-"

"A friend you're fucking," she scoffed, "you don't think I noticed the way he looks at you?! Spending all his time with you?! What would he ever see in you? You're probably not even a good fuck."

You snapped, clenching your hand into a fist as you reeled back and- 

A arm wrapped around your shoulder, another grabbing your wrist, you looked up to see Ransom, staring daggers at Clarissa.

"I called a tow truck, go to my car." He said sternly, it was the first time you actually listened to him without fighting back. 

Your shoulders relaxed as you began to walk away, Clarissa was clearly about to say something when Ransom turned his back to her. You stood silently at his car, looking at your pathetic little Volkswagen. Your blood still boiled, wanting to get back at Clarissa, but you knew it wouldn't do you any good. 

Ransom was taking pictures of your tires, probably for insurance purposes, "I'll change your tires at my place, you should call your job and tell them you'll be late." 

"I can't get to work, I'm gonna need to call out." You sighed.

"I'll take you and pick you up, it's the least I can do for you." He said.

You felt your gut twist at his kind action, why the hell were you in the middle of this? And why did you feel so weak? Pulling out your phone you began walking in a circle around his car, calling your manager to say that you weren't coming in today. Thankfully, she understood and didn't ask questions, the tone of your voice was all she needed to know something was wrong. Hanging up, the bright yellow flashing lights of the tow truck came to a halt in front of your car, Ransom gave the man his address and soon your car was towed. 

"Let's get going." He smiled as you both got into his car and followed. 

[neshatriumphs]

A Boy Called Red 8

This chapter has a lot of narration from Granny, so I wanted to tell y’all that I’ve always seen this character like Violet Devereaux from The Skeleton Key, if you need some reference for how she sounds or imagining her, whatever. So, Gena Rowlands doing her best with an old Louisiana accent. It was actually a pretty damn good accent.

To Whom It May Concern

A lot of things have happened in my long life. Not too long ago, though, the world ended. I was prepared. I been prepared for the end of the world since I knew what the world was. Whenever my daddy came into the room where my sister and I slept and treated us like objects, whenever I had a baby behind it at 12, whenever I bashed it open and fed it to the wolves in the woods… My world was over long before the rest of it. So, I stayed ready. I was on my own at 13. I married at 14. Nice enough man for a pedophile. At least I was taken care of. At least he wasn’t my daddy. A few years passed with me learning how to survive whenever he was off somewhere before I got pregnant with my first baby. That other abomination - I didn’t even count it. I didn’t even think about it half the time. 

I had my first baby and he was the love of my life. His daddy gave me two others before he got sick and passed on. By that time, I was 23, and I’ll tell you the truth, I didn’t like leaving my home. The town changed around me. It was growing, things were being built. I didn’t like being a part of all of that, but my children did. As they got older, they went further into the town, deeper into the city, moved to other cities… I stayed where I was. 

Whenever the world ended, they were here, with me. I didn’t want them to leave, to go back out there. I had animals and plants  I was raising. I always did. But, the wolves came through to take them. I shot a few. Skinned them, made myself jerky, froze what I could… But, being one person, I couldn’t fight them all off. Eventually, the wolves outnumbered me, outnumbered my guns, and I had to take cover when they came calling to steal my livestock. I had to start using tunnels that my husband had initially used for workspace and storage. I hadn’t used that space since he passed away. Then, I started having to use it on a daily basis. And my family was gone. I presumed that they were out there someplace. Dead. But, my little grandson Sammy is the proof that at least one of them is okay. Sammy made it back...

Mercedes sat Sam down on the ground and addressed his wounds. “I have to try to tend to these, now that we’ve gotten away from them. Since I gotta take a break anyway. I mean, I’m strong, but I’m not an ox.” She was used to tending to wounds. Wolf life was definitely scrappy whenever it wasn’t detrimental. Sam was unconscious. He was dead weight right now and she had been carrying him on her back for a while. Kurt checked his inventory. He needed more stones. They heard Marley let out a wild scream and Mercedes winced, “Are we going back for your friend?”

Kurt sighed and looked at her, annoyed, “What is with you, huh? Why are you so intent to rush into a pack and try to save someone?”

“Haven’t you ever felt responsible for something? For someone?” She wondered, unable to look at him, because she was checking on Sam. 

