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seiyasabi · 4 years ago

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Enceinte

(This is a Yandere Amajiki x Pregnant Female Reader story :)) Please proceed with caution!

TW: Stockholm syndrome!, mentions of abuse! (not you), mentions of dub/noncon! (not you), !mentions of unsafe abortion! (not you), pregnancy!, !!!mentions of a suicide attempt!!!! (not you), captivity!, !lactation kink!, !breast milk drinking!, no sex but NSFW themes!, etc..

I hope you guys like this!)

Tamaki’s large hand rubs your back soothingly, attempting to alleviate your current backache. He’s taken you on a ‘playdate’ with his friend’s darling, and the four of you are sitting in the jovial blond’s living room.

“Everytime we see her, she just keeps getting bigger and bigger!” Mirio cheers, “How far along is she now?” He talks about you as if you aren’t there, causing you and your previously unwanted husband to become uncomfortable. The blond is definitely not a Yandere anyone would want; he’s controlling, sadistic, misogynistic, entitled-all things you’re happy that your Amajiki isn’t. It’s just another reason why you gave into him a year ago.

“Mirio, pl-please don’t talk about (Your Name) like she isn’t here. You know it makes me uncomfortable,” The brawny man’s eyes flash with a dark emotion, causing you to lean in closer to the indigo haired man’s side. His friend scares you, and you can’t help but pray for his darling. The poor girl is always covered with bruises, littered with painful gashes, and just the thought of your friend being hurt by that monster brings a tear to your (colour) eyes.

“Ah, it seems I forgot. Sorry Ama,” Your husband freezes up with further discomfort at his best friend’s use of your nickname. His blue eyes land on your rigid form, a small smirk on his thin lips, “How far along are you, (Nickname)?”

Your left hand is on your round stomach, your son kicking lightly at your touch, “We’re about seven months! I’m set to give birth in a few months,” A small smile is on your lips at the thought of your future child. Amajiki’s free hand places itself on top of yours, causing you to look up and give him a full on grin. Seeing that he was smiling at you as well, you place your head on his shoulder. He always knows how to make you feel better.

“See, (Friend’s Name)? This could be us if you weren’t so stubborn,” Your husband interlaces your fingers together, squeezing reassuringly. He knows that his friend’s actions are somewhat triggering, especially because you know the things he’s done. Mirio lets out a wicked laugh, looking at the both of you with cruel eyes, “(Friend Name) here and I were pregnant a few months ago, after a long night of love-making,” Amajiki holds you even tighter, trying to stop your terror-filled shakes, “But someone was selfish. Someone decided to take a handful of pills, and now your mini Tamaki won’t have a friend. But don’t worry,” His large hands grip your friend’s thigh harshly, “We’ll try again. That’s the point of women, eh, Amajiki? Our own personal baby-makers?”

Your teary eyes find (Friend’s Name)’s, your hand covering your mouth. You hadn’t seen her for a month, and you now know why. You also now know why her hands are covered with mittens, why her throat is wrapped with a shock collar, why she-

Tamaki stands up quickly, his hands gently guiding you onto your swollen feet. He wraps a protective arm around your waist once you’re fully standing, and he starts to guide you to Mirio’s yellow front door, “Ah, I-I think it-it’s time we go home. (Your Name) i-is sleepy, so-”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy! I totally understand. After all, good Darlings get nice privileges, and (Your Name) is one of the best Darlings I’ve ever met. She knows her place,” He stands to his feet, standing a good five inches above your very tall husband, “Come on, (Friend’s Name), let’s walk them out.”

The (Hair colour) girl struggles to her feet, her broken foot in a boot. She hobbles to the door in her house-wife esque frock, drawing a laugh from the sunny man. The sight hurts your heart so bad, that you have to look away.

Once the other couple reach their front door, Mirio draws a large keyring filled to the brim with different coloured keys from his pocket, before inserting each one into the ten locks present on the painted wood. Once all are unclasped, he holds the door open with a boot clad foot.

“You two have a good day! I’m sorry for (Friend’s Name)’s behaviour, I’ll be sure to straighten her out once you leave,” You hear her barely muffle a sob, making your lip quiver with your own sobs. Once outside, you hear the door slam shut, and hear a series of locking mechanisms go into place.

“He’s gotten worse,” You hear Amajiki mutter, which is enough to send you into a breakdown. His muscular arms wrap you in a tight side hug, his own tears dripping onto your (hair/head).

You cry for your friend and the person she once was.

He cries at the monster his best friend has become.

Tamaki was right, you ended up taking a nap the moment you got home.

When you awoke, your back hurts even more than before, along with your milk filled tits. Massaging your sore chest, you sit up with a bit of trouble. At your last appointment, your doctor said your son was a big fella, and cautioned you against doing anything besides resting. This caused the already doting Amajiki to take up every chore and task you have.

Right now, you can hear and smell him cooking your favourite meal, causing you to stand onto your wobbly feet. With one hand on your tummy and one on your back, you waddle towards your personal chef of a husband.

He’s currently leaning against the grey granite counter across from the stove, and when he sees your form struggling towards him, he rushes into action. Tamaki quickly sweeps you off of your feet, and brings you to your kotatsu couch. Gently placing you onto your preferred spot, he helps you place a few pillows behind you to help give you better back support.

“Bunny, what are you doing out of bed? You could’ve hurt yourself,” He’s improved on his nervous stutter since you’ve fallen for him, warming your heart completely.

“I’m sorry, Ama. I woke up with a backache and wanted a massage, but then I got hungry-” He loves listening to you ramble, you’re the most precious person he’s ever known. Especially when you ‘talk’ to your son. Sometimes he’d listen in and hear you coo about the cute outfits you found for him, or how his Daddy is a super cool hero, or how you can’t wait for him to come out so you can pinch his chubby cheeks, or- “Are you even listening?” He glances up, taking in your adorable pout, causing his face to go red.

“Of course! I’ll give you a backrub after dinner, okay? Then we can take a shower,” You nod, allowing him to hurry to the kitchen to grab your food and utensils.

He comes back at a lightning fast pace, he uses a few tentacles to juggle the (bowls/plates) along with the (chopstick/spoons/forks), side dishes, and toppings.

“Go ahead and eat, okay? I’m sure you and (Son Name) are starving,” Giggling at his overeagerness, you give in to his demand.

“-Is this pressure good? Let me know if it’s not,” Amajiki’s massive hands knead your aching shoulders, and rub down your pained spine. His thumbs massage the area around your ribs, trying to loosen your muscles to allow you to relax. You’re currently shirtless, clad in only your bra and your comfortable joggers.

“Mhm, you always know how to make me feel better, Ama,” He practically preens at your words, smooching the bare skin of your upper back.

The massage continues, easing the pain in your back. Now, the only thing ailing you is your sore breasts.

“A-are you okay, Bunny? You tensed up quite a bit,” You turn your head enough for him to see your comforting smile.

“Yes, I’m okay. It’s just, uhm, oh man, this is so embarrassing,” Both of your hands cover your face to hide your flushing cheeks, sending Tamaki into a mini panic attack.

“What is it? Is the baby giving you trouble? Do I need to take you to the hospital?” Seeing his panic, you try to turn to face him, but require his assistance to do so. His clammy hands grip yours as he brings you toward him.

“No, Tama, it’s nothing serious, it’s just…” You look down in shame, “My, uhm, my breasts hurt,” Your voice trails off at the end, causing your husband not to hear you.

“Wha-what was that?” Small tears group in your eyes, as your shame overwhelms you.

“My boobs hurt! Please don’t make fun of me by making me ask again!” Seeing your distress, he quickly brings you into his embrace.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you the first time, I swear! I’ll help you, Bun, there’s no need to cry. Here,” The indigo haired man unclasps your bra, allowing your tits to fall out somewhat harshly. Yelping at the ache, Tamaki tries to soothe you by holding your larger breasts up, alleviating the pain, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” You smooch his forehead, his entire face is bright red, “Please help me, I need you,” Your wet eyes and much larger breasts make your husband look away, trying not to become aroused.

“Oh-okay,” His warm hands gently squeeze your teats, testing to see if that was enough pressure. A small moan leaves your lips, telling him that what he’s doing is helping.

His hands knead your sensitive chest in a rhythmic fashion, slowly quelling the pain you were once suffering.

Just when you fully relaxed, disaster struck.

Two streams of thick milk spray from your teats, coating the front of his black shirt. You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands.

“I’m sorry Ama! I-I didn’t mean to! It just-” Without missing a beat, the indigo haired man suddenly latches on to your nipple. His lips suck vigorously, trying to drink all of your yummy milk in one go. A loud moan leaves your lips, as you try to detach him from your leaking tit, “Wha-what are you doing?” A keen escapes your throat when he tweaks your other nipple, dripping your milk onto your joggers. His own moans vibrate against you, sending a flash of arousal to your pussy.

Once he has his fill of your right breasts, he lets go with a small gasp, “Do-do you feel better Bun-Bun?” Now that you thought about it, yes, yes you do. So, you nod your head, mouth slightly agape.

“Please, ‘Jiki! Please milk my other titty too!” He doesn’t say anything, before he latches on to your left nipple. Whilst he sucks, he lets his tongue flick your leaky teat, triggering a little more milk to spray out. You both moan, one of you in absolute lust, and the other in relief. The heavy, aching feeling of your breasts slowly fades away, leaving you feeling light and happy.

Your hand runs through his soft locks, a sigh of pleasure going through your nose, “Thank you, Ama, you’re so good to me. I’m sorry if it doesn’t taste good-” He quickly releases your left nipple to kiss you on the lips.

“Your milk is delicious, Bunny. I don’t think I can ever go back to cow’s milk ever again!” He fondles your enlarged chest, playing with your sensitive nipples, “I love you so much, (Your Name). Is it okay if I nurse with our son?”

You flush at his words, “Bu-but my milk’s for (Son’s Name), won’t he go hungry?” He shakes his head no, kissing you on the lips once more.

“I asked your doctor for breast milk supplements, you’re going to have more milk than he’ll need! Please, Bunny! Please let me have more!” You can’t say no when he asks you so sweetly. Smiling at him, you nod.

You know you should be upset that those ‘extra vitamins’ weren’t truly vitamins, but you can’t bring yourself to care. After all, he loves you so much that he wants to drink from you!

So, when he reattaches himself to your right nipple, you pet him sweetly.

#yandere amajiki #yandere tamaki #suneater x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #yandere tamaki x reader #tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #tw lactation #tw: pregnancy

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holylulusworld · 4 years ago

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Demons lie

Summary: Demons lie and sometimes lies have consequences.

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Omega!Reader (flashbacks), Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, language, pining, abandonment, rejected omega, sickness, eating disorder due to sickness, A/B/O, nonconsensual claiming, comforting, fluff

It was like you never knew him, the alpha pressing you against the wall, not caring you whimper at the pain he causes. He whispered dirty things into your ear, but you tried to ignore his intentions.

The demon your friend became tried to terrify you with his words and his hands around your throat.

“You know, Dean never tried anything as he was afraid to get you killed,” the demon purred against your lips, forcing his tongue down your throat.

“D’,” you fought, clawed at his shoulders but his lips and teeth wandered to your neck. He inhaled your scent deeply, smirking when you started to whine against him. “Please, let me go. This isn’t you Dean.”

“Alpha, that’s how you will address me from now on, omega. You’re mine, always belonged to me. Be good,” he purred against your throat, his teeth only inches from your mating gland.

“Dean doesn’t want me, please. He’s with that girl, Cassie. They are a pair, he wants to claim her,” you sniffled silently, feeling his teeth nibble at your neck. “He’s only afraid to get her killed.”

“He’s not afraid, sweetheart,” the demon smirked, lapping at your skin. “Dean wants you, that’s the truth. I think, you need confirmation, something to make you see how much he wants you…”

Moments later Castiel dragged Dean off your body, healed your twisted ankle, not missing the panic in your eyes when Sam entered the room. “Cas, please…don’t…”

The angel nodded, letting you run out of the room to hide in your bedroom, crying silently.

This is how you ended up in Dean’s room, begging him to talk to you…

“Dean, can we talk?“ You can see the guilt in Dean’s eyes when he forces himself to look up as you step inside his room. He’s seated on the floor, glancing at the mark he touched not moments ago. “The demon, he said a few things and…”

“Demons lie, Y/N,” Dean mumbles, not remembering everything he said to you. “Whatever he told you, it was not me. I promise, nothing of it was true.”

“He said you wanted me, not Cassie. That you didn’t claim her as you…” you swallow thickly when Dean shakes his head, looking anywhere but into your eyes. “Demons lie, I get it.”

“Demons lie, sweetheart,” the pet name is a punch to your guts. Moments ago, you believed Dean would finally admit he feels the same and will be there for you like an alpha should. “I’m sorry if he scared you.”

“It’s fine, Dean. I just wanted to talk things out,” the alpha nods, searching for your eyes but this time it’s you who looks away.

“Did he say anything else? Do I need to apologize?” you would like to snort at his words. The demon whispered he loves you and your heart fluttered. How can you tell Dean so if the demon lied?

“Just nonsense about how he hates Sam and my food or crap. Don’t worry, Dean,” you try to keep a straight face, but your eyes would give your lie away. “I will have a rest, sleep a bit.”

“O…okay,” Dean watches you walk out of the room. Your postures changed. When you entered his room, you showed of confidence but now, your shoulders are slumped your head hangs low and he can hear a deep sigh leave your lips when you close the door.

“Y/N it’s two days, did you eat?” Sam calls from outside your room. “You can’t be too tired to eat anything, kiddo.”

“I’m fine, Sam. I ate a sandwich, an apple, and one of those odd energy bars you bought. Stop worrying about me,” your voice cracks when you hide underneath your blanket, but you can’t tell Sam you barely made it out of your bed over the last two days.

“I’ll check on you later, Y/N. You better leave your room for dinner,” you know Sam means well but you can’t find it in you to leave your bed or room.

Something doesn’t feel right, and you wonder if you will ever feel the same again...

“It’s five days now, Dean. I don’t know why she’s not leaving her room,” Sam watches his brother's eyes drift toward the empty chair at the library you used to occupy. “I think she didn’t eat anything lately.”

“Maybe she needs to get over that I attacked her and said stupid things. I don’t remember everything, only pieces of the demon’s words,” Dean mumbles, not daring to tell Sam what you ask him days ago.

“That’s no reason to not eat, Dean. If she doesn’t come out for dinner, I’ll send Castiel in to check on her.”

“Y/N open the door and let me check on you,” Sam rams his shoulder into your door, growling as he failed to pick your lock. “Kiddo, I know something is off but it’s eight days. You only sneak out to use the restrooms and to drink water. I need to know you’re still alive.”

“I’m so tired, Sammy,” your voice sounds weak and miles away whilst you struggle to open your eyes. “I don’t know why. Everything feels so…heavy…”

“Damnit, Y/N,” using all his strength Sam repeatedly rams his body into your door but the lock won’t budge. “Hang on, Y/N. I’ll get something to open that door.”

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Dean watches his brother despair when he hears a low whimper leave your lips. “Shit, let me open that door,” Dean rams his foot against the lock, hearing the door gives in. “Almost there, sweetheart,” another kick, and another hits the door until it finally flings open.

“Y/N, fuck,” Sam’s eyes fill with tears watching you snuggle into your pillow, too weak to lift your head. Food is splattered all over the floor, just like empty water bottles and dirty clothes.

“Sammy, let me,” Dean eyes land on something letting his stomach churn. “I think Y/N need to talk, okay. Can you make her something to eat? A soup would be great or drive to town and buy chicken soup at the dinner.”

“I’ll be right back,” worriedly watching his brother close the door behind him Sam wipes his eyes. “Please help her…”

Dean feels like someone is squeezing his heart when you ignore his presence. Nothing seems to pick your interest, everything is just grey to you since Dean said the demon lied.

“Sweetheart,” Dean whispers, kicking his shoes off. He’s stripping down to his boxers to crawl onto your bed. He’s reaching out for you to wrap his arms around your weakened body. “I’m so sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” voice thin you close your eyes, drifting into sleep again. “The demon lied…” Flashbacks hit Dean when he looks at the mark on your neck.

He’s pressing you against the wall, telling you he will prove to you how much he wants you. His teeth sink into your neck right when Castiel tries to drag him off you. The demon resists sinking his teeth deeper into your flesh to leave a permanent mark.

“I never wanted it to be like this. God, I didn’t feel our bond, Y/N,” Dean mumbles, pressing soft kisses to the mark the demon left. “I think the mark suppresses the bond. I don’t know…”

“He bit me,” your eyes flutter open when Dean gently turns you in his embrace to hold you close to his chest. Your head rests against his heart when you finally open your eyes. “The demon wanted to hurt me.”

“No,” Dean whispers, pecking your hair, “he wanted to have what I desired. The demon, he took what I wanted for so long, Y/N. I was afraid to lose you, so I lied about having Cassie in my life. We only met once a year ago, but it didn’t work out.”

“You lied,” sniffling you try to touch Dean’s face, but your hand slips away. “He didn’t lie?”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Sam’s features darken hearing Dean confessing he tried to push you away to keep you safe. “I didn’t remember I bit you that day. I swear if I would’ve known I marked you…”

“I got soup and water, some energy bars too,” whilst you lie on his chest, unmoving Dean holds out his hand.

“Give me one of the bars, I’ll feed her, Sammy. Maybe you can make some tea and I’ll bring her to my room when she’s a bit better,” his younger brother eyes Dean angrily before he hands him one of the energy bars.

“This is your fault, Dean. You and your fucking good intentions…”

“Another one, sweetheart. Come one, baby, you can eat one more spoon of this fantastic chicken soup I made,” you scrunch up your nose, shaking your head. “I don’t want to use my alpha voice young lady.”

You stick your tongue out, refusing to eat the soup Dean made. “It tastes odd,” you whine, pressing your lips into a thin line.”

“He put the medicine inside,” Sam snickers watching his brother fight with you over soup. “You refused to take the pills.”

“This is,” you glare at Dean who uses the moment you open your mouth to shove one last spoon with soup into your mouth.

“There we go, omega,” grinning proudly Dean hands the empty soup bowl to Sam. “Now we are going to check on your temperature and sleep a bit. The doctor said you’ll feel better soon.”

“I hate pills and I’m not a child,” you whine whilst Dean drags the blanket off your body, eying you shamelessly. “This is unnecessary.”

“You are with my child, Y/N, nothing is unnecessary if it comes to Dean jr.,” you narrow your eyes snatching the blanket out of Dean’s hands. “Four years and you are still untamable. The demon should’ve bitten your ass not your neck.”

“You insensitive rude alpha…” you sniffle looking at Sam for help. “Tell him that was rude, Sammy. He can’t say things like that to me…” sobs leave your lips until you start crying.

“Sweetheart, no, don’t cry again,” Dean whines. “Please, don't cry. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m glad I marked you, okay. Look, Impala is kicking his daddy.”

“We are not going to name our son Impala, Dean. I told you so months ago,” poking your finger into Dean’s chest you lick your lips when he gives you a cocky grin. “No, we won’t.”

“Dean jr. it is then,” he smirks now, pecking your lips. “Imagine, you call my name and two Dean’s come running into the kitchen to get a slice of pie,” Dean swoons while you groan.

“I hate you,” Dean hums, resting his head on top of your belly. “I mean it, alpha. You’re so…”

“Back then the demon made me the greatest gift. If not for him I would’ve chickened out until you found a better alpha, now you are all mine, round and grumpy only for me…”

“I still hate you, Winchester but you can stay to rub my back…” Sam watches you fight over names for your pup whilst he leans against the door frame. “Maybe I like you a little.”

“I like you a little too, sweetheart…”

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Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

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#Demons lie #dean winchester #demon!dean x reader #former Demon Dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader #a/b/o #angst #alpha!dean #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x reader #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!dean x omegareader

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missblissy · 5 years ago

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Rebirth (Chapter Ten)

Alastor x Human!Reader ((Reincarnation!AU))

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten

This isn’t crazy, is it? Robbing a house with a demon wasn��t crazy, right? You really hoped so. So much was happening, so many things were going on and you found it hard to focus on following this spider... person... Angel walked around this house like he knew it like the back of his hand. He did say he lived here, you remembered, how long ago did he die? You followed him through one living room then into a hall then into another even bigger living room, this one had a large flatscreen TV hanging from a wall and enough couch space to fit a dozen people.

There was brilliant and exotic art hanging from the walls. Long and vibrant house plants scattered the windows or any place they could be squeezed into an area slightly too small for them. You felt oddly out of place in this house, it was far too expensive and you felt incredibly nervous. You really didn’t want to get caught robbing this place. Your parents would fall in their graves if you went to prison.

Angel was grumbling to himself as he rounded a corner and walked down a hallway. He turned and suddenly bumped into the wall like he didn’t even see it was there, “What!?” He rubbed his head with one hand while two pressed onto a wall. You watched his eyes frazzle in size as he realized there was a wall in front of him, “There’s suppose to be a stairwell up here!” But it was only a narrow dead-end hallway, a few doors littered here and there, but there were no stairs, “Fuck!” He stomped a foot on the ground and you saw him get ready to punch the wall.

“Don’t!” You quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, “We can find another way upstairs, chill out, Angel-”

However, his glare at you never softened, “You even sound exactly like her,” Then he brushed you off and started tracing back down the hall, “And now you look like her. There’s no way you’re actually Crybaby, are you?” He didn’t look at you once while he went back to wandering down the halls quickly. That’s when you remembered that Angel knew you in your bast life

He was very hard to keep up with but you trotted after him, “No,” You told him with a grave tone, “Just the same soul. Did you know her?”

You watched him shrug his shoulder as he found a spiral staircase in the back of this massive house, “Knew her? Hm, I think I knew her better than anyone else, even Smiles,” It took you a second to realize he was talking about Alastor, “We were best friends,” Angel went on, his voice wavering some as he quickly climbed the stairs. You watched him use all four of his arms in a sense of awe. This was a real demon. You caught a glimpse of your own reflection in a mirror that was in perfect eyesight of your wandering gaze. You were so different now, your hair, your skin, your eyes... They were just black. No color, no pupil, just large empty black eyes. At least you stopped crying, but you looked like you were on the verge of tears.

As you followed him to the second floor, you dared to ask, “What was she like?” It wouldn’t surprise you if he said anything along the lines of perfect.