“I have several people that I am responsible for. That’s exactly why I’m not in a rush to throw my life out of the window. You keep wanting to do things, not because you feel responsible for somebody, but because you feel guilty. You’ve had to make shitty decisions and you don’t like it and whoever your mother is, she isn’t around to take the heat, right now! Just shut up! They’ll hear us and figure out where we’ve run off to.” He grabbed Sam’s arms and began to drag him; but, Mercedes stopped him and put Sam back on her back.

“You know, just because you’re right about some things doesn’t mean that you always have to feel like you need to use your words against people. It’s a tough world. We all do things we aren’t proud of. Some of us don’t even try to make stuff right. I don’t get you being upset with me for trying to.”

“Get yourself killed if it eases your conscious. Leave me out of that,” he told her. “We aren’t too far from where we left her.”

The injury that I’m gonna die from is from the fall. If I would have just let that gullible cub help me out, I might be here, recovering. Instead, I’m here, barely able to breathe. My lungs feel like they’re working harder than they should be. Probably filled with fluid. I needed some antibiotics after that amputation. I needed… Maybe I should have just went into the city with my surviving kids. I lost my firstborn son, not very long after the world ended. That precious darling rushed here to make sure his mama was okay. He tried to get me to come with him. He tried to get his siblings to convince me to come with him. I assured him that it was safer here. Obviously, I was wrong. He died, right on that front porch, right in front of my face, right in my arms…

And I couldn’t give him my tears. I was in shock. I was frozen until I realized that I still had children and grandchildren inside. I dragged him in. I bolted the doors. I turned off all of the lights. His brother wanted to bury him, but by that time, the livestock was low and the wolves were multiplying. It was only right that we should benefit from his loss! His brother and sister didn’t see it that way. They took their children and left. They didn’t even want me to kiss my grandkids goodbye. “You let this all ruin you, Mama,” Dwight told me as he pried Sammy out of my embrace. “You let life ruin you.” They were gone. I ate my firstborn in rations. I prepped the meat with the utmost care and concern. I froze everything that I couldn’t cook or make jerky out of. I put spare parts into a stew. I wouldn’t waste anything of his body. I let life ruin me? But, your son has rushed back to his granny… in the midst of wolves. Had they stayed here, every one of us would have been fine. I’ve gotta get to my firstborn’s grave. I gotta do it so that they realize that’s where to bury me.

“Am I tripping, or wasn’t his meemaw right here?” Mercedes wondered. 

Kurt frowned, “She’s moved. Why would she move? That’ll kill her quicker?”

“Maybe there’s a certain place she wanted to die?” Mercedes suggested.

“Well… She can’t walk, so I guess we follow these tracks in the dirt. She dragged herself to wherever that place is.” They walked a little bit further and sure enough, right around a corner, they found her, barely breathing, rested against a stone with carvings in it, with a photograph. 

Mercedes sat Sam down next to her and tried to pick up the rock, but it was bigger than it seemed and the other part was buried in the ground. “Oh my God, I think it’s supposed to be a gravestone!” She read, “Michael Walton Evans… This must be her husband or something… No… Too young. Maybe a son. She had two and a daughter in the family photos…” She tried to take the photo that granny was holding to see, but the old woman swung at her. “She’s alive!” She cheered as the weak slap connected with her face. She shook Sam. “Sam. Sam, wake up. We’ve found your Meemaw.”

He started and tried to focus. “Oh look… It's you…” He said, touching Mercedes’ cheek. 

“And oh look, it’s her,” she said, taking him by the cheeks with one hand to turn his head to face his grandmother.

He gasped and suddenly had more energy as he became aware of her. “Meemaw?” He quickly checked on her and her eyes fought to open and look at him. “Hey. You remember me? I know it’s been some years, but it’s me… Sammy…”

“I remember you, Boy. You look just like me. More like your uncle Walt than like Dwight, I always said." Sam was already crying. "Shush that up, Boy. Got a lot to say and only a little time to say it in. You and this girl, you got to watch each other's backs. Ain't no trust in that Mama o' hers. S'gotta be you now. The two of you. Good kids that deserve to live. Wolves lives don't matter, but get you a pack, if you can. I'll tell you how. You got about 225 lbs of meat right here for barter…"

"Granny…" Mercedes started.

"I said hush, Girl. Y'all eat your share and barter the rest, or you salvage and freeze… got a deep freezer down here. Got a burner too. Try not to make too much smoke. Lanterns here. Wood stored away." She coughed. "If you don't barter this meat, at least live off of it. Stay here a little while. Bury the bones next to Walt's. I already made my stone. Just put the end date on it." 

"Meemaw…"

"You look good, Sammy. Beat up, but healthy. Nurse yourself before you leave here, ya hear me? How's your daddy doing? Did this life ruin him?" 

"No. He's doing his best."

"Good. Never was my favorite, but I always knew he was a survivor. And since you're his son, you're one too. We're fighters, Sammy. My fight is over. So,make sure this meat don't go to waste.. or to that wolf mama that stole my leg."

"Yes Ma'am." 

"Gimme that bottle," she pointed and Mercedes obeyed. "This is gonna help the pain. Tools in the cabinet," she pointed to a full sized wardrobe looking cabinet as she drank. 

Sam asked, "What tools?"

Mercedes opened the cabinet and said, "Meat tools." 

Sam cried with his grandmother strumming his hair and humming a song. She sounded weak and he couldn't make out a melody.

No need for tears. I lived a full life. I was always cut out for a dying world. When it ended I fit right in. And now I move out of it and I have an inheritance to share with the future of my bloodline, with the future of my family. I may be leaving, but they made it. 

Soon enough, she stopped humming stop strumming, and after a few more heartbeats, stopped breathing. Mercedes convinced Sam to take a drink of the liquor and he fell to sleep soon.

"We have to crash here for the night, maybe even a few days," Kurt told her. "They'll be out hunting, so I'll try to sneak back into the house and snoop around. But, if I run into trouble, don't come after me. If you make it out. Only talk to someone who knows Isabelle. She'll ask you, "So, why are you here," and you should say, "Mama caught me in the right hole."

"What?" 

"Ask for Isabelle. Tell her that you know me. She'll ask you the question. That answer is the way to confirm that you did know me!" He grabbed his backpack. "In case I can't get back down here." He touched the old lady's face and told her, "You will always be remembered." Then, he was gone.

Mercedes took Granny from Sam and let him sleep things off. She hated this, but the woman was clear that she wanted her meat used, not buried. So, she made some distance between them and began to follow through. There was a trough sink that she could use and plastic wrap and bags for the meat. She placed what she could into the deep freezer. It had room, thank goodness. She looked around to see where else she might store some and ultimately decided to dare to go back into the house and use that freezer. 

Sam was asleep, so she just grabbed the bloody hatchet and went on her own… the house was quiet. There was a lot of blood and streaks where bodies were dragged out. She hoped that one girl made it out. She put the bags of meat in the freezer and grabbed the abandoned fried green tomatoes, in disbelief that the wolves left them. She quickly went back through the passage and locked it behind her. Whenever she made it back, Sam was awake, crying and drinking. "Hey," she said. He looked up at her. "I've got some day old fried green tomatoes, if you're hun-" he snatched the plate and began shoveling them into his mouth. 

Sam hadn't eaten in days. He got lost in the woods, had to kill, chased by murderers, locked in a cage, beaten up, watched his grandmother die, gotten drunk from a few sips of what he could only describe as probably poison, and woke up to find her body butchered. He wouldn't have an appetite if everything hadn't been so physically affecting. She grabbed a shovel and told him, "There's a cot in a cubby hole, past the trough. I'll handle the burying. You still look pretty messed up." 

He stood up, dusted off his hands on his pants and took the shovel. "I saw the cot. There's also a little shower and a chest full of clothes and furs. You've done more than enough. Get washed up, get dressed, and get some sleep. I'll handle the burial. She's my family."

She nodded and gave him a hug, "I'm so sorry," she whispered. He dropped the shovel, fully embraced her back and rested against her, still pretty out of it, now that he thought about it. He pulled away, picked up the shovel and started digging. She gave him his privacy.

.

She was asleep when she felt something move near her and she grabbed the hatchet. Sam jumped and covered himself. He was naked!  "Sorry! I wanted to shower and change. I tried to be quiet." 

She nodded. "It's so quiet down here everything makes a little noise. She sat up and checked her lantern. It would last. 