But Angel laughed and you noticed a devilish little smirk grown on his face as he bee-lined for a door, “A fucking trainwreck, but somehow classy. She was one of the top overlords of hell and she didn’t get there being nice,” He threw open the door and dove into a large bedroom, a guest room if you had to guess. It was void of any reminders that someone may have lived here. No photos, no keepsakes. Just a bedroom in the shade of blue. Yet Angel seemed like he knew exactly where to go.

He went to the closet and twisted the knob open. He was quick to throw himself in there, falling on his knees and using all of his four arms to move all the junk out of his way, “What are you looking for?” You asked while making your way to the window. You peered outside and saw Alastor looking directly at you, a smile on his face and blood pooling at his feet. He was beaten up pretty bad, wasn’t he?

“This!” Angel yelled from within the closet. You hurried over and knelt down behind him as you watch him tear the wallpaper off the wall in the back of the closet. You’re heart jumped and you were about to tell Angel to cut it out when he grumbled, “Stop it- Stop making me feel your feelings! I need this! I need to do this! You wouldn’t understand,” You felt the bitterness and resentment in Angel’s words.

“I- I don’t know how to stop-”

“Just smoke a joint or something- Take a Xanax!” He reached a hand into one of his pockets then tossed a little dime bag with a couple colorful pills in it, “That’s what you did before- numb the pain sweetheart it’s more fun than ya think,”

You quickly tossed the baggie of drugs to the floor, “No thanks-” And as you did that, Angel managed to yank some kind of plywood out of the wall.

“Ha! It’s still here- I knew I could count on you, Mol-” Angel was shoulder deep in the hole he tore in the wall, his hand searching around in the dark until it found a heavy tin box. He pulled out the box and quickly flipped the latches open.

Dust and rust and all kinds of dirt puffed into the air as Angel dug around in the box. You watched over his shoulder and peered inside. You found a tin box full of keepsakes. There was a couple of toy dolls tattered and torn, a pocket knife that was beginning to rust, some money from an era before your life, dozens of letters and notes and then lastly, a locket. You could feel the sadness in the air and you could feel it waft off Angel.

There was no way you could understand and you weren't sure you could ask, yet at the same time you wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible, “Are these yours?” You asked him.

“Hm?” You noticed Angel sniffle slightly and rub one of his hands under his eyes, “Oh, yeah. It’s mine and my sister’s,” Oh yes, that’s right, he lived in this house at one point. He dove a hand inside the tin box and quickly scooped up the locket. He popped it open and you could see the small picture of a family. A father, a mother, two sons and a daughter. You squinted hard and saw noticeable features, the freckles, the grin, the way his hair was cut and shaped. It was Angel- and this was his family.

You felt a strong wave of sympathy was over you. The second you felt that Angel snapped the locket closed and gave you a look, “Did you take that Xan? Girl, control yourself. I don’t want your pitty-” A loud crash cut Angel off as the entire house shifted, followed by two more heavy bangs from above. The demon hunters. You shared a look with Angel and your fear leaked into him. He used a free hand and picked up the baggie of pills, shoving it back towards you, “No one is going to be able to fight off those hunters if you’re making everyone scared. And they have magic to protect them for your emotions. Normally I don’t force people to do things unless they pay me, so fucking take the Xans, babe!”

He had a point, and you didn’t know how to control your new powers yet. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. You couldn’t stop the guilt from waving off you as you swallowed down the pill dry. You managed to make your way over to the window and you peered outside. Alastor was gone and you felt fear cling to your skin. You had to hold back a yelp when you heard gunshots from above.

“Ah- Fuck!” You looked at Angel and he had a gun of his own, where did he even get that? You couldn’t stop him as you watched him fire bullets into the ceiling. He shot out a perfect circle as he destroyed the ceiling and roof above. Within a second you saw a swarm of blue glowing orbs take over the sky. Angel didn’t hesitate to take one large leap and join the battle. You didn’t even get a chance to say anything, and then you were all alone.

You were unsure of what you should do. You were too scared to fight back and you didn’t want to hurt anyone... The house was beginning to shake and shift, even more, you were getting ready for it to collapse when that familiar sound of close range thunder filled your ears. Alastor appeared behind you, you looked over yand found him carrying Angel over his shoulder, who didn’t seem very pleased to be there either.

“Time to go!” Alastor smiled at you as he suddenly grabbed your hand as a swirling portal opened before your eyes. You didn’t have time to react, you couldn’t even protest as Alastor jumped through the portal and yanked you along with him. From the cold and shaken air of the house, you were met with a hot, burning and even humid heat as you passed through the gates of the portal. Your stomach threw itself into your throat then dropped with a deep throb as your feet slapped onto the ground underneath you.

It took a second to long for your eyes to adjust to the darkness around you. Confused and squinting to see, you found several pairs of eyes staring back at you. A none of them looked remotely human. You found yourself inside some kind of…place? You couldn’t be sure at all, it looked like a rundown hotel but there were way too many pictures of the same family hanging on every inch of every wall, “What… Is this place?” You breathed every word out softly, looking around until your eyes fell onto Charlie.

She looked like she was about to say something, but Vaggie quickly stepped in, “Why did you bring her here?” She was looking at Alastor.

He had dropped Angel and cleaned off the shoulder he was holding him on. His smile wavered as he said, “I didn’t have much of a choice, look at her! A beauty, I know, but she dosen’t seem human anymore!”

“You don’t know that!” Vaggie went on, “She’s still alive regardless, she can’t be here, Alastor! She’s not dead yet, and I won’t let you trap her here until she can die!” You were going to die? You looked between Vaggie and Alastor, watching the two glare at each other until Alastor started to shift his weight from one leg to the other. As he did that, you noticed his whole body begin to shiver and shake as his eyes rolled back. His body fell out from under him and he collapsed into the pool of blood he’d been standing in.

“Ewh!” Charlie quickly made a sound of disgust, “Someone close his eyes!” You even flinched away from the horrible sight of Alastor, passed out on the ground with his eyes still wide open, “Why does he have to sleep like that?” Charlie whined on.

You watched as Angel did the dirty work. He closed Alastor’s eyes and picked up his limp body like he was some kind of rag doll. You could feel the Xanax you took early started to affect your body. You felt like you should have been panicking, scared even, but all you could do is ask in a shallow voice, “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Angel said, “For now. He’s just gonna sleep like a rock until his body’s healed itself back up. We should take him to his room- and you shouldn’t be here,” His words ended with a sharper tone. It sounded as if Angel was holding something against you, but you couldn’t guess what.

Your silent confusion was answered by Vaggie, “The living do not last very long down here,” She explained, “Lucifer- Charlie’s Dad, can help you get back to Earth-” “No!” You cut her off, “It’s… It’s okay. I feel like I should stay,” You looked over towards Alastor’s broken body hanging over Angel’s shoulder, “He got hurt because of me. It’s my fault he’s like this, I should at least stay until he wakes up,”

“Are you sure?” Vaggie asked while trying to approach you, she held a hand out as if she wanted to comfort you, but… she seemed hesitant and even fearful to touch you, “A living soul only has three days to escape hell or be doomed to stay here forever. And there is no telling when Alastor will wake up, a demon only sleeps like this when they have to heal their body. And-... Alastor has taken months to heal at his worst.”

“I’m sure,” You nodded slightly, “I can watch over him at least for today. I feel like I should- If I hadn’t-... It’s my fault he’s like this and it’s my fault you guys were attacked. This is the least I can do to make up for it.” You watched Vaggie share a concerned look with Charlie, but neither of them could find a reason to tell you no.

“Come on,” You looked over your shoulder and saw Angel already climbing the grand staircase of this rundown hotel. The Princess waved you off, even Vaggie gave you some kind of small smile and waved as you spun around and raced to catch up with Angel.

You followed beside him as he led you up staircase after staircase, down a set of halls, then another staircase. You could have gotten really lost if it wasn’t for him. You kept looking at Alastor too, dangling there like dead weight, “Is he really going to be okay?” You asked.

Angel kept his gaze ahead as he spoke, “I promise, CB, he’s gonna be fine,”

“CB?” You hesitantly asked.

“Crybaby,” Oh, “You really can’t remember a god damn thing, can you?” You shook your head and watched as Angel chuckled, “I didn’t think you had it in ya,” He said, “You really are full of surprises, ya know that?”

You matched his weak laughter, “I wish I did. This shit is… This whole demon thing? Hell? I mean,” You paused and laughed, “I guess it’s good to know there is something after death, haha,” You even smiled a little bit, “I didn’t believe in ghosts, or heaven or hell… Or god… Is there a god?”

“The fuck if I know!” Angel laughed, “If there is a god, they don’t care about us. For all I know, the angels rule over heaven and god is dead.”

That was a bleak look on things, but somehow it felt like the right thing to say. You were in hell after all, with this demon body and a past lover who didn’t want to let you go. You were numb to the shock of everything and eerily calm, perhaps that was because the Xanax was leaking into your blood and mind. But that didn’t stop the questions racing through your brain like stock cars around a speedway.

“How long have you been down here?” You innocently asked while simultaneously dodging your gaze way from Angel’s own stare.

“Long enough,” He retorted quickly, “Not as long as as you, or him,” Angel shrugged his shoulder and adjusted Alastor’s broken body, shifting his weight around as he walked up a flight of stairs. How many more of these things did you have to climb?

The hallways grew longer, darker, and void of any signs of life. Windows were blocked by heavy closed curtains while cobwebs collected in the free spaces between them. You gazed at Alastor’s bloody face that already seemed to be healing. His open wounds had scabbed over, but blood still stained his skin and clothes.

“What about him?” You nodded your head towards Alastor as you looked up at Angel, “Are you guys friends?”

Nothing could stop the quick and cold, “Ha!” That came from Angel’s chest, “More like- Business partners? Nah- No. Associates? We sure aren’t friends. Before you left, you were the only reason we had common ground, after that we went right back to hating each other.”

“I’m starting to find that a lot of people don’t like Alastor. I’m starting to think he’s just out to mess with my head then kill me or something,” Your voice sounded somber, shallow and it made Angel’s entire attitude spin around in the opposite direction.

His features softened only slightly, “Don’t doubt him when he says he loves you,” Angel’s voice wavered slightly, making it sound like he was holding more sour words in the back of his throat, but he spoke on, “I hate the guy, he’s a fucking creep and an old bag of shit but,” He paused while looking away, staring into a memory you couldn’t see, “Alastor would do anything for you. Everyone knows how head over heels he is. He’s a shitty fucking person but I hate to admit it, he was a good husband to you. In fact,” You watched Angel’s face light up slightly and his eyes flash with a light from within, “The only time we ever got along was when he needed my help to make you happy,” He trailed off into a soft chuckle, “This dumb bitch came to me once after you got sucked back into that-- what was that castle called? Castle Keep! That was the castle at the gates of hell where yo-”

“Where I was trapped every six years?” You stared up at Angel with a faint smile, enjoying the surprised look on his face, “Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about it, I guess I really hated that place?”

“Hell fucking yeah you did,” Angel laughed, “But yeah- like I was saying, Alastor always had the hardest time asking me for help and he’d only do it as a last resort. This dumb ass really loved you and got me to help him throw this huge party for you with all of our friends from the hotel and anyone who had twenty bucks for admissions, haha! Shit man, that was the best party ever.”

You wanted to press on and ask about it but Angel had finally stopped walking. There you had found yourself in front of a regular old door. Nothing about it stuck or or made it particularly rememberable. You watched Angel push open the door with ease as it opened up into a dark room void of any light. Little stain glass lamps provided barely any light within the room for you to see.

Hesitantly, you followed after Angel while watching him carelessly toss Alastor’s body onto his bed in the least graceful way possible.

“Alright, that’s it for my community service,” Angel brushed his hands together and cleared away the microscopic dirt on his gloves. He headed towards the door then gave a wave of two of his many hands, “If you need anything, don’t bother asking me,” He laughed sinisterly then made his way out of the door, “Oh, and try and not get yourself killed,” Angel winked at you with a grin, “Or you’ll be stuck here for just about forever and the rest of time!” He slammed the door behind him, loud enough for you to wince, leaving you alone, in the dark void of Alastor’s room.

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

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The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 3 of 10?

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Notes: Hello everyone. I will get to writing another chapter of Irked, but for now, here’s a mini crack fic. Should be good for a laugh or two.

Thor was bodybuilding to a song by Right Said Fred, when his phone rang. ...'I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy, it hurts…' "Hello?"

Tony held the phone from his ear and yelled. "DO YOU…" The music suddenly stopped. "...ever look at your call display?"

"Sorry, flying human. Was working my gluteus maximus."

"To the detriment of my earius drumius."

"Oops. How's life?"

"Riveting in the last twenty four hours. You alone?"

"Jane's in Vegas with Darcy."

"Perfect. Think you can you put aside selfies with groping seniors and visit me ASAP?"

"The cougars are more troublesome. Their claws resemble a bilgesnipes. Bloody frightening."

"Buy Hulk bandages. Well?"

"Sounds serious."

"It is. I've a friend that wishes to meet you and it's mandatory you oblige."

"Who?"

"Can't say until you agree to abide by our terms of said meeting."

"Tony, are you in cohorts with an enemy?"

"Thor, are you on crack?"

"Don't know what that is."

"The universe is grateful. Please listen. You cannot hitch a ride with Mjolnir, or come by plane. You must drive here and take every precaution to avoid being recognized or followed. Most importantly, keep it secret."

Thor gave his word and was blown away by what he learned. "Spoil her rotten if need be, I'll foot the bill. Do 'not' let her leave."

"I'm a billionaire ya silly arse, remember? Start packing."

After gathering his suit pieces from the sixtieth floor, Stark went to tell Brianna, but she'd fallen asleep following a bathroom break, halfway through the movie. When Pepper went in there to clean, it looked like a photo from Architectural Digest.

Upon waking, Little Warrior was thrilled to hear the news. "Thanks, Iron Man. Where's Pepper?"

"Out buying you clothes."

"Yaaay!" *****

Thor arrived two days later and instantly fell in love with the girl. She showed him similar acts of magic Tony saw, but still wouldn't reveal anything more about herself. Her abilities and resemblance to Loki were so uncanny, he was ninety percent convinced she was his.

"Your quite talented, Brianna. Why is it you wish to meet my brother?"

"Based on in-depth research, I believe he's a sorcerer, yes?"

"He is."

"Good. I was hoping to ask him some questions about my abilities. Do you think he'll come?”

"I'm sure of it. Will you please stay with Tony and Pepper until we return?"

“I’ll be here.”

Tony rode the elevator down with him.

"How did she know Loki is a sorcerer?"

"I'm questioning the same. Only Fury, his bosses and the other Avengers know. None of us would spill the beans. I suspect Brianna's abilities are more extensive than she's letting on. How will you convince Prince Jezebel?"

"Who?"

Tony deadpanned. "Loki?"

"Threaten to tell Astrid."

"If it comes to that, have mercy and offer the guy some earplugs. Her drama queening is like fingernails down a blackboard."

"My sister in law's wrath will be a walk in the park compared to our Mother's. She's my backup plan."

Stark recalled Ellen Ripley's experience with an angry, Alien queen then pictured a seidre in its hand. "Have a nice trip, big guy." ***** On the morning Thor returned to Asgard, Astrid woke early to find Loki pensively staring out their bedroom window. "What's wrong?"

"There's no easy way to say this, my lovely. You continuously speak of longing to start a family, but this sneaking off realm without a word..it's left me hesitant to believe you're ready."

"Why?"

"Your temper flares and you often act without thinking. I keep questioning had we children…"

"They would've stayed with your Mother." She angrily started searching for attire. "But no problem. I'll stay on the pill."

"Is this reaction not a perfect example?"

"Maybe I'm insulted you think me so dumb!"

She slammed the bathroom door, started the shower and he walked out. "Nice talk, Astrid. Love you too."

Following a meeting with Odin, Loki saw Thor hastily approaching within the corridor. "Brother!" He called in a disingenuous pronounced tone. "How art thou?"

Loki was dragged by the collar into a side room and assertively shoved him off. "I've repeatedly warned your bullying days are over. Do that again and find yourself in another dimension. Painstricken."

Thor locked the door. "I'm disappointed in you."

"I've an extensive list of mutual sentiment. Make an appointment and we'll talk."

"We'll talk now. Stark and I believe you've fathered a child on Midgard."

Loki proceeded to laugh. "Impossible...ludicrous. There isn't a female there nor here I haven't used a termination spell on."

"While they slept?"

"Precisely."

"What about the time you woke naked in a dumpster in California? With no recollection of how you arrived there after leaving a club with three women? Which one did you fuck?"

"None. The last thing I remember were two pleasuring each other on a bed while the third was on her knees pleasing me, when everything faded into blackness. Crazy bitches drugged me. I never saw the route travelled, the house number, nothing, but the inside of a bedroom and then the dumpster when a pigeon rammed its beak into my nostrils."

"You aren't making sense."

"I let them blind fold me in the car."

Thor choked back a laugh. "Midgardian females tricked the trickster?"

"Do I look amused? That was the last time I drank from a bottle I didn't personally open."

"Just listen?" ~ A half hour passed. ~ "I understand your lingering skepticism. At least come help the child. If you don't, Tony fears she may leave without him knowing."

"Fine, but what exactly am I to tell Astrid?"

Loki returned to his chambers to find a note on their bed; 'Gone to my parents for a week to cool off seeing as though you think I'm always angry.' He tossed it in the trash and left one for her; 'My turn to disappear. Janes on vacation so I've returned to Midgard to bond with big brother. Do say hello to your parents, my lovely. Kisses.'

"Satisfied, Thor? Now how do we keep Heimdall from tattling?"

"By leaving immediately. His new trainee is on duty."

"Maxome? That nincompoop will send us into orbit."

"Don't let appearances fool you. He looks like a troll, but knows his job. And Maxi Waxi takes bribes."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Who are you? Impersonating a Prince of Asgard is punishable by death." *****

The bifrost vanished and Thor's phone immediately rang. "Slow down, Tony. We can take portal taxi to…" The call suddenly ended. "...the Towers underground."

Stark exited the elevator in hyperdrive. "Holy shit, am I glad to see you guys!" He poked Loki's arm. "E..specially..you, fornication fabler. Whatever big guy here told ya? I've an update. Not only is my guest up there adorable and a bonafide genius, but definitely of a life form I've yet to encounter."

"Have you been eating Count Chocula again?"

"No, but I know what you're thinking and get in line. Pepper already threatened to duct tape me to a wall."

"Relax, flying human."

"I'm relaxed every second I'm around that kid. Can't a guy unwind a little? This is me unwinding, okay? Stop talking because I'm talking."

Both Gods locked their lips with imaginary keys.

"The day after you left, Thor, I suggested Brianna and I bake cookies with M&M's, but asked she not tell Pepper as I get in trouble for sugar highs. Then I jokingly asked if she'd ever hidden cookies in her pockets and she said yes. 'Interdimensional pockets'."

Loki cocked a brow.

"Pshh, yeah, hello? The next day, she demanded to know where the clothes she'd arrived in were. Pepper had put them in the wash and Brianna raced to the laundry room, swung opened our front loader with magic, gathered them into a ball and screamed at us while her skin turned blue and eyes Ruby red. 'DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF! DON'T 'EVER' TOUCH MY STUFF!' I just about fucking shit myself!"

The God sighed. "You 'have' encountered that life form."

"Notta, buddy boy. I would've remembered."

"Are you wearing a diaper?"

"Huh?"

"Maybe you should be." Said Thor.

Loki stepped away and partially revealed himself. His skin turned blue, but remained human in texture and eyes reddened like Brianna's.

Stark backed into a pillar. "What the hell are you?"

"Remember I said he was adopted and later educated you on the nine realms?"

"Uh hu."

Loki returned to Aesir form. "I'm a Frost Giant from Jotunheim."

"Ha! I'm not a loon, after all!"

"No one thought you were."

"I knew Brianna was yours and Pepper wouldn't believe me! Wait, isn't that realm mostly ice? Can you conjure it out of nowhere?"

"Yes to both questions, but it's exhausting without the Casket of Ancient Winters. Why?"

"Whatever that is. Little Warrior can too."

"What did you just say?"

"After yelling at us she ran into her ensuite and we followed to find ice crystals forming around the edges of the closed door. It wouldn't budge and with our calls going unanswered for a good ten minutes, I panicked, took an axe to it and hacked into a thick inch layer of ice on the other side. Brianna was out cold in the tub, slept through the hacking to reach her, then for another seventeen hours. We were frantic."

"Take me to her, now." He commanded.

"Why the sudden urgency?" Asked Thor.

Loki had a foresight he opted not to share. "Shouldn't we both be eager to meet a child so skillful without the casket?"

The trio entered the elevator.

"You better not be thinking of turning Heimdall into an icicle again."

Loki bypassed him and eyed Tony. "Eh he he he."

"Screw you, Snowflake. These are jeans and a shirt. Not a silk, pink robe and yes I'm wearing underwear."

Thor smirked. "Ah, the Boopsicle story."

"That's nice. I'll bet he told you the pink fishnets story too."

Loki pursed his lips and Thor stopped smirking. "No. No he didn't."

Stark tried a witty save. "Pepper looked great in them. Sucks to be you for missing it."

"You let my brother see your lady in fishnets? I'd never let another guy see Jane in lingerie."

Thor was being so daft, Loki laughed harder and Tony frowned at him. "Asshole."

They exited and as Virginia approached with Brianna, amusement never left Loki so quickly. Thor had said she was young, but this child craning her head to look up at him barely reached the height of his hip. From everything learned of her, he'd imagined one sturdier, yet she resembled a miniature ballerina. So delicate and beautiful, how was she the daughter of a Frost Giant? Yet the evidence couldn't be denied. He was staring into a mirrored image of himself in female form. Her body structure, ivory skin and elegant features. The striking eyes, thick lashes and hair so black, hints of blue danced upon it like the feathers of a Ravens in daylight.

'"Hello. I'm Loki."

She offered a tiny hand to shake which vanished amidst his as her voice invoked a strange sense of familiarity. "Hi. I'm Brianna."

'Og Min Lille.' He quietly whispered. Then as overwhelming guilt struck from not knowing of her existence, she made him chuckle.

"Mythology states you're the God of Mischief, right?"

"Correct."

Her smile was enchantingly impish. A perfect replica of his own. "Then I believe we'll get along splendidly." She addressed the others. "Kindly excuse us. I wish to speak with Loki alone. Right this way." Brianna closed her bedroom door gesturing to a chair, then sent a blast of light from her hand towards the ceiling.

He watched it spread in a clear ripple down every wall and politely asked. "What did you do?"