Sam grabbed something to dry off with from the chest, then slipped into a pair of sweats and a red shirt. "Move over," he said and climbed into the cot with her. Her face warmed up as she did so and he wrapped his arm around her and immediately went to sleep. Still feeling bad, she figured. At this point, he probably doesn't even care where he sleeps or who's next to him. 

But, she woke up with his face nested in her breasts, both arms around her and a chubby in his sweatpants. She wriggled to free herself and took the lantern to see if she might find a place to pee… "The trough," a woman's voice croaked. Mercedes reflexively screamed and Sam reached for a weapon. Marley stepped into view, barely able to walk, covered in blood. "I need the trough," she said and grabbed the lantern to go to it. She cleaned herself up and tied her hair out of her face.

"There's a shower," Mercedes said.

"Hasn't been dead one day and you've made yourself at home," Marley complained.  

Mercedes sighed and went to pee in the shower, because she didn't know where else to go. Gratefully, she only needed to do number one. When she went back to the cot, Marley was near the trough with Sam, licking his wounds… Girl. You ain't a REAL wolf!  She rolled her eyes and laid back down. She could hear the two of them in there, drowning our their pain. She got up and interrupted. "Sam..  you should have the bed. You two are pretty beat up." It was like when he saw her again, he forgot his pain a little. "Are you coming?" She asked Marley. 

The three went to the cot, but only two could fit. Marley said, "I can protect you from here," and sat on the ground, near the cot. She stared suspiciously at Mercedes. Mercedes cuddled closely with Sam and he wrapped her up in his arms again, but didn't fall to sleep as easily. For one thing, Marley was watching him. For another, Mercedes had seen her kiss him and might have thought that he liked her or something like that when really, he just didn't know how to respond to a wild woman pledging to protect him, then kissing him in the mouth. He didn't want Mercedes to think that something was between him and Marley.

Sleep came after a while. He woke up hearing voices.

"I won't let you hurt him," Marley said.

"I don't know how many times I can tell you that I'm not going to try to hurt him. I wasn't trying to hurt the old lady!"

"You helped kill her. I will protect her family."

"Okay, Girl. Move. Shit," Mercedes pushed her to the side and turned on the burner. 

Sam came in and stared at the meat she was about to cook. "It's not her," she assured him. "This was already in the freezer whenever I went to store her meat." 

He walked over to her, gave her a hug and kissed her on the temple of her head. "Thank you for everything. I wouldn't have made it without you." She felt her face warm and she looked at Marley. Marley was still starting at her. She didn't trust her. Sam gave her a hug too. "Your face looks terrible," he said. We should tend to it."

"Isabelle," she said.

Mercedes nodded, "He's not going anywhere like this. If you want to, then fine. But Sam is staying put until he recovers just like Granny said to!"

Marley said, "Careful with her."

Sam just said, "Leave her alone." Marley snarled at Mercedes and Sam pressed his forehead against hers and growled, "I said leave her!" Marley was breathing heavy as she stormed off. She left the tunnels and Mercedes smirked. Sam watched the girl leave, then turned to Mercedes. "Not sayin' that I trust you. It would be stupid of me to trust anybody at this point… But, I want to trust you. So, I've decided to treat you like I do, unless you give me a reason not to." She nodded her head. His meemaw told him that the two of them needed to have each other's backs. That was pretty much her dying wish. So he was going to be here for her, like he said, unless she gave him a reason not to. 

[hamilton-one-shots]

Hamilton High School AU 48

When the pair arrived at Jefferson Hall, Theodosia's jaw dropped at what she saw. "Woah... This place is amazing.. Just how loaded are the Jeffersons?"

"I have no idea and I'm almost afraid to find out." Aaron parked his car and got out, going around and opening the door for Theodosia before walking with her to the entrance. He used the key that Thomas had given him and went inside, telling the few people working what they were there for as they went to the main hall.

"Wow.. Well, this definitely fits the Disney theme," Theodosia chuckled as she looked around the hall. "This is perfect." She made her way to a corner and began sketching out the area as Aaron looked around the hall. She sketched out the hall once as it was, then again with decorations, just to be able to see the difference. Once she was done with that, she moved towards the outer hall way, asking the employees if they'd be able to decorate that as well. They assured her that it'd be fine and she did the same for there as well as the entrance before going back to Aaron. "Hey.. Sorry for taking so much time.."

"No, it's fine. Everyone has their own processes." He smiled.

"Thanks.." She returned the smile. "I'm ready. Did you want to do anything else while we were here?"

"No. Why don't we go to Mulligan's while we're out?"

"That sounds great." She followed him to his car and he drove them to the shop. "So, who did you want to go as? Um.. Did you want to go dressed to match?"

He smiled. "I hadn't thought much about it, but that sounds nice."

"Cool! What's your favorite Disney movie?"

"Well, I'm not much of a Disney fan... I guess the Little Mermaid?"

"Yeah, I like that one too. You could be Eric and I could be Ariel."

He nodded and smiled. When they got to the shop, Hugh was jolted awake by the door and smiled at the two.

"What can I do for you today?"

"We're friends with Lafayette and we heard that you guys know about a Disney dance that we're holding next week?"

He thought for a moment. "Let me ask my wife." He got up and walked towards the back. Within a minute, Sarah appeared, just as bright as ever.

"Hi! Laffy told me all about the dance and I guess I forgot to tell Hugh here. I can help you two."

Aaron smiled. "Thank you. We were thinking maybe something like Little Mermaid?.. Ariel for her, of course, and I could be Eric?"

"That sounds lovely! Come on, I'm sure we could find something lovely for you, dear."

Theodosia didn't have much time to react before Sarah dragged her off.

Hugh chuckled and shook his head. "You'll have to excuse my wife. Your girlfriend will be returned safe and sound, I assure you."

Aaron nodded and smiled at the thought of someone thinking that Theodosia was his girlfriend. He wasn't sure how exactly to correct him, so he stayed quiet, allowing Theodosia to do that if she so desired to.

Hugh took him to the area of guys outfits and got him an Eric costume. He tried it on and made sure it fit, then changed back into his own clothes and went to Hugh, just as Theodosia was being forced out of the back.

"I'm not sure about-"

"Oh, hush, dear, you look lovely!"

"But I-"

"Come show off how pretty you look!" And pretty she was. Sarah tugged Theodosia out from the back, revealing her outfit.

She blushed as she stood in a purple, spaghetti strap crop top and an emerald skirt that was short in the front and long in the back, trailing into a fish tail like parting. The fact that it was seemingly made out of sequins made it look just like scales.

Aaron caught himself staring as she came out. As soon as he realized it, he stopped and blushed. "You look beautiful, Theodosia. Anyone with eyes can see it."

Theodosia felt her brain shut down and reboot. Aaron had just called her beautiful.

Sarah and Hugh gave each other a knowing look.

"We have some more outfits, if you want to try them."

"N-No, it's okay. I like this one."

"Great! You can go change back into your own clothes, then."

Theodosia disappeared back to wherever Sarah had dragged her and changed back into her clothes.

In the meantime, Aaron paid for both of their costumes.

Theodosia came back just as Hugh gave Aaron his receipt and his own costume.

"Are you ready to go? I already paid for both of our costumes."

"Oh, you didn't have to pay for mine, silly.. I'll pay you back later."

"No, there's no need. Don't worry about it." He smiled.

"If you say so.." Theodosia smiled shyly and followed him out and to his car, letting him drive them back to his house.

John got back to school just in time for lunch, sitting with his friends and smiling. "Hey guys. Where's Alex?"

"Library with Jefferson. Something about a dance for the debate club," Hercules shrugged.

"Oh, is that what he's meeting with him about? He told me about the dance and told me it was for first years, mainly. I guess the debate society is hosting it." He grabbed his food and began eating.

"Where were you this morning, anyways? Alexander said you got called to the office."

"Police station.. I got questioned about the Laurens Pamphlet."

"So, that's why you made that post.. You lied?.." Lafayette asked quietly.

John nodded. "What was I supposed to do? Let my siblings get separated in foster care? They have too huge of a bond for that... I can't let that happen to them and I know he'd never hurt them, even if they were gay.."

Lafayette nodded slowly and continued eating. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, Henry really should've suffered for everything that he'd done, but he trusted John's choice.

Hercules wasn't so on board with it. John had gotten beaten by his father and he was going to let him get away with it? He couldn't see why John and Lafayette were both okay with any of what was happening. But, like Lafayette, he knew that this was ultimately John's choice and trusted his decision.

John messaged Thomas as he ate. [Do not lay a hand on Alexander.]