"Created a special sound shield. We'll hear them, but they can't hear us. Unless I allow it." That and bypassing Jarvis, was how she'd snuck back to the sixtieth floor the previous night to retrieve a backpack hidden there.

Loki concealed astonishment as he hadn't mastered that trick until his early teens. "Very impressive."

"Thanks and for coming."

"A worthy venture to meet a fellow magician."

Brianna sat on the bed and gave him the strangest look. A combination of curiosity, bewilderment and resentment were he to guess. "I did tell Thor my questions regarded sorcery, but those can wait. First, tell me everything about your ancestry."

She couldn't have asked an odder question based on his secret foresight. "Why do you wish to know?"

"Because you're the only person who can explain exactly what I am, 'Dad'. Now start talking or Jarvis bites it."

#loki #other #submission #Submitted fic #chapter 3 #the slutty webs we weave #lokilover9

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sleepdepwritings · 4 years ago

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Presented for archival purposes only, the first part of a story I wrote many years ago and will not be continuing no way it’s very bad.

A Save the Spiders Gig

by Cody L Ralston

Chapter 1

The vampires stormed the stage while we were in the middle of "Walking is Still Honest," which was not fucking cool.

First of all, it's my favorite song by my favorite band. You don't go with the stage name "Against Steve" unless you love Laura Jane Grace. Second, Ted steps back and lets me sing lead on that song, and I fucking shred at it. I shriek that motherfucker, alright?

And third, y'know. Vampires.

The gig was a bonfire/kegger/minor riot some local kids had arranged in the badlands outside of town. We were set up on a platform we'd jerry-rigged from some old wooden pallets and milk crates, wailing sloppily at two or three dozen drunken, pill-popping, weed-smoking punk kids and a handful of older crusties who thought we were "true punk" because we sucked. Everyone in that crowd was screaming, slamming, arguing, fighting, and a few on the outskirts of the firelight may have been screwing right there in the dust.

In all the chaos, it was easy to miss things that would otherwise have set off warning signals. Like flying bottles. Or jagged-toothed undead monsters leaping for my throat.

The first vampire, a young man with a mop of dark hair, came at me just as I made a flamboyant motion with my bass that ended with the body of the instrument coming up hard into his jaw. I choked on the line I'd been singing and made to apologize before I noticed that two other people had leaped onstage, and that all three of them were baring huge sharp teeth at me and my band. All three had dirty, claw-like nails to match, and their skin and eyes had a pale blue tinge that put me immediately in mind of dead things.

"Shit! Vampires! Shit!" I yelled, right into the microphone. The audience probably thought I'd gotten high and forgot the lyrics, but Kassie, Ted, and Dave dropped the song immediately and made to defend themselves.

"Steve! Catch!" Dave yelled, throwing one of his drumsticks toward me. I dived for it, but one of the vamps tackled me, cracking the pallets as our combined weights slammed down on them. I clawed and scrambled for the drumstick, but the vampire had me pinned by the legs and lunged for my neck at the same time.

There was a solid "THONK" and a whine of feedback. The vampire rolled off of me, hissing at Kassie, who had just clubbed him over the head with her guitar without bothering to unplug it from the amp. Holding it by the neck like a golf club, she hammered another blow into the vampire's temple while I got my feet under me and grabbed at the stick.

Wheeling around with the stick clutched in both hands, I brought all my weight down on the dazed vampire, driving the length of wood right into the center of his chest. The stick splintered and broke when it hit his sternum, but one splinter must have made it through the rotted bone to his heart. He shrieked with pain and rage, convulsing, tearing at the ground with his clawed hands and tossing his head back. I fell back, Then, suddenly, his cries died off, his body went slack, and his flesh began to slough off, dissolving into a putrid, green-black goo that bubbled and stank.

Kassie reached out one heavily-tattooed hand to me and helped me up off my knees. I winced- her grip had driven some of the splinters deeper into my hand.

A few yards away, Ted was holding one of the other vampires off with a mic stand. He had butted the foot of the stand into the hollow of the bald, emaciated creature's throat, and was pushing with all his might to keep the frenzied thing at arm's length. The vampire howled and lunged, forcing him back.

"Guys, I need help!" Ted screamed, panic rising in his voice. "He's really dumb but he's really strong!"

I looked around for the nearest weapon and found nothing but the splinters of the pallet at my feet. Cursing through clenched teeth, I grabbed an arm-length piece of splintered board and lunged at the vampire's back, leading with the sharp(ish) tip.

Said tip sank several inches into the creature, right between his shoulderblades. Unfortunately, while the board stopped at several inches, I didn't. My momentum carried me forward into the now dying vampire, who in turn slammed forward into Ted. We all hit the ground with a muffled "Shit!"

For a terrfying instant the wailing, snapping, clawing thing was trapped between us. Then, finally, it stilled, melting into corpse-goo all over my fucking shirt. Ted's shirt too, I guess.

Breathing hard, we got up, shaking and covered in rotten sludge. Ted sputtered and wiped some of the stinking shit out of his beard. Kassie, ever appropriate, was pointing and giggling at us.

"You guys actually made vampire-slaying look pathetic!" She snorted. I glared and looked to the back of the stage.

"Where's Dave?!" I yelled. Our drummer and the third vampire had disappeared from sight, which was a hell of a trick considering dave is six foot two without his massive green warhawk.

"Oh, right here." Called a voice from my left. I whirled around to see Dave step into the firelight nearly twenty yards away from the rest of us. How the hell did he get over there so fast?

"One of the fuckers tried to run. Don't worry, I got him." Dave hopped up onto the stage, and I noticed he was gripping a ride cymbal in his left hand. He took his place behind his kit and replaced the cymbal. One edge was bent sharply and stained black. Dave looked to me, smiling beatifically.

"Shall we?" He asked casually.

I turned back to the partygoers spread out in front of us. All of them had stopped to stare at the fight. A few were gaping dully, some were murmuring questions to each other,and a few near the front looked like they were about to start screaming. For my part, I stared back at them, wide-eyed and soaked in what I was pretty sure was someone's liquified intestines.

Ted, natural showman, was the one who finally acted.

"Guess our friends jumped their cue a bit, huh?" He laughed into the nearest mic. "Hope you enjoyed out little skit there. He's some Misfits covers for you. ONETWOTHREEFOUR!"

***

We fumbled our way through "Astro Zombies" and "Last Carress," then ran for Ted's van, parked with the cluster of other vehicles beyond the fire. We huddled around the far side to discuss what had just happened.

"What the fuck Dave?!" I hissed. Dave drew back, looking indignant.

"What? What did I do? Some vampires just attacked us, why would you blame me?"

"What the FUCK, Dave?" Kassie and Ted spoke simultaneously.

"Dave" is not Dave's real name. We all took stage names when we formed our band, Save the Spiders. Theodore "Ted Kennedy" Paige is four lead singer, Kassandra "Kassie Kriminal" Jones our guitarist, Steven "Against Steve!" McCool (me, nice to meet you) our bassist, and Dave G. Abortion is our drummer.

I don't know Dave's real name. I don't know if he has a real name. What I do know about Dave is this- he is tall, tan, has dark eyes and typically Navajo features, and the night I met him I saw him transform into a ten-foot-tall insectoid monster and bite off a man's arm. The man survived. Don't worry though, because after a lot of explaining and screaming and vomiting, I helped Dave hunt him down and finish him off before he could eat a couple of toddlers.

Oh, and he's a decent drummer. Kind of a showboat though.

Since that night, we had all had further encounters with monsters and magic, and almost all had been attracted by Dave and his mysterious powers.

So we stood there, scowling, daring him to keep denying that this was somehow his stupid fault. Eventually, he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Look, there are LOTS of vampires who don't like me. It'd be hard to narrow it down to one group and one reason."

"What, didn't you recognize any of them? You got real up close with the one guy." Kassie said. Dave shrugged.

"They were all fairly fresh. Probably servants to whoever had the real grudge. I expect there'll be more coming."

Ted groaned.

"Why are we always in the crossfire with you? Why can't they kill you in your sleep and leave us out of this?"

"Why, because you're my best friends and stalwart companions, and killing you would hurt me more than any wound, of course!" Dave grinned and tossed an arm around Ted's shoulders. Ted jerked away from him.

I shucked my ruined shirt and tossed it onto the rocky ground. I ran my hands through my shaggy blonde hair, trying to think up a plan of action.

"Okay, so. Dave, you need to ask around and figure out who's in town that might want you dead-"

"Long. List. Dude."

"What the fuck ever! Go through it! And we need to set up some kind of defense system at the house. I don't want to be eaten on a futon, I'll disappoint my parents." I glanced in the direction of the party, which had gotten back into swing. "And we can't take any gigs until we've got this sorted out. We don't want to get normals involved in this shit."

"Good thinking, by the way, Ted." Kassie interjected. "Passing the vamp attack off as part of the show. Think they bought it?"

"Yeah, yeah. Everyone there was off their skull on booze and speed. Half of them won't remember it happened at all, and I'm sure no one is going to leave here convinced they saw real vampires."

"I know I saw real vampires."

The voice came from behind us, between the cars. Everyone jumped and raised their hands in vague, ineffectual defensive motions.

A young man, probably around nineteen, stepped forward hesitantly. He was black, on the short side, with a swimmer's build and close-cropped hair. He wore a faded denim jacket, blue jeans, and a Ramones t-shirt, all rumpled and a bit ratty. His eyes were cast down shyly. While I should have been concentrating on what he was saying, I couldn't help thinking to myself that he also had a really cute face.

"Those were real vampires." He said, louder this time.

"Kid, you do NOT want to go around saying that." Kassie said, quirking a pierced eyebrow. "Normals will want to lock you up and vampires- if they existed, which they don't, nuh-uh, no way- would want to kill you. If they existed. Which-"

"I KNOW they exist." The kid looked up to meet our eyes, indignant now. "I know they exist because I've seen them before. They took some of my friends. I think they ATE them. And I came here tonight because someone told me you guys have handled creepy stuff like this before. I came here for your help." His eyes flicked down again, and his lower lip (his really quite full and soft-looking lower lip, I noted, like a fucking idiot) quivered. "They're after me, too. They know I know."

The band exchanged looks. If this guy had contact with the vampires, he probably knew who they were and maybe where they were holed up. And if they were after him, we had a duty as non-assholes to help him.

And, well... For all Ted's bitching, we all knew we were nursing a big stupid hero complex.

I held my hand out to him.

"My name is Steve McCool. And we're going to help you however we can, alright?"

He looked at me with relief in his shining eyes. He shook my hand, his own clammy and sweating.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I'm Jamie, Jamie DeVries."

"Well Jamie, this is Kassie, Ted, and Dave. Hop in the van. We're going to pack up and then we can take you to our place and you can give us some details on these bastards." I turned to the others.

"Alright guys, let's haul ass and get back to the squat."

#Fiction #Fantasy #Bad #Stupid stupid stupid

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beerecordings · 5 years ago

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A Shadow Overcast

Part 19 of My Brother’s Keeper (Part 1 l Previous l Next)

This chapter is dedicated to a dear fren. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. hap birth my dear <333

ALSO @starlightxnightmare I have been waiting for MONTHS to tell you this but you noticed this discrepancy like FIVE CHAPTERS AGO OR SOMETHING LOL i saw your tags and i was like DAMN I’M TRANSPARENT. you asked the exact question that Chase asks in this chapter. love you you genius. enjoy.

My taglist is a separate post. You can ask to be added or removed. I am trying to make sure if it is up to date so seriously please tell me if you want to be taken off! and actually if you wouldn’t mind I would love to hear that you still want to be on the list if you are right now. I don’t know that everyone is still reading anymore and I don’t want to be bugging you!

Anyway. Chapter.

Marvin’s house is full of nightmares, and the magician himself is not there to enchant his brothers to safer sleep. Together, the four of them are shadowed and haunted, fighting and falling, losing grips to cling to with every day that passes.

Jameson Jackson has always dreamed vividly.

He is not the only one.

Blood and the silver gleam of a knife become chemicals at the nape of the brain stem, and Henrik dreams.

He's been taken out of his little prison cell. His handcuffs were removed, the blood was wiped from his cheeks, and careful hands made swaddling of white bandages around his torn flesh and tired ribs. The bone of his left wrist protrudes from his skin, broken in a single motion by Anti's hands not two days before, but it, like everything else in the world, has ceased to hurt him.

Warm is the darkness, gone the cold light.

“Isn't this easier?” asks Anti, not angry, or cold, or even condescending. His voice has the same tone as the night sky, when the stars have escaped from the light and stand singing in the shadow of infinity. “Don't you want to stay with me?”

Henrik is entranced.

Henrik is lost, is found, is lying, exhausted, on Anti's chest, his bruised eyes closed and his mouth, blue as heliotrope, still and silent. He manages a slow nod. Tears leave dark wet patches on Anti's soft black shirt. The demon strokes his hair.

“Yeah, this is better,” Anti hums, burrowing closer to him under the covers of the bed and letting his chin rest on top of Henrik's head.

The doctor's flayed hands reach out to wrap around him, clutching at his sides, at his back, at his thin sharp spine, at his warmth. He is dazed, exhausted, collapsing, in love; he is consumed and adoring, and yes, Anti is right – this is better, this is easier, so much better, so much easier! The warmth is becoming heat and he is shaking, panting, weeping, ill, and for a second something bright and painful explodes through his awareness and he whimpers, but Anti is here to soothe it away with the same hands that have tortured him, tortured him, tortured him –

He wakes up.

Tears cling to his dark eyelashes. The moon has slid in beneath the blinds of his window, coating his blue blankets in recycled sunlight. There's something very warm wrapped around his waist.

Check that. Someone.

Jameson shivers in his sleep, clinging tight to Henrik's shirt and breathing low and slow against his shoulder. For a second, Henrik is repulsed so strongly that he gags, but his disgust is not directed at his little brother.

So fucking pathetic, his brain tells itself. So fucking pathetic. Still craving Anti?

He'd been in recovery, before Anti took him again. He'd been doing alright. He'd forgotten it was possible to hate himself this much – to hate himself so much it makes his chest burn and his heart stutter and his fingers curl up with a desperation that he can't even express in words.

He's sobbing, sobbing like his heart is broken, but he'll be damned if he wakes up his little brother, his little brother who trusts him and only him, his little brother who comes to him weeping and curls up in his arms like he isn't afraid or disgusted by him, who loves him in the simplest and most pure way, a way he doesn't deserve; no, he won't wake Jameson up. He won't wake Jameson up. He'll get up and have something to calm him down, and then he'll come back to bed before the cold wakes jumpy JJ up.

Inch by inch, wiping furiously at the tears in his eyes, Henrik slips out of his bed and limps to his drawer, pulling out his medicine.

“Two tablets before sleep,” prescribes the bottle helpfully. “Do not take more than six tablets in twenty-four hours.”

Henrik pours two pills into his hand and pops them both in his mouth together, swallowing them dry and pausing to breathe afterwards. He turns, for a moment, to glance at his friend. The moon colors an old cut at the bottom of Jameson's throat white and makes his dark bruises, still stagnant after a week of recovery, seem to glow through the cold night light.

How am I supposed to convince the little one that Anti is dangerous when I can't even convince myself? How am I supposed to keep him with me when Anti has that kind of power to offer and I have nothing? How long will he be here with me before Anti steals us both away again? If only he had never been taken. If only I had never been taken. If only I had never been created. God, God! Do I have to live through this shame again?

Death feels close and tastes like a sleeping tablet.

He takes a third pill.

Crawling back into bed, Jameson shifts and curls, digging his chin into his shoulder, and Henrik, breathing in the sweet coconut smell his little brother has adopted, goes back to sleep.

Marvin's house is the only place in the world he and his family are safe. It is no longer a comforting thought. He is tired.

Henrik von Schneeplestein has long been haunted.

He is not the only one.

“Where are you?” whispers Jackie, clutching at the torn remnants of a red cape. “Where are you? Please come home.”

The wind whips loud around him, striking blows against his flesh and tearing at his hair. He grits his teeth against the cutting air and steps forward, forward, farther along the beam of the crane.

Brighton is beautiful 100 meters in the air.

“Where are you?” he screams. “Where, where, where? Don't tell me you're gone, I can't take it! Please, please, come home!”

His boots slip against the metal of the beam, but he gasps and sways and steadies again, inching closer, closer to the edge.

He can't fly.

His body is so fucking shattered, he's so fucking weak, and his little brother will not be there to catch him, will not douse him in blue light and grab his hand, laughing as they rise together, twins and friends and brothers, hallowed by the moon while Jackie fills up with his own homemade sunshine, a hero, a star –

“Focus!” shouts Marvin, and Jackie lets out a scream as he finds his brother all too suddenly before him, his long hair blown wildly about by the wind. He hovers above him like a specter, glorious and beautiful and angrier than Jackie's ever seen him, teeth gritted. “Focus, Astrifer!”

“On what?” he demands, bewildered and terrified, retreating away from this ghost in the air before him, but Marvin follows without hesitation, setting his feet down on the beam of the crane and reaching out a white hand.

“I love you!” he cries. “But I need you to stop crying out! I need you to watch over them!”

“What are you talking about?” gasps Jackie. The wind drags tears from his eyes. “Where are you, please, tell me you're alive, come home, I can't bear this – ”

“Bear it,” says Marvin.

A dream of Marvin, anyway. Jackie's Marvin was never so cold.

“Bear it, protect them. There is all of time and no time at all.”

His hand points back towards the body of the crane. Panting like his heart will give out, Jackie turns his eyes away from Marvin and back towards the darkness.

“S-Seán?” he stammers, catching sight of a silhouette in the darkness.

And there, holding his creator over the edge of a crane tall enough to build skyscrapers, sits Jameson Jackson, staring back at him, one eye blue and one eyes black.

“Enemy or brother?” cries Marvin, over the howling of the wind, terrible and oppressive and endless, a constant, constant, constant enemy cutting close on every side.

“I don't know!” shouts Jackie. “I'm scared!”

“Choose,” answers Marvin. “It is Anti who taught you fear and you must be courageous again, or what you have left will not be yours for much longer.”

Jackie screams, falling to his knees, clinging to the beam beneath his feet. Somewhere far away, he thinks he can hear Chase and Henrik crying out in answer, but in the darkness he can catch no glimpse of them.

“Go back to them,” says Marvin, stepping away.

“Wait,” cries Jackie. “Wait, please.”

“Please, stop begging for me.”

“Why can't I go with you?” he howls. “Why won't you come home?”

Marvin calls an answer, but Jackie is no longer listening. He staggers back to his feet and turns away from Seán and Jameson, moving towards the end of the beam again, trembling and elated, terrified and desperate.

“I want to go with you,” he shouts, and he sees Marvin's mouth move in the shape of his name, and then he has reached the end of the crane and his foot reaches out over nothingness and still he is stepping towards him.

The fire alarm erupts into shrieking and Jackie comes awake screaming and covered in tears, shaking with fever and bleeding from the mouth. Falling, he had bitten his tongue hard enough for the blood to come.

He scrambles out of bed, covering his ears against the crying of the fire alarm, and groans as his chest and back light up with fire. Pausing, he tumbles against the bulletin boards on his wall, strings and pushpins holding together theories and clues, only to find himself staring at his missing persons board, not yet up to date, where Marvin and Jameson's screenshot faces smile back at him from the days when they were both healthy and whole and his.

And he is just the coward who could not save them, coated in a hundred scars and deserving of every one of them, crying so hard he cannot breathe, while his brothers are fighting fire in the next room over.

“You're drunk.”

“Shhh,” pleads Chase, as if Jameson's signing were a shout. “Shhh, I'm not, I'm not, don't say that – ”

“I can tell from the way you move.” Jameson ducks away from his soothing hands, vaguely irritated. “And you would never burn the sausage sober.”

The fire alarm has shut up, but only because they took the batteries out. The whole room is full of smoke. The sausage is very burned. Chase is drunk.

“Cut me some slack, Jamie, I've been having bad dreams and I just needed a break from them. Lately I feel like – ”

“Are you drunk?”

Chase startles to see Henrik appeared halfway down the staircase, glaring across the room.

“N-no,” he answers, grinning flimsily. “Just, uh. Fucked up the sausage. Sorry for setting off the alarm.”

“Jamie,” says Henrik, frowning at him. “Is he drunk?”

Jameson glances between the two of them, considering. Survival is a game and even small decisions like this should be carefully weighed out.

He doesn't want to stress Schneep out, he decides. It's upsetting for the whole house, himself included.

“Don't think so,” he tells Henrik, relaxing against the kitchen counter and grinning. “Just a klutz.”

Henrik stares down at them for a long moment.

“I'm going back to bed,” he grumbles, retreating back up the stairs.

“Thanks, Jay,” sighs Chase, only feeling a little guilty. Better than getting caught, right?

“Why do you get drunk?”

“Shit, I don't know, cause I'm a fucking moron?” He sighs deep and rubs at his face, opening the door to air out some of the smoke he's created. “It helps me sleep, I guess. Been having bad dreams. And I just – I don't know, kind of anxious lately. You and Schneep are back but... no one else.”

Jameson blinks. Maybe he's just talking about Jack being asleep, but some part of him understands that that's not who he means.

A sixth brother.

Anti only ever spoke about him when he was in what Jameson considered a gentle mood. While the mask might be discussed over a good beating or a pool of blood, the cat was a bedtime horror story, a being whispered of when Anti's arms were around his stomach, his warnings more genuine than his affection.

“Why do they call him a magician?” asked Jameson once, his mouth trembling. “What can he do?”

“Everything,” Anti answered in a whisper. “I don't know the full extent of it.”

“I don't know” was no common phrase in their house.

“I don't know enough to be sure. And so you must assume, my little heart, that the answer is 'everything.'”

Anti leaned in close and kissed his cheek, and when he drew away, there was no one in the world who would have said the softness in his gaze was false.

“Be careful,” murmured Anti, touching his cheek. “If he ever finds a way past me, he will kill you, Dapper. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Anti.”

He buried his face in his brother's shoulder, stroking the hair at the back of his neck, trying to offer comfort.

“I understand.”

“Good boy.”

“C-H?” he asks now, turning up his gaze, still not sure what to name his brother. “I want to ask you something.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Where's the cat?”

Down the hall, there is an empty room that still smells of incense and flowers.

“Oh!” Chase grins, turning to him with bright eyes. “You saw him wandering around, huh?”

So he is here! Jameson has been wondering all week where he lives, why he isn't with the others, what happened to him. He sits up straight in his seat, calculating quickly about the danger he might be in. Chase wouldn't let him get hurt, right? Anti warned him about Jackie, too, but Chase and Henrik have kept him safe so far.

“You want to meet him?”

“Is he... friendly?”

“Yeah, super friendly! That one is, anyway. Come on, let's go try to find him.”

“What – outside?”

“Yeah, he spends most of his time outside.”

Jameson's eyes widen. “You'll come outside with me?”

Chase laughs. “I swear you're like a dog when it comes to going on walks. You're a wild man, Jays. Yeah, let's go outside! Fresh air'll probably do my dumb ass some good.”

Jameson's face splits in a wide grin. For a second, he is little different from the man in the video last Halloween, bright and delighted, energetic and expressive, and it makes Chase laugh aloud, instantly cheered. Bolstered by his delight, Jameson jumps down from the kitchen stool and darts to the back door, yanking it open, finding it unlocked, and leaping into the snow.

“Dude!” Chase protests, but he's only laughing harder. “Shoes, you complete pantaloon! Shit, and a coat – can you wait two goddamn seconds?”

Jameson grins and steps down from a wood porch as Chase runs off to get him something to wear. Beneath the slushy spring-touched snow he can feel soft dead grass, and the air cuts like something cleaner and more beautiful than even the blade of a fresh knife across his skin and through his downy hair. Breathing in deep, he propels himself forward and leaps, cartwheeling across the white landscape, picking up snow and tossing it in the air, freed as Anti used to free him.

Days when he was allowed outside were his favorite days. They lived far from civilization – the closest highway was some miles away, not that he knew which direction – and what had once been farmland had become mires of old wheat fields and copses of heavy peaceful trees. The cold rarely stopped him, but then again there were days where he had feared it, like the day the door to the house had accidentally locked and he was stuck outside for hours, weeping as he froze, knocking and pounding for Anti to come save him, his fingers turning white, and then red, and then purple...

He still loved going outside, though. He just never thought anybody would want to come with him. He's not really worth spending time around.

“Here you go,” Chase says, coming up beside him and taking his hands in his own, shoving a pair of soft mittens over his fingers. Jameson blinks up at him, warmed.

“And the coat,” Chase adds, helping him stick his arms into it. Jameson pulls it tight around him and drags the fabric up to his nose, shivering and sighing contentedly into the warmth.

“Here, put my boots on too. We'll have to get you some clothes of your own soon! Maybe next week we can go, if Schneep's feeling safe about it.”

“New clothes for me?”

“Yeah, of course. And anything else you need. I think we could start making that spare room your room, you know? We'll get some decorations or books or something.”

Jameson stares up at him, tugging the second boot onto his foot.

“Everything okay?” asks Chase, frowning. He's wrapped up in a coat and a beanie, wet snow soaking into his sneakers.

Jameson swallows hard, a tsunami of guilt and shame, love and gratitude, uncertainty and caution welling up in his throat.

He wants to keep you, says something in the back of his head. He doesn't plan to throw you out at all. And you're just planning to leave.

Well, answers a darker, angrier part of him, the part of him that wants to tell Chase to fuck off and to run away into the forest and finds his way back to – to what? What's waiting for him? Anti told me the same, that he meant to keep me. That's why we're here. People lie, Jameson.

Chase slings an arm around him and JJ jumps. “Sorry,” Chase chuckles. “I'll warn you next time. Is this okay?”

Jameson reaches up to touch the hand set on his shoulder, turning his head to look into Chase's eyes. The weight of Chase's arm is the best kind of heaviness. He isn't afraid to touch him at all, and only a week ago Jameson had him at gunpoint, glaring down at him with hatred in his eyes.

He always loved Anti, but he would never have called him “good.” Even in his earliest days, he was cognizant of the reality that there was a great cruelty in his brother, and he saw very little goodness in Anti, in the house, in the world around him.

He thinks Chase is probably what goodness looks like.

“Yes,” he knocks. “It's okay.”

For a second, Chase smiles at him so soft that Jameson thinks he's probably what happiness looks like too.

“Sweet!” he says, squeezing his shoulder. “Let's go find that cat, man!”

Chase shoots Henrik a text to tell him they'll be out for a while and they set off into the forest, Jameson still hugged under his brother's arm. Chase can tell he's enjoying himself from the brightness of his eyes and the energy of his step as he wanders beside him, his gaze following the swift brown birds through the sky and the dripping of water from the the dark branches of the trees.

And Athanasius doesn't make himself hard to find. They've only been walking for about twenty minutes when he appears.

“Meow!” he greets them, sprinting up to Chase's side, pressing his head up against his calves, yowling noisily. He's a loud-mouthed cat and always has been. Chase always loved that. He laughs and scoops the little grey cat into his arms, scratching enthusiastically at his ears.

“Hey there, good boy,” he grins, pushing their foreheads together. “How you living, buddy? Ate the last of my fish yesterday, you know. I'll get you more, don't worry.”

He turns around with the cat in his arms, expecting a smile or maybe some tentative attempts to pet him from his little brother, but Jameson just looks confused.

Bewildered, really.

“Um, you good?” he asks, laughing uncertainly.

Jameson stares at Athanasius. “That's... the cat?”

“Yeah?” frowns Chase, double-checking the sign for cat in his head. “Oh! Maybe you were expecting Queenie, huh? You've seen her around, have you? This is Athanasius. Don't ask me why Marvin named him that. He told me once, but it was something about immortality and magic and names he found funny – anyway, this is the cat.”

Jameson bursts into laughter.

“What?” stammers Chase, taking his turn at complete confusion. “What's so funny? Jameson?”

“Holy shit,” says Jameson. He never takes the time to sign curse words, but this – holy fuck. “Anti used to tell me all these stories about how dangerous he is and what a threat and a monster and then you tell me we're going to meet him and you turn around holding – ”

He doubles in on himself, his chest shaking hard. Chase can't help but join him in laughter, setting Athanasius down. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The cat,” Jameson repeats, as if it's obvious, and very funny to boot. “The cat – what was that name you just said? I didn't know his name, the three of you don't talk about him. The magician.”

Chase stills, staring. Athanasius sits down beside him, his head tilted up at Jameson. In the trees, the birds have fallen into respectful silence.

Like a vigil.

“Marvin?” whispers Chase.

His voice breaks down the middle of the word. Jameson stops laughing.

“Yes,” he says softly. “That name. Are you okay?”

“I,” says Chase.

Marvin. Marvin. Marvin.

“I'm fine,” he whispers.

Anti used to tell him stories.

Used to tell him he was dangerous.

Used to call him a threat.

“Anti warned you about him?”

Chase can taste his heart in his mouth. It is difficult to breathe. A euphoria is beginning in his chest.

“Anti warned you about Marvin?”

Jameson stares at him. Looks down at his hands.

Knocks “yes,” gently.

“Yes, he warned me.”

Chase wonders that the whole forest does not sing. His heart does.

“Alive!” he screams, so loudly even Athanasius goes scrambling away from him, and then he takes off at a sprint back the way they came, towards Jackie and Henrik and the house their brother gave him, their Marvin, the cat, the magician. “Alive, alive, alive!”

He's been wondering so long.

“Jackie!” he cries, bursting into the house through the back door, panting hard. Is he really so out of shape? Fuck it, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but this. He darts down the hallway, showing up in Jackie's open doorway looking like a wild thing, bright-eyed with tears.

He’s been wondering where his big brother is for so, so long.

“What the hell?” demands Jackie weakly, trying to sit up straight in his chair. “Chase, chill.”

He couldn't go back to sleep after the fire alarm. He's just been sitting here, thinking.

Are you really gone? reads a sticky note on one of his bulletin boards, stuck next to a polaroid of Marvin's face, smiling as he holds up a shut-eyed silver kitten, healthy and safe, happy, unharmed...

“Jackie.” Chase draws his attention back. “Jackie, Marvin's alive.”

He feels so many things at once he feels nothing at all.

“Chase,” he whispers, turning away again.

“I mean it! Jameson said so!”

“Jameson – no, he didn't. Or if he did... Look – just – come on, man, don't do this to me, I'm exhausted.”

“He told me Anti warned him about Marvin. That he told him he was dangerous. He wanted to meet him! Look, Jackie, I know how long we've searched. I know how long you tried to find him. And I know it doesn't look good, with all that blood that was on the floor where he was – and his broken mask – and the hand Anti cut off – and I know it's weird that Jameson and Schneep have never seen Marvin in captivity with them, like it seems like Anti would have kept them all together or at least nearby, but – ”

Jackie buries his face in his hands, trying to breathe. He can't handle this right now. He can't handle this ever.

“But Jameson said so and why would he lie?”

“I can think of a lot of reasons, actually,” gripes out Jackie. “Upsetting us, for one. Or Anti told him to. What if he's trying to lead us out of the house? Bet he'll tell you a location next. 'You can find Marvin here!' And then we all get caught by Anti.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Pretty sure I do. Let's not do this now, Chase.”

“Jackie, listen!” Chase moves to his side, gripping the back of his chair and spinning him around so that they stand side by side, but his brother still fails to meet his eyes. “Jameson asked me where he was. He doesn't think Marvin's dead. Don't you think Anti would have told him if he had killed Marv? Why would Anti warn him about him if he was gone? I bet he would be crowing it from the rooftops if he had managed to kill our Marvin. He would have told Jameson.”

“Chase,” says Jackie, just quietly, his nails digging into the end of his arm rests. “Jameson also didn't know that Jack was in a coma. I heard Henrik explaining it to him two days ago.”

“He knew Jack was in hospital. And asleep. I think that counts.”

“Didn't know my name or Marvin's, never once used the word coma – and there's a sign for it, one he knows, I checked – doesn't even know that Anti's had two attempts on Jack's life. Or that I've been fucking crippled since the day Anti beat me. How's that for something Anti should have been crowing from the rooftops?”

Chase pauses and licks his lips, rocking back on his heels. “Okay, fine,” he concedes. “That's weird, but it still doesn't make sense for Anti to not have told... well, yeah, I would think he would have told him that Jack was in a coma and Marvin was dead, but...”

Jackie runs his hands over his face. “Anti didn't tell the little man much, okay? It doesn't mean anything. I'm sorry, I wish it did – trust me, I fucking wish it meant anything. But it just... doesn't.”

There's a lump somewhere low in Chase's throat. “Why are you so determined to say it isn't true? Don't you want Marvin to be alive? You've given up on him.”

Jackie's on his feet so fast Chase nearly tumbles backwards, but his brother grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him close, so Chase can't miss the fury in his eyes. The lights are brighter than they were a moment ago. For a second, Chase stares right back at Jackie, his mouth drawn in a snarl, but then his will breaks and tears spark in his blue eyes.

Jackie softens, regret replacing rage. He lets Chase go and sinks back down, slowly, into his chair. He curls in on himself, his chest aching and his heart beating too fast. He looks old. He looks small. The lights have gone dark again and everything is still.

“Chaser,” Jackie croaks. “Will you please go get Henrik? Anti told me something and I think it's time you both heard.”

“What?”

“Please go get Henrik.”

“Where's Marvin?”

“Go get Henrik. Go get Henrik.”

Chase obeys. Henrik comes. And Jackie, in a voice as small as a star-speck and as shaky as a knife-wound, tells them what Anti said.

Jameson has heard screaming many times – screams of anger, of pain, of fury, of fear. Screams of grief, as he finds out that day, are the most horrible of them all.

#writers of jack #jameson jackson #jackieboyman #chase brody #jse egos #i'd like to apologize for mentioning that it's almost spring and the snow is melting for like the fourth time lol #i guess there's other things to apologize for in this chapter but heh #my brother's keeper #tw hypnosis #tw torture #tw character death #tw grief

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reckoningss · 6 years ago

Text

Mercy Springs - Two

Summary: Mercy Booker holds these truths to be self-evident: that animals are significantly more relatable than people, and that working as a veterinary tech in a sleepy, little town is about as exciting as her life is going to get. When a strange man shows up after hours with an injured dog, she has a decision to make - go on living the quiet life she’s come to know, or open the door to the exhilarating unknown.

Pairing: Pete Castiglione/Frank Castle x OC (Mercy Booker)

Warnings: Allusions to violence, Mild descriptions of blood

Wordcount: 1.5k

A/N:

“I need help.”

Mercy blinked, somewhat surprised that she could hear anything above the blood rushing in her ears and the rain pounding the roof and windows. The man on the other side of the door shuffled to balance the dog in one arm and banged a palm against the glass again. She flinched.

“Please. He needs help.”

He was at least six feet tall and - if Mercy had to guess - lean and muscled beneath the layers of his cold weather clothing. His hair was black, clumps of it mussed and matted from the rain. Blood dappled his face and dripped from a wound over his left eyebrow. He had dark features, she noticed, a strong angular face. One that looks like it can take a beating, she thought. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to overpower her.

Against her own will, Mercy’s eyes flickered down to the dog. Its side rose and fell weakly, breathing labored. Its mouth hung open, pink tongue lolling out, long and dry. Its short, grey fur sported intricate patterns of dried blood but she could see more - fresh blood - dripping down onto the man’s shoes. Her heart twinged. Only a truly sick person would hurt a dog this badly to get at her, but she couldn’t discount the possibility. Either way, she wouldn’t just let an innocent animal suffer.

Not taking her eyes off of them, Mercy crouched down to retrieve the dropped keyring. She carefully fitted several keys between her fingers so they splayed menacingly below her knuckles. Then she unlocked the door. Before he could push his way in, she wedged one sneakered foot against its base only allowing an inch of space between the door and the jam. The man stopped in his tracks, eyeing Mercy impatiently.

“If you try anything,” she spat, “I’ll slit your throat and feed you to the dogs.”

For a second, the man looked kind of appalled. It didn’t last long. He shrugged and shouldered past her into the lobby, dripping blood across the newly mopped floor. “Fair enough.”

“Through there.” Mercy followed the stranger into a dark exam room and flipped the light switch. The fluorescents overhead hummed to vivid life, and Mercy had to take a moment for her eyes to adjust.

The man turned toward her, the dog still cradled in his arms, his eyes wide with alarm, blood and water pattering quietly on the floor.

“Lay him on the table.” He did as she instructed, gently transferring the dog to the pristine exam table. then whirling toward her, palms blood-stained and upturned. “Don’t come any closer!” Mercy brandished her makeshift brass knuckles in warning. “Go over there and wash your hands then go into the second drawer and soak three rags with warm water.”

As he washed up, Mercy crammed the keys back into her pockets and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. She approached the dog and offered a stretch of her forearm for it to sniff weakly before she began looking for wounds.

The stranger slapped a pile of wet rags down onto the edge of the table. Mercy picked one up and started wiping blood from the dog’s fur.

“We need to talk, Mister...”

“Pete.” He bit the name out, refusing to offer more. Mercy took it in stride.

“Ok, Pete, I need to know what happened. Where’s he hurt?”

Pete’s fingers flexed uneasily against the metal of the table. “He was stabbed. Somewhere around the shoulder, I think.”

A feeble growl indicated to Mercy that she’d found it. The dog’s lip curled back from his teeth and he rumbled low. She pointed to a nearby cabinet without looking. “Go into the top drawer and grab an irrigation bottle. It’ll say ‘Saline Wound Solution’.”

He placed it down beside her elbow and she picked it up, fitting a nozzle top onto the lid quickly. Mercy squirted solution into the wound to clear away some of the blood.

“I can’t put him under, Pete, we keep meticulous inventory logs. My boss will notice if we lose that kind of juice.”

Pete shook his head violently. “No. No drugs. He doesn’t need to go under.”

Mercy nodded. “I can give him a little something for the pain. Anything I should know about? Kidney disease, liver disease, low blood sugar?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Reaching over into a rollaway cabinet, Mercy retrieved an amber bottle of liquid and a new syringe. She unsheathed the syringe with her teeth then plunged it into the top of the bottle and extracted several CCs of liquid.

“This is a localized anesthetic. It’ll cause numbness to this area only.”

Pete nodded in understanding and Mercy stabbed the needle into the dog’s shoulder and pushed down the plunger.

“What’s his name?”

“Hm?”

“His name, Pete, what’s he go by?”

“Uhh, Max.”

Mercy turned her attention back to the dog and stroked his damp fur. “Ok, Max, this isn’t going to be super great, but we’re going to get through it.”

Max’s hazel eyes flicked up to her at the sound of his name. His tail thumped the table once. The memory of a smile flickered across Mercy’s face. “Ok.”

Mercy was very proud of her sutures; she always had been. Not that there were many chances for her to practice them in her current position, being a vet tech she didn’t get many opportunities for precision procedures. She almost wished she could take a picture to show to Dr. Leibowitz as she tied off her last stitch and cut the synthetic thread.

She sighed, leaning back against the counter behind her and throwing the remaining thread and needle into the trash. “All done.” If she’d thought she was tired before, she was practically catatonic now.

Pete whistled a low, appreciative note and sauntered over to the table. He ran a large hand over Max’s side. “Look at that, buddy, like brand new.”

Mercy felt a thrill of pride at that. The sutures followed one, clean line through the center of an expertly shaved patch of grey skin. Mercy stripped off her gloves and crossed over to the back of the exam room.

“He’s gonna want to nip at those when he’s feeling better so you’re going to need to keep this on him for a few weeks at least.” Her voice decreased in volume as she stepped into the back hallway and ambled down to the storage room. She selected an appropriately sized cone from a shelf. Returning to the exam room, she pantomimed putting the cone together for Pete who was doing his best to look unimpressed. “And I’ll spot you a few tablets of meloxicam for the pain. But only a few and follow the instructions to a T. Follow me this way.”

Pete trailed her into the front hallway this time and down to the small pharmacy room where Mercy selected the stubby key to the medicine cabinet.

“Look, Dr., you don’t have to do this. He doesn’t need the pills,” Pete muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Mercy ignored the way he scuffed his feet against the linoleum, leaving black rubber streaks behind, and shook four tablets out of a bottle and placed them in a small baggie. She took a small folded instruction pamphlet from the door and slipped it into the back before zipping it up. The bag was promptly (and forcefully) shoved into Pete’s hoodie pocket, an act that seemed to catch him off guard for a moment.

Mercy grinned sheepishly at his incredulous expression. She got that look a lot. “My dog had an accident a few months back, but I never refilled her prescription. I’ll take care of it.”

The two made their way back to the operating room in silence - shuffling sneaker tread and the plastic crinkle of the baggie their only accompaniment. Max was half up on the table when they made it back, strong neck craned to look for his owner. Mercy was relieved to see some excitement back in his eyes. Pete slid the folded cone beneath his arm and then, seemed to have a thought. He dug back into his pocket and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills.

Mercy shook her head before he could separate them. “Forget it. It’s after hours.”

“You su-”

“Yeah. I would’ve helped him anyway.”

Frank nodded. Something in his expression saying, I respect that. Carefully, he scooped Max up from the table. Mercy followed him to the door, her mind whirling all the while. She would have to check the tapes and try to erase any trace of Pete and Max. Maybe she could say the storm interfered with the CCTV. A new scrip would need to be written up to account for the missing pain meds. Frank turned back toward her beneath the little awning over the doorway; the rain hadn’t stopped, but it had softened a bit.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Only after Pete loaded Max and himself into a beat-up box van and rolled out of the parking lot did Mercy lock the door and press her weary back to it. And only then did she realize that the entire clinic would need to be cleaned again. She groaned.

It was going to be a long night.

#Frank Castle #The Punisher #Frank Castle x Reader #THe Punisher x Reader #Frank Castle Angst #Frank Castle Fic #Frank Castle imagine #Frank Castle x OC #MCU #Marvel Fic #Defenders #Punisher Angst #Avengers fic #Defenders fic #My Writing #SFW

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addytheheartbreaker · 6 years ago

Text

Blind Memory

Chapter 4: One step at the time

Joen look at the girl he only just saw right where the guards took her pass his cell door with a single glance to the window. The girl just stayed there frozen with no movement as the rabbit man step one foot at the stairs causing the girl to back away while he reach out for her trying not to scare her.

Joen: h-hey there little girl. Don't be afraid...

He take another step of the stairs. It failed as the girl ran away at the other side of the stage stairs with Joen panic and followed her wanting to say sorry for a sudden wrong approach. And when he went down to the opposite stage stairs, he saw the girl no where to be seen. He looks confused, where is she?

He started searching around the place again by going at the big building behind the stage where it might be the girl went. Going around every classroom at the time to the next then going up to the next floor till he reach the fourth floor of the building. It is a small corridor when he check here, looking on both paths to where she might be choosing the right path first because it is the closes path with only two rooms only. The first room he check there he had found her, sitting at a brown armchair doing nothing but looking away at the open metal bars with the rabbit man outside the corridor. He reach at the bars calling her.

Joen: h-hey, please can you at least tel-

???: WHITE!!!

A scream could be heard right trough his ears, opening his eyes and his eardrums stinging in pain to turn on his direction to meet his younger brother.

Jacob: White! Its time to wake up!

He groan in pain the same groaning pain he had always do every morning. Damnit that dream! Who is this girl in this dream anyway? He knew that girl is the same girl he had meet yesterday but how the fuck did he met her in his dreams that didn't seems like this isn't his dream? The brown rabbit look directly to his older brother whose been staring at the ceiling like he is hallucinating as his oldest brother.

Jacob: uh.... White?

Joen sits up from his bed and rubbing his face before getting off from the bed. The brown rabbit hold his shoulder quickly if he tried to ignore him.

Jacob: White, buddy what's wrong?

Joen: .....

He didn't answered. His mind played the part he last seen the girl at the classroom before his brother woke him up. Halios came in after his quick shower seening his two brothers.

Halios: hey you two, what's going on here?

Jacob: White isn't answering after I woke him.

Helios: really? *look at Joen* hey White? Are you alright?

The Rabbit look up from his two brothers and shake his head trying to ignore the dream he had. He couldn't just ignored his brothers concerning questions with no answers.

Joen: I'm fine guys, its just.... The dream is kinda weird....

Helios gave an eyebrow rise up in curiosity, letting his brother go as he walk out at the open door for a calm shower. Nothing but cold water on his skin to shiver off the sleepy looks on the inmates faces. He wash off his head with water to removed the shampoo and cleaning his sweaty face in just a minute till it reach 7am, same canteen routine as always and same hour of daily treatment. Nothing change about the asylum expect he still remembers the dream, his psychiatrists isn't here today and he is lucky to do what he wants with this day, going at the lobby where he saw his brown rabbit brother bouncing at the television and what it looks like he wanted to destroyed the TV for some reason. Joen was about to calm Jacob down yet it is too late as guards came in and dragged him off the television with the struggling brown rabbit trying to escaped from the guards grasp and the white rabbit watching him with nothing to help him out or else he will also put him to the Box. He had enough of staying at the Box since 4 days ago and he felt guilty for not helping him because he doesn't want to went in to the same hour of isolation torture again, this isn't good....