Thomas replied quickly once he saw who the text was from. [Only because you asked xx]

He smiled a bit and finished eating, then went to class once the bell rang.

After a few hours of going over decorating plans and recruiting a few people via Facebook, Theodosia and Aaron were interrupted by the door opening and an older woman coming through.

"Oh, hello there. Aaron told me he'd be spending the say with one of his friends. You must be Theodosia. I'm Aaron's grandmother, Sarah or Ms Pierpont, whichever you prefer."

Theodosia stood up as she came over and shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Ms Pierpont. I see where Aaron gets his polite nature from."

She smiled and nodded. "I think he was just born that way. But I imagine that it's easier around you, as highly as he speaks of you."

"Grandma!" Aaron grumbled.

Theodosia giggled and checked the time. "I should get going.. I have drama." She turned to Aaron. "You're welcome to join."

Before Aaron could respond, his grandmother continued picking on him. "You should join her, Aaron. It isn't like you have much else to do besides spoil your cat."

"I do not spoil CC. And I was going to agree to join her."

Theodosia giggled again. "My Pomeranian is asleep in his room.. She's a bit hyper.. I'm sorry if she wakes up and bothers you."

"I may be getting old, but I can handle a dog. You two go on." She smiled and waved them off, following them to the door before shutting it behind them.

"Sorry about my grandma.. I think she's just glad I'm making more friends."

"No, it's fine. Your grandmother was a lovely lady."

Aaron smiled and held the door open for her, as usual, before getting in on the other side and driving them to the school.

When they got there, Theodosia was just in time to see her friends. "Hey, girls!"

They smiled and hugged her. "Hi, Theo!"

Martha smiled as she pulled away. "We're getting fitted for costumes! Come on!" She pulled her towards the drama room, where all of the girls were being fitted.

Frances smiled and pulled Aaron towards the stage, where the boys were getting fitted. "Maybe you can help me with something." She showed him Thomas and Lafayette who were arguing in the corner.

"France has OKAY drinks... but you can't beat wine made hot-and-warm in good old downtown Virginia..."

Lafayette rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. When was the last time you heard someone talking about a good Virginian wine. It's always French. Maybe even Californian. But never Virginian."

"They've been at this for an hour," Frances sighed.

"That's because you can find French wine at any corner store you pass. Virginian wine is only for the very classy."

"And by that, of course, you mean that Virginia only creates not even one truly good bottle a year. French wine is widely sold because it has a reputation for greatness."

Thomas opened his mouth to retort when the rest of the girls flooded in. "Ah, Theodosia, you come from a wealthy family, right? You must know. What's better? French wine or Virginian wine?"

"Actually.. I prefer Sherry.. So Spanish."

Thomas tutted, but Lafayette smiled.

"At least her choice is respectable. European wine as a whole is better."

"Aaron, what do you think?" Thomas asked.

"In all honesty? It doesn't matter. Most wine professionals can't tell the difference between an expensive and a cheap wine. But, considering the fact that France doesn't have to import grapes for the majority of its wine production, I'm going to have to go with French." He shrugged. "Virginian wine is only expensive because it's rare."

Thomas tutted. "Y'all wouldn't know a good wine if you drowned in it."

"Now that you're done arguing, do you think you can put your shirts on and we can get some rehearsal done?"

"Laf sure cast you right," Thomas remarked as he and Laf did just that.

"Excuse me?"

"Frankie, practice now, fight later," Theodosia said, though she completely changed her mind the next time the next time Thomas opened his mouth.

"Someone's on her period."

The girls, Lafayette, and Aaron all gasped in sync.

Aaron stepped forward and put a hand on Frances's shoulder. "Kick his ass."

He and the others watched as Frances began storming towards Thomas. "First of all, it's kind of hard to have a period when I'm trans! Second, how dare you, you piece of flaming garbage! I can't believe how disrespectful and inconsiderate-" She continued ranting and marching towards him.

Thomas, though almost a foot taller than her, began backing away as she got closer and picked up speed, only for her to do the same. It wasn't long before she was full on chasing him around the auditorium.

As satisfying as it was to watch, they did need to get some practice done. And Lafayette was the only one who was not only strong enough to stop Thomas from running, but also highly unlikely to be killed by Frances for taking mercy on him. He got up and stepped into Thomas's path, grabbing his arm and standing between him and Frances.