Joen sigh in disappointment helplessly and sitting at the chair where his his brother first sit at earlier before he saw him. The chair was comfy enough for him to lay down to sleep, of course he ignored the rules about no sleeping and yet the white rabbit is so sleepy he wanted to just take a nap for at least once. He lay on the chair and yawn out loudly as he close his eyes for a nap. While napping, he open his eyes seeing he is now in that same dream again but this time he is inside the classroom where he stops by and reach out at the girl that he is supposed to approach her nicely. He look around the classroom then saw the door is now open just for him to get out of the room he first woke up at, he didn't see the girl inside the room like he last seen her. Welp, time to search around then.

He went out of the corridor watching the trees and the wind dancing calmly and the sky in just pure blue color, oh how he missed seeing the outside skies when he is just free. Looking down at the stage where he could barely seen, the girl was now. there sitting alone at the middle of the stage with paper scattered around her. He smiles watching the girl in what she might doing was kinda like she is drawing at those papers, he teleported down to the school ground behind the stage then slowly walk at the stage stairs with no sound to prevent her from fleeing away again. He doesn't want to scare her off again like last time, but this girl is here in this dream with him. The wind blew one of her papers which she found out it landed at the hands of the rabbit man himself. Joen caught the paper and examine the drawing paper that went onto him, two figures together; one was a tall, doctor like man in a black horse mask and a small female child with a golden four petal mask wearing a purple nurse uniform. While examine, he was impressed by her drawing then turn his head up to the girl with her face looks unsure and scared, he doesn't mean to scare her that quickly and he again tried to approach her slowly and reach out to gave her the paper. With no hesitation from the girl, she crawl slowly then reach out to get her drawing back as he smiles a little not gonna revealed his sharp teeth while silently come very close to her.

Guard: No sleeping at the lobby!

Joen woke up in surprised at the loud echoing scream coming from the guard. He was so close now! He sigh and gets off from the chair then out of the lobby.

*4 days later*

His attempt to approach from her was always failed and so close to get her every single time everyone woke him up to blew up the plan. He now plans to give up from trying to reach the girl and do what he could do with himself instead of chasing after her at the dream when he finally hop down to bed. He did the same "goodnight" to his brothers and swallow his sleeping pills till he is knock out cold. Opening his eyes he is now at the same dream again, he ignored encountering the girl and found himself an open space at the building where the back stage is, the space is big enough to practice dancing instead of a noisy and judgemental inmates at the music room. Maybe this dream will be perfect to do practicing even though he is just dancing around on a dream instead of reality, it might be embarrassing if when he woke up hitting at the floor knowing he is just rolled around his bed like that yet this place is so peaceful just enough to search up on his head to play music on his mind. His favorite song is a boy band pop song that he grew up fondly along with his brothers, he started dancing with his eyes closed, hearing his heart beats at the beat of the song on his head using his old dance moves he had practice a long time ago.

Unaware, the girl secretly watches him dance alone at the open space at the corner, she was amzaed and so onto his fast movements on his feet with a small chuckles quietly not to bother his dancing. He open his eyes, smiling happily of dance then quickly saw her watching him dancing around like a fool out of him which he stops his tracks, the girl flinch seeing him noticing her spying at him as she hides herself from him. The rabbit man look pleased seeing her approaching to him and went to her direction where she hides away from him, he did what he must do and tried to calm her down.

Joen: hey...

The girl look slowly at him but not completely because she is always looking at the ground shyly. He took note that she is very shy and took his hand in front of her but inches away from each other.

Joen: its okey little girl, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just come closer so I could see you, alright?

He waited...

The girl look up to him with her eyes being wrap around by bandages and hesitantly walk toward him. No one is gonna wake him up to blew up the plan that he was so close to succeeded. She hesitates to come any closer to his hands and she shyly raise her left hand and gave him a handshake, her hand when he held her was light, very light from someone who is as shy and gentle as herself. He smiles, he had finally got her attention from him for the first time and while he was handshaking, he notice her left hand has a small crack with red faded tips, he squeezed her hand and turn her wrist of the small crack just for him to examine the small broken left wrist, the skin was porcelain like some sort of object or a toy he could describe it when holding a toy since he was just a bunny.

Joen: where did you get this from?

He asked her, she didn't look scared of him but the look on her face was nothing.... But a blank look. Not a single emotion on her lips or anything, it is hard to look at when her eyes are still covered up by the bandages. Yet he doesn't want to rush things up to her, he will take this slowly to getting to know her. However, he didn't notice he heard her voice speaking to him back.

Young Addy: I-it wasn't really a sick rash, i-it is just a birthmark. I-i got this from my dad.

This is the first time he could hear her voice or is it just his dream was. Her voice was soft and shy like she never talk to people often, fitting for her personality (almost). He tilted his head and let go of her hand.

Joen: ah, I see then. A birthmark huh? I thought it was an infection or something.

Addy: i-i guess so.... Y-your the guy who I saw you before, r-right?

The rabbit man remembered the time he saw her passing his cell, so it is her.

Joen: so your the new patient of the asylum?

The mysterious girl nodded shyly. She walk at the opposite direction to return to the stage but turn back asking to followed her behind which he had gladly followed her. At the stage where her papers are now piled up clean with a rock to prevent it from scattering away from the wind, a pencilcase beside the paper, two armchairs just for him and herself and a small, silver tuning fork at the arm table. While he glance at the girl who is now sitting at the chair, holding the tuning fork and do a hard smack at the fork to vibrate till she put it closely to her ears to listen the vibrating sound, he sat at the other chair to asked her.

Joen: um... Little girl? I was wondering why you are here? This is a dream right? I don't think this is actually mine though.

The girl look at him.

Addy: a-actually, this is my dream mister.

Joen: what? Your dream?

Addy: Mhmm, y-you are in my school w-where I was studied with many good yet a-a lots of horrible things in here.

Joen: then why am I here?

Addy: I-i don't know? I-i don't know w-why you are here at my dream. M-maybe you might have some c-connection between of us then?

Joen: I don't think so. I only saw you passing by my cell door with those guards around you.

Addy: ..... T-those guards... Caught me....

Joen twitch a little while listening to her.

Joen: caught?

Addy: I-i didn't even know what to do? T-those people just.... M-messed me up.

Joen: what happen?

Addy: I... I-i don't wanna talk about it.

Joen: *his thoughts* I think she explains to me how she caught up and put her in the asylum.

Joen: anyway, I haven't even get your name yet. Do you?

Addy: *shake her head no*

Joen: alright then, I am the White Rabbit, but just call me Rabbit only alright? Now what's your name?

Addy: .... Uhh....

She went silent.... He twitch curiously at her and waited at her responds as she spoke.

Addy: I can't tell you my name because I'm a part of a groups rule actually... But I like being called an angel or a demon. Or maybe both! I'm a doll girl you see.

An angel or a demon? Or both? Then she must be a hybrid then? He note that out the last part. A doll girl.

Joen: then I should call you Doll then. You look pretty as a doll.

She smiles and nodded at him and agreed to call her Doll. Unfortunately she did have a name, the young Addy is not allowed to tell him her name is because she is still following the rule about not let anyone know her identity unless the person is very close and well kept a secret of the mysterious group. She just only met him when he appeared at her dream, her master once told her if that person came to her will be someone will one day remembered even she is just a very young teen. Addy grab her papers and pencilcase to continue drawing, with Joen watching her, she didn't mind him watching how she draw and she sometimes hide the faces with her hand and pencilcase it because it is not finish yet or she is just too shy to show it. Joen watch her draw 2 figures; one figures was a short male teen with light blond short hair with light blue tips at the left frony, his mask was a heart shape while the other was a male teen abit taller then the other, light blond spiky hair with red tips at the right front like the other male and a cool visor glasses and a wide smile. It looks childish yet wonderful, she might be an artist he thought.

He woke up in surprised. He sit up and look to see 2 of his brothers waking up. The black rabbit saw him first and said.

Leon: *yawn* morning White.

Joen: m-morning Black....

Jason: *groan then look at him* you wake up so early. Why did you wake up so early when you complaining so much about it?

Joen didn't even know how did he not complaining about the morning routine that everyday one of his brothers will shout at his ears to bleed out and lazily go to the bathroom to start the day. The white rabbit scratch his head and nudge a little as a sign that he doesn't know why before getting off of the bathroom where the metal door is now open. The two rabbit brothers look at each other calculating of what happen till the brown rabbit woke up.

After taking a bath and eating breakfast with his brothers, he still remembers that same dream of the Doll with him and talking to him. Finally! Getting his first impression of knowing her name but not the actual name yet he could do it slowly and surely by getting to know her and talk to her as much as he could because this is very new to him. However, this will be the first time in the past 9 years that he had finally found someone to talk with when he was bored and a playmate where he could play with her at the dream freely.

He can't wait to meet her again.

To be continued.....

#blind memory story #blind memory #the mask au #mask au #masked au #the masked singer human au

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prophetandprincess · 6 years ago

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X X X X X X X

Thank you to everyone who has read any of my work this year. May 2019 be bright and full of happiness for you all!

Blood splattered onto Alex's face as she attempted to get air into her lungs, something heavy pressing down on her chest so that her ribs creaked from the strain. The cold pavement at her back was just as unyielding as the metal hand that was crushing her windpipe. James's blue eyes were dead, emotionless, as her hand came up and swung at his face, trying to snap him out of it, trying to make him bleed more, trying to stay alive. It was useless, he was far too strong, but it was human nature to struggle against death. Black dots started to cloud her vision and her limbs grew heavy.

Then the weight was gone from her chest and Alex took in a deep breath, which quickly turned into a series of coughs. As the dots cleared from her vision, Alex rolled onto her side to see Steve and James going head to head in some grimy back alley. The same alley where Markus had attacked her the year before. The two super soldiers were matching each other blow for powerful blow, neither showing any sign of hesitation as blood flew from their lips and fists. . Alex attempted to get her breath back, but the panic and crushed windpipe made it impossible. There was not enough air for her to to even scream at them to stop. Her muscles wouldn't listen to her brain's commands, making it impossible to get her legs underneath her. She needed to get one of the men to see reason, to stop this, but Steve and James kept splattering each other's blood on the brick walls and asphalt with a fierceness that scared her.

Steve. Steve would see reason if she snapped him out of this. He would figure out what to do. If only her damn lungs would work to call out to him. It seemed like years before she shailky got to her feet, the wall cold and slimy underneath her hand. She just needed to get to them before it was too late.

The sound of metal on metal brought Alex's attention back to the men as James wrenched the shield out of Steve's grasp. It was deftly tossed to his other hand as the metal hand lashed out again, punching right through Steve's chest. The blood stained the shining silver as James literally ripped out Steve's heart in front of Alex's eyes. "No!" Alex screamed as she sat straight up in her bed, panting, sweating, and shaking.

Alex's heart was pounding so hard that her sternum hurt and panic was clawing at her chest. She closed her eyes for a second, but then she saw Steve dying again. His blue eyes wide as his blood leaked out of a giant hole in his chest. Her eyes flew open and she scrambled for her phone, needing to call Steve and hear his voice. Something to tell her brain that he was actually okay.

The white numbers saying that it was four-thirty in the morning stopped Alex from making the call. Instead, she attempted to work through the grounding techniques that Sam had taught her. It took longer than it should have to get her heart rate under control. It felt as if she had run a marathon.

Five and a half hours of sleep were more than she had gotten recently, so Alex got out of bed. She threw the window open and sat on the window sill, the cool wind drying the sweat from her skin, and looked at the screen on her phone. The walls were very thick in this old building so she hoped that no one else was woken up by her dream. Honestly, the fact that she hadn't been slapped with a noise complaint was a bit of a miracle. Maybe everyone else in the building was taking sleeping pills. Perhaps she should join them in drugged out oblivion. If Alex called Sam, he'd be there within half an hour, if he was in the country. Yet, she didn't want to keep waking him up to babysit her. He had his own life. Instead, she closed the window, got dressed, and went running.

Alex let her mind go blank and just focused on the feeling of her feet on the pavement. It was almost an hour later when she realized that she had been sprinting, chest heaving painfully and sweating like a pig. By the time she stumbled back into the building, everything ached, and she didn't feel any better. A shower and breakfast helped a little, but as soon as it was normal human time, she texted Steve. He answered back almost immediately, but it didn't help the feeling in her chest. The rest of the week was a bit of a blur. Peter was friendly, but not overly forward or flirty, she started to learn her way around the computers at Stark Tower, and Russian continued to give her a pounding headache and anxiety. Monica kept Alex busy during the weekend, mostly because she could tell that there was something bothering Alex. That lead to them going to an ice cream social, three study sessions, and a sorority recruitment event. The vivid nightmares continued and Alex barely kept it together.

By the time her Friday Biochemistry class rolled around, her eyelids were permanently droopy. The last bits of summer had reared its head and it had become unbearably hot and it was so humid that even the flies weren't flying through the heavy air. Luckily, the science building was air conditioned so Alex could stay somewhat awake.

Professor Warren had become a little less hostile to her in the past week, even praising a few of her insights. However, he still took every opportunity to unjustly criticize Peter. Today he had asked Peter a complex question about RNA sequencing, which had not been covered yet. Alex tried to help him, but that just got a glare from the Processor before he verbally annihilated Peter.

"Miss Harper, if I could have a word with you," Professor Warren said at the end of class. The entire class turned to look at her. Alex ran through all the things that she could have done, but other than being told that she had already failed the class due to not staying awake, she couldn't come up with anything. It wasn't that Alex hadn't been in trouble before, but rarely did she have a problem in the academic setting. When she did, she knew exactly what she'd done.

The professor was writing something in a small journal when Alex made her way into the hall. He didn't look up right away. She danced from one foot to another, waiting for him to finish up and tell her what was going on. It gave her some time to study him up close. Professor Warren wasn't that much taller than she was, only a couple inches, with brown hair that was just starting to go grey. It was a little all over the place, but it seemed to fit with his standard professor outfit of a dress shirt, black suit pants, and loafers. There were some wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead, but she didn't look all that old. He might even be considered attractive in a silver fox type of way, if he hadn't been such an ass.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Alex said, worried that lab was going to start as she stood there, not wanting to get behind in another class.

"Miss Harper, yes. I was hoping that you would have come to office hours last week, especially considering who you have as a lab partner." The professor clicked his pen and slid it into his bag before looking up. "Have you gone online to look at your grade from the first assignment?"

"No, since they hadn't been returned in class, I figured that you were still grading them." Alex was completely confused. "Was there a problem with it or did we have an appointment that I've forgotten, Professor Warren?"

"While you did well in the technical aspect of the assignment, I did have to take off points. Nothing that is too horrible, but it is not a good trend to start for the first assignment of the year." Professor Warren pushed up his glasses as he studied her. "It's a pity, really, since you're obviously bright. That conversation we were having about biochemistry in relation to mental processes and genetic mutations proved that, though beyond the scope of this lecture. When I suggested we carry on that conversation, I assumed you would come by my office."

"Am...am I in trouble?" He really wasn't making any sense. She remembered the conversation he was referring to and in the moment he had sounded more like a rebuke and not an invitation to explore the topic further. The fact that her anxiety had hit critical levels when he mentioned her grade was not helping her follow the conversation.

"Trouble," Professor Warren's green eyes reminding her of a traffic light, bright and wide. "Miss Harper, why in the name of… why would you be in trouble?"

"Well…I…I'm not exactly sure. It's just, you pulled me out of lab and made it seem as if I was in trouble, maybe?" The normal edge was gone from Professor Warren's voice, which was throwing her off even more.

"I pulled you out of class to offer you an opportunity, not a reprimand." Professor Warren's lips tilted up slightly in what could have been considered a hint of a smile. "It's a special project that I'm working on, but it's massive in scope. I can't do it all alone. I think you'd be the perfect assistant, if you can stay awake, that is. I would provide extra credit to help with your grade, your name will appear in the published research, and you'll be compensated for travel."

"Travel? Professor, I'm sorry, but I feel like I came in during the middle of this conversation. What are you talking about?" Alex had this slick, cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know why, but something was setting off warning bells somewhere in her brain. It was more than the fact that she was barely keeping her life together without attempting to throw something else into the mix. Right now everything was a wobbly Jenga tower and it wouldn't take much for it all to come tumbling down.

"I don't have time to explain now, you are missing class after all." Professor Warren looked at his watch and huffed. "Come to my office hours and I'll give you more details. Have a good day, Miss Harper."

"What the hell just happened?" Alex asked the empty hallway before turning around and heading back into lab. Peter gave her a questioning look, but she just shrugged and focused on the lesson. It was hard to explain what happens when you had no idea yourself.

"Miss Harper," Jarvis greeted Alex as she got into the elevator and pressed the button to head up to the lab. "Glad to see you made it today. You're running a little late."

"I still have three minutes before I have to clock in, Jarvis. Please, don't try and shame me." Alex wiped sweat from her upper lip. She was drenched with sweat and had to change in the bathroom before interacting with other humans. It was September, wasn't it supposed to cold enough to wear a sweater? What the hell was this?

"You actually have one minute and forty-five seconds, Miss Harper, but I will do my best not to draw your attention to that fact." Jarvis's tone didn't change, but Alex was pretty sure he was being sarcastic. "I was told to inform you that Mr. Rogers wanted to speak with you. He has already been informed that you're in the building."

"I don't have time to see Mr. Rogers, Jarvis. As you pointed out, I'm already late." Alex muttered. Since the nightmare, Alex felt anxious at the thought of seeing Steve, even if he had news about James. If it was bad news, if James was dead, it might be the straw that broke the camel's back. God, she needed everything to stop for a moment.

"Should I tell him that you're busy?" Jarvis asked.

"No, just…let me get changed in the bathroom first? Also, tell Dr. Banner that I'm going to be late and send my apologies." Alex should have known that he wasn't going to stay away for long after she told him about the nightmare. She might as well get this over with...after she changed.

The bathroom tiles were deliciously cool against her bare feet as she stripped in one of the bathroom stalls. Normally, she would never be barefoot in a public restroom, but Stark Tower was meticulously clean. Alex attempted to tame her hair into something lab appropriate to go along with her black pants, lab shoes, and nice white blouse at the sink, but her hair wasn't cooperating. The brush crackled and snapped as she tugged it through her hair.

The door of the other stall opened and a startlingly attractive red head walked over to the other sink. Alex didn't pay her more attention than that, she didn't have the time.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Tony usually wears a ratty Black Sabbath t-shirt while he works," the other woman said as she washed her hands. "And Bruce, well, he's brilliant, but he misses things right in front of his face, both figuratively and literally. He isn't going to care what your hair looks like."

"Thanks for the tip, but it's more so the rest of the interns don't think I'm a human disaster," Alex's voice had an edge as she threw the brush into her backpack. Normally, she wouldn't have been so short with a woman she had just met, especially one who was dressed as if she worked behind a desk somewhere in the Tower, but she just wasn't in the mood to play nice today.

"I doubt any of them are better off than you are. First couple weeks for the interns are always the hardest." The redhead ignored the sharpness and dried her hands before offering one to Alex. "Natasha Romanoff, pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you. Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm just not been getting a lot of sleep recently and I'm running late."

Alex shook the hand out of reflex, her brain attempting to process what she had just been told. There wasn't a lot known about Natasha Romanoff, but there had been a lot of information about her on the web after the fall of SHIELD. The information about her profession and past missions had been taken down quickly, but it stated that she was an assassin of the highest degree. Alex had just snapped at the Black Widow. And she wondered how she kept getting into trouble.

"It's alright," Natasha said with another half-smile as they both headed out the door. "It's probably odd to get unsolicited advice in the women's room anyway."

"I've actually gotten some of the best life advice that way," Alex laughed.

"Alex," Steve pushed off the wall as she exited the bathroom. He looked better rested than the last time she saw him, but that lead to a number of mixed emotions. If he had found James, he would probably look haggard and sleep deprived, but on the other hand, she wanted him to be healthy and look after himself.

"Oh, you're that Alex?" Natasha asked behind her, which made Steve and Alex both blush a little. "That is very interesting."

"I promise you that it isn't all that interesting." Alex shot a look over at Steve before turning her attention back to Natasha. "We just met where I used to work and became friends."

"Friends?" Natasha's red lips tilted up as she looked over at Steve. "So, you check in on all your friends with such consistency? And wonder how she is doing while you're on missions and she's at home on her family farm? Steve, I didn't know you were such a conscientious friend."

"I'm late for work," Alex said quickly, feeling her cheeks get even hotter. "Steve can this wait until I'm done or is it urgent?"

"No, we can talk later. Why don't we grab some food when you're done?" Steve asked, completely unaware of the fact that it sounded as if he was asking her on a date. Natasha's smile only got wider.

"You know I never have food in my fridge," Alex couldn't win whether she accepted or denied Steve's invitation, so she decided to get a free meal out of her embarrassment. "I'll meet you in the lobby when I'm done."

"So, you know what her fridge looks like?" Natasha asked as Alex walked away. "How very…friendly of you."

"Nat, don't start," Steve said before the lab door cut off anything else he had to say.

Alex sighed inwardly. What happened to her? At one point she had been so smooth, getting everyone and everything she wanted with just a couple bats of her eyelashes and a smile. She had never blushing no matter what was said or whispered in her ear. Now, she was flustered all the time and fumbled over her words. Sleep deprivation was a bitch.

"Glad you could join us, Miss Harper," Dr. Banner said without the hint of sarcasm that Professor Warren had when he said it. "Set your stuff down and we'll get started."

"Sorry about being late. I didn't mean to keep you all waiting." Alex felt the other sixteen intern eyes on her and attempted to ignore it. "It won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it too much, things happen." Dr. Banner smiled before turning to address the whole lab again. "I know that some of you are still working on finishing the programming modules, please have that finished by the end of today. There are also task lists at each work table that you should start working through. Most of them are brushing you up on ideas and theories in a number of fields so that we all have the same vocabulary once we start collaborating. Alright, get to work."

Alex was one of the unlucky few who hadn't finished the programming modules, so she sat down at the computer and attempted to at least get through that. While Alex was a millennial, the most computer skills she had was formatting her MySpace page as a teen. Even with the provided instructions, it was all Greek to her. Part of her wanted to ask one of her fellow interns for help, but she was worried that they would see her as young, immature, and incompetent. There was also the added issue that she had set herself apart from the rest of the interns because both Tony Stark and Bruce Banner had addressed her directly, even though she had no control over that.

The next time Alex looked up, it was twilight outside and most of the interns were funneling out of the lab. After attempting the modules for the first hour, she had given up and moved to the other items on her task list. She finished about half, which was a great metaphor for her life.

"You look like you could use a break," Steve's voice came from the door of the lab. "More accurately, it looks like I need to tear you away before you're stuck here all night."

"I do believe I was promised food." Alex smiled over at Steve before logging off the computer and shrugged out of her lab coat. "Though, is it safe to be seen with me? I doubt Natasha is going to let you live it down if we're caught together."

"Nat is harmless, in that regard. Besides, she is so desperate to find me a date that she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it, including teasing me too much." Steve smiled, apparently finding the whole thing amusing.

"How are you still single? I mean, it's been a couple years since you've reintegrated and most people would be more than to take you, even with your unconventional history and profession." Alex toed out of her lab shoes, leaving them under her lab coat hook, and returning to her one dollar flip-flops.

"Are you confessing to me, Alex?" Steve laughed as they started walking down the hallway.

"I'm not most people," Alex laughed as they waited for the elevator. "Besides, you have no arrest record or tattoos, so you're obviously not my type."

"Well, I can hot wire a car and have killed people, so I think I might still have a chance," Steve pointed out with a wide and bright smile. In that moment he was the all American boy, but his words were also true. Steve Rogers had killed people. It was something that she really connected with Steve since he usually made her feel safe and comfortable.

"Now, to completely ruin my chances, you look exhausted," Steve asked as they stepped into the elevator. "Seeing me die really shake you up that much or something else going on?"

"It's just…I heard his voice and…" Alex trailed off and took a shaky breath. The moment she heard James's voice all the love, hurt, anxiety, and fear from the fall before came flooding back in an instant. Alex knew that she had a flare for the dramatics, but she could honestly say that she had never felt for someone that she felt for James. Of course it would be the one man that she couldn't have. That's karma for you.

"God, sometimes…sometimes I'm not sure that I remember what his voice sounds like." Steve tilted his head up slightly, but then looked over to Alex. "But let's talk about something a little happier."

It took her a few moments to realize that Steve was referring to the fact that Jarvis was listening to their conversation. She still wasn't used to the fact that someone was always listening to her in the Tower. Then again, if you believed the conspiracy theories, Big Brother is always listening and watching no matter where you were.

"Mr. Rogers, I hate to interrupt, but Miss Hill wants to speak to you as soon as possible, in her words." Jarvis broke in as if he picked up that they were avoiding speaking due to his presence.

"Did she say what it was about?" Steve did not sound overly pleased to be summoned, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes.

"There is a situation in South America that might need your attention. I really can't say more than that with Miss Harper present due to her lower security clearance," Jarvis almost sounded apologetic. Alex found herself starting to like Jarvis, which is weird seeing as he was a computer system. Proof being, she had started to think of Jarvis as a 'he' instead of an 'it'.

"Tell her that I'll be there in a couple minutes," Steve finally said as the elevator doors opened at the lobby.

"I'm starting to think you're manufacturing crisis to avoid spending time with me," Alex laughed as she started walking backward toward the door, which was easy since there was no one else in the lobby. "You're going to give me a complex."

"Rain check?" Steve gave her a sheepish smile as he moved back into the elevator.

"You know how to find me." Alex gave a little finger wave before heading out of Stark Tower.

On the way home, Alex realized just how disappointed it was to eat alone again. After avoiding Steve for about a week, she wished he hadn't been called into work. It wasn't that she wanted to be social, she didn't even know if she had the energy to be social, but she really didn't want to be alone. She called Sam, but it went right to voicemail. There was not even a hint of chill in the September air, but Alex felt cold in her bones. Hopefully, Monica wouldn't mind her moping about her apartment.

"Miss Harper, you look dead on your feet," Henry said as she entered the apartment building.

"It's been a very long day. Is Miss LeBlanc in, do you know?" Alex figured it was easier to ask Henry than go to Monica's floor, knock on the door, and then wait for another elevator to get to her floor. Alex had texted Monica as she was walking home, but hadn't received an answer. This wasn't unusual, Monica was a notoriously unreliable communicator, either getting back to you right away or seven hours later.

"Unfortunately, you just missed her. Is there something you need assistance with?" Henry asked, concern written all over his face.

"No, just wanted to sit around and talk, maybe drain a bottle of wine. Nothing earth shattering. Have a nice night, Henry." Alex gave him a wave before heading to the elevator.

As she let herself into the empty apartment, Alex made a valiant effort not to feel sorry for herself. It was nights like this that she wished she had a boyfriend, someone that was obligated to come and make her feel better. If she put her mind to it, it probably wouldn't even take her a week to snag some poor unfortunate soul, but it wouldn't be fair when her heart would still be with James. She was the definition of a wreck.

Instead, she heated up a couple Hotpockets that were lurking in her freezer and settled in to the nightly routine of doing homework until her eyes couldn't stay open any longer. By the time she crawled into bed, she prayed to get at least a couple hours of good sleep. God had a sense of humor because she got exactly two hours before dreams assaulted her, very vivid ones with James's voice so fresh in her memory. After waking up in tears, Alex dragged herself back to the couch and started researching memory coding once again.

The rest of the weekend wasn't any better and Monday was spent with Peter driving his pencil into various parts of her leg to keep her awake. Alex was grateful, even though she was going to have bruises, since she did not want to go to office hours with Professor Warren if he's berated her for sleeping in his class. It was obvious that she didn't have the time or the brain power for whatever project he wanted her to help him with, but from the glances he kept throwing at her, she didn't think he'd appreciate her just not showing up. Mentally, she promised herself a well-deserved nap if she could just get through this meeting and her internship.

"Professor Warren? You wanted to see me?" Alex called after knocking on the door, peeking around the door into his office.

"Miss Harper, yes, come in. Find a seat somewhere that isn't covered in materials, please," Professor Warren didn't even get to his feet when she came into the room, just waving his hand as he continued to read the papers on the desk in front of him.

It was a kind of organized chaos, not exactly messy, but definitely not neat. There were stacks of papers in neat piles by the bookcase and chairs along with books open to various pages on every other flat surface. Alex pushed the door almost closed before picking up the stack and setting it down next to the chair. Professor Warren didn't pay attention to any of this and finished the last page of the paper before looking up.

"Now, Miss Harper, it is a very easy assignment. You would just have to go and collect samples as well as run through a questionnaire I will provide you with the subject in question. It should only take a couple of hours a week and you'd be paid travelling expenses or given a car service, if needed." Professor Warren spoke quickly, as if he wanted to wrap up the meeting before it even started. "I would just need you to sign a couple forms and you could start as early as next week."

"Excuse me, Professor, but at the risk of sounding idiotic, what the he – what are you talking about?" Alex leaned forward as if physically getting closer to him would make the conversation suddenly make sense.

"What am I…?" Professor Warren blinked once before giving an exasperated sigh and leaned back in his hair, studying her for a moment. "I'm currently working on a case study about genetic mutations in a certain individual to be added to a larger paper I'm writing. The changes that have happened to his body are extraordinary. I have a number of lab experiments and background research that I have to do, I can't meet with him weekly to monitor his mental state and collect the skin samples. That's where you would come in."

"So, if I am understanding correctly, you want me to do a weekly questionnaire with this individual and collect samples, and you'll give me extra credit and compensate any travel expenses?" It sounded like a very cushy gig, so why pick her? Professor Warren had barely shown anything for Alex but disdain, so why help her out by giving her this? There were students who were probably smarter and he got along a lot better with.

"That is basically the assignment, yes." Professor Warren leaned forward and met her eyes. "You're wondering why I chose you."

"I'm not exactly a model student at the moment, which I apologize for, there have to be better options."

"Exactly, you aren't a model student, and the only one that needs extra credit so early in the semester. I also doubt that your lab partner, Mr. Parker, is going to help your grades any. You also seem as if it would take a lot to rattle you, which is also something I need. The environment that the interview will be conducted in is not…hospitable." Professor Warren's green eyes were almost glowing with intensity.

"Where would I be going exactly?" Alex didn't like the sound of having to go somewhere that normal students wouldn't want to go. True, in her youth, she had gone into bars where angels would fear to tread, but she was attempting to get away from all that. She was kind of failing, but she was trying and that had to count for something.

"The Ravencroft Institute." Professor Warren said the name briskly, as if to squash any objections.

It was a wasted effort as Alex had no idea what The Ravencroft Institute was, but the tone was enough to make the hair on her arms stand on edge. The word institute was what confused her as it could be anything from a boarding school to an inpatient mental health hospital. However, Professor Warren was kind of blackmailing her in terms of her grade, so what choice did she have? Russian was already going to put her GPA in jeopardy, she couldn't stress about another course as well.

Yet, Alex didn't have the time or the mental capability to take on another commitment. Not only that, but she really didn't know enough about this project to feel comfortable putting her name on it. Professor Warren spoke as if what Alex would be doing was just a small part of a much larger project. What was the rest of the research focused on? Did he have a whole list of genetically modified people throughout the world? What would that even look like and was it something she wanted to be involved in?

"Let me think about it, Professor?" Alex asked as she got to her feet, putting her bag up on her shoulder. "I already have so much going on. It sounds like a very interesting project, from the little that you've told me, but I just don't know…"

It wasn't a no, but it wasn't a yes either. Alex's anxiety over her grade just wouldn't let her turn him down outright. Also, having a paper about genetic mutation on her resume when it wasn't a field she had a lot of experience in would be tantalizing to possible future employers or PhD programs. The study also did sound interesting, people who survived through genetic mutations could teach a lot about medicine and the human body. It would be a great opportunity if she could find the time and willpower to do it.

"I understand, Miss Harper," Professor Warren was smiling as if she had just enthusiastically agreed to work for him. "I suggest you think the opportunity through thoroughly as well as quickly. It's not something that you would want to, or can really afford, to miss. I also believe you will find the individual who survived the genetic mutation very interesting, as it happened later in his life. It's a once in a lifetime experience. I want an answer by next week."

"Of course, I'll stop by your office hours next Monday." Alex was already moving toward the door. If she stayed, if she listened to him talk some more, she would agree to something that he said. Professor Warren had this magnetism about him that laid right underneath the surface. Maybe that was what it was about him that made her slightly uneasy.

"Close the door on the way out." Professor Warren had already dropped his head back to the papers in front of him.

The rebellious side of Alex wanted to say no at that moment because Professor Warren was acting as if she was going to say yes. There had always been something in her that wanted to defy expectations and do something completely unexpected. However, she was also getting a little aggravated because she was pretty sure she was going to say yes.

He was right, it was an opportunity that Alex couldn't pass up.

#marvel #My writing #fanfic #bucky x oc #Steve Rogers #the amazing spider-man #A Spider Sat Down Beside Her #Update 7 #slow burn

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enziroth · 7 years ago

Text

Black and White Pt 6

Did you forget this AU existed? Because my will to write certainly did. Now with 20% more graphic situations!

Lunch was possibly the most bland and boring meal he'd ever had.

"This is bullshit," he said to no one in particular, eyeing the food trays the guards had brought to his cellmates. Their food wasn't anything special, just sandwiches made with plain cheese and some unidentifiable kind of meat, but at least it was food.

Apparently, Law's idea of "food" consisted of a plate of vegetables and the same tasteless broth he'd had yesterday. If he ever had to pick his idea of the worst meal ever, this would be it, just barely beating out "crumbled rocks" and "actual dog shit".

Kid picked up a spindly green stick and dangled it between two fingers, frowning. What the fuck was this? Celery? He hadn't touched celery since Killer went on a health kick a while ago, and he'd thrown a bunch of the stuff at his second-in-command for trying to feed it to him.

The only thing that looked mildly edible on the tray were two little white pills, probably painkillers. He took those and downed the water he'd been given, wincing at the brackish taste.

Vegetables. And broth. He swirled his finger in the bowl. It wasn't even warm.

He slid a glance at his third cellmate, who was eating his meal with a stupidly blank look on his face. If I steal his sandwich, will they send me to Law?

Probably. There was a guy watching him from outside the cell, and he hadn't moved since Law left. Kid would bet his left leg that the guy was only there to rat him out whenever he did something wrong.

Fine. Broth and veggies it was.

A little while later, guards came by to line them up by the bars and let them out of their cells, one by one.

Whoever ran the prison wasn't stupid enough to give the guards guns, but all of them had spiked batons that they weren't afraid to use. Just while being herded down the hall, presumably toward whatever the recreation yard was, Kid had watched three prisoners who'd stepped out of line get beaten to a bloody pulp.

Well, all of them had batons, except for Kid's guard. It was obvious that he was Kid's, because he hadn't left his side since they'd opened the cell doors. The guy had kept steady pace with him, stopping when he stopped and moving when he moved. And yeah, the spiky batons looked nasty, but the little barbed knives hanging from this guard's belt were downright wicked.

It didn't take long to get to the yard, which turned out to be an open-air square of grass surrounded by twenty-foot-tall metal walls. There was a rough dirt path around the perimeter, with a few prisoners already jogging around, and a bolted down rack of weights far on one end.

Kid stopped as soon as he stepped foot outside, basking in the fresh air until a guard jabbed him with a baton and told him to get out of the way.

Kid shuffled a few steps to the left, leaned against a wall, and basked there instead.

The weak sun didn't provide much heat, and the air was heavy with salt and the sea. He grew bored of it quickly, glancing around to study the yard. The guard stood casually next to him, craning his neck up to look at the sky. He didn't say anything, so Kid ignored him.

Shit. People were staring at him. Nobody had given him anything else to wear, so he was stuck in the maid costume Law had fitted him with. He'd probably have to do something about that.

It was cold, but the hunger in some of the stares made his decision for him. The top half of the costume was the first to go, as he ripped the flimsy fabric down the middle. His skin stung and his wounds ached in the cold air, but he could deal with it.

He tried the collar next, fingers fumbling around the length of it for a clasp. He hadn't seen how Law had secured it when he put it on, but there had to be a way to get the thing off again.

His fingertips brushed against a solid chunk of metal, feeling out the distinctive shape of a keyhole. Fuck.

Kid scowled, giving up on the collar and moving to the lacey thigh-highs. They came off easily enough, and he tore out a long strip to use as a makeshift bandana before tossing the rest.

Then he mentally took a step back and examined himself. The top half of the outfit hung from his waist, covering the skirt and giving him a little more protection. The collar was still there, and still obnoxiously pink, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He looked about as normal as he was going to get, so he moved on.

Weights were out; he wasn't stupid enough to cozy up to the muscle freaks over by the rack. There were a few sparring rings scattered around, but like hell he was going to join one of those in this state. All the other equipment was taken, and he was in no shape to muscle somebody out of the way.

That left the dirt path. He was barefoot, so running would hurt like a bitch, but whatever. He'd take it.

The guy pushed off of the wall and followed him when Kid started heading for the track.

As soon as he took the first step to pick up speed, his foot screamed out in protest. He swore under his breath, forcing himself to slow down and keep moving when all he wanted to do was collapse to take the weight off it.

He couldn’t fall over now; he had no doubt a shit ton of people were watching, and if he didn’t already look like a pansy piece of shit, that would do it.

So he walked, gritting his teeth until the pain in his foot calmed to a manageable level. Two laps around the track, five laps, ten. He’d had a good deal of time to get used to walking again while being paraded around the prison, but he still felt stiff and unnatural. There was no way to know just how badly he’d been fucked up; even under the maid outfit, he was more bandage than skin.

Somebody lapped him on the track, moving fast. It was right as he reached a corner, and they cut across a little as they passed by. They cut in front of him a little too close, however, and he gritted his teeth as he had to jerk to a stop before he hit them.

He would have thought nothing of it. They misjudged the distance, is all. They hadn’t even looked twice at him.

One second, the man was a few inches in front of him. The next, he was on the ground, clutching his arm and screaming in pain.

Kid had already begun the motions to begin walking again, and he had to stumble to a halt again as he processed it. The guard…his guard…had moved so fast he almost hadn’t seen it, slicing with all four of those wicked knives in a single swipe.

Fuck, he could see the dull white glint of bone through the gaps in the man’s fingers, cinched tight as if he could hold the wound closed. The flesh was shredded, blood leaking from a hundred places at once, and not a single one of the guards at the door was moving to help. No other prisoners were, either.

He's gonna die, Kid realized. It didn’t take a genius to realize that he’d bleed to death, without any kind of care. For getting just a little too close.

His guard looked straight at him, watching, but without emotion. As if he was just waiting for Kid to move again so he could follow.

Kid looked at the man on the ground, still whimpering, still moaning and rocking back and forth pathetically, eyes closed tight as if he couldn’t stand to see the damage.

He looked away and kept walking. The guy wasn’t one of his; no one here was. And if he wanted to keep it that way, he needed to focus on himself.

He walked six more laps around the track, each time passing the man on the ground. The guards called for lineup again, to lead them back inside, and Kid never once looked behind him.

Dinner was the same as lunch. Cold broth, raw vegetables, two pills on the side.

He ate it anyway.

Sleep came as soon as he dropped his head on the pillow, but it didn’t last for more than a second until bright lights and loud, banging noises forced him awake. He cracked his eyes open to see trays being slid underneath the bars.

Food. God, he was starving. Kid moved to get up, but his entire body seized up in one big, painful cramp. Black spots swarmed in front of his eyes, covering his vision until he was completely blinded. After a few moments, the pain calmed and his sight returned, just in time to see the brutish bastard from earlier reaching for two white pills from one of the trays.

“Hey!” he barked out, struggling to get his feet beneath him to stand. He needed those pills, damnit-

The guy ignored him, hand inching forward until it was abruptly crushed under a thick black boot. He let out a surprised hiss, escalating to a low growl as his fingers were grinded into the floor.

Kid looked up and recognized his guard from yesterday. Thick sunglasses and a low-slung hat covered his face like all the other guards, but those knives at his hip were unmistakable.

His guard let the guy suffer for a few more moments, then lifted his boot, leaving the bastard to retreat to one corner of the cell with his own tray.

Kid cautiously lowered himself to the floor, wincing at the pressure on his foot, and inched forward to collect his tray. Cold broth again today, but the wilted vegetables had been replaced with equally-wilted fruit.

Whatever. It was better than celery.

He gingerly moved back to his cot, swallowed the pills, and downed the rest of it. From what he’d gathered yesterday, he still had two hours until he’d have to deal with Law again. He knew he should be using it to think of ways to escape, but all he could think of was his crew. Did Killer get to their safehouse? Had his crew managed to burn all the evidence in their base before they were forced to retreat? God, if they’d even missed a little of it, each one of them could be hunted down. That shit had their real names, their homes…Kid had kept track of everything on his men so he’d know when they were in trouble, but all that would backfire now if any of it remained.

Fuck, he couldn’t think about it. Already he felt disconnected from his life in the past, from his men, from everything to do with the world outside. He couldn’t have been here longer than a week, but it felt like he’d been suffering for a lifetime.

He must have passed out at some point, his body too exhausted to keep up with his racing mind, because the next thing he knew was his guard knocking on the bars to wake him up.

“Time to see the doctor.”

#prison au #trafalgar law #eustass kid #kidlaw #lawkid #one piece #TWO YEARS OVERDUE EVERYBODY #I think #does anybody even remember this because I sure as hell didn't

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pertinax--loculos · 5 years ago

Text

Regret

|| cuz fucking up takes practice / i feel i'm well rehearsed ||

[WIP: Hellbent]

Words: 1097

POV: Dash

Content Warnings: Drug use (pills) | swearing | depressive thoughts

Context: The night after a Partner meeting, Dash wakes up hungover.

Notes: I think this may be the first excerpt I've posted from Dash's POV? So hopefully it's novel to hear his voice. ^_^ The warning for depressive thoughts covers self-loathing etc, just as an FYI. From the mid-beginning of the Plot (ish).

***

Dash woke with a headache and a baseless surge of apprehension.

After a few moments he realised he'd been pulled from sleep by a gentle touch, fingers skimming up and down his bare arm. He opened his eyes with what felt like a herculean effort, blinking up at Alec.

"Hey," he croaked.

"Good afternoon, sleeping beauty." Alec grinned down at him; he had an elbow propped on his pillow, his head resting on his fist as his other hand stroked Dash's arm slowly. "How're you feeling?"

"Super." Fortunately the room was dim enough that it didn't hurt to keep his eyes open; there was just enough light for him to recognise it as Alec's. A vague nausea bubbled in his gut and Dash hoped it wouldn't get any worse. Given how his head currently felt, getting up was gonna feel like fucking torture.

He tried to trace the origin of the hangover but gave up quickly as another wave of dread washed over him, paired this time with guilt and a weird note of irritation. He'd really rather not recall whatever had sparked those emotions.

"Thought you might say that." Alec smiled, rolling over to reach for something on the bedside table. He returned with a bottle of water and Dash's pills; Dash would've kissed him for it if his mouth hadn't currently tasted like bile and ash. "Reckon you can stomach them?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Dash wasn't actually sure - the main disadvantage of pills was the way his stomach sometimes rejected them - but he tipped out four, considered, and added another two anyway. His normal dose wouldn't kick through a hangover; it was unlikely six would, either, but he was running low. It'd have to do.

He inched his way up the minimal amount needed to get the pills into his mouth and swallowed them with a few gulps of water, then tossed the bottles to the foot of the bed and worked his way under Alec's arm. Alec shifted to accommodate him, and Dash curled up against him, pillowing his head on Alec's chest.

They were quiet for a few moments, Dash listening to Alec's regular breathing, his heartbeat steady beneath his cheek. Alec trailed his fingers across Dash's back, tracing feather-light patterns on his skin.

Might as well get it fucking over with. Dash hated getting drunk, hated the person he became when he did; belligerent, emotional, liable to snap at the tiniest perceived slight. Really, he shouldn't drink at all, but he'd been good for a while now; able to stop himself after a couple instead of just drinking faster and faster until he blacked out. The pills helped - he'd much rather get high than drunk - but mostly the self-control stemmed from one too many mornings like this, waking up with fractured memories and having to try to piece together the raw cracked frayed edges of whatever he'd broken.