"Sorry. We need him for practice."

She tutted. "He's lucky he's a good actor."

"I'm just saying I'd be pretty upset if I was bleeding out of my- Ow!" he exclaimed as Lafayette flicked his forehead.

"Unless you are suicidal, I suggest that you shut up. Unless you've experienced the hell that I've heard a period can be, you have no right to speak."

Thomas shut up and pouted like a child, letting Lafayette drag him away from Frances and her murderous glare.

"Well," Eacker began. "Now that we're all settled, why don't we get to work today on Dead Girl Walking. The reprise, that is."

Lafayette almost had a heart attack at first.

"Theodosia, you and the other students can start with your part, then Lafayette, you, Thomas, and Alison can work on yours. Then we can put the two together."

Everyone got in place for their respective roles and the music began, the students playing their parts. Theodosia, as a former cheerleader herself, did especially well, adding a few flips to her dimple choreography routine.

Eacker was far from opposed to the change, smiling and nodding in approval as they finished. "That was great! Theodosia, maybe add a few more of those flips next time?"

"Yes sir." She smiled. She hopped off of the stage and Lafayette climbed up, taking a deep breath and getting into character as the music started.

"I wanted someone strong who could protect me. I let his anger fester and infect me. His solution is a lie. No one here deserves to die. Except for me and the monster I created. Yeah! Yeah! Heads up, J.D., I'm a dead girl walking!" He started walking in a giant circle across the stage and back. "Can't hide from me, I'm a dead girl walking! And there's your final bell." He pointed up in the direction of the sound of the bell. "It's one more dance and then farewell. Cheek to cheek in hell with a dead girl walkin'!" He started passed the girl playing Ms Fleming, only for her to reach out and tap his shoulder. He turned to her, clearly annoyed by her wasting his time.

"Veronica! Jason Dean told me you'd just committed suicide!"

Lafayette simply shrugged. "Yeah, well, he's wrong about a lot of things."

"I threw together a lovely tribute, especially considering the short notice..."

Lafayette rolled his eyes a bit before asking. "Ms. Fleming, what's under the gym?"

"The boiler room."

He snapped his fingers and turned to walk off. "That's it!"

She grabbed his shoulder to stop him from walking off. "Veronica, what's going on?"

He pulled her hand off of his shoulder. "Got no time to talk, I'm a dead girl walking!" He walked over to where Thomas was waiting, the other students singing their part in the background, his stride speeding up as the song began to intensify. "Step away from the bomb." He demanded, completely serious and completely in character.

Everyone was on their seats as Lafayette performed, their attention at his command.

And then Thomas got to his feet, his trademark smirk on his face. "And here I was thinking you'd lost your taste for feigned suicides." He shrugged, then pointed behind him. "Oh, and this little thing? I'd hardly call this a bomb... this is just to set off the pack of thermals under the gym- now those... are bombs." He took a few steps towards Lafayette, looking more like a villain now than he ever had whilst tormenting poor Alexander. "People are going to see the ashes of Westerburg High School and they're going to think 'There's a school that self destructed not because society doesn't care, but because that school WAS society!" There was something of a dangerous glare in his eyes, now mere centimeters from Lafayette's face. "The only place that Heathers and Marthas can get along is in heaven!"

Lafayette let his expression soften. "I wish your mom had been a little stronger... I wish she stayed around a little longer..." He grabbed Thomas's hands and worked the prop gun out of it. "I wish your dad were good! I wish grown-ups understood! I wish we’d met before they convinced you life is war! I wish you'd come with me.." He pulled the gun away only for Thomas to grab his hands.

"I wish I had more TNT," he hissed.

The pair began to try and wrestle the prop away from each other as a few of the other students sang the background vocals and Thomas tried to see if he could make Lafayette laugh mid performance.

"Virginian wine is better," he whispered as the gunshot rang before saying his next line out loud. "Is this good for you? Because it kind of sucked for me." He dropped to the ground and the song ended.

Lafayette resisted the urge to laugh, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't crack the tiniest of smiles.

The class applauded them just as they had the group before and Thomas and Lafayette hopped off of the stage and grabbed their things, since their time was already up. Frances and Martha ran up to Lafayette while Theodosia stuck with Aaron, all discussing their plans for the sleepover that night.