He slid a hand across Alec's smooth chest, biting down hard on his lip, and then murmured, "Hope I wasn't too much of an asshole."

Alec's hand dropped to his waist, giving him a brief squeeze, before he continued brushing his fingers over Dash's back.

"You were fine, babe. Seriously," he added with a crooked grin when Dash craned his head up to glare at him. "If you'd let yourself think about it you'd remember you didn't even drink that much most of the night." He faltered, and when he continued his voice had darkened. "You only started hitting it real hard after that dickhead fundie bolted."

Fuck.

The thought of Raleigh brought the whole night flooding back in uncomfortably bright detail. Talking to him about Alec, the uneasy truce he and Alec had managed after Dash asked them, seeing Raleigh actually interacting with Evelyn without freaking out. Then Alec had asked Dash to dance, and of course he'd agreed, and when they came off the dance floor Raleigh had disappeared, Evelyn informing him with something far too close to pity on her face that he'd said something about having to get home.

Dash realised Alec's hand had stopped, the other man feeling his sudden tension. He tried to relax and failed, his mind still going a mile a minute.

Jesus Christ, the guy drove him fucking crazy. Half the time Dash didn't even know what set him off; they'd be talking and everything would be fine, and then Raleigh would get this look on his face, disgust or contempt or horror or something, and he'd shut down entirely. Sometimes Dash could bring him back, but a lot of the time that'd be it, they'd be done, and Dash would spend the next few minutes or hours or fucking days wondering if he'd ever see him again, until finally the prick would send him a text or just fucking show up, unannounced, as if everything was fucking peachy.

And Dash was trying to be patient, because he knew that all of this was new and unfamiliar to Raleigh, and he was actively working against over two decades of insidious brainwashing, but fuck, if he kept freaking out about stupid shit like two men dancing together Dash was never gonna be able to completely trust him, and the thought of that was almost as unbearable as the thought of losing Alec, or Evelyn, which was fucking ridiculous in and of itself because really Dash hardly knew the guy and the fact he felt so strongly about him was stupid and painful and reminded him of-

"Stop it," Alec said, pressing his lips to Dash's hairline. "You're shaking."

He was too, Dash noticed with dim surprise. He turned his face further into Alec's chest, taking a couple of deep breaths and swallowing down the thickness attempting to choke him.

"I need a smoke," he said after too long a pause, but at least his voice was even. "Must be nicotine withdrawal."

Alec heaved a sigh, but he didn't push it. "Reckon you'll be okay to get upright?"

That was indicative of how many times Alec had been with him on these hungover mornings, how many times he'd dealt with Dash being a fucking mess all because of stupid shit he got himself into. He bit his lip against the guilt and kept his voice light. "Yeah, should be okay by now." He dragged his arm up and levered himself onto his elbow, even managing a smile when he met Alec's gaze. "Let's be honest, it's gonna fucking suck regardless."

Alec snickered, and they both ignored the shadows of worry and frustration in his eyes.

***

Taglist: @bogbodybitch @adie-dee

(Note: I forgot the taglist in my previous post and Tumblr is being stupid about editing it for now... sorry!)

#writing #writeblr #excerpt #original writing #WIP:Hellbent

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antlerscolorado · 8 years ago

Text

chapter 7, part 5

CONTENT WARNING: This update contains descriptions of gore.

They’re only fifteen, maybe ten, minutes from home, and Landis still sounds like he’s hyperventilating. Walker can’t see into the front of the car to know for sure. He’s stretched out in the back seat, trying not to let any external stimuli break his focus and loosen his hold on the wound he’s plugging up. Ripples of pain radiate outwards from his shoulder as he fights to keep compression on it with an unsteady hand. Walker squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard, and pushes against the blood trying to flow out of his body, using his powers to force it away from the bullet still stuck inside of him.

That’s twice that a fucking DPR tactic saved my ass today, he thinks grimly, tucking his legs a little closer to his body, Usually his powers are like a third limb - he doesn’t even have to think about turning them on, or do more than consider an object to pick it up and send it across the room. But he’s been slipping in and out of semi-consciousness for the last leg of the trip, as the shock starts to wear off, and it’s starting to take a toll on him physically. He’s not so sure how long he can keep it up.

“Can you just gun it?” Walker asks Landis. He feels something warm and viscous start to drip out of his nose and for a brief, crazy second wonders if his brain is starting to melt. He gingerly touches his upper lip with two fingers, moving them away from his face to inspect them. Just blood. Could be worse.

“I really think you should go to the hospital,” Landis says, his voice high and uneven. Nonetheless, the car gradually starts to increase in speed, and he even runs a red light before making a wide, sweeping turn into the apartment complex parking lot. If Walker wasn’t in so much pain, he might have found it in him to be impressed.

“Nah,” Walker says, as Landis’s car careens into a space. “I’ve been shot before. S’okay.”

The car doors click as they unlock, and Walker pushes one open with a combination of his foot and some sloppy power work that nearly yanks the door out into the lot. He slides his body out and stands up slowly, leaning on the car until Landis comes around from the driver’s side to act as his crutch. Walker’s shirt is plastered to his body with sweat and blood, but at least being out of the claustrophobic back seat makes him feel a little less like throwing up.

“My apartment,” he grunts, slinging his good arm around Landis’s shoulders as they approach the front doors to the complex. “Let’s go.”

Landis makes a small noise of protest - he’s very pale, and looks about as sweaty as Walker feels - but doesn’t actually say anything while Walker drags him across the lobby to the elevator. Walker punches the Up button and the doors slide open almost instantly. He steps on, careful not to pull Landis around too roughly, and stares at the button panel inside, the numbers starting to swim before his eyes.

“Here,” Landis says, and pushes one of them.

“Thanks,” Walker says. He adjusts his position against Landis, raising his wounded shoulder a little, and winces at the jolt of pain that shoots all the way down his arm. “Listen, you’re gonna have to help patch me up. I have to make some calls.” Landis eyes him. “Calls?”

“To the DPR,” Walker says. “I want to know more about the guys Jenny’s with before we go back there. I mean, I probably should have had them looking into it before we went in the first place, but -”

“Before we go back?” Landis’s voice rises even more, and cracks. “Walker, we can’t go back there, you -”

“Look, we have two options,” Walker says. The elevator stops, chiming to announce their arrival, and he nudges Landis towards the doors as they open. “We go back there before they move on down the road, and we get Austin, or we let them deliver Austin to whoever’s paying them, and we maybe don’t see Austin again, ever. If you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears.”

Landis is quiet the whole way down the hall. Walker can’t tell if he’s honestly thinking about a plan, or just declining to answer because he doesn’t feel like arguing. It could be either, or it could be both.

“Keys,” Landis says finally, once they stop in front of Walker’s apartment door. He holds his hand out expectantly, and Walker blinks stupidly for a moment before it occurs to him what Landis is asking him for.

Right. Keys. He digs his hand in his pocket, hissing as pain lances up and down it again from the movement of his shoulder, and draws out his keyring. Landis takes it and unlocks the door. He lets Walker keep using him as a crutch, carefully steering the two of them into the living room, patiently stooping to let Walker sit down on the couch without incident.

“Thanks,” Walker says through gritted teeth. He wrestles his cell phone out of his other pocket, but the pain is making it hard to even focus on navigating to his Contacts screen. He drops it next to him on the couch. Guess I’ll deal with that later.

“Do I have to get the bullet out, and, uh, stitch you up?” Landis asks. He’s obviously trying to make the question casual, but his voice sounds abjectly horrified by the idea of having to perform minor surgery. Walker can’t help but laugh.

“No, no, I just need a few things. There’s a pack of big bandages and some antiseptic behind the bathroom mirror - grab those. And if there’s any ibuprofen left, get that, too.”

Landis nods and scurries away. After he’s out of sight, audibly rifling around in the bathroom, Walker lets out a long, slow breath and leans back against the couch. It’ll be better if he doesn’t have to see this.

He looks down at his shoulder out of the corner of his eye, at the hole punched clean through his t-shirt and his skin. His powers are still blocking any blood from coming out, but now Walker redirects them, taking hold of the bullet and beginning to slowly pull it loose. The pain is excruciating. Walker finds himself gasping, blood, tears and spit streaming down his face as the bullet comes out, a fraction of an inch at a time. Once it’s free, spat out onto the rug, covered in some bodily chunks that Walker doesn’t care to recognize, the hole feels strangely empty.

“I’ll take that,” he says hoarsely as Landis comes back into the living room, tugging the bottle of ibuprofen safely into his own hands. He twists the cap off and shakes four pills out into his palm, shoving them into his mouth. When was the last time I ate? Should get on that soon so I don’t puke.

“Uh,” Landis says, gesturing vaguely with the box of bandages and the bottle of antiseptic. “What should I -”

“I can do it,” Walker says. He peels his shirt off, grimacing, and dumps it on the floor. “I just need - actually, never mind -”

He can see the roll of paper towels from his vantage point, staring through the window set into the wall that separates living room and kitchen. Grabbing just a few sheets is out of the question at this point, so Walker just brings the whole roll along for the ride, nearly clipping Landis in the head with it as it wobbles by.

“Okay, I need a favor,” he says to Landis, wadding up a fistful of paper towels and pouring antiseptic on them.

“What’s the favor?” Landis asks, a hint of trepidation in his voice.

Walker cleans up his shoulder first, before answering, wincing a little as he mops up the blood to reveal a dark bruise ringing the bullet hole. He clenches his teeth tightly even before he applies antiseptic to the hole itself, but even steeling himself for the pain isn’t enough to keep him from twitching and groaning as he presses down with the wad of paper towels. It almost hurts worse than being shot in the first place.

“My phone,” he says, gesturing as best as he can to where it sits on the couch cushion. “I need you to go into my contacts, find the one labeled -”

“Actually, I was thinking about that,” Landis interrupts, tugging his wallet out of the back pocket of his pants. “About saving Austin, I mean. Making a better plan.” He opens his wallet, peers inside for a second, and takes out a square piece of paper with a design on it that Walker can’t quite make out. “I think I know how we can beat those guys at the motel.”

7.4 || 7.6

#story

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mohini-musing · 7 years ago

Text

Hands

~~~ This one’s an original with some characters I’m playing around with. Nothing’s quite perfectly fleshed out, and I’m not altogether certain of the backstory fueling this one myself, but I’m trying to convince myself to do more of my own stuff so here it is. ~~~

“Wanna tell me where you are?” she asks me. I realize with a shock that she’s got a hand on my shoulder. The reaction is instant, and far from intentional. I’ve got a hand around her wrist and have shoved her bodily away from me before I have a half second to stop myself. I’m out the door before she can say a word, and full on running away by the time I hear her voice behind me. I don’t stop until my lungs are burning from the cold December air. I’m drenched in sweat, curls sticking to the back of my neck and feet rubbed raw. I can’t feel the pain the functional part of my mental faculties assures me must be there. I breathe deeply for a few minutes, trying and failing to get myself to settle down. I look around, unsure of where exactly my frantic sprint has taken me. My phone’s still in the bar, was on the table in front of us before I got spooked. I’ve got no way to contact a soul.

I shake my head hard, trying to clear the panic that’s still running through my veins as strong and painful as any of the drugs I used to take to keep it tempered down. I count softly to myself, crouching down and making myself as small as possible in the dark night air. It takes me a while, but I manage to focus on regulating my breathing, carefully drawing air in through my mouth and slowly out through my nose. When I open my eyes again, I can remember seeing the name of the street whose sign I’m currently crouched under. I’m a good two miles from the bar, but it seems that in my flight I’ve gone in a relatively continuous line. I stretch to my full height, a not remotely impressive four feet, ten inches, and choose a route that will skirt around the bar district but will get me home. It’s two in the morning in one of the more exciting parts of town, and I’m dressed in a skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination and a corset that hides even less. I find myself grateful that I’m in well worn Doc Martins rather than heels as I begin a much less speedy journey back to my apartment.

She’s waiting outside the building when I get there. I walk past her, not acknowledging her presence, hoping she’ll take the hint that tonight isn’t the night I’m laying out my secrets for her. She follows me to my door. Before I slide the key into the lock, she speaks, her voice soft, cautious as if I were a spooked wild animal. “I brought your phone and your bag,” she says, holding out my purse for me to take. “Call me when you’re up for it.”

She turns and leaves, and I slip into the apartment. I close the door behind me and lock it. Mechanically, I strip out of my clothes in the bathroom, flipping on the shower but not the lights. It’s been a while since I showered in the dark, but tonight, I can’t handle seeing myself. I haven’t gotten freaked out like this in a long, long time. I can’t quite figure out what did it, but it’s too late and I’m too tired to even begin to try unraveling what’s happened. I wash quickly, dry off and pad silently to my room. I’ve never been more grateful that I live with a Deaf roommate. Growing up with Deaf parents, I learned all the best tricks for getting in and out of the house without anyone being the wiser. As long as I don’t turn on any lights, I can make it to my room and Emma will not come to find out what is going on. I pray to anything listening that Kate didn’t try to contact her.

Nothing is listening. Emma is sitting on my bed, silent in the darkness of the room. She stays there as I dress hastily in a giant t-shirt that only comes out of the dresser on the really, really bad nights. I sit down at the foot of the bed, as far from her perch near my pillow as I can get. There is just enough light coming through the window from the streetlamp that her hands are visible as she lifts them up to the space just in front of her chest.

You’re not safe with yourself tonight.

Truth, I reply. Then in a move about as mature as a toddler covering their ears, I pull my knees to my chest and drop my forehead to them, curling up with my eyes closed tight, blocking out any chance of seeing her sign anything else. She bangs a hand against the mattress, a silent command to lift my head and stop trying to weasel out of talking.

Tell me what happened?

I checked out, at the club. Some guy, same cologne, scent memory, couldn’t stop it, just, fuck, she shook me. I just reacted. No thinking, just bolted.

Does she know?

No.

You gonna tell her?

No.

Color?

Yellow.

Touch okay?

No. Please.

I’m getting your meds. Sit. Don’t move. I realize then that I must look as out of my skin as I feel. Just telling her about it is sending me quickly back to the panic point, and it’s been years since I’ve been this easily triggered. I accept the single pill she presses into my hand, dry swallowing it without even looking at it. I know it’s a Xanax, am grateful that I don’t have to explain what’s happening to me with her. She waves a hand, just at the edge of my vision field to get my attention back on her. When I look up, she moves slowly, cautiously, because she knows when I’m in this place, where my head goes all the places it shouldn’t, I’m about as stable as a frayed rope bridge.

Color?

Red.

I’m here. I’m not leaving. You’re safe.

I know.

Breathe.

Trying.

I’m going to hold you. Don’t hit me.

No promises, I sign with trembling fingers. I’m struggling to stay here and now, trying every exercise I’ve ever been taught to bring my brain back online. It’s not working. She wraps her arms around me, pulls me tightly against her. I cross my arms over my chest, fingers gripping my own shoulders and she tightens her hold enough that breathing isn’t easy anymore. I’m nauseous now, swallowing hard to keep the damn sedative where it is, and it’s at that moment that I black out.

When I come around again, she’s still wrapped around me like an octopus, though the tightness of the hold is considerably less than before the world went blank. She can feel the difference in my state of consciousness, and slowly loosens her grip enough to encourage me to turn in her arms and settle back against her. I can breathe now, and though there’s still the phantom hint of a fight or flight reflex in overdrive, I’m pretty sure I can handle myself again. I pull away, just enough to be able to talk to her without either of us resorting to contortion or weird modified single handed signs. I’ve never been very good at that.

You all here now?

I take a moment to think that over before answering. Think so.

Still a few hours to dawn. Want to try for some sleep?

Will you stay with me?

Obviously.

I smile at her. That response is everything I love about her. We’re not interested in one another sexually. In all honesty it would be like kissing my sister, but she gets me in a way that no one else ever has.

How long?

How long what?

You’ve got new scars. She states it as though it’s the simplest of observations. I look to my wrists. The thick leather cuffs I wear have ridden up, and beneath them the not quite yet healed marks are clearly visible above the old tracery of long healed slices from the blade.

Long enough.

Idiot.

Yes.

You still clean?

Barely. But yes.

Good. Tell me how to keep you that way?

Don’t let me leave the house. For a while. I need. I really, really need.

Personal watchdog, at your service.

I smile then, and she tugs me close to her, wrapping her arms around me as I curl into her embrace. I close my eyes and she speaks softly, her accented voice a whisper at my ear. “Safe and sound, sleep love, safe and sound right here.”

I lift one hand and place it against her palm, two fingers curled into my palm, thumb, index and pinky outstretched. It’s cliché, the “I love you” sign that seems the only one most hearing people know. But here in the silence and the darkness, it is intimate and right. She wraps her hand over mine, mimicking the sign with her larger fingers. I breathe slow and deep, allowing the comfort and safety to draw me under into sleep.

When I wake, her arms are still wrapped around me. I’ve settled with my head directly over her heart, the soft, rhythmic sound soothing and centering. I pull away slowly, sitting up with my knees to my chest. She watches me, having clearly been awake for a while. I bring my hands up and am grateful for the thousandth time that I don’t have to speak with her. ASL was my first language, and my voice always seems so much harder to use when I’m in this place, when the world is crashing over me so hard it hurts.

Can you contact Kara? I need her.

She’ll be here tonight. I messaged her while you were sleeping.

I don’t know how you’re always in my head, but thank you.

Not in your head. Just know you.

Thank you anyway.

Now tell me what’s going on up there. You said you want to use. Talk to me about that.

It’s not as bad this morning. The panic’s gone. I don’t feel like I’m practically shaking apart at the seams. Just, that’s where my brain goes when it gets scary. So easy to make everything numb and safe. Harder to get through it with my thoughts intact, when I have to face up to it all.

You said you smelled the cologne. Anything else?

No.

You were sober?

It takes me too long to answer, and I know she knows. I hold my hands in my signing space, but they’re trembling and I can’t make them work. She puts her hands over mine, squeezes, and presses them into my lap.

We all fall down. It’s the standing back up that matters.

I nod, though it’s with a serious effort not to roll my eyes at the clichéd words.

I’m not supposed to fall down.

What was it you told me while I was puking up my weight in vodka a couple weeks ago? Human. You’re human, and humans screw up. It’s what separates us from the Cylons.

Sometimes I regret introducing you to Battlestar.

No you don’t. You regret turning on the captions!

That, too.

Get you cleaned up?

Yeah, thanks. I reply and she helps me get my feet under me. I’m dizzy, a combination of the lingering effects of the sheer volume of alcohol I consumed the night before and the meds she gave me to bring me down. She keeps a hand at my elbow as I make my way to the shower, sits on the closed toilet lid while I wash up, and I know she understands. She didn’t say anything when I stripped out in front of her, the too fresh marks on my arm red and angry looking. Once I’m dried off, I open the medicine cabinet and find ointment, covering the marks before putting my cuffs back in place. She reaches over and unfastens the cuffs. I look at her and she shakes her head.

You can have them back before Kara comes. Let them get some air, though. They look rough.

When will she be here?

Flight lands at 4:50. She said she’d catch a cab over.

She’s gonna kick my ass.

Probably.

This is what I love about her. She doesn’t bullshit. Ever. I’ve screwed up. And my sister is guaranteed to kick my tail to kingdom come as a result. Which is pretty much what I need. Kara is a force of nature. She’s five years older, and she makes a living as an MMA fighter. She’s scary good, and if I’m honest, she’s just plain scary.

I get dressed and spend the rest of the day at the kitchen table, working my way through a pile of homework. I don’t pay much attention to the clock, and when I hear the front door opening, I spin in the chair just in time to see my sister walking in, a suitcase trailing behind her and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Melora Rayanne, what the bloody, blistering fuck is going on?” she says in place of any normal greeting.

“Hi Kara,” I whisper.

“Don’t you ‘Hi, Kara’ me, little girl. Four in the fucking morning and my cell going off because you’ve up and lost your shit. What did I ask you the last time you called? Do you maybe remember? I asked if you were holding up okay and you swore everything was fine. Our definitions don’t seem to match up, because I just booked a flight same day out of Goddamned JFK because you are hanging onto the damn wagon by a thread and…”

I realize a moment too late that I still haven’t put the cuffs back on. Her eyes hit my wrists and she goes silent. I watch her, automatically assessing threat as I take a step backwards. She’s the only person in the world that I truly trust, completely, to never hit me but some responses are hard wired. She steps closer, dropping the backpack to the floor behind her as she reaches for my hand. She lifts it, looking over the slashes there. When she releases her grip, she looks at my face and lifts a hand to touch my cheek, her long fingers tracing the bone structure there.

“Mel,” she says, and the fury she arrived with is gone. “Christ almighty, Melora. Talk to me, baby girl. What’s going on?”

I know I’ll cry if I open my mouth. I’m pretty sure I’ll cry if I lift my hands. Instead, I drop my head to my sister’s shoulder and wrap my arms around her, holding on for all I’m worth and hoping she’ll ask Emma. A second later, her hands lift away from me and though I’m clinging to her, she’s signing a question across the room. I know she’s gotten her answer when she curses softly.

“Fuck, Mel. Fuck.”

I don’t resist when she picks me up, carrying me to the couch. She keeps me close, letting me curl into a ball in her lap. She’s whispering in my ear, that she’s here now, that it’s okay. It isn’t. It won’t be. Because I didn’t tell her what happened, not all of it, back when I OD’d and landed myself in rehab. The couch shifts, just enough, and I know Emma is beside us as well.

I pull out of her grip, moving until I’m leaning against Emma, who wraps her arms around me and holds me close against her chest. My mouth still won’t form the words. I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, to see them when I lift shaking hands before me and give confession.

A guy in my unit. He thought he could cure me, fuck the dyke out of me, or at least that’s what he said. Ran into a guy tonight with the same cologne. Lost it. Fucking lost it.

I still can’t look at her.

“It wasn’t an accident, was it?”

I shake my head. Emma already knows this, knows the OD was absolutely on purpose. We share a bed, and even though she can’t hear my words when I scream in my sleep, she knows my body and it tells my secrets all too well.

“How long were you using?” she asks me. She’s never wanted to know before. It was always about her being angry that I was doing that to myself and never about why or how long or anything that mattered. I’m so shocked it takes me a moment to answer. This time, I manage to look at her, hands lifted as I speak alongside the sign.

“A while."

“And this guy?”

“We were assigned to the same unit until the day I moved to the reserves,” I reply quietly. I can practically see the wheels turning as she does the math.

“Was it only once?”

It takes me a moment before I can quite collect myself enough to answer that one. It’s a moment too long, because she lets out a string of curses that fly from English, to Russian, to Farsi and back again. I know better than to try to interrupt that kind of rant so I just wait her out.

“It’s not allowed. Relationships in a unit. So everyone looked the other way and I never said a damn word. Not that anyone would have said anything anyway. Face it, Kara, no one wants to be second best to the fucking tiny girl in the unit. It’s a miracle they didn’t pass me around like a cheap joint.”

#original fiction #self harm #past rape #mention of drug use/abuse #past overdose #dissociation #deaf character #hurt/comfort

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unpopcorned · 8 years ago

Text

"Will you shut the fuck up already?"

"It's a game. And you agreed to play."

"I did that so you would shut up, not keep talkin'."

"C'mon, one more, Ron."

Veronica clenched her jaw, turning her head slightly to look at Jacob. He was sitting behind the wheel of his car, raising his eyebrows at her in question, amused and waiting. She sat beside him in the passenger seat, knees pulled to her chest and picking at the skin around her fingernail - a nervous habit that she was never able to break ( she bit at her nails as well sometimes ). Finally, she relented, sighing in slight aggravation and gestured a hand for him to continue. It was better than listening to the songs on the radio - which he seemed to know every one and sang them at the top of his lungs.

He flashed a quick, handsome grin and then said, "Alright. Twelve times...one-forty-four."

"One-thousand-seven-hundred-twenty-eight," The response was automatic, and Veronica wrinkled her nose at him, "What is this? A game show?"

He ignored her annoyance, "How about the square root of fifty-two?"

"It's like - seven-point-two-one-one–we're supposed to be stayin' quiet here, would you shut the fuck—"

"Distance from Neptune to Venus?"

Veronica's mouth opened.

"In inches!"

She narrowly resisted the urge to hit him. Instead, she reached up and rubbed at her temples, "Okay, for fuck's sake, so right now, it's maybe around - a hundred-eighty-five-trillion—" There was a beep from beside the car, around three feet away. Veronica looked up, catching sight of Jax getting out of a his recently parked car to practically prance over to them. Jacob rolled down the window for her, and Jax immediately leaned his big head in, wild blond hair everywhere.

"Hey, guys!" He greeted far too loudly, looking back and forth between them with a large smile, "When did you guys get here?"

"On time," Veronica snapped at him through clenched teeth, "Where have you been? Are you fuckin' drunk?"

"No!" He answered almost too quickly, "But I am high." Jacob laughed out loud, he was always pretty happy to see Jax - Veronica regretted introducing them in the first place. Veronica would've kicked the passenger dashboard if it wasn't Jacob's car. Jax seemed to notice her anger, blinking wide brown eyes at her, "What'd I do?"

"I told you to come at twelve! At midnight! I told you three fuckin' times to be here! And what time is it now?"

"Uh—" He had the nerve to check his cheap watch, "One-thirty."

Veronica was sure she looked close to taking her frustration out on Jax himself, but she felt a warm pressure on her thigh. Glancing over, she saw Jacob watching her, quirking one brow up, but he didn't have to say anything. In response, Veronica pushed herself back in the seat, blowing out a long breath through her nose. It was hard to calm down, even harder knowing what a tight schedule she was on. It'd been around two weeks since the fight with West - since he'd nearly killed her with his bare hands. She could've died in that house, and she probably would have if it weren't for the years and work she'd put into West's business. He knew he needed her, he'd always known that. If he didn't, he would've killed her years ago, along with Ben and Charlotte.

Veronica locked her jaw, facing Jax again - his face, as usual, was curious and open and excited. He really could be like a little fucking kid sometimes. Now that her face was relatively back to normal ( the bruises had faded, but her jaw was still a bit sore and it hurt to move it too much ), Veronica could finally walk around without people flinching at her appearance or offering her a place to stay like she was some type of lonely, abused broad. She'd stay holed up with Jacob for those two weeks, it'd been so quiet and tense for a long time, Veronica's fingers had begun to cramp together from how tightly she was squeezing them into fists.

Jacob was probably the only reason she hadn't drank herself to death - or maybe something less messy, like pills or jumping out a fucking window. She was dead anyway, no matter how she looked at it. No matter how many times Jacob said he had it handled. Veronica didn't feel safe enough, West hadn't made a move yet, but that didn't mean she wouldn't either. Being at a stand still with West was one of the things she never wanted to go through, she'd seen what happened on the opposite end far too many times to count. Somehow, some way, West would find you. He wouldn't stop until he did.

He always won.

"I just..." She felt Jacob's thumb rub over her thigh, through her jeans, she was still able to feel the warmth and steady pressure, "I just need you to do this one thing for me. Dex still talks to you, okay?"

Jax nodded a bit, expression sobering some, "I can get you in. No problem, Veronica." And so, with that said, Veronica exited the car, closing the door behind her. She was a bit surprised when she heard Jacob's door do the same.

"What're you doin'?"

Jacob gave her a weird look at the question, "Coming in with you."

"Yeah, no. Don't do that."

"Why not?"

"If you haven't fucking noticed, we're in the middle of the fuckin' slums." By now, Jacob was well articulated with how Veronica spoke, translating this statement into ( "I don't know how the Mexicans are gonna react to you and I don't want you to get shot ), so he shrugged a shoulder, pulling out a pack of cigarettes to pat them lightly against his open palm.

"Should be alright. I got a way with words, Ronnie."

Veronica merely rolled her eyes, walking past Jax and to the warehouse front, "Yeah, sure." She already knew that, that's how he kept getting her out of her underwear so easily. She didn't bother being subtle, instead banging a fist against the door six times. It would be enough to get their attention. The door opened, and a guy with a medium complexion and ugly face tattoos answered, prying open the door only a few inches.

"You got a death wish, puta?"

"She's with me!" Jax said from slightly behind Veronica, big grin and all, "It's cool, Jesús." Once the guy spotted Jax, he immediately frowned, pulling open the door a bit more. After making sure it was him, the door was pried open all the way, and Veronica shoved her hands into her pockets to come off a little less like a threat. Jax walked forward first, into the dimly lit hallway, "Thanks, man!"

Jesús scoffed, clicking his tongue lightly at Jacob, "You rollin' with a gringo?"

Jax laughed this time, throwing an arm over Jacob's shoulders in a friendly way, "He's my friend. We're reeeeeaaal close."

Whatever inside joke Jesús and Jax shared, they laughed at together. Veronica really didn't want to know. She grabbed a hold of Jacob's left arm, pulling him away from Jax and the stranger. Once Jax realized they were moving on, he waved a hand at Jesús, talking shit and the like. When Jax caught up, she spoke up, "Who's the new guy?"

Jax looked up, "What d'ya mean?"

"Miguel used to watch the door, where's he?"

Jax blinked, regarding her with a strange look before he dropped it. He never had a good attention span, "Oh. I don't know. Think he got wrapped up in some nasty business. His girl died, I remember."

Veronica stopped walking at this, eyebrows furrowing, "Melissa? Melissa died?"

"Yeah," he waved a hand vaguely, like it was old news, "Got shot."

She could feel Jacob staring at her, his gaze burning into the side of her cheek. Veronica made sure to school her expression right, as if she wasn't supposed to react to such surprising news. And really, it wasn't surprising. People in this type of business died every day, she shouldn't care as much as she did. Last time she’d seen Melissa, she'd been fine. Smiling, off the drugs, finally. She couldn't help wonder how Miguel was taking it - she vaguely remembered him mentioning he'd known the girl since childhood.

Finally, she took a glimpse in Jacob's direction, he was watching Jax make his way down the stairs, "...Shouldn't have brought you here."

He looked at her again, he always had this ghost of a smile on his lips, "It's fine, Ronnie. Like the thrill." He even wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him teasingly. When he noticed how tense she was, he paused, the skin of his forehead wrinkling subtly. She wasn't used to things like that - any type of worry over her. The two weeks really had changed shit and it was almost scary to know she was glad she'd thought of him in her wild panic back then, came to him while she was bloody and bruised. A lot of people would've closed their door on her, no matter how many contacts and people she may know - they weren't friends. No one was really friends around here.

"Just...stay close to Jax, okay?"

"Jax is good lookin' and all, but I don't really swing that way, V."

"I'm serious."

"So am I—Ouch!"

Her foot met his shin fast, and for a second, he hopped on one foot, nose wrinkling in a cute way. Veronica narrowed her eyes, "Don't be a pussy."

"You hit hard. Y'know, if you wanna get rougher in bed, Ron—Okay! Okay, I get it!"

He was smiling again, and for that, it was a small relief. Tension around her shoulders relaxed a bit - she was going to get a knot in her neck if she kept hunching in on herself like that. "Be serious! Follow Jax." He did what she said, descending down the metal steps as well, and she followed him, craning her head around to make sure no one was lingering behind her. As they got further and further down ( around five flights, really ), she began to hear the music, the shouting, and doors opening and closing.

Once they made it to the bottom floor, she could practically smell the sweat and blood, years of it seeping into the concrete of the building. They really needed a new cleaning crew. Another tall man was standing by the two doors leading into the main arena, arms big and crossed and tatooed. Veronica was the last one down, Jax was already speaking to the guy when she got closer.

"—nah, nah, man! It's all about consistency! You can't expect a garden to grow on it's own!"

"Sí, si, tienes razón! I've been usin' my tía's manure, one she's always using to make her garden so big and beautiful, you know? I be so busy workin', man."

"Hey," Jax lightly tapped against his broad chest, "You gotta have time and patience. Garden's are just like pets, you gotta love and respect them."

"My ma uses dry compose when she's growing tomatoes." Jacob said from beside Jax, obviously involved with the conversation.

The big guy raised a bushy brow, "Oh, yeah? They any good?"

"Ah, yeah. She's always cooking 'em fresh with her spaghetti. It's outta this world."

What the fuck.

By the time, Veronica made her way over, it looked like all three were best buds. Jax, seemingly remembering why they were there in the first place, jerked into action, "We're here to see the show. Sorry, got distracted, David."

"It's already started, but—" He finally noticed Veronica, hairy eyebrows rising high on his forehead, "Ain't seen you in awhile, V. Russians lose their luster?" When she didn't say anything, glaring at him, he scoffed under his breath, unlocking the door behind him, "Go on ahead." As soon as the doors were open, the sounds inside seemed to burst. Loud screaming, cheering, and the overpowering smell of sweat overwhelmed her senses. She only spared David one more glance before heading inside, Jax offering another friendly wave to the guard.

It was a lot like an arena, it hadn't changed a bit. There were ten rows on each side of the ring, all filled with excited watchers, yelling and throwing things. Even with the humidity and heat from inside, it didn't seem to bother them none. They were there for the show. Inside of the ring, two men were fighting - sometimes to the death or sometimes almost-to-the-death. If one of them died, it would only be unfortunate for the people who'd bet on him. Underground fighting wasn't something Veronica was a fan of, but it was close to where she started out with business. Drugs were easy to pass around in these types of places, no cops and more people willing to buy for a high profit.

Her hands were shaking inside of her jacket pockets, just being in this place again made her mouth taste dry.

"You alright?" She could feel Jacob's breath on her ear - he had to move pretty close in order for them to hear each other.

"Just peachy," she practically yelled back, pressing a hand against his shoulder, "What'd I say? Follow Jax!" Jax was already making his way to his assigned booth ( of course he would have one, everyone loved him no matter where he went. Not only were the booths expensive, but they were high and had a good view of the fight below ), plopping down in one of the three seats available.

"See! Told you I could get you in, no problem."

Veronica could see that. She was a bit surprised of how lax the security was. She was well aware Jax could practically get in anywhere anytime, but she didn't think it'd be that quick. Well, either way, now that that part was out of the way, she could head onto the next phase. Once Jacob was sitting as well, Veronica nudged her head at the drinks at the ready and pack of cigars on the small table, "Stay with Jax. I'll be back."

Jacob gripped her wrist before she could go far, silently questioning her with his expression alone, "Where're you goin'?"

"Business to take care of."

"It's always business. Last time you had somethin’ to take care of, y'didn't look so good."

Veronica stared at him for a few seconds. And he stared back. Figures, Jacob really never knew how to fucking give in. Leaning down, she brought her lips close to his ear, "Just trust me on this, okay? I can handle myself." When she pulled back, he was still eyeing her, but he released her wrist.

"Thirty minutes," he mouthed to her, giving a jerk of his eyebrows as emphasis.

"Just smoke your stupid fuckin' cigars and watch the show, asshole. I took you out for a night at the town, enjoy it." Without waiting for his reply, she moved out of the booth, and past a few rows of shouting watchers. It didn't take long to get where she needed to be, it was a familiar route to her, even if it had been awhile. Closing the door behind her ( she was so glad it was much more quieter in the east hallway, she locked it behind her - Veronica was well aware of the guard patrol and how easily she would be caught if she weren't careful.

At the end of the hallway, she could see the dim light spilling into the corridor from a door a few feet away. Muffled, low voices were inside, and Veronica took five wide steps to get to it, wrenching it out of her way. Inside, three men looked up. One was bald, another's nose was bleeding, and the last, she knew. Dex blinked at her several times, dropping the cards in his hands on the table in front of him.

"Aw, fuck!" The bald one exclaimed once he caught sight of the deck, "Knew you were fuckin' cheating!"

Distracted, Dex looked over at him, offended, "I ain't fuckin' cheating, pendejo!"

The other looked plain confused, "I thought we were playin' Five-Card Draw, man."

The bald one growled under his breath, throwing his own deck down, "This some straight-up bullshit..." But once they were all done arguing, he finally returned his attention to Veronica frozen in the door way. She could spot the glock on the table, he was lazily resting his hand, "¿Quién es ella?" The other one shrugged his shoulders.

Dex, gathering up all the cards from the table, looked at Veronica, "What you doin' here?"

She stepped further into the room, closing the door quietly behind her, "Need to talk to your uncle."

At this, all three men at the table laughed, one's neck was flexing so much, she thought it would explode or something. Probably on something - he was red in the face. Dex, though, got serious really fast, wiping at the cut on his eyebrow ( he'd probably fought earlier today ), "Why the fuck would he wanna talk to you, white girl? You got some shit to offer? You know, somethin' other than the shit between your legs."

Veronica was far from in the mood for Dex's little speech. She glared at the wall - trying and failing to do breathing exercises before she stabbed one in the eye ( preferably the bald guy first ), "Necesito su ayuda," She looked Dex right in the eye, refusing to break contact, "It's West. I fucked up."

Dex frowned at this, pausing from shuffling the cards now. Finally, after a few seconds, he mumbled, "How much you need?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Dex, I don't need any money! I need to talk to your fuckin' uncle! Tonight!"

When she raised her voice, she saw the bald one clench his hand around his gun tighter. Dex stopped him, "Y'can't come in here making demands like you used to. You cut ties. Fuck do you expect me to do?"

"So you'll do anythin' for that bitch even though she's been fuckin' West behind your back, but not me?"

At that, it went completely silent in the room. None of them were laughing any more - not even the high one. Dex glared, hands spread out in front of him, "Don't talk about Nixie."

"Don't be a hypocrite then," Veronica crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her eyes steady on Dex. If she wavered, he would immediately pounce. Or at least get his guys to do it. Any hint of hesitation could be snuffed out with ease in a place like this. Suddenly, Dex stood from the card table, the sound of his chair scooting back making Veronica jerk slightly.

With two fingers, he motioned her over. "C'mon."

His uncle's office was in the back. Down another hallway, behind the room where the topless chicks bagged and weighed, another bald guy watching them with a cold beer in his hand. When he noticed Veronica, he whistled lowly under his breath. Veronica glared, "Oh, don't be like that, baby. What's your name?" No reply from her, "That's okay. Names are bullshit anyway, puts a title on you. You got good birthin' hips, ma. Gimme plenty o' kids."

Veronica flipped him off, watching as Dex knocked on the office door. There was a muffled reply from inside. Dex stepped away from the door, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive stance, "Go ahead." And then looked at the guy, "Manuel, put your fuckin' tongue back in your mouth, holmes!"

Veronica didn't bother listening to the reply, instead putting her hand around the knob and turning. Inside, the office was much cooler than the rest of the place - a brand new AC was running in the corner of the room. There was a pretty girl sitting on the edge of the desk, speaking to Dex's uncle into his ear. When they spotted Veronica standing by the door, the uncle blinked, leaned back and said something to the girl. In reply, she smiled and grabbed her clothes from the floor - not before Dex's uncle gave her a swift tap on her behind ( which she laughed at and Veronica wrinkled her nose ). Once she was gone, Veronica was left alone with him.

He had a bunch of rings on. A nice shirt. And a lipstick stain on his right cheek, "Verónica." He gestured to the empty seat in front of his desk. She visibly hesitated, darting her eyes between the seat and him. She'd been so determined to get here, she wasn't sure what to say in order to get all her jumbled thoughts across. She sat down after awhile, rubbing her sweaty hands on her jeans - trying to come across respectful and level-headed at least. "Ain't seen you in awhile. ¿Dónde has estado?"

"Places, Mr. Rubio," Veronica murmured, her attempt at coming off casual wasn't going so well, "Around."

"With the Russians." He folded his hands over his desk, shrugging his fat shoulders carelessly, "You can say it. No judgement here." Veronica almost laughed in his face. She couldn't have been away long enough for him to think she was an idiot. All the Mexican's lips curled when they said Russians, and vice versa. No shame in admitting it. She must've looked a bit too amused for his liking, because his nice-nice face had dropped, "What's so funny?"

Veronica leaned forward in her seat - there was no point in beating around the bush, "I need a favor. You owe me." He didn't react negatively to what she said, probably because he knew she was right. He did owe her. She was the reason Dex, his nephew, was still breathing today. Whether he liked it or not, she was the reason a lot of shit didn't hit the fan in this place. When he didn't reply for a long time, she decided to speak up again, "Who're you hiding from?"

Mr. Rubio scoffed, wetting his lips with his tongue, "Cops. They're everywhere."

"Rat around here somewhere?"

"Everywhere. Got rid of 'em. Messy job."

"That's good."

"You seen Nixie?"

Veronica almost smiled, it would've been a bitter twist of her lips, "Yeah."

"How is she? You talk to her?"

"Can't talk to her so good with West's dick in her mouth."

Unlike his nephew, Mr. Rubio laughed - a loud belly laugh that make Veronica stare. "I missed you, Verónica. Y'lucky you're family, niña. Get you killed how ya' talk all the time..." He was still laughing under his breath, shaking his head. "Been holed up here a few weeks. Can't believe I used to have an office down here. It's disgusting, the yelling, the blood everywhere. Cleaning crew don't wanna clean shit, nephew don't wanna organize, and the police everywhere around here. Should've stayed my ass in Michoacán, miss mama's cooking..."

Veronica stayed quiet. Mr. Rubio was easy to talk to, he came off as this fun-loving uncle that you would always want to be around, but Veronica knew better. She knew him way too well to relax around him too much, "Mr. Rubio," he looked back at her, "I need help, okay? With West.."

"The white boy?" He tilted his head slightly at her, but didn't look at all surprised, "Thought he was long gone with the mouth he got on ‘em."

"Yeah, well - he's not. And I'm gonna be dead if he stays living."

He looked interested now, leaning forward in his seat a bit, "You asking me to get rid of him? That's your favor?" Veronica gnawed at her bottom lip, shifting in her seat. He smiled, "Never thought you'd come to me to ask somethin' like that. Must be serious."

"I would do it myself, but..."

He knows me too well. He'd kill me first. He'd kill someone I cared about - my mom, Jacob—

"I ain't gonna kill a Russian, Verónica."

Veronica's head snapped up at this, "Wha—"

He shrugged again, "Me and my people layin' low. Martha said so. Can't go against the wife."

"Says the guy who was just fucking a girl half his age—"

"Watch it," his voice had lowered - the Mr. Rubio she knew never strayed too far, right underneath the surface at all times, "You keep talkin' like that, someone's gonna have to clean your tongue. Or cut it out."

Veronica stood from the chair, it clattered behind her, "You've gotta be fucking kidding me! You owe me, Rubio! You fucking owe me! If it wasn't for me, Dex would be at the bottom of Hudson River! I called off Oakley and his guys, I found out who was stealin' from the count every weekend, I helped you do everything! And you can't do this one favor for me?! If he's not dead, I am!"

She needed to calm down, she looked crazy, she knew it. Her hands were shaking, she was pointing around wildly, her back felt sweaty. Even her voice broke. As much as she denied it, as much as she hated to admit it, she was scared - of West, of what he could do to her mother. He knew exactly where she was, he could even find out exactly who Jacob was. Who knows what the fuck he would do?

Mr. Rubio stayed calm though, he looked up at her, relaxed, "I'm not killin' anybody. And let's be honest here, you don't want the boy killed. Been 'round him too long to send someone to do it like that. It's personal, right? Take care of it yourself. Raised you better than that, kid." He paused there, watching her face, "When you came to me - all skinny, no titties - what'd I say? You're smart. You'll figure it out. You always do. That guy, that commie piece of shit, ain't as smart as you. 'S why he kept you around for so long."

Veronica remained silent, struggling to catch her breath. The walls didn’t feel too tight now.

"What d'ya got that guy around for? The one you walked in with?"

"Jax?"

"Nah, the other one."

She swallowed, averting her gaze, "He's my friend."

"Bullshit," he looked close to smiling, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, "You ain't got friends. Try again."

Veronica tried to think of a word, anything that wouldn't sound too personal but not to stranger-like either, "...Partner. A partner, okay? He helps me, I help him."

"You suckin' his dick?"

Veronica fixed him with a glare.

"Okay, okay," Rubio raised his hands in a placating manner, smiling now. When it remained silent between them, he spoke up again, "How long's it been?"

"Two weeks."

"He ain't gonna kill ya' then. Keep an eye out though. You got any problems, you can call me, Verónica. But I ain't gonna risk anythin'. Somethin' happen, I'll send my boys. If it don't then, make it 'til you break it." Veronica scoffed underneath her breath, but didn't say anything for a long time, "And if that guy's your partner, act like it. I could see you two on the cameras, mixin' business and pleasure ain't a good thing." Veronica had to hold back a scathing remark - he really was a hypocrite sometimes.

Leaning back in his seat again, he waved her away, "Tell Dex to call Dante, needa speak to him."

She turned away.

"And Verónica?"

"Yeah?"

"Lay low, okay?"

Without another word, Veronica stepped out of the office.

#verke #writings

